Leo Tolstoy: His Life and Work/Chapter 8

The Danube and Sebastopol
Before entering upon the narrative of this period, I must say a few words concerning the chain of political events which brought about the changes in Tolstoy's life. The reign of Nicholas was approaching its end. Despotism was at its height, and the oppression of both the higher classes and the masses provoked a desire to revolt. As always happens, the government, instinctively feeling the threatening storm, turned recklessly to adventures abroad. The potentially accumulated energy of violence is thus discharged in the bloody slaughter of an obedient herd of soldiers, trained for the purpose of making them able and willing to come to the rescue of governments in the difficult moments of their criminal existence. The populace and the higher classes also half consciously participate in such massacres, just as a man in misery seeks to stay his anguish by drinking. Thus, ruined and demoralized by the tyranny of Nicholas I, on November 4, 1853, russia declared war with turkey. At first the russian army scored successes, entering the turkish dominion and occupying Moldavia, and the Russian Black Sea fleet, under the command of the celebrated Nakhimov, destroyed the turkis fleet at Synope. At this juncture two Eruopean powers, France and England, interfered, and then began the well-known Crimean campaign, which was marked by the heroic defence of Sebastopol, a feat unprecedented in history. As is usual in such a crisis, along with the noisy movements of outward life, the inner life ran its course in the hearts of the best men, both of the people and of the higher classes, and took shape in new ideals -- in liberal social reforms of a certain kind, which, however, so far only faintly reflected the needs of the people. These two agencies, the direction of the energy of the people into heroic military exploits and the fact of the national spiritual life being stirred by the new ideals, gave a character to the creative activity of Tolstoy during this period. Almost from the first these two great phenomena came into opposition one with the other, and consequently Tolstoy's works took that form of high poetic tragedy which is so marked in his tales of Sebastopol. Tolstoy, as has been stated above, was sent out to the army of the Danube, after having seen his relations. On reaching Bucharest, he writes a letter to his aunt Tatyana, in the shape of a diary, describing in a concise way the journey and first impressions on arriving. "From Kursk I have made about 2,000 versts instead of the 1,000 I intended, and I went through Poltava, Balta, Kishinev, and not by Kiev, which would have been our of the way. As far as the province of Cherson I had excellent sleighing, but there I was obliged to give up sleighing, and to do a thousand versts in a perekladnaya over dreadful roads, as far as the frontier, and from the frontier to Bucharest it is impossible to describe the state of the roads; in order to understand it, one must have tasted the pleasure of doing a thousand versts in a cart smaller and worse than those in which we transport manure.  Not understanding a word in Moldavian, and finding no one who understood Russian, and moreover paying for eight horses instead of two, although my journey lasted only nine days, I spent more than 200 rubles, and arrived almost sick from fatigue. "19th March.--The prince was not here, but he arrived yesterday, and I have just seen him. He received me better than I expected, really as a relation. He embraced me; he has invited me to come to dine with him every day, and he wants to keep me attached to his person, but that is not yet decided. "Pardon me, dear aunt, for writing so little--I have not yet collected my ideas--this big and beautiful town, all these introductions, the Italian opera, the French theater, the two young Gorchakovs, who are very nice fellows...so that I have not remained for two hours at home, and I have not thought of my occupations. "22nd March.--Yesterday I learned that I am not to remain with the prince, but am going to Oltenitsa to rejoin my battery."

Two months later he agains writes, but now in another frame of mind:

"While you imagine me exposed to all the dangers of war, I have not yet smelled Turkish powder, and I am staying very quietly at Bucharest, walking about, enjoying music, and taking ices. Indeed all this time, with the exception of two weeks I passed at Oltenitsa, where I was attached to a battery, and a week I passed journeying about Moldavia, Wallachia, and Bessarabia by order of the General Serzhputovsky, to whom I am not attached for special commissions, I have remained at Bucharest, and, to speak the truth, the kind of life which I lead here, being, as it is, somewhat dissipated, quite idle, and very expensive, displeases me infinitely.  Before this it was the service which kept me here, but now I have remained for three weeks owing to a fever I contracted during my journey, but from which, thank God, I am now sufficiently recovered to join--in two or three days' time--my general, who is in camp near Silistria. Speaking of my general, he appears to be a very good fellow, and, although we know each other very little, to be well disposed toward me. What is, movover, pleasant is that his staff is composed for the most part of gentlemen. The two sons of the Prince Serge, whom I have found here, are nice fellows, especially the younger, who, although not particularly clever, has much nobility of character and a very kind heart. I like him very much."

