Captive of the Caucasus Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy genre. Three "Caucasian captives" (Comparative analysis)

(True)

1

One gentleman served as an officer in the Caucasus. His name was Zhilin.

One day he received a letter from home. His old mother writes to him: “I have become old, and I want to see my beloved son before I die. Come say goodbye to me, bury me, and then with God, go back to the service. And I have found a bride for you: she is smart, and good, and has property. If you fall in love, maybe you’ll get married and stay completely.”

Zhilin thought about it: “And indeed: the old woman has become really bad; maybe you won't have to see it. go; and if the bride is good, you can get married.”

Tolstoy. Caucasian prisoner. Audiobook

He went to the colonel, straightened out his leave, said goodbye to his comrades, gave his soldiers four buckets of vodka as a farewell, and got ready to leave.

There was a war in the Caucasus at that time. There was no passage on the roads either day or night. As soon as any of the Russians leave or move away from the fortress, the Tatars will either kill them or take them to the mountains. And it was customary that escorted soldiers walked from fortress to fortress twice a week. Soldiers walk in front and behind, and people ride in the middle.

It was summer. At dawn the convoys gathered for the fortress, the accompanying soldiers came out and set off along the road. Zhilin was riding on horseback, and the cart with his things was in the wagon train.

It was 25 miles to go. The convoy walked quietly; Then the soldiers will stop, then someone’s wheel will come off in the wagon train, or a horse will stop, and everyone will stand there, waiting.

The sun had already set for half a day, and the convoy had only covered half the road. Dust, heat, the sun is so hot, but there is nowhere to hide. Bare steppe, not a tree or bush along the road.

Zhilin rode forward, stopped and waited for the convoy to arrive. He hears a horn playing behind him - stand there again. Zhilin thought: “Shouldn’t I leave alone, without soldiers? The horse under me is good, and even if I attack the Tatars, I will gallop away. Or not to go?..”

He stopped and thought. And another officer, Kostylin, with a gun, rides up to him on a horse and says:

- Let's go, Zhilin, alone. There’s no urine, I’m hungry, and it’s hot. At least squeeze my shirt out. - And Kostylin is a heavy, fat man, all red, and the sweat is pouring off him. Zhilin thought and said:

- Is the gun loaded?

- Charged.

- Well, then let's go. The only agreement is not to leave.

Tolstoy. Caucasian prisoner. Feature film, 1975

And they drove forward along the road. They drive along the steppe, talk and look around. You can see far all around.

As soon as the steppe ended, the road went between two mountains into a gorge, Zhilin said:

“We need to go out onto the mountain and have a look, otherwise they’ll probably jump out from behind the mountain and you won’t see it.”

And Kostylin says:

– What to watch? let's go ahead.

Zhilin did not listen to him.

“No,” he says, “you wait downstairs, and I’ll just take a look.”

And he turned his horse to the left, up the mountain. The horse near Zhilin was a hunting horse (he paid a hundred rubles for it in the herd as a foal and rode it out himself); how she carried him up the steep slope on wings. As soon as he jumped out, lo and behold, in front of him, on a tithe of space, there were about thirty Tatars standing on horseback. He saw it and began to turn back; and the Tatars saw him, rushed towards him, and at a gallop they grabbed their guns from their cases. Zhilin set off at full speed and shouted to Kostylin:

- Take out your gun! - and he thinks to his horse: “Mother, take it out, don’t catch your foot, you’ll stumble - you’re lost.” If I get to the gun, I won’t give in to them.”

And Kostylin, instead of waiting, as soon as he saw the Tatars, he ran as fast as he could towards the fortress. The horse is fried with a whip, first from one side, then from the other. Only in the dust can you see the horse wagging its tail.

Zhilin sees that things are bad. The gun is gone, you can’t do anything with one checker. He started the horse back to the soldiers - he thought about leaving. He sees six people rolling across him. Under him the horse is kind, and under those they are even kinder, and they even gallop across. He began to turn around, wanted to turn back, but the horse was already running wild, he couldn’t hold it, he was flying straight at them. He sees a Tatar with a red beard on a gray horse approaching him. Squeals, teeth bared, gun at the ready.

“Well,” Zhilin thinks, “I know you devils, if they take you alive, put you in a pit, and flog you with a whip. I won’t give in alive.”

And Zhilin, although small in stature, was brave. He grabbed his saber, launched his horse straight at the Red Tatar, and thought: “I’ll either knock him down with the horse or cut him down with the saber.”

Zhilin couldn’t get enough space to get on his horse, they shot at him from behind with guns and hit the horse. The horse hit the ground with all its might and fell on Zilina’s leg.

He wanted to get up, but two stinking Tatars were sitting on him, twisting his arms back. He rushed, threw off the Tatars, and three people jumped off their horses and started beating him on the head with rifle butts. His vision grew dim and he staggered. The Tatars grabbed him, removed the spare girths from the saddles, twisted his arms behind his back, tied him with a Tatar knot, and dragged him to the saddle. They knocked off his hat, pulled off his boots, ransacked everything, took out his money, his watch, and tore up his dress. Zhilin looked back at his horse. She, my dear, fell on her side and lies there, only kicking her legs - she doesn’t reach the ground; There’s a hole in my head, and black blood is whistling out of the hole—the dust has moistened an arshin all around.

One Tatar approached the horse and began to remove the saddle. She keeps beating,” he took out a dagger and cut her throat. It whistled from the throat, fluttered, and the steam was gone.

The Tatars took off the saddle and harness. The Tatar with a red beard sat on the horse, and the others lifted Zhilin into the saddle; and so as not to fall, they pulled him with a belt to the Tatar and took him to the mountains.

Zhilin sits behind the Tatar, sways, rubs his face into the stinking Tatar back. All he sees in front of him is a hefty Tatar back, a sinewy neck, and the shaved back of his head turning blue under his hat. Zhilin’s head is broken, blood is caked above his eyes. And he can neither recover on horseback nor wipe off the blood. My arms are twisted so tightly that my collarbone ache.

They drove for a long time from mountain to mountain, forded a river, got onto the road and drove through a ravine.

Zhilin wanted to notice the road where he was being taken, but his eyes were smeared with blood, but he couldn’t turn around.

It began to get dark. We crossed another river, began to climb a stone mountain, there was a smell of smoke, and dogs began to bark.

We arrived at the village. The Tatars got off their horses, the Tatar boys gathered, surrounded Zhilin, squealed, rejoiced, and began to shoot stones at him.

The Tatar drove the guys away, took Zhilin off his horse and called to the worker. A Nogai with high cheekbones came, wearing only a shirt. The shirt is torn, the whole chest is bare. The Tatar ordered something to him. The worker brought a block: two oak blocks were mounted on iron rings, and in one ring there was a punch and a lock.

They untied Zhilin’s hands, put him in a shoe and led him into the barn: they pushed him there and locked the door. Zhilin fell on the manure. He lay down, felt in the dark, where it was softer, and lay down.

2

Zhilin did not sleep almost all that night. The nights were short. He sees that the crack has begun to glow. Zhilin got up, dug out a larger crack, and began to look.

He can see the road from the crack - it goes downhill, to the right is a Tatar hut, two trees next to it. A black dog lies on the threshold, a goat with kids walks around, their tails twitching. He sees a young Tatar woman coming from under the mountain, wearing a colored shirt, a belt, pants and boots, her head covered with a caftan, and on her head a large tin jug of water. He walks, his back trembles, he bends over, and the Tatar girl leads the shaven man in only a shirt by the hand. The Tatar woman went into the hut with water, the Tatar from yesterday came out with a red beard, wearing a silk beshmet, a silver dagger on his belt, and shoes on his bare feet. On the head is a tall, black, lamb’s hat, folded back. He came out, stretched, and stroked his red beard. He stood there, said something to the worker, and went somewhere.

Then two guys rode on horseback to a watering hole. Horses snore wetly. More boys ran out, shaved, wearing only shirts, without trousers, gathered in a group, went up to the barn, took a twig and stuck it in the crack. Zhilin howled at them: the guys screamed and started running away, only their bare knees shining.

But Zhilin is thirsty, his throat is dry; He thinks that they should at least come and visit. He hears the barn being unlocked. The Red Tatar came, and with him another, shorter, blackish. The eyes are black, light, ruddy, the beard is small, trimmed; The face is cheerful, everyone is laughing. The blackish one is dressed even better: a blue silk beshmet, trimmed with braid. The dagger on the belt is large, silver; The shoes are red, morocco, also trimmed with silver. And on thin shoes there are other thick shoes. The hat is tall, white lambskin.

The Red Tatar entered, said something as if he was swearing, and stood up; leaning on the ceiling, moving his dagger, like a wolf looking sideways at Zhilin. And the blackish one - fast, lively, and walks all on springs - came straight up to Zhilin, squatted down, bared his teeth, patted him on the shoulder, began to babble something often, often in his own way, winked with his eyes, clicked his tongue, keeps saying: “Koroshourus!” koroshowrus!”

Zhilin did not understand anything and said: “Drink, give me water to drink!”

Black laughs. “Korosh Urus,” everyone babbles in their own way.

Zhilin indicated with his lips and hands that they give him a drink.

Black understood, laughed, looked out the door, called someone: “Dina!”

A girl came running - thin, skinny, about thirteen years old and her face looked like a black one. Apparently it's a daughter. Also - black, light eyes and a beautiful face. Dressed in a long, blue shirt, with wide sleeves and without a belt. On the floors, on the chest and on the sleeves there is a delay of red. On his feet are trousers and shoes, and on his shoes are others with high heels; Monisto on the neck, all made from Russian fifty dollars. The head is bare, the braid is black, and there is a ribbon in the braid, and on the ribbon are hung plaques and a silver ruble.

Her father told her something. She ran away and came again, bringing a tin jug. She handed over the water, squatted down, and bent all over so that her shoulders went below her knees. She sits with her eyes open, looking at Zhilin as he drinks, as if at some kind of animal.

Zhilin handed her back the jug. How she will jump away like a wild goat. Even my father laughed. Sent her somewhere else. She took the jug, ran, brought unleavened bread on a round board and sat down again, bent over, and kept her eyes on it - looking.

The Tatars left and locked the door again.

After a while, a Nogai comes to Zhilin and says:

- Come on, master, come on!

He doesn't speak Russian either. Zhilin just realized that he was telling him to go somewhere.

Zhilin came with a block, he was limping, he couldn’t step, and he turned his leg to the side. Zhilin went out to get the Nogai. He sees a Tatar village, ten houses, and their church, with a turret. There are three horses in saddles near one house. The boys keep you in line. A blackish Tatar jumped out of this house and waved his hand so that Zhilin would come towards him. He laughs himself, says something in his own way, and walks out the door. Zhilin came to the house. The room is good, the walls are smoothly smeared with clay. Colorful down jackets are stacked against the front wall, expensive carpets hang on the sides; on the carpets there are guns, pistols, checkers - everything is in silver. In one wall there is a small stove level with the floor. The floor is earthen, clean as a current, and the entire front corner is covered with felts; there are felt carpets and down pillows on the carpets. And on the carpets, wearing only shoes, sit the Tatars: black, red and three guests. Behind everyone's backs there are feather pillows, and in front of them on a round board there are millet pancakes and cow's butter dissolved in a cup, and Tatar beer - buza, in a jug. They eat with their hands, and their hands are all covered in oil.

The black man jumped up, ordered Zhilin to be seated aside, not on the carpet, but on the bare floor, climbed back onto the carpet, and treated the guests to pancakes and buza. The worker put Zhilin in his place, took off his upper shoes himself, placed them by the door in a row where the other shoes stood, and sat down on the felt closer to the owners; watches them eat, wipes away their drool.

The Tatars ate pancakes, a Tatar woman came wearing a shirt the same as the girl’s and pants; the head is covered with a scarf. She took away the butter and pancakes, and gave her a good tub and a jug with a narrow nose. The Tatars began to wash their hands, then folded their hands, sat on their knees, blew in all directions and read prayers. We talked in our own way. Then one of the Tatar guests turned to Zhilin and began speaking in Russian.

“Kazi-Mugamed took you,” he says, “he points to the red Tatar,” and gave you to Abdul-Murat, “points to the blackish one.” – Abdul-Murat is now your master. - Zhilin is silent.

Abdul-Murat spoke, and kept pointing at Zhilin, and laughed, and said: “Urus soldier, good Urus.”

The translator says: “He tells you to write a letter home so that they send a ransom for you. As soon as the money is sent, he will let you in.”

Zhilin thought and said: “How much ransom does he want?”

The Tatars talked, the translator said:

- Three thousand coins.

“No,” says Zhilin, “I can’t pay for this.”

Abdul jumped up, started waving his arms, saying something to Zhilin, still thinking that he would understand. The translator translated and said: “How much will you give?”

Zhilin thought and said: “Five hundred rubles.”

Here the Tatars started talking often, all of a sudden. Abdul began to shout at the red one, babbling so much that drool was spraying out of his mouth. And the red one just squints and clicks his tongue.

They fell silent; the translator says:

“Five hundred rubles is not enough for the owner.” He himself paid two hundred rubles for you. Kazi-Mugamed owed him. He took you for a debt. Three thousand rubles, we can’t spend less. If you don’t write, they’ll put you in a hole and punish you with a whip.

“Eh,” Zhilin thinks, “it’s worse to be timid with them.” He jumped to his feet and said:

“And you tell him, the dog, that if he wants to scare me, I won’t give a penny, and I won’t write.” I wasn’t afraid, and I won’t be afraid of you dogs!

The translator retold the story, and suddenly everyone started talking again.

They chattered for a long time, the black one jumped up and approached Zhilin.

“Urus,” he says, “dzhigit, dzhigit Urus!”

In their language, Dzhigit means “well done.” And he laughs; said something to the translator, and the translator said:

- Give me a thousand rubles.

Zhilin stood his ground: “I won’t give you more than five hundred rubles. But if you kill, you won’t take anything.”

The Tatars talked, sent a worker somewhere, and they themselves looked at Zhilin, then at the door. A worker came, and a fat man, barefoot and ragged, followed him; there is also a block on the foot.

So Zhilin gasped, - he recognized Kostylin. And he was caught. They sat them down next to each other; They began to tell each other, but the Tatars remained silent and watched. Zhilin told how it happened with him; Kostylin said that the horse stopped under him and the gun stopped working, and that this same Abdul caught up with him and took him.

Abdul jumped up, pointed at Kostylin, and said something.

The translator translated that they are now both of the same owner, and whoever gives the ransom first will be released first.

“Here,” says Zhilin, “you are still angry, but your comrade is meek; he wrote a letter home, five thousand coins will be sent. So they will feed him well and will not offend him.

Zhilin says:

- Comrade, as he wants; He may be rich, but I am not rich. “I,” he says, “as I said, so it will be.” If you want to kill, it won’t do you any good, and I won’t write more than five hundred rubles.

We were silent. Suddenly Abdul jumped up, took out a chest, took out a pen, a piece of paper and ink, gave it to Zhilina, patted him on the shoulder, indicating: “write.” I agreed to 500 rubles.

“Wait a little longer,” Zhilin says to the translator, “tell him to feed us well, dress and shoe us properly, to keep us together - it will be more fun for us, and to take off the stocks.” – He looks at the owner and laughs. The owner laughs too. He listened and said:

- I’ll wear the best clothes the best lady: and a Circassian coat, and boots, at least to get married. I will feed you like princes. And if they want to live together, let them live in a barn. But you can’t remove the block - they’ll leave. I'll only take it off at night. – He jumped up and patted him on the shoulder. - Yours is good, mine is good!

Zhilin wrote a letter, but on the letter he wrote it wrong so that it wouldn’t get through. He thinks: “I’ll leave.”

They took Zhilin and Kostylin to the barn, brought them corn straw, water in a jug, bread, two old Circassian coats and worn-out soldiers’ boots. Apparently they stole it from dead soldiers. At night they took off their stocks and locked them in a barn.

3

Zhilin and his friend lived like this for a whole month. The owner keeps laughing. - Yours, Ivan, is good, - mine, Abdul, is good. “But he fed me poorly; he only gave me unleavened bread made from millet flour, baked into flatbreads, or even unbaked dough.”

Kostylin wrote home again, still waiting for the money to be sent, and was bored. He sits in the barn all day long and counts the days until the letter arrives, or sleeps. But Zhilin knew that his letter would not arrive, but he did not write another.

“Where,” he thinks, “can my mother get so much money and pay for me?” And then she lived the more that I sent her. If she collects five hundred rubles, she must go completely broke. God willing, I’ll get out myself.”

And he himself is looking out for everything, trying to figure out how to escape. Walks around the village, whistling; and then he sits, doing some handicraft, or sculpting dolls from clay, or weaving braids from twigs. And Zhilin was a master of all kinds of needlework.

He once molded a doll, with a nose, arms, legs and a Tatar shirt, and placed the doll on the roof.

The Tatars went for water. The owner's daughter Dinka saw the doll and called the Tatar women. They stacked the jugs, looked, and laughed. Zhilin took off the doll and gave it to them. They laugh, but don’t dare take it. He left the doll, went into the barn and looked to see what would happen?

Dina ran up, looked around, grabbed the doll and ran away.

The next morning, at dawn, Dina came out onto the threshold with a doll. And she has already removed the doll with red rags and rocks it like a child, she lulls it to sleep in her own way. An old woman came out, scolded her, snatched the doll, broke it, and sent Dina off to work somewhere.

Zhilin made another doll, even better, and gave it to Dina. Once Dina brought a jug, put it down, sat down and looked at it, she laughed and pointed at the jug.

“Why is she happy?” - Zhilin thinks. He took the jug and began to drink. He thinks it’s water, but there’s milk. He drank the milk, “good,” he said. How Dina will rejoice!

- Okay, Ivan, okay! - and jumped up, clapped her hands, snatched the jug and ran away.

And from then on she began to steal milk for him every day. And then the Tatars make it from goat milk cheese cakes and dry them on the roofs - so she secretly brought these cakes to him. And once the owner was cutting a lamb, she brought him a piece of lamb in her sleeve. He will throw it and run away.

There was once a severe thunderstorm, and the rain poured down like buckets for an hour. And all the rivers where there was a ford became muddy, the water went three arshins deep, turning over stones. Streams are flowing everywhere, there is a roar in the mountains. This is how the thunderstorm passed, streams were running everywhere in the village. Zhilin asked the owner for a knife, cut out a roller, planks, feathered a wheel, and attached dolls to the wheel at both ends.

The girls brought him some scraps, and he dressed the dolls: one was a man, the other was a woman; approved them, placed the wheel on the stream. The wheel spins and the dolls jump.

The whole village gathered: boys, girls, women; and the Tatars came, clicking their tongues:

- Ay, Urus! ah, Ivan!

Abdul had a broken Russian watch. He called Zhilin, pointed, clicked his tongue. Zhilin says:

- Come on, I'll fix it.

He took it, took it apart with a knife, and laid it out; again he dealt with it and gave it away. The clock is ticking.

The owner was delighted and brought him his old beshmet, all in rags, and gave it to him. There’s nothing to do, I took it, and that’s enough to cover myself at night.

Since then, the fame of Zhilin has spread that he is a master. They began to come to him from distant villages: some would bring a lock on a gun or a pistol to repair, some would bring a watch. The owner brought him some gear; and tweezers, and gimlets, and filers.

Once a Tatar fell ill, they came to Zhilin: “Go and get treatment.” Zhilin doesn’t know anything about how to treat. He went and looked and thought: “Maybe he’ll get better on his own.” He went into the barn, took water and sand, and stirred it up. In front of the Tatars, he whispered to the water and gave it to him to drink. Luckily for him, the Tatar recovered. Zhilin began to understand a little of their language. And the Tatars who are accustomed to him, when necessary, call out: “Ivan, Ivan!” - and they all look sideways, as if looking at an animal.

The Red Tatar did not like Zhilin. When he sees you, he will frown and turn away or curse you. They also had an old man. He did not live in the village, but came from under the mountain. Zhilin saw him only when he came to the mosque to pray to God. He was small in stature, had a white towel wrapped around his hat, his beard and mustache were trimmed, white as feathers; and his face is wrinkled as red as a brick. The nose is hooked, like a hawk, and the eyes are gray, angry and there are no teeth - only two fangs. He used to walk in his turban, prop himself up with his crutch, like a wolf, looking around. As soon as he sees Zilina, he will snore and turn away.

Zhilin once went downhill to see where the old man lived. He walked down the path and saw a garden with a stone fence; from behind the fence there are cherry trees, sears and a hut with a flat roof. He came closer; he sees the hives standing, woven from straw, and the bees are flying and buzzing. And the old man is on his knees, fussing about something near the hive. Zhilin rose higher to take a look, and rattled the block. The old man looked around - he squealed; He grabbed a pistol from his belt and fired it at Zhilin. He barely managed to duck behind a stone.

An old man came to the owner to complain. The owner called Zhilin, he laughed and asked:

- Why did you go to the old man?

“I,” he says, “didn’t do him any harm.” I wanted to see how he lives.

The owner gave it. And the old man gets angry, hisses, babbles something, sticks out his fangs, waves his hands at Zhilin.

Zhilin did not understand everything; but I realized that the old man was telling the owner to kill the Russians, and not keep them in the village. The old man left.

Zhilin began to ask the owner: who is this old man? The owner says:

- This big man! He was the first horseman, he beat a lot of Russians, he was rich. He had three wives and eight sons. Everyone lived in the same village. The Russians came, ravaged the village and killed seven sons. One son remained and was handed over to the Russians. The old man went and handed himself over to the Russians. He lived with them for three months, found his son there, killed him himself and fled. Since then, he gave up fighting and went to Mecca to pray to God. This is why he has a turban. Anyone who has been to Mecca is called a haji and wears a turban. He doesn't love your brother. He orders you to be killed; Yes, I can’t kill you, I paid money for you; Yes, I loved you, Ivan; Not only would I kill you, I wouldn’t even let you out if I hadn’t given my word. - He laughs and says in Russian: “yours, Ivan, is good, mine, Abdul, is good!”

4

Zhilin lived like this for a month. During the day he walks around the village or does handicrafts, and when night comes and the village becomes quiet, he digs in his barn. It was difficult to dig because of the stones, but he rubbed the stones with a file, and he dug a hole under the wall just big enough to crawl through. “If only,” he thinks, “it’s time for me to really know which way to go.” Let no one say anything about the Tatars.”

So he chose the time when the owner left; After lunch I went behind the village to the mountain - I wanted to see the place from there. And when the owner was leaving, he ordered the little one to follow Zhilin and not let him out of his sight. The guy runs after Zhilin and shouts:

- Don't go! Father didn't order. Now I’ll call the people!

Zhilin began to persuade him.

“I,” he says, “will not go far, but I will climb that mountain: I need to find grass to heal your people.” Come with me; I won't run away with the block. Tomorrow I’ll make you a bow and arrows.

I persuaded the little guy, let's go. Looking at the mountain is not far, but it’s difficult with a block; walked, walked, climbed with difficulty. Zhilin sat down and began to look around the place. At midday, behind the mountain, there is a hollow, a herd is walking, and another village is visible in the low place. From the village there is another mountain - even steeper, and behind that mountain there is another mountain. Between the mountains the forest turns blue, and there the mountains rise higher and higher. And above all, mountains white as sugar stand under the snow. And one snowy mountain stands taller than the others. At sunrise and sunset there are still the same mountains; in some places villages smoke in the gorges. “Well,” he thinks, “this is all their side.” He began to look in the Russian direction: there was a river under his feet, his own village, kindergartens all around. You can see women sitting on the river like little dolls, rinsing. Behind the village, lower down, there is a mountain, and through it there are two more mountains, along them there is a forest; and between the two mountains there is a blue level place, and on the level place, far, far away, as if smoke is spreading. Zhilin began to remember when he lived in the fortress at home, where the sun rose and where it set. He sees: that’s right, our fortress should be in this valley. There, between these two mountains, we must run.

The sun began to set. The snowy mountains turned from white to scarlet; it became dark in the black mountains; steam rose from the hollows, and the very valley where our fortress should be, as if on fire, caught fire from the sunset. Zhilin began to peer: something was looming in the valley, like smoke from chimneys. And he thinks that this is the Russian fortress.

It's getting late. You can hear the mullah shout. The herd is being driven - the cows are roaring. The guy keeps calling: “Let’s go,” but Zhilin doesn’t want to leave.

They returned home. “Well,” Zhilin thinks, “now I know the place; I have to run." He wanted to escape that same night. The nights were dark - the damage of the month. Unfortunately, the Tatars returned in the evening. Sometimes they would come and take their cattle with them and come cheerful. And this time they didn’t bring anything, but brought their dead Tatar, the red-haired brother, on the saddle. They arrived angry and gathered to bury everything. Zhilin came out and looked. They wrapped the dead man in linen, without a coffin, carried him out under the plane trees outside the village, and laid him on the grass. The mullah arrived, the old people gathered, tied their hats with towels, took off their shoes, and sat down on their heels in a row in front of the dead man.

In front is a mullah, behind are three old men in turbans, in a row, and behind them are more Tatars. They sat down, looked down and were silent. They were silent for a long time. The mullah raised his head and said:

- Allah! (means god) - He said this one word, and again they looked down and were silent for a long time; sitting, not moving. The mullah raised his head again:

- Allah! - and everyone said: “Alla” - and fell silent again. The dead man lies on the grass, does not move, and they sit as if dead. Not a single one moves. You can just hear the leaves on the plane tree turning in the breeze. Then the mullah read a prayer, everyone stood up, picked up the dead man in their arms, and carried him away. They brought me to the pit. The hole was not just dug, but dug underground, like a basement. They took the dead man under the armpits and under the waist, bent him over, lowered him a little, slipped him sitting under the ground, and tucked his hands on his stomach.

The Nogai brought green reeds, filled the hole with reeds, quickly covered them with earth, leveled them, and placed a stone upright at the dead man’s head. They trampled the ground and sat down again in a row in front of the grave. They were silent for a long time.

- Allah! Allah! Allah! - They sighed and stood up.

The red-haired man handed out money to the old people, then got up, took the whip, hit himself three times on the forehead and went home.

The next morning he sees Zhilin - he is leading a red mare outside the village, and three Tatars are following him. They went out of the village, took off the red beshmet, rolled up his sleeves - his hands were healthy - he took out a dagger and sharpened it on a block. The Tatars lifted the mare's head up, the redhead came up, cut the throat, knocked the mare down and began to skin him - he ripped up the skin with his fists. Women and girls came and began to wash the intestines and insides. Then they chopped up the mare and dragged her into the hut. And the whole village gathered at the redhead’s to commemorate the deceased.

For three days they ate the mare, drank buza, and commemorated the deceased. All the Tatars were at home. On the fourth day, Zhilin sees, they are going somewhere for lunch. They brought the horses, cleaned up and about 10 people rode off, and the red one rode off: only Abdul remained at home. The moon had just begun, the nights were still dark.

“Well,” Zhilin thinks, “now we have to run,” and says to Kostylin. And Kostylin became timid.

- How can I escape? We don't even know the road.

- I know the way.

- Yes, and we won’t get there at night.

“If we don’t get there, we’ll spend the night in the forest.” I picked up some flatbreads. Why are you going to sit? Well, they’ll send money, otherwise they won’t collect it. And the Tatars are now angry - because the Russians killed them. They say they want to kill us.

Kostylin thought and thought.

- Well, let's go.

5

Zhilin climbed into the hole, dug wider so that Kostylin could get through, and they sat - waiting for the village to quiet down.

As soon as the people in the village quieted down, Zhilin climbed under the wall and got out. Whispers to Kostylin: “Climb.” Kostylin also climbed up, but caught a stone with his foot and made it rattle. And the owner had a guard - a motley dog, and an evil one; her name was Ulyashin. Zhilin had already fed her in advance. Ulyashin heard it, wandered in and rushed, followed by other dogs. Zhilin whistled a little, threw a piece of flatbread, Ulyashin recognized it, waved his tail and stopped babbling.

The owner heard it and shouted from the saklya: “Get out!” Screw it! Ulyashin!

And Zhilin scratches Ulyashin behind the ears. The dog is silent, rubs against his legs, wags its tail.

They sat around the corner. Everything became quiet; You can only hear a sheep fluttering in the nook and below the water making noise on the pebbles. Dark; the stars stand high in the sky; Above the mountain the young moon has turned red and is moving upward with its horns. In the hollows the fog turns white like milk.

Zhilin stood up and said to his comrade: “Well, brother, let’s go!”

We set off; As soon as they walked away, they heard the mullah on the roof singing: “Alla! Besmilla! Ilrahman! This means that people will go to the mosque. They sat down again, hiding under the wall. We sat for a long time, waiting for the people to pass. It became quiet again.

- Well, with God! - We crossed ourselves, let's go. We walked through the yard under the steep slope to the river, crossed the river, and walked through the ravine. The fog is thick and low, but the stars are visible overhead. Zhilin notes from the stars which direction to go. It’s fresh in the fog, it’s easy to walk, only the boots are awkward - they’ve worn out. Zhilin took off his, threw them away, and walked barefoot. Jumps from pebble to pebble and looks at the stars. Kostylin began to lag behind.

“Hush,” he says, “go: damn boots, they’ve worn out all your feet.”

- Yes, take it off, it will be easier.

Kostylin went barefoot - even worse: he cut all his feet on the stones and kept falling behind. Zhilin tells him:

“If you peel your legs, they’ll heal, but if they catch up with you, they’ll kill you—that’s worse.”

Kostylin says nothing, walks away, grunts. They walked downhill for a long time. They hear the dogs wandering to the right. Zhilin stopped, looked around, climbed the mountain, and felt with his hands.

“Eh,” he says, “we made a mistake, we took it to the right.” This village is foreign, I saw it from the mountain; you have to go back and go left up the hill. There must be a forest here.

And Kostylin says:

“Wait at least a little, let me breathe, my legs are all bleeding.”

- Eh, brother, they will heal; you jump easier. That's how it is!

And Zhilin ran back, to the left, up the mountain, into the forest. Kostylin keeps falling behind and groans. Zhilin hisses and hisses at him, but he continues to walk.

We climbed the mountain. That's right - a forest. We entered the forest and the last dress was torn to pieces by the thorns. They attacked a path in the forest. They're coming.

- Stop! - It stamped its hooves along the road. They stopped and listened. It stomped like a horse and stopped.

They set off and it began to flood again. They will stop and it will stop. Zhilin crawled up, looked at the light along the road - there was something standing there. The horse is not a horse, and there is something wonderful on the horse that doesn’t look like a person. He snorted - he heard. “What a miracle!” Zhilin whistled quietly, as he shuffled off the road into the forest and crackled through the forest, as if a storm was flying and breaking branches.

Kostylin fell down in fear. And Zhilin laughs and says:

- This is a deer. Do you hear how the forest breaks with its horns? We are afraid of him, and he is afraid of us.

Let's move on. The high temperatures have already begun to descend, and morning is not far away. Whether they are going there or not, they don’t know. It seems to Zhilin that they were taking him along this very road and that it would still be about ten miles to their own; but there is no true sign, and you can’t make out the night. We went out into the clearing. Kostylin sat down and said:

“Whatever you want, I won’t get there, my legs can’t move.”

Zhilin began to persuade him.

“No,” he says, “I won’t get there, I can’t.”

Zhilin got angry, spat and cursed him.

- So I’ll leave alone, - goodbye!

Kostylin jumped up and walked away. They walked about four miles. The fog in the forest had settled even thicker, you couