Comparison of Leo Tolstoys War and Peace and A Prisoner in the Caucasus - Essay Example

Your full here Your here here here Comparison of Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace and "A Prisoner in the Caucasus" The purpose of this paper is to analyze these two very important works by Leo N. Tolstoy, concentrating on two specific subject-matters to be compared, which are apparently intrinsic to both: the subject of war and the subject of national history. Upon comparing Tolstoy's War and Peace and "A Prisoner in the Caucasus", the first thing that needs to be taken into account is the difference in format of the two works. One is a full-length, historical novel of epic proportions and the other is a short story, which imposes some limitations on scope and also makes it necessary to preferably use the short story as the primary focus and concentrate on similar passages/sections in the novel. In general and on a whole, it can be stated that there are more differences than similarities between the two. War and Peace provides ample background as to the war that is taking place, describing in detail the events leading up to the war, the reason for it, the points of view and particularities of both sides involved, and the historical context surrounding the characters and occurrences that are significant to the story. It is a standalone piece that a reader can approach without the need to be versed or even familiar with the history of the time period in which it unfolds, given the fact that all of this information is provided therein, whereas in "A Prisoner in the Caucasus", the only piece of information given as to historical context is that it is taking place amidst the war between the Russians and the Tartars, forcing the discerning and curious reader to research the circumstances of, and time in history when, said war was waged if he/she wishes to obtain some temporal reference or detailed contextual information that would serve as a basis for better understanding the tale's time and place. Another general and very important difference between the novel and the short story consists of the fact that the latter was written by Tolstoy based on actual experiences. "A Prisoner in the Caucasus" fictionalizes Tolstoy's first-hand experience as a soldier in 1852 fighting in the war against the Chechenians, Tartars who rebelled against Russian rule. Evidence of actual occurrences that Tolstoy lived during his military career, which he either described in detail to instill realism into certain passages of his story or embellished upon to create memorable scenes, abounds in scholarly biographical works on the author. One such event is beautifully narrated in A Cadet in the Caucasus (Simmons, p. 23): [Tolstoy] and Sado were in a convoy of stores from Fort Vozdvizhenskoe to Fort Groznoe. Although regulations strictly forbade anyone detaching himself from the convoy, because of the danger of being cut off by roving mountaineers, he, Sado and three mounted officers, impatient with the slow pace of the infantry, rode on ahead. Tolstoy and Sado ascended a ridge to see if any of the enemy were in sight. A large band suddenly appeared a short distance away. Shouting a warning to their three comrades below, Tolstoy and Sado galloped for the fort, less than three miles away. The Chechen band divided, seven taking up the pursuit of Tolstoy and Sado and the rest dashing after the other officers. These men had been slow to take the warning and two of them were severely wounded before reaching the convoy. Meanwhile Tolstoy, who had been trying out Sado's spirited new horse and hence might easily have escaped, refused to desert his friend, who was mounted on Tolstoy's slow ambler. The Chechens drew nearer and nearer, while Sado tried to keep them at a distance by threatening them with an unloaded gun. The enemy could have shot them down, but apparently they desired to take them alive, especially the renegade Sado, whom they no doubt wished to torture. Fortunately, a Cossack guard at the post saw their plight. A rescue party at once galloped out and the Chechens fled. This close encounter of Tolstoy's with danger was the inspiration for the story (Simmons Introduction, Chapter 8) and, up to the point where Tolstoy is faced with the decision of either staying with his friend or trying to outrun the Chechens, this account is faithfully reproduced almost word for word in the scene from "A Prisoner in the Caucasus", although the outcome in the story is that Zhalin is taken captive by the Tartars after his friend flees (Grove, pp. 513-514). In contrast, Napoleon Bonaparte's campaign for the conquest of Europe and the ensuing war against him began before Tolstoy was born, and although still fresh in the collective consciousness of his country, Tolstoy's knowledge of that war was ultimately second-hand. His military narrative for War and Peace was "based on researches into the Napoleonic campaigns and on direct observation of the Crimean War" (Huzar and Morrison, p. 291). Another comparison that must be made of the two works is the fact that "A Prisoner in the Caucasus" was published as a children's story in a primer Tolstoy designed for Russian schoolchildren across the empire (Grant, p. 43). The treatment of war and its related circumstances, and the viewpoint used, are notably distinct from one to the other. War and Peace is told from an adult's viewpoint and with adult or near-adult content (pre-teens and their budding romances, illicit affairs, intrigue, etc.), with a length and scope that most children would find daunting, whereas "A Prisoner in the Caucasus" is a straightforward, short and simple tale that, albeit rather graphic depictions of violence, does not carry the subtle nuances and innuendos that one might find in the novel. As a historic piece, there is no comparison between Tolstoy's War and Peace and "A Prisoner in the Caucasus". As mentioned before, the novel includes historically accurate descriptions of Napoleonic wartime in Europe while the short story can only be considered historical because of the fact that it was written in 1870 (published in 1872) and intended to be almost contemporary for the time, which would now make it historical in the sense that it is from a somewhat distant past, but not because of any specific historical facts or references, which are not included. Tolstoy's storytelling in this short piece is just that, storytelling, with no real attempt by means of contextualities to place the reader in the actual time and place of the war that the story unfolds within, perhaps due to the fact that his intended audience was to be comprised of children. Some specific passages in War and Peace that evoke recollections of "A Prisoner in the Caucasus" are those in which Pierre has been taken prisoner by the French after escaping from being executed for incendiarism, falsely accused of helping start the fires in Moscow that were set after Napoleon's occupation. Here there are some similarities between the two, like the theme of friendship and hope that runs throughout their respective plights as captives. Pierre is befriended by an older prisoner who is held in the same shed as he is, named Platon Karataev, who, along with the hardships of war and escape from death that Pierre has already gone through, causes his change of heart almost right from the start of his captivity, making him feel like "the world that had been shattered was once more stirring in his soul with a new beauty and on new and unshakable foundations" (Tolstoy, p. 1038). Zhalin, in turn, is befriended by a little girl named Dina, the daughter of his captor, who ultimately helps him escape by holding a pole inside the pit he is being kept in so he can climb out. No nationalistic undertones are apparent in "A Prisoner", although camaraderie is. In extolling the virtues of friendship, the concept of camaraderie among soldiers fighting on the same side is practically a given. However, Zhalin's concern for his comrade and fellow captive does not emerge from a sense of nationalism so much as from high moral values. At no time is it mentioned that his interest in Kostalin's livelihood is because of a sense of duty towards his country. However, nationalism is an important part of War and Peace. Upon being reprimanded by his commanding officer, the erstwhile wayward Dolokhov rebuts, "One thing I ask of your Excellency, [...] I ask an opportunity to atone for my fault and prove my devotion to His Majesty the Emperor and to Russia!" (Tolstoy, p. 119). Phrases like this, exalting the Tsar and Russia, are peppered throughout the book. The other extreme is attributed to the character of Pierre Bezukhov when Tolstoy, in describing Pierre's newfound peace during his imprisonment, mentions that "It did not now occur to him to think of Russia, or the war, or politics, or Napoleon. It was plain to him that all these things were no business of his, and that he was not called on to judge concerning them and therefore could not do so" (ibid., p. 1082). This befittingly provides an opening for the next observation that can be made regarding "A Prisoner in the Caucasus." Tolstoy makes no judgment or statements that could be construed as judgmental in his short story. Again, this could be due to the fact that he was writing it with children in mind. Whatever the reason, there are no long passages on the thought processes of the characters or the moral considerations of the omniscient, third-person narrator. In contrast, War and Peace is a methodically constructed argument against war that subtly exerts, or attempts to exert, an influence on the reader through careful use of the literary technique known as stream of consciousness, as well as eloquent moral, ethical, and philosophical reflections from the third-person narrator. The Epilogue to the novel, especially, provides exceptional insight into Leo Tolstoy the man, and his way of thinking at the time in his life when he wrote it, but the rest of the novel is also rich in moral and philosophical observations throughout. In Part Eleven, Chapter II, on history and the role of the individual, Tolstoy writes: To study the laws of history we must completely change the subject of our observation, must leave aside kings, ministers, and generals, and the common, infinitesimally small elements by which the masses are moved. No one can say in how far it is possible for man to advance in this way toward an understanding of the laws of history; but it is evident that only along that path does the possibility of discovering the laws of history lie, and that as yet not a millionth part as much mental effort has been applied in this direction by historians as has been devoted to describing the actions of various kings, commanders, and ministers and propounding the historians' own reflections concerning these actions (ibid, p. 882). Evidently, War and Peace "takes sharp issue with the theory that history is the work of great men in general, and of Napoleon in particular. In a major sense, the book is an essay on limitations of the power of those who occupy positions of leadership" (Huzar and Morrison, p. 291). The philosophical "spin" Tolstoy imbued to his novel, and especially his musings on war, politics, and the science of history, were not well-received by all. As a matter of fact, "Tolstoy was vehemently attacked by critics for dragging into his novel so many indigestible chunks of what they termed irrelevant philosophy" (Hare, p. 114). In the treatment of the enemy in war, both depictions also greatly differ. In "A Prisoner in the Caucasus" Tolstoy humanizes Zhalin's captors and instills in them likeable and even empathetic characteristics. And so we have that Abdul, the man that Zhalin is delivered to after he is captured, agrees to Zhalin's request that "he must feed us [Zhalin and Kostalin] properly, give us proper clothes and boots, and let us be together. It will be more cheerful for us. And he must have these shackles taken off our feet" (Grove, p. 521) and later, after Zhalin fixes his watch, "gives him some tools -pincers, gimlets, and a file" (ibid., p. 523) so that he can mend things for other Tartars that come even from distant villages, and after being advised by a die-hard Chechen war hero to kill Zhalin, tells him "But I can't kill you. I have paid money for you and, besides, I have grown fond of you, Ivan. Far from killing you, I would not even let you go if I had not promised" then saying "in Russian, 'You, Ivan, good; I, Abdul, good!'" (ibid., p. 525). Also, Tolstoy almost completely refrains from using adjectives that label or qualify the attitudes and personalities of the characters in his short story, producing a very neutral prose from the third-person narrator. Just the opposite is true in War and Peace. Judgmental assessment of the characters is the rule, not the exception, starting with the enemy the Russians are fighting. It could be said that in War and Peace, the enemy is embodied in Napoleon Bonaparte and when Tolstoy writes about the French, he is more often than not likening them to Bonaparte, of whom, like of historians, he does not have anything positive to say: When it is impossible to stretch the very elastic threads of historical ratiocination any farther, when actions are clearly contrary to all that humanity calls right or even just, the historians produce a saving conception of "greatness." "Greatness," it seems, excludes the standards of right and wrong. For the "great" man nothing is wrong, there is no atrocity for which a "great" man can be blamed. "C'est grand!" say the historians, and there no longer exists either good or evil but only "grand" and "not grand." Grand is good, not grand is bad. Grand is the characteristic, in their conception, of some special animals called "heroes." And Napoleon, escaping home in a warm fur coat and leaving to perish those who were not merely his comrades but were (in his opinion) men he had brought there, feels que c'est grand, and his soul is tranquil. And it occurs to no one that to admit a greatness not commensurable with the standard of right and wrong is merely to admit one's own nothingness and immeasurable meanness (Tolstoy, p. 1143). For us with the standard of good and evil given us by Christ, no human actions are incommensurable. And there is no greatness where simplicity, goodness, and truth are absent (ibid., p. 1144). With words Tolstoy belittles the enemy, in the form of Bonaparte, often referring to him as "undersized", "small", and even "insignificant" and depicting him as a pompous, vane man, self-important and full of himself: [Napoleon] evidently wanted to do all the talking himself, and continued to talk with the sort of eloquence and unrestrained irritability to which spoiled people are so prone (ibid., p. 664). Evidently, only what took place within his own mind interested him. Nothing outside himself had any significance for him, because everything in the world, it seemed to him, depended entirely on his will (ibid., p. 662). It was evident that he had long been convinced that it was impossible for him to make a mistake, and that in his perception whatever he did was right, not because it harmonized with any idea of right and wrong, but because he did it (ibid., p. 667). It would seem that in the sake of fairness Tolstoy makes of his character, Pierre, an eloquent defender of Bonaparte, but only in the first part of the novel. Later, Pierre becomes completely disillusioned with his "hero" and even plots his assassination, an idea he later abandons upon finding inner peace. Another similarity in the two works also conversely serves to show a major difference between them. Both are about freedom but, while in "A Prisoner in the Caucasus" Tolstoy puts this theme right on the table with his story of captivity and escape, the treatment he gives freedom in War and Peace is to argue that it really does not exist, and he does so to a very specific end. The following is a good example of Tolstoy's position on the subject, one of several passages where he dissects free will: If I examine an act I performed a moment ago in approximately the same circumstances as those I am in now, my action appears to me undoubtedly free. But if I examine an act performed a month ago, then being in different circumstances, I cannot help recognizing that if that act had not been committed much that resulted from it -good, agreeable, and even essential-would not have taken place. If I reflect on an action still more remote, ten years ago or more, then the consequences of my action are still plainer to me and I find it hard to imagine what would have happened had that action not been performed. The farther I go back in memory, or what is the same thing the farther I go forward in my judgment, the more doubtful becomes my belief in the freedom of my action. In history we find a very similar progress of conviction concerning the part played by free will in the general affairs of humanity. A contemporary event seems to us to be indubitably the doing of all the known participants, but with a more remote event we already see its inevitable results which prevent our considering anything else possible. And the farther we go back in examining events the less arbitrary do they appear (ibid, p. 1297). This is just one of many of Tolstoy's philosophical interpretations of freedom, or rather, the illusion thereof, arguing against its existence and in favor of the concept of fate or predestination. Reading a bit between the lines, he does this with the specific intent of proving that war is pointless because it fails to serve the purpose of the majority; war, and other historical events, is not an expression of the collective will of the people but more the result of the actions of a choice few or of a preordained fate. If we [were to] assume as the historians do that great men lead humanity to the attainment of certain ends [...] if the aim [of war] was the dissemination of ideas, the printing press could have accomplished that much better than warfare. If the aim was the progress of civilization, it is easy to see that there are other ways of diffusing civilization more expedient than by the destruction of wealth and of human lives [ibid., p. 1211]. Why did it happen in this and not in some other way The leaders, these historians tell us, express the will of the people: the activity of the leaders represents the activity of the people. The most usual generalizations adopted by almost all the historians [to be the aim of humanity's movement] are: freedom, equality, enlightenment, progress, civilization, and culture. [...] But as it is in no way proven that the aim of humanity does consist in freedom, equality, enlightenment, or civilization, and as the connection of the people with the rulers and enlighteners of humanity is only based on the arbitrary assumption that the collective will of the people is always transferred to the men whom we have noticed [in history], it happens that the activity of the millions who migrate, burn houses, abandon agriculture, and destroy one another never is expressed in the account of the activity of some dozen people who did not burn houses, practice agriculture, or slay their fellow creatures [ibid., p. 1281]. And so, in examining both of these works of Tolstoy's and breaking them down, the conclusion can be reached that "A Prisoner in the Caucasus" is a simple story about war and freedom, and that War and Peace, much more than a novel about war, is also an essay within a novel, one man's ruminations, skillfully placed as intermissions between the development of the plot, with the objective of swaying the reader towards his point of view which, one might add, is well-supported and altruistic in nature. Works Cited Grant, Bruce. "The Good Russian Prisoner: Naturalizing Violence in the Caucasus Mountains." Cultural Anthropology, Vol. 20, No. 1. (2005): pp. 39-67 Hare, Richard. "Tolstoy's Motives for Writing War and Peace." Russian Review, Vol. 15, No. 2. (Apr., 1956): pp. 110-121 Huzar, Elias, and Morrison, Donald. "Tolstoy on Military Administration." Military Affairs, Vol. 9, No. 4. (1945): pp. 291-305 Simmons, Ernest J. Introduction to Tolstoy's Writings. (1968): Chap. 8 Retrieved March 5, 2006 Read More