We next quote from a letter which refers to events on the Danube, though written from Sebastopol. As the reader will notice, Tolstoy first addresses his aunt tatyana, and then his brother Nikolay. To our mind, this letter should form a page in a history of Russia. "I will speak to you of the past, of my memories of Silistria. I saw there so much that was interesting, poetic, and touching that the time I passed there will never be effaced from my memory.  Our camp was stationed on the other side of the Danube, i.e., on the right bank, on the very elevated ground among beautiful gardens belonging to Mustafa Pasha, the governor of Silistria.  The view from this place is not only magnificent but of the greatest interest for all of us; not to mention the Danube, its isles and its shores, some occupied by us, others by the Turks, one saw the town, the fortress, and the little forts of Silistria as it were on the palm of one's hand.  One heard the booming of cannon and guns unceasingly, day and night, and with a glass one could distinguish the turkish soldiers.  It is true, it is a curious kind of pleasure to see people killing each other, nevertheless every evening and every morning I got on to my cart and remained for whole hours observing, and I was not the only person who did. The spectacle was really fine, especially at night. During the night my soldiers generally undertook trench work, and the Turks threw themselves at them in order tohinder them, then you should have seen and heard the fusillade. The first night I passed in the camp this terrible noise awoke and frightened me; I thought an assault had commenced, and I got my horse ready very quickly; but those who had already passed some time in the camp told me that I had only to keep quiet, that this cannonade and fusillade were ordinary things, and that they joikingly called them `Allah.' Then I lay down again, but being unable to sleep I amused myself by counting, watch in hand, the number of discharges of cannon I heard, and I counted 110 explosions in the space of one minute. Yet all this at close quarters had not the frightful character it would appear to have. At night, when nothing could be seen, it was a question of who could burn most powder, and, with these thousands of cannon-shots, a score and a half of men at most were killed on both sides. You will allow me, dear aunt, to address myself in this lettter to Nikolay, for since I have begun to give details of war, I should like to continue and address myself to a man who understands and can give you explanations of what may be obscure to you. Well, this was an ordinary spectacle which we had every day, and in which, when I was sent with orders into the trenches, I took my share; but we also had extraordinary spectacles such as the one the day before the assault, when a mine of 240 lbs. of powder was exploded under one of the enemy's forts. On the morning of this day the prince had been to the trenches with all his staff (as the general I am attached to belongs to it, I was there too) in order to give definite instructions in view of the assault of the next day. The plan, too long for me to be able to explain it here, was so well combined, and everything had been so well anticipated, that no one doubted as to its success. By the bye, I ought, besides, to tell you that I am beginning to feel admiration for the prince (you ought to hear what is said about him among the officers and the men; not only have I never heard any evil spoken of him, but he is universally worshipped). I saw him under fire for the first time that morning.

"You should see his figure, somewhat ridiculous with his high stature, his hands behind his back, his cap on the back of his head, his spectacles, and the way he has of speaking like a turkey cock. One could see he was so absorbed in the general progress of affairs that the shells and bullets did not exist for him; he exposed himself to danger with such simplicity that one would have thought he was unconscious of it, and involuntarily one was more afraid for him than for oneself; and then he gave his orders with such clearness and precision, and at the same time was always affable with every one.  He is a great, i.e., a capable and honest man, as I understand the words; a man who has devoted all his life to the service of his country, and not through ambition, but as a duty.  I will tell you a feature of his connected with the history of this assault I had begun to describe.  In the afternoon of the same day that they exploded the mine, about 600 pieces of artillery opened fire on the fort which they wished to take, and this was continued all night. It was one of those sights, and it caused on of those emotions which one never forgets. In the evening again the prince, amid all the commotion, went to sleep in the trenches, in order himself to direct the assault which was to commence at three o'clock of the same night. We were all there, and, as is always the case on the eve of a battle, we all pretended to be no more concerned with the morrow than with any ordinary day, and I am certain that all, in the depth of their hearts, felt a little nervous, and not even a little but very much so, at the idea of this assault. As you are aware, Nikolay, the time which precedes an engagement is the most unpleasant--it is only then that one has time for fear, and fear is one of the most disagreeable of feelings. Toward the morning, the nearer the moment approached the more did this feeling diminish, and toward three o'clock, when we were all waiting to see fired the batch of rockets which were to be the signal for the attack--I was in such good spirits that, had they come to tell me the assault would not take place, it would have greatly grieved me. And lo and behold, exactly an hour before the time fixed for the assault, an aide-de-camp arrived from the Field-Marshal with the order to raise the siege of Silistria! I may say, without fear of being mistaken, that this news was received by all, men, officers, and soldiers, as a veritable misfortune, the more so that it was known through spies who often come to us from Silistria and with whom I myself often had opportunity to talk--it was known that, if once this fort were captured--an event which no one doubted--Silistria could not hold out for more than two or three days. Do not you think that if this news was caluclated to pain any one it must have been the prince, who throughout all this campaign had done everything for the best, yet saw in the very middle of the action of the Field-Marshal arrive on top of him and spoil the whole thing? And then, having in this assault his only chance of repairing our reverses, he receives a counter order from the Field-Marshal at the instant of commencing. Well, the prince had not a moment's ill-feeling, he who is so impressionable; on the contrary, he was glad to be able to avoid the slaughter, for which he would have had to accept the responsibility, and during all the time of the retreat, which he himself directed, though he did not go back till the last soldier was through it, and which was accomplished with remarkable order and precision, he was in better spirits than he had ever been before. What greatly contributed to his good humor was the emigration of about 7,000 families of Bulgarians whom we took with us, mindful of the ferocity of the Turks--a ferocity in which, notwithstanding my incredulity, I was compelled to believe. The moment we had abandoned the various Bulgarian villages we had occupied, the Turks made away with every one who remained with the exception of women young enough for their harems. There was a village to which I had gone from the camp to get milk and fruit, in which the population had been exterminated in the way I have described. But no sooner did the prince communicate to the Bulgarians that those who desired could cross the Danube with the army and become Russian subjects, than all the country rose, and all, with their women, children, horses, and cattle approached the bridge; but as it was impossible to take them all, the prince was compelled to refuse those who came the last, and you should have seen their sorrow. He received all the deputations which came from these poor people, he talked with each of them, he endeavored to explain to them the impossibility of the thing, he offered to let them cross without their wagons and their cattle, undertaking to maintain the people themselves until they should reach Russia, and to pay out of his own pocket for private ships to transport them; in a word, doing all he possibly could to give help to these people. "Yes, dear aunt, I would greatly desire the realization of your prophecy. The thing which I most crave is to be the aide-de-camp of a man like him, whom I love and whom I esteem from the depth of my heart.  Good-by, and, dear aunt, I kiss your hands."

In the midst of these strong and new sensations, Tolstoy does not forsake his regular habit, that of self-reproach; this is reflected in the entries of his diary. "7th July--I have no modesty. This is my great deficiency.  What am I?  One of the four sons of a retired lieutenant-colonel, left from the age of seven without parents, and who, under the guardianship of women and strangers, received neither a worldly nor scientific education, and then became emancipated at seventeen; a man without any great wealth, without any social position, and, above all, without principle, who has let his affairs get out of order to the last extremity, who has passed the best years of his life without aim or pleasure; who has finally banished himself to the Caucasus in order to run away from his debts, and, above all, from his habits, and who, having taken advantage of some connection or other which had existed between his father and a commander-in-chief, has got himself transferred, at the age of twenty-six, to the Army of the Danube as lieutenant, with hardly any means but his pay (having to use such means as he possesses for the payment of his remaining debts), without patrons, without knowledge of worldly manners, without knowledge of the service, without practical capacities, but with enormous vanity. Yes, such is my social position.  Let us see what is my personality. "I am ugly awkward, uncleanly, and, in the worldly sense, uneducated; I am irritable, a bore to others, rude, intolerant, and as bashful as a child. I am almost completely ignorant.  What I do know I have learned anyhow, independently, by snatches, incoherently, in a disorderly way, and all comes to--so little.  I am self-indulgent, irresolute, inconstant, stupidly vain and hot-headed, as are ll people with a weak character.  I am not brave, I am not methodical in my life, and am so lazy that for me idleness has become almost a necessary habit. "I am intelligent, but my intelligence has not yet been thoroughly tried on anything.  I have neigher a practical nor a worldly nor a business intelligence." "I am honest, i.e., I love what is right, have got myself into the habit of loving it; and when I deviate from it I am dissatisfied with myself, and return to it with pleasure; but there are things I like more than what is right--fame. I am so vain, and so little has this feeling been gratified that often I am afraid lest, between fame and virtue, I might, if the choice were given me, choose the former. "Yes, I am arrogant, because I am inwardly proud, though I am shy in society."

At times a softened mood would come over him, and he would write with some poetic feeling, as the following entry in his diary shows: "After dinner I leaned upon the balcony and looked at my favorite lamp which gleams so nicely through the foliage. Just then, after a few storm-clouds which have today passed and moistened the ground, there lingered one big cloud covering the whole of the southern portion of the sky, and there was a peculiar pleasant lightness and humidity in the air.  The landlady's pretty daughter, like myself, was reclining in the window leaning on her elbows.  A barrel-organ came along the street, and when the sounds of a good ancient waltz, after gradually retreating, completely vanished, the girl gave a sigh from the depths of her soul, rose quickly, and left the window.  I felt so happy that I could not help smiling, and continued a long time gazing at my lamp--the light of which was ever and anon hidden as the wind moved the branches of the tree--gazing at the tree, at the fence, at the sky; and everything assumed a beauty such as I had never seen it wear before."

The unsuccessful campaign of the Army of the Danube, the dull life of the staff, all this wasunsatisfactory to tolstoy. He wanted more vigorous activity, greater excitement, and he begged to be sent to join the army in the Crimea. After the retreat from Silistria (July 20th) he went to the Crimea. His journey lay through the towns of Tekuchi, Berlad, Yassi, Kherson, and Odessa. He reached Sebastopol November 7, 1854. On his way he fell ill and was in a hospital, which explains the length of time he spent on his journey. On his arrival he was attached to the 3rd Light Battery of the 14th Artillery Brigade. Here he was overwhelmed with such a flood of new impressions that for some time he could not master them. At the end of a fortnight, on November 20th, he writes to his brother Seryozha:

"Dear Friend Seryozha: I have behaved very ill to you all ever since my leave began, and how this happened I myself do not know; at one time a distracted life, at another the dulness of my life and disposition, at another war, at another some one in the way, and so on; but the chief reason has been a distracted life, full of outside interferences.  So much have I learned, experienced, and felt during this year that one positively does not know what to begin to describe, or whether one will be able to describe it as one would like.  To aunty I wrote about Silistria, but to you and Nikolenka I will not write like that--I would like to communicate with you so that you may understand me as I wish.  Silistria is now an old song; now it is all Sebastopos, about which I dare say you have yourself read with a beating heart, such as I had four days ago.  Well, how can I tell you all that I saw there, and where I went, and what I did, and what the French and English say - the wounded prisoners - and whether they suffer and suffer much, and what heroes our foes are, especially the English. We can talk over all this some day at Yasnaya or Pirigovo; and about much of it you will learn from myself through the press. I will explain later what I mean, but now I will give you an idea of the position of our affairs at Sebastopol. The town is besieged from one side only - from the south side - on which, when the enemy approached, we had no fortifications. Now we have on this side more than 500 guns of enormous calibre, and several lines of earthworks, positively impregnable. "I passed a week in the fortress, and up to the last day kept losing my way among these labyrinths of batteries as in a forest. the enemy has for more than three weeks in one place been only 180 yards off, and does not advance; at his slightest forward movement he is covered with a hail of shot. "The spirit of the troops is beyond description. There was not so much heroism in the time of ancient Greece. Kornilov, when making the round of the troops, instead of, `I greet you, boys!' said: `One must die, boys; will you die?' and the troops shouted, `We will die, your Excellency! Hurrah!' and this was not mere show, but on the face of each one could see that it was not in jest but in earnest, and 22,000 men have already fulfilled this promise. "A wounded and almost dying soldier told me how they attacked the 24th French Battery and were not reinforced; he wept aloud. A company of marines almost revolted because they wanted to relieve them from a battery on which they had remained thirty days under shell fire.  Soldiers snatch the fuses out of the shells.  Women carry water to the bastion for the soldiers, and many of them are killed and wounded.  Priests with crosses go to the bastions and read prayers under fire.  In one brigade, the 24th, there were 160 men wounded who would not leave the ranks.  Wonderful time!  Now, however, after the 24th, we have somewhat quieted down, and it has become splendid at Sebastopol.  The enemy has almost ceased to fire, and all are convinced that he will not take the town; indeed, it would be impossible.  There are three possible events:  either he will make a general attack, or else he is diverting us with false works, or else fortifying himself in order to winter. The first is the least and the second the most probable. I did not succeed in being even once in action; but I thank God that I have seen these men and live in this glorious time. The bombardment of the 5th will remain the most brilliant and glorious exploit, not only of Russian but of universal history. More than 1,500 guns for two days played upon the town, and they not only did not force it to surrender, but they did not even silence one gun in two hundred of our batteries. It seems to me that if this campaign is not favorably looked upon in Russia, posterity will place it higher than all others. Do not forget that with equal, even inferior forces, with bayonets alone, and with the worst troops of the Russian army (such is the 6th Corps), we are fighting with a more numerous foe, possessing a fleet and armed with 3,000 guns, excellently made rifles, and with his best troops. I do not mention the superiority of the enemy's generals. "Our army alone can stand and conquer under these conditions, and conquer shall yet, this I am convinced of. You should see the French and English prisoners (especially the latter):  each one is better than the last, I mean morally and physically; they are a splendid people.  The Cossacks say that even they feel pity in sabring them, and by their side you should see any one of our riflemen:  small, lousy, and shrivelled up, in a way. "Now I will tell you how it is that you will learn from me through the press about the xplooits of these lousy and shrivelled up heroes. In our artillery staff office, consisting, as I think I wrote to you, of very good and honorable men, the idea has been started of publishing a military periodical for the purpose of maintaining a good spirit in the troops, a cheap review (at three rubles), and in popular language, so that the soldiers could read it. We have written a prospectus of the paper and presented it to the Prince. The idea pleased him very much, and he submitted the prospectus and a specimen number, which we had composed, to the Emperor for sanction. The money for the publication has been advanced by myself and Stolypin. They have made me editor, together with a certain Mr. Konstantinovich, who has published `The Caucasus,' and is an experienced man in this line. In the review will be published descriptions of battles, not so dry and untruthful as in other papers, exploits of bravery, biograpnies and obituaries of good men, and particularly of the rank and file; military stories, soldiers' songs, popular articles about engineering and artillery, arts, etc. This thing pleases me very much; first, I like this occupation, and, secondly, I hope that the periodical will be useful and not at all bad. All this remains presumptive until we get the Emperor's answer, and I confess I am anxious about it. In the trial copy we sent to St. Petersburg we carelessly inserted two articles, one by myself and the other by Rostovtsev, which are not quite orthodox. for this business I shall require 1,500 rubles, which are lying in the office, and which I have asked Valeryan to send to me. As I have already gossipped this to you, tell it to him too. Thank God I am well, and I have been living happily and pleasantly from the very time I returned from abroad. In general, my life in the army is divided into two periods: abroad a bad one, where I was ill and poor and lonely, and at home a pleasant one. Now I am well and have got good comrades, but I am still poor, for money is soon gone. "I do not write, but I instinctively feel how Aunty is bantering me. One thing troubles me:  this is the fourth year of my life without female society; I may become quite uncouth and unfit for family life, which I so enjoy. "Well, good-by. God knows when we shall see each other, unless you and Nikolenka take it into your heads some day, when out hunting, to look in from Tambov at our headquarters."

I have given the whole of this remarkable letter, because it shows how young in his spirit Tolstoy was at that time, how liable to be carried away by his feelings, and how this stood in the way of any clear understanding of what was going on around him. But glimpses of vivid consciousness and prophetic inspiration appear with all the greater force in the background. However, these powerful outward impressions did not occupy the whole of tolstoy's soul, and while alone, writing his diary, possibly in the tents of the 4th battalion, he was still the same as he had always been and as he is now, ever seeking for and striving after the ideal. His frame of mind at that time found vent in the following poetical form: "When, oh when, shall I at last cease to pass my time without aim or enthusiasm, and to feel a deep wound in my heart without knowing how to heal it? Who made this wound?  God alone knows, but from birth I have been bitterly tormented by a sense of the insignificance which threatened my future and by painful sadness and doubt."

He moved to Simferopol on November 23rd. January 6, 1855, he writes a pacifying letter to his aunt Tatiana: "I have not taken part in the two bloody battles which have taken place in the Crimea, but I went to Sebastopol immediately after the battle of the 24th, and I passed a month there. They no longer fight - they devastate the country because of the winter, whick is exceptionally severe, especially at the present moment; but the siege goes on.  What will be the issue of this campaign?  God only knows; but, in any case, the Crimean campaign must come to an end in three or four months one way or another.  But, alas! the end of the Crimean campaign does not mean the end of the war, which, on the contrary, it appears will last very long. I had mentioned in my letters to Sergey, and, I think, to Valerian, an occupation which I had in view, and which greatly attracted me; now that there is an end of the notion, I may explain it.  I had the idea of founding a military journal.  This plan, at which I had worked with the cooperation of many very distinguished persons, was approved by the Prince and sent to the Emperor for confirmation; but, as in our country there are intrigues against everything, people were found who were afraid of the competition of this journal; and perhaps, too, the idea did not fall in with the views of the Government. The Emperor has refused. "I confess this disappointment gave me infinite pain, and has greatly altered my plans. If god will that the Crimean campaign should terminate in our favor, and I do not receive an appointment with which I can be satisfied, and if there be no war in Russia, I shall leave the army and go to St. Petersburg to the Military Academy.  This plan occurred to me, first, because I should not like to abandon literature, with which it is impossible for me to occupy myself in this camp life; and, secondly, because it seems to me I am beginning to become ambitious, or rather, not ambitious, but I should like to do some good, and, in order to do that, it is necessary to be something more than a sublieutenant; thirdly, because I should like to see you all and all my friends.  Nikolay writes tha tTurgenev has made the acquaintance of Marie.  I am very glad of it; if you see him, tell Varinka that I beg him to embrace him on my baahelf, and to tell him that, although I know him only by correspondence, I should have had a lot of things to say to him."

The life which followed is very well pictured in his letter to his brother, written in May 1855. In it he gives a chronological summary of the events of his military life during the preceding winter of 1854-55. "Although you probably know through our folks where I am and what I have been doing, I will repeat to you my adventures since Kishinev, the more so that my story may be interesting to you, and you will learn from it in what phase I now am - for it seems that my fate is always in some phase or other. From Kishinev I petitioned to be transferred to the Crimea, partly for the purpose of seeing this war, and partly in order to tear myself away from the staff of Serzhputovskiy, which I did not like, but chiefly from patriotism, which at that time I confess took hold of me strongly.  I did not request to be sent to any particular point, but left the authorities to dispose of my fate.  In the Crimea I was attached to a battery in Sebastopol itself, where I passed a month very pleasantly in the circle of simple and kind comrades, who are especially engaging during real war and danger.  In December our battery was removed to Simferopol, and there I lived six weeks in the comfortable home of a landowner, going to Simferopol to dance and play the piano with young ladies, and, with the Government officials, to shoot deer on the Chaterdag. In January there was another redistribution of officers, and I was transferred to a battery encamped at ten versts from Sebastopol. There j'ai fait la connaissance de la mere de Kousma Here I received 1,500 rubles for the periodical, the sanction of which had already been refused; and here I lost 2,500 rubles, thus proving to the whole world that I am still a frivolous fellow, although the above circumstances may be accepted comme circonstances attenuantes. But still it was very, very disgraceful. In March it became warmer, and a good fellow and most excellent man arrived and joined the battery, one Brenevskiy; so I began to recover myself, and on the first of April my battery, during the actual bombardment, went to Sebastopol, where I quite recovered myself. there, until May 15th, although in serious danger, having been on duty four successive days in a battery of the 4th bastion, yet we had the spring and excellent weather, a mass of impressions and of people, all the conveniences of life, and the company of well-bred men like ourselves, so that these six weeks will remain one of my pleasantest recollections. On May 15th Gorchakov, or the commander of the artillery, was pleased to intrust me with the formation and command of a mountain detachment at Belbek, twenty versts from Sebastopol, with which I am up to now very well satisfied in many respects. "This is a general description. In the next letter I will write about the present more in detail."

To this short description we may add that its jocular tone does not harmonize with the serious thoughts and feelings which beset him at the time. In his diary of march 5, 1855, he puts down the following prophecy about himself: "A conversation about divinity and faith suggested to me a great, a stupendous idea, to the realization of which I feel myself capable of devoting my life. this idea is the foundation of a new religion corresponding to the present state of mankind - the religion of Jesus but purified from dogma and mysticism, a practical religion, not promising future bliss, but giving bliss upon earth.  I feel that this idea can be realized only by generations consciously looking toward it as a goal.  One generation will hand on the idea to the next and, some day, enthusiasm or reason will bring it into being.  To act with a deliberate view to the religious union of mankind, this is the leading principle of the idea which I hope will command my enthusiasm."

Of course when a man first writes the above words, and after that is engaged for fifty years, with the resolution and ability shown by Tolstoy, in elaborating the means of realizing his idea, we may be sure his place was not in the artillery. He had a vague consciousness of this, and from time to time the idea struck him that he was born not for a military career, but for a literary life. Moreover, he never wholly forsook his literary activity. On his way from Romania to Sebastopol he went on with "The Wood-Cutting Expedition"; in Sebastopol he began to write "Youth" and "Tales from Sebastopol." From the 11th to the 14th of April [1855] he remained in bastion No. 4. The sense of danger was a spiritual awakening to him, and he addresses God with the following prayer: "Lord, I thank thee for Thy continual protection. How surely Thou leadest me to that which is right!  and what an insignificant creature should I be wert Thou to abandon me!  Leave me not, Lord; direct me, and not for the satisfaction of my poor desires, but for the attainment of the eternal and might object of existence, unknown to me and yet recognized by me."

On August 4, 1855, Tolstoy took part, although indirectly, in the battle of the Black River. He hastens to reasure his relatives, and in a letter to his brother, of August 7, 1855, says, by the way: "I am writing you a few lines to reassure you about myself with reference to the battle on the 4th, in which I took part and was not hurt; but I did not do anything, because my mountain artillery had no occasion to fire."

At the same time, as is seen from Tolstoy's correspondence with Nekrasov, he kept his eye on Russian literature, and actively supported the editors of "The Contemporary"; in fact he got together at Sebastopol a group of contributors. This is what he wrote to Nekrasov:

"Respected Nikolay Alekseyevich - You must have already received my articie, `Sebastopol In December,' and the promise of Stolypin's article. Here it is, notwithstanding the wild orthography of this manuscript, which you will yourself get corrected, if it is to be published without erasures by the censor, which the author has tried his best to avoid.  You will, I hope, agree that such military articles are unfortunately very scarce with us or else do not get published.  Perhaps, by this same courier, an article by Saken may be sent, of which I say nothing, and which I hope you will not print.  The corrections in Stolypin's article in black ink are made by Horulef with his left hand, his right hand being wounded.  Stolypin requests that they should be put in footnotes.  Please insert, if possible, mine as well as Stolypin's in the June issue.  Now we are all together, and the literary society of the fallen Journal is beginning to be organized, and, as I told you, you will receive from me every month two, three, or four articles of a contemporary military character. The best contributors, Bakunin and Rostvortsev, have not yet had time to finish their articles. Be so kind as to direct your answer to me, and in general write by this courier, an adjutant of Gorchakov's, and by the others who are continually going to and fro between you and us." Sebastopol, april 30, 1855.

On June 15th [1855], in Bakhchisaray, he received a letter from Panayev and a copy of "The Contemporary," with his printed tale "Sebastopol In December." From this letter he learned that the tale had been read by the Emperor Aleksandr II. Evidently it had made a deep impression on the Emperor, for he ordered it to be translated into French. In the same month of June [1855] Tolstoy finished the tale "The Wood-Cutting Expedition," and sent it to "The Contemporary." In July he completed and sent to the editors his new tale, "Sebastopol In May." In his letter from St. Petersburg, dated August 28, 1858, Panayev relates the following incident in connection with this story: "In my letter, delivered to you by Stolypin, I wrote you that your article had been passed by the censorship with a few slight changes, and begged you not to be angry with me, because it was necessary to add a few words at the end so as to mollify an expression. Nearly 3,000 copies of the article, "Night In Sebastopol" [as "Sebastopol In May" was then called], were printed, when the censor prevented publication of the number by ordering a copy to be brought him from the printing-office; hence the August issued appeared on the 18th of January, and during my absence - I went to Moscow for a few days - it was presented to the president of the committee of Censors, Pushkin, whom you should know in connection with Kazan.  If you know Pushkin, you may imagine what followed.  Pushkin became wild; he was very angry with the censor as well as with me for presenting such articles to the censorship, and he made corrections in it himself. In the meantime I returned to St. Petersburg, and was horror-struck when I saw the changes made. I did not want to print the article at all, but Pushkin, in an interview with me, said that I must publish it in its transformed shape. Nothing could be done, and your mutilated article will appear in the September number, omitting the letters L.N.T., which I should hate to see at the bottom of it after that. But the article was so good that even after it was completely destroyed by the censor I gave it to Milutin, Krasnokutskiy, and others to read. Everybody likes it very much, and Milutin wrote me that I should commit a sin by depriving readers of this article and by not publishing it even in its present form. "At any rate, do not blame me because your article has been published in such a shape. I was forced to do it.  If it is god's will that we should meet some day, for which I long, I will clear up the matter to you.  Now I will say a few words in regard to the impression generally made on us, and on everybody else to whom I have read it, by your story, `Night,' in its original shape...Censorship is out of the question here. "Everybody thinks this story more forcible than the first one, owing to the minute and profound analysis of the emotions and feelings of men who are constantly in the face of death, owing to the accuracy with which army officers are depicted, their intercourse with members of the nobility, and their mutual relations. In short, everything is perfect - described in a masterly way; but the whole thing is so full of bitterness, everything is so keen and biting, merciless and cheerless, that at this moment, when the scene of this story is held almost sacred, it hurts those that are far from it. The very events of the story might make a disagreeable impression. "`The Wood-Cutting Expedition,' with its dedication to Turgenev, will also appear in September (turgenev begged me to thank you very much for your remembering him and being so attentive)....Even in this story, which passed three censors - the Caucasian censor (Secretary of State Butkov), the military censor (Major-General Stefen), and one civil censor (consisting of Pushkin and us) - the types of officers have been tampered with, and unfortunately some parts have been struck out."

In September Nekrasov wrote to Tolstoy:

"Dear Sir Lev Nikolayevich - I arrived in Petersburg in the middle of August to find `The Contemporary' in a very sad plight. "the shocking state to which your article was brought turned my last drop of blood. At this moment I cannot think of it without pain and indignation. Your work, to be sure, will not be lost....It will always bear witness to the power capable of such deep and sober truth in circumstances in which it is not everybody who could have kept it unimpaired. I need not say how highly I value this article and the trend of your talent in general as well as its power and freshness as a whole. It is just what the russian public needs; the truth - the truth, of which so little remains in Russian literature since the death of Gogol. You are quite right in caring most of all for this side of your capacity. Truth in the form presented by you in our literature is something quite new to us. I do not know of any author at the present moment who could make one love and sympathize with him so deeply as the one to whom I now write. But I have one dread - lest the course of time, the abominations of real life, and the deaf and dumb environment should affect you in the same way as they have affected most of us, and destroy that energy which is indispensable to an author, at least to those authors who are necessary for russia at present. You are young; certain changes are taking place; they may - let us hope - end in good, and then a wide arena may be opened before you. Your beginning is such that the least sanguine persons are carried far away in their hopes. But I have turned from the purpose of my letter. I shall not console you by telling you, true as it is, that the printed fragments of your article are very much appreciated by many; for to those who know the article in its real shape they are nothing but a string of phrases without sense or inner meaning. But it cannot be helped. I must say one thing, the article would not have been printed in this shape were it not necessary. But it is not signed by your name. `Felling Wood' passed the censorship fairly well, though a few precious criticisms are lost. My opinion of the work is this: in form it may resemble Turgenev, but the resemblance ends there; the rest belongs to you and could be written by no one but you. In this sketch there are many wonderfully striking observations and it is entirely new, interesting, and judicious. Don't disdain this type of sketches: in our literature hitherto nothing but trivialities have appeared about the soldier. You are only opening the subject, and, in whatever way you choose to tell us what you know of it, all will be exceedingly interesting and useful. Panayev handed me your letter in which you primise soon to send us `Youth.' Please do. Setting aside the review, I am personally interested in the continuation of your first production. We will keep space for `Youth' in the tenth or eleventh number, according to the time it arrives. "The money will be forwarded to you one of these days. I have settled for the winter in Petersburg, and shall be glad to hear from occasionally.  Accept my sincere respect,  N. Nekrassov."

But, needless to say, literary work was not Tolstoy's chief occupation at that time. He was leading the conventional life of an officer, and was "a good comrade," as is certified by his contemporaries and fellow-officers. Nazarev quotes in his reminiscences the narrative of a former comrade of Tolstoy, who evidently recalled with delight the time he had spent together with Count Tolstoy in the battery. He even recognized himself as one of the characters in the "Sebastopol Tales." "I may say," related the old man, with a smile of pleasure on his face, "Tolstoy, with his stories and his impromptu verses, encouraged us all in the direst moments of our military life. In the full meaning of the word he was the soul of our battery.  When we were in his company, we did not notice how time flew, and there was no end to the general good spirits.  When the Count was not there - he had left for Simferopol - all were downcast.  No news of him for a day, two, three...At last he came back...looking exactly like the prodigal son - gloomy, worn out, dissatisfied with himself.  He would take me aside out of the way, and begin to do penance.  He would tell everything about his carousing, playing cards, as to where he spent the days and nights, and, would you believe it? his repentence and sufferings were as deep as if he had been a great culprit.  It was pitiful to see him, so great was his distress....This is the kind of man he was.  He was, in a word, peculiar, and, to tell you the truth, not quite comprehensible to me; but, on the other hand, he was a rare comrade, an honest soul, and to forget him is quite impossible." Tolstoy's conduct as a brave officer, and his familiarity with higher circles, could readily have secured for him an advantageous military career. The publication of his Sebastopol sketches, which had attracted the attention of Nicholas, and of the Empress Aleksandra Fedorovna - who, it was said, shed tears while reading the first tale - would have contributed to the same end.  But his very gifts put an end to his military advancement.  The obstacle to a briliant military career proved to be "The Sebastopol Song." This is the history of this song: The version we quote is from the "Olden Times," where it appeared in full.  The well-known author and scholar, M. T. Venyukov, wrote with the text of the song the following note: "In the years from 1854 to 1856 I was studying military science in the Academy of the general staff, and there I received from the Crimea - the theatre of war - through one of my comrades of the battery, Iv. Vas. Anossov, an officer in the 14th Artillery Brigade, a copy of the following song:

The Sebastopol Song

The fourth day, we were gone

To fight them on the mountain,

The devil drove us on,

The devil drove us on.

It was old General Vrevsky

He used to say to Gorchakov,

When he had had his whiskey:

"Prince, we must have that hill;

I'll tell a tale about it,

If I don't have my will."

The grandees, great and small,

They've put their heads together,

The place Becoque and all;

But Becoque had some doubt,

And what it was he'd better say

He wouldn't quite make out.

As they made up their mind

the topographers were spoiling

The best paper they could find;

At last they got it right;

But there were three ravines to pass,

And they forgot that quite.

Well, Prince and Count rode out;

The topographers were left behind

Upon the great redoubt.

The Prince said, "Now, Liprandi!"

Said he, "I can't go on just yet,

Hold hard a bit, attendez;

"You don't want clever men,

You'd better send a man like Read

I'll have a look again."

Read's not a man who fears;

He led us to the bridge at once,

"So here you go, three cheers!"

But Martineau cried "Stop!

Let's wait till the reserves are here."

"No, make the men come up."

Hurrah! we made a noise,

but there must have been some mistake,

For we never saw the boys.

Upon Fedyukhin's height

Only three companies arrived,

But the whole did start all right.

Our host was very small!

The French were fourt to one,

Besides the thousands within call.

The garrison, we said,

Must surely come and help us

when they heard the shouts we made.

But General Sacken hied

To praise the Holy Mother

At the very time we cried!

General Belevkov shook

The flag quite fiercely; but that face

You should have seen his look.

So it was "Right about!"

But oh! the men who sent us out

The men who sent us out!

"As to the authorship of this witty, farcical song," continued Venyukov, Anossov in his letter, informed me that the general opinion of the army ascribed it to our gifted author, Count L. N. Tolstoy `but you understand,' wrote Anossov, `one cannot exactly assert it, were it only for fear of injuring Tolstoy, supposing him to be really the author.'" Later on the same version of the song was again printed in the "Olden Times" under the signature of "One of the authors of `The Sebastopol Song.'" This is how the part author relates the history of the song: "Count L. N. Tolstoy no doubt took part in the compilation of this song, but he did not compose all its verses. It would not be fair to ascribe to him the whole of this witty production. "Therefore, in the interest of historical truth, I will tell you, as a witness, how it originated: "During the Crimean War, very often - almost every evening - the members of the artillery staff and some other officers used to meet at Krizhanovsky's, who commanded the artillery staff. "Lieutenant-Colonel Balyuzek usually sat at the piano, all the rest standing round and imporvising verses. Each introduced his thought and word.  Count L. N. Tolstoy introduced his own too, but not all.  Onc may say therefore that this improvisation was a common act, which expressed the modd of the military circle." Here following the names of the authors of "The Sebastopol song": Lieutenant-Colonel Balyuzek (afterward governor of turgai, now deceased), who used to sit at the piano; Captain A. Y. Friede, at present commander of the Caucasian Artillery; Lieutenant-Captain Count L. N. Tolstoy; Lieutenant V. Lughinin; Lieutenant Shulein; Lieutenant-Captain Surzhputovsky; Lieutenant Shklyarsky, an officer of the Uhlan Regiment; N. F. Koslyoninov, No. 2, and an officer of the Hussar regiment, N. S. Mussin-Pushkin.

"We received a copy of a similar song written probably under the same circumstances, but somewhat later. The music of it was given us by Sergey Tolstoy from memory.  this song contains many popular expressions not fit for print.  Where a change was possible, we replaced them, without changing rhythm or meaning, by more polite language.  Where this was impossible, dots were put in place of the expressions.

September, the eighth day,

For the faith and for the Czar

Before the French we ran away,

Before the French we ran away.

and our Prince Aleksandr

Let all the fleet sink out at sea,

Our admiral and commander.

And then he said "Good-by;

Go on all you and fight your best,

I'm for Bakhchisari."

In our rear St. Arnault lay;

He was kind enought to wait a bit,

And then he blazed away.

We were obliged to call

For help on Tuesday's holy Saint,

Or he'd have caught us all.

What was Liprandi at?

He captured all the forts he could,

But what's the use of that?

From Kishinev was passed

The word, an army would come up,

And in they marched at last.

'Twas Danneberg that led;

They told him, "Never spare your men,

You've got to go ahead."

Pavlov marched off uphill,

And Soymonov went to meet him,

But they may be climbing still.

Liprandi, when he knew

The French had got the upper hand,

Was puzzled what to do.

No doubt the grand dukes came,

But the French, instead of being afraid,

Kept firing all the same.

Ten thousand men there fell;

What the Czar ever did for them

Is more than I can tell

The prince, he did complain;

He said the soldiers were no good,

And faced about again.

And on that fatal day

Of heroes there were only two,

And the grand dukes were they.

They had their St. George too,

And were taken to St. Petersburg

For all the world to view.

And the priests, as they were bound,

Prayed that a hurricane might come

And all the French be drowned.

The wind was very rough,

But the Frenchmen stayed and faced it out,

They were of better stuff.

In winter they made sorties -

And many a man they killed of us -

From up there where the fort is.

Ket Khrulev come and lead,

And drive the Turk from Kozlov, as

We never could succeed.

"More soldiers," Menshchik prayed;

Till the Czar, to keep his spirits up,

Sent Saken to his aid.

Menshchik was great sea,

And he wrote bluntly to the Czar,

"Father, our Czar," said he,

"Your Yeroveyich was never

Much more use than your youngsters.

And I'm sure they're none whatever!"

The Czar upon this flew

Into a rage, and so fell ill,

When holding a review.

He went to heaven, we know,

Most likely he was wanted there;

'Twas well he had to go.

But when on his deathbed,

"You'd better just be on your guard,"

Unto his son he said.

The son was not too kind;

"Dear Menshchik," he wrote, "you can go

To the devil if you don't mind.

"I know who'll do the work;

The man I mean's Prince Gorchakov,

The same as fought the Turk.

He won't much beg for men;

I'll send for him promotion,

And he won't ask again."

If one thinks of the circumstances in which these songs were written, of all the horrors of death, groans of the wounded, bloodshed, fires, murders, filling the atmosphere in Sebastopol, one cannot help being struck with admiration of the moral strength of those men who could indulge in good-natured jests at their own cost in the face of constant threat of sufferings and death. Meanwhile in literary circles in St. Petersburg Tolstoy became more and more known. He conquered his first severe critic, Turgenev. Readers will remember the account of Mme. Golovachov-Panayev, which we quite at the beginning of this chapter, how Turgenev checked Panayev's enthusiasm by his reasonings. In 1854 Turgenev wrote from his estate, Spasskoye, to E. Y. Kolbassin, a collaborator of "The Contemporary": "I am very glad to hear of the success of `Boyhood'. Let Tolstoy only survive, and I hope he will yet astonish us all - his is a first-rate gift.  I met his sister (she is married to a Count Tolstoy, too) - a very charming woman..." When the "Sebastopol Tales" were printed turgenev became most enthusiastic, and thus expressed his enthusiasm in a letter to Panayev: "Tolstoy's article on Sebastopol is a gem. Tears came into my eyes when I read it, and I shouted hurrah! I am much flattered by his desire to dedicate his new tale to me.  I saw in the `Moscow News' the advertisement of "The Contemporary." Very good; God grant you may keep your promises, that is to say, that articles may safely pass the censorship, that Tolstoy may not be killed, and so on.  It will help you greatly.  Tolstoy'a article made a great sensation here....Spasskoye, July 10, 1855." One may sat that after the appearance of the "Sebastopol Tales" Tolstoy had risen to the rank of a foremost author. A. E. Kony, in his biography of T. F. Gorbunov, quotes the following interesting opinion of Pissemskiy concerning these tales:

About this time, Pissemskiy -- who was then writing his remarkable novel, "The Thousand Souls -- after having    listened to some passages out of the "Sebastopol Tales"     by the then "only promising great writer of the Russian Land," gruffly said to Gorbunov: "This young officer will eclipse us all -- one might as well give up    writing..."

After the fall of Sebastopol, Tolstoy was sent as a courier to St. Petersburg and was attached to a rocket battery. Before leaving Sebastopol, Tolstoy had applied his literary abilities to making a report of the last battle. Of this report, he himself says in his article, "A few words concerning `War and Peace,'": After the loss of Sebastopol, the commander of the artillery, Krizhanovskiy, sent me the reports of the artillery officers from all the bastions, and requested me to compose an account from more than twenty of these reports. I regret that I did not copy them. They were the best specimen of the kind of naive, unfailing military falsehood which always furnishes the material for descriptions. I believe that many of these comrades of mine who composed these reports, if they read these lines, will laugh as they call to mind how, by the orders of the authorities, they wrote of matters about which they could not know anything.

During his military service, Tolstoy had disagreements with his superior officers and comrades owing to his love for justice. In accordance with the custom of those days, commanders of different parts of the battery, as well as the commander of the whole battery, used to save up part of the money given them from the treasury to spend on keeping the battery. The money thus saved they generally kept for themselves, getting a certain regular income which led to many abuses. Tolstoy, on making his accounts, found a surplus over the expenses; he added it to the sum allotted for the battery instead of appropriating it. This practice was viewed with great disfavor by other commanders, and General Krizhanovskiy reproved him for it. N. A. Krilov bears testimony to this in his reminiscences. In 1856 he was transferred to the 14th Battery, which Tolstoy had recently quitted. Tolstoy is remembered in the brigade as a good horseman, a genial companion, and an athlete. he would lie on the floor, a man weighing 5 poods would be placed on his hands, and he would lift him up by straightening his arms; in tugging a stick nobody could beat him. A great many witty anecdotes are attributed to him, which he used to tell in a masterly way. The Count was accused of preaching to the officers to refund to the Government the excess of forage money in case an officer's horse does not consume the quantity of fodder it is supposed to eat. In St. Petersburg quite a different life awaited Tolstoy, into which he plunged with his unfailing youthful energy.