In “Childhood” Tolstoy apostrophises with feeling one of those “innocents,” a man named Grisha, “whose faith was so strong that you felt the nearness of God, your love so ardent that the words flowed from your lips uncontrolled by your reason. And how did you celebrate his Majesty when, words failing you, you prostrated yourself on the ground, bathed in tears” This picture of humble religious faith was amongst Tolstoy’s earliest memories, and it returned to comfort him and uplift his soul when it was tossed and engulfed by seas of doubt. But the affection he felt in boyhood towards the moujiks became tinged with contempt when his attempts to improve their condition—some of which are described in “Anna Karenina” and in the “Landlord’s Morning”—ended in failure, owing to the ignorance and obstinacy of the people. It was not till he passed through the ordeal of war in Turkey and the Crimea that he discovered in the common soldier who fought by his side an unconscious heroism, an unquestioning faith in God, a kindliness and simplicity of heart rarely possessed by his commanding officer.
The impressions made upon Tolstoy during this period of active service gave vivid reality to the battle-scenes in “War and Peace,” and are traceable in the reflections and conversation of the two heroes, Prince Andre and Pierre Besukhov. On the eve of the battle of Borodino, Prince Andre, talking with Pierre in the presence of his devoted soldier-servant Timokhine, says,—“‘Success cannot possibly be, nor has it ever been, the result of strategy or fire-arms or numbers.’
“‘Then what does it result from?’ said Pierre.
“‘From the feeling that is in me, that is in him’—pointing to Timokhine—‘and that is in each individual soldier.’”
He then contrasts the different spirit animating the officers and the men.
“‘The former,’ he says, ‘have nothing in view but their personal interests. The critical moment for them is the moment at which they are able to supplant a rival, to win a cross or a new order. I see only one thing. To-morrow one hundred thousand Russians and one hundred thousand Frenchmen will meet to fight; they who fight the hardest and spare themselves the least will win the day.’
“‘There’s the truth, your Excellency, the real truth,’ murmurs Timokhine; ‘it is not a time to spare oneself. Would you believe it, the men of my battalion have not tasted brandy? “It’s not a day for that,” they said.’”
During the momentous battle which followed, Pierre was struck by the steadfastness under fire which has always distinguished the Russian soldier.
“The fall of each man acted as an increasing stimulus. The faces of the soldiers brightened more and more, as if challenging the storm let loose on them.”
In contrast with this picture of fine “morale” is that of the young white-faced officer, looking nervously about him as he walks backwards with lowered sword.