The enemy forces could see that something incomprehensible was taking place in grim Sebastopol. These explosions, coupled with the dead silence that hung over the bastions, made them shudder; but, with the calm and mighty resistance they had met still fresh in their memories, they did not yet dare believe that their unflinching antagonist had disappeared, and in silence, without moving, they waited anxiously for this murky night to end.
Surging together and ebbing apart like the waves of the sea on this gloomy, swell-rocked night, uneasily shuddering with all its massive volume, swaying out along the bridge and over on the North Side by the bay, the, Sebastopol force slowly moved in a dense, impenetrable crush away from the place where it had left behind so many brave men, the place that was entirely saturated in its blood; the place which for eleven months it had held against an enemy twice as powerful, and which it had now been instructed to abandon without a struggle.
The first reaction of every Russian soldier on hearing this order was one of bitterness and incomprehension. This was succeeded by a fear of pursuit. As soon as they had abandoned the positions they had grown used to defending, the men felt exposed and unprotected, and crowded anxiously in the darkness by the entrance to the bridge, which was pitching in the high wind. Their bayonets clashing, the infantry huddled together in jostling throngs of regiments, carriages and militia; officers on horseback bearing fresh orders forced their way through; townsfolk and officers’ orderlies stood weeping and begging beside loads of personal belongings, which were not being allowed through; with a rumble of wheels the artillery cut its way towards the bay shore, in a hurry to embark. Countless immediate and practical concerns took second place to what was uppermost in everyone’s mood: a general instinct for self-preservation and a common desire to escape from this terrible place of death as quickly as possible. This feeling was shared equally by the soldier lying fatally wounded among five hundred other men similarly at their last gasp on the stone surface of the Paul Quay, praying God for deliverance; by the militiaman who with the last of his strength was pushing into the densely packed crowd in order to make way for a general to get through on horseback; by the general himself, who was firmly in command of the crossing-point and was restraining the hasty energies of his men; by the sailor who had become caught up in the ranks of an advancing battalion and was having the last breath crushed out of him by the fluctuating mass; by the wounded officer being carried on a stretcher by four others who, forced to stop outside the Nicholas battery having likewise had the breath knocked out of them by the crowd, were compelled to stop and put the stretcher down; by the artilleryman who had served by his gun for sixteen years and was now, in compliance with a bewildering order from the supreme command, heaving it, with the assistance of his comrades, off the steep escarpment and into the bay; and by the sailors who had just finished opening the scuttles in their ships and were now rowing briskly away from them in longboats. Each man, on arriving at the other side of the bridge, took off his cap and crossed himself. But this feeling concealed another—draining, agonizing, and infinitely more profound: a sense of something that was a blend of remorse, shame and violent hatred. Nearly every man, as he looked across from the North Side at abandoned Sebastopol, sighed with a bitterness that could find no words, and shook his fist at the enemy forces.
St Petersburg
27 December 1855
NOTES
INTRODUCTION
[1] From the German Feuerwerker, meaning “artificer.”
[2] Tolstoy’s grandmother’s maid.
[3] The Tolstoys’ housekeeper.
[4] Tolstoy’s Letters, 2 vols., translated and edited by R. F. Christian, Athlone (1978).
[5] Tolstoy’s Letters, op. cit.
[6] Commander of the Russian forces at Balaclava.
[7] Commander of the Russian forces at Inkerman.
[8] The Russian word is shtutser, the name given by the Russians to the French Minié rifle, which, with its superior threading and longer range, proved a deadly and devastating weapon.
[9] “Like most of the allied military strategists of the time, Elphinstone assumes that any attack on the fortress would be impossible. Such rigid thinking was responsible for the massive bloodshed sustained by the allies during the war—in the end, however, the Russians surrendered the fortress after only one key point had been taken.” See Philip Warner, The Crimean War, A Reappraisal, London (1972), from which Elphinstone’s account is quoted.
[10] Wicker baskets filled with earth, for use in fortification.
[11] Quoted in Warner, op. cit., pp. 135-6.
[12] J. S. Curtiss, The Russian Army Under Nicholas I, 1825-55, Duke University Press, Durham, North Carolina (1965).
[13] ibid.
[14] At Sebastopol, the hospital provisions organized by N. I. Pirogov were particularly effective.
[15] Curtiss, op. cit., p. 216.
[16] Curtiss, op. cit., pp. 216-17.
[17] Baron D. E. Osten-Saken, the commander of the Sebastopol garrison.
[18] Curtiss, op. cit., p. 340.
[19] A fictitious Polish name, which Tolstoy nowhere gives in Roman characters, but which is meant to signify “non-arriver” (it could also mean “one who has not taken the oath”). In the letter quoted here the name is actually given as “Napshisetsky” (a transliteration from the Cyrillic—this may, however be a distortion for the sake of the censor). “The Russian officer corps . . . contained men of several national origins and probably was more heterogeneous than those of most European armies. While this may have been somewhat harmful, because of the friction between the native Russian officers and those of German and Polish origin, this dissension does not seem to have been serious. In fact, the army may have benefited somewhat from the presence of the non-Russians, as some of them were better educated than the mass of Russian officers and probably helped to raise the general level of the military technique of the forces.” (Curtiss, op. cit., p. 211.)
[20] A fictitious Russian name, meaning “Rotten-guts.”
[21] To Ye. F. Korsh, Tolstoy later claimed that “every time I read them, I feel I would rather be given a hundred lashes than see them in print.” The two sentences were dropped from all editions that appeared after 1886.
[22] The texts used for the present translations of this and the other two sketches are the ones ultimately sanctioned by Tolstoy, and are identical with those contained in volume 2 of L. N. Tolstoy, Sobranie sochineniy v dvadtsati tomakh, Moscow (1965).
[23] Curtiss, op. cit., p. 355.
[24] Curtiss, op. cit., pp. 357-8. I have quoted Curtiss’s description at length, as it supplies a concise chronological framework of the events in Tolstoy’s third sketch. In War and Peace, Tolstoy would himself supply such factual accounts, though usually with a satirical dig at military strategists and historians in general.
[25] “Sketch” is only an approximate translation of Tolstoy’s own title of “story” (rasskaz) for each of the three pieces. Given the tenuousness of the plots, however, “sketch,” with its visual, pictorial connotations, seems more apt than “story” as a description.
[26] Tolstoy’s “War and Peace”, Oxford (1962), p. 152.
[27] ibid., p. 115.
TOLSTOY’S NOTES
[a] The naval personnel all say “blaze,” not “fire.” (Tolstoy’s note.)
[b] “Go out on to the street and see what’s new.”
[c] “And meanwhile we’ll have a nip of vodka, ’cos it’s getting pretty scary.”
[d] So accustomed have our soldiers become to this cry in the course of their fighting with the Turks that they will now all tell you to a man that the French shout “Allah!” too. (Tolstoy’s note.)
[e] One of those enchanting books of which there has recently appeared such an inordinate quantity, and which for some reason enjoy an exceptional popularity among our young people. (Tolstoy’s note; the novel is by Balzac.)
[f] The last posthouse before Sebastopol. (Tolstoy’s note.)
[g] In many army regiments the officers refer to the common soldiers, half contemptuously and half affectionately, as “Moscow” or “the oath.” (Tolstoy’s note.)
[h] Handbook for Artillery Officers, published by Bezak. (Tolstoys note.)
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
[1] the Sapun-gora: called “Mont Sapoune” by the French, and “Sapoun Hill” or “Mount Sapoune” by the British—the high ground south-east of Sebastopol.
[2] the North Side: district on the north shore of the Great Bay (called “the Roadstead” by the British) of Sebastopol.
[3] muskets: the Russian infantry were equipped only with muskets, while the French and British had rifles. Tolstoy makes no distinction, using the Russian word ruzh’yo (“gun”) to denote both.
[4] the Grafskaya: quay on the Town Side of Sebastopol near the opening of Sebastopol Harbour (called the “Southern Bay” by the Russians) into the Great Bay.
[5] the sunken ships: during the intensive building of defences that went on in the autumn of 1854, part of the Russian fleet was sunk in the Great Bay to protect the town against attack from the sea.
[6] all her guns: ships’ guns were widely commandeered for use on land batteries during the fighting.
[7] Kornilov: Vice-Admiral Vladimir Alekseyevich Kornilov (1806-54), an outstanding Russian commander during the Crimean War and, with Totleben, one of the principal organizers of the Sebastopol defences. He was fatally wounded during the first allied bombardment.
[8] sbitén: a drink made with honey and spices.
[9] a handsome building with Roman numerals carved on its pediment: the hall of the Sebastopol Assembly of Nobles. It was here that the great Russian surgeon N. I. Pirogov set up and ran a field hospital or dressing station (perevyazochny punkt).
[10] the 5th bastion: the western fortification of the Sebastopol defence line.
[11] the first bombardment: this took place on 5 October 1854.
[12] a sailor: “As the bombardment continued, the supply of powder ran low. In large part this was caused by the naval gunners manning many of the batteries, who fired furiously and with little regard for aim.” (J. S. Curtiss, The Russian Army Under Nicholas I, 1823-1833, Duke University Press, Durham, North Carolina (1965), p. 334.)
[13] the Grand Dukes: Nikolai Nikolayevich and Mikhail Nikolayevich, the two sons of Nicholas I, who had arrived at the front during the autumn to bolster the morale of the troops, and who seemed to Tolstoy “to have the air of excessively well-behaved children, but were very fine fellows, both of them.”
[14] the fifth: 5 October 1854.
[15] the 24th: 24 October 1854—the date of the battle of Inkerman.
[16] the 4th bastion: the southernmost fortification of the Sebastopol defence line, situated on the Boulevard Heights between the Town Ravine and the Boulevard Dell.
[17] the battle of the Alma: the battle along the banks of the River Alma on 8 September 1854; this was the first engagement with the allies, and it ended in defeat for the Russians.
[18] carbines: the Russian word is shtutser, the term used for the Minié rifle and the British threaded rifle.
[19] the Yazon redoubt: this was situated behind the 4th bastion, and was formed either at the end of November or the beginning of December 1854 by connecting the 20th, 23rd, 53rd and 62nd batteries. The redoubt got its name from the brig Yazon, whose crew worked on its construction.
[20] sukhar: a rusk of dried bread.
[21] feigned, anticipatory look of suffering: Nikolai Rostov, in War and Peace, makes a similar observation on the field of Austerlitz.
[22] the Green Hill: the “Mamelón Vert,” on which the British had their batteries.
[23] the Veteran: The Russian Veteran, the official Russian army newspaper.
[24] Napoleon: the reference is to Napoleon III of France (1808-73).
[25] the French have lost their line of communication to Balaclava: the “comrade,” here revealing his ignorance, means the British, who had a cable railway connecting them with their base at Balaclava.
[26] cadet volunteer: “Cadet volunteer” is offered as a translation of the Russian yunker. Curtiss explains:
“. . . while the cadet schools furnished most of the noted officers in the Russian army, who entered service with a fair military education and a fine knowledge of marching, riding, and formation drill, by far the greatest number of officers began their careers as volunteers who served as sergeants or yunkers in army regiments. Probably the most numerous were those entering with noble status. They might qualify for commissions after serving as sergeants for two years if vacancies developed, although if no vacancy occurred they had to wait longer. Those who qualified as university graduates could obtain commissions after three months’ service as sergeants, and university students without degrees needed only six months to qualify. The students received their commissions promptly even if no vacancies existed. Volunteers from middle-class and intellectual families needed four months of service to qualify for commissions, while déclassé nobles (odnodvortsy) had to serve six years as sergeants. A special limitation on the promotion of yunkers in the cavalry regiments required them to present ‘definite proof that they have the means to maintain themselves in those regiments in proper manner’.
“Most of the yunkers came to the regiments without proper schooling. Many were students dismissed from the gymnasia for poor work, or who had had to leave because of lack of funds. Others had had some sort of home education from tutors or other instructors. Many of them were pampered youngsters unfit for any career or spoiled sons of generals and other officers. The army at least offered them a livelihood, while those with ability could make good careers.” (Curtiss, op. cit., pp. 186-7.)
[27] Why did authors . . . Vanity Fair?: in his study of Tolstoy published in 1890, the Russian thinker Konstantin Leontiev made an interesting reply to this passage, and it may bear quoting in part:
“First, in the times of Homer and Shakespeare, people probably found nothing contemptible or wrong with a person’s thinking about how he is looked upon by those who are superior, stronger, more eminent, more lustrous, et cetera. It seemed so natural and so simple that there was no reason here to be disturbed.
“Second, the desire to please and to make a favourable impression on others appears in people at the sight of more than just their superiors. For example, in our ‘democratic’ times, the desire to ingratiate oneself with the lower classes, the mob, the common man, has grown stronger and more harmful than the ancient, everlasting, and natural desire to equal one’s superiors in at least something or other (even while remaining in one’s own place), to be liked by them, to obtain access to their society, et cetera . . .
“If some petty impulse of pride were to make a person betray his duty, his love, a true feeling, or some other noble matter, one could censure him for it. But if people do their work, do their duty, as more or less all the Russian officers in Tolstoy’s stories do, what harm is there if they amuse themselves a little, even by aspiring to that which is superior, a practice which the young (at the time) author called especially vain?
It is special, and it is incorrect, for one can be vain about anything at all—about the most diverse things: a luxurious and a spartan way of life; tidiness and slovenliness; an illustrious and a base origin; pride and humility, et cetera.
“Moreover, we might ask how Count Tolstoy knew for certain in 1855 what the various officers felt?
“Of course, this is nothing more than suspicious conjecture by a mind still immature and driven in one direction by the morbid negation characteristic of the fifties. Finally—and forgive me for being personal—if Count Tolstoy was inwardly unsettled in youth and like this himself, we are not obliged to believe that through it, he thoroughly and accurately knew the soul of everyone else. I might furthermore add, by the way, that at that time Count Tolstoy found all these proud and vain impulses in people of the educated class only. He is silent everywhere about the pride and vanity of soldiers
and peasants . . .
“The point is that in the days of Homer and Shakespeare there prevailed a world outlook that was religious and aristocratic, or heroic and consequently more aesthetic than today’s. But today, there prevails a world outlook that is utilitarian and moral, with a tendency towards egalitarianism. Therefore, all these suspicions and captious objections have also multiplied so awkwardly in our literature since the forties.” (The Novels of Count Tolstoy, trans. Spencer Roberts.)
[28] the Schwartz redoubt: the 1st Schwartz redoubt was a fortification situated between the 4th and 5th bastions.
[29] the casemate: a defended room in a fortress, designed for protection against bombs and shells.
[30] the lodgments: a military term used in fortification to denote weak entrenchments.
[31] creature comforts: “Cavalry officers especially had a tradition of wild and frivolous conduct suitable to the cornets and subalterns from the jeunesse dorée. When Prince A. I. Baryatinsky joined a cuirassier regiment as a cornet in 1833, his tour of duty ‘was, in keeping with the current cavalry mores, a series of carousels, pranks, of idle civil life’. Far from regarding this as a serious defect, the higher military authorities looked on it with amusement, ‘as consequences of youth and élan characteristic of a military man in general and of a cavalryman in particular’. Even if they did not misbehave, the young hussars and uhlan officers rarely paid much attention to their military roles—from which, indeed, their squadron commanders willingly excused them—but spent much of their time at the estates of hospitable landowners.” (Curtiss, op. cit., p. 197.)
[32] Pojdę na ulicę . . ., etc.: the inclusion of dialogue in the original language is an important feature of the second sketch, and it is a device which Tolstoy developed to full effect in War and Peace.
[33] He had been killed . . . chest: In the work already quoted, Leontiev gives a perceptive commentary on the death of Praskukhin, comparing it with the deaths of Prince Andrey and Ivan Ilyich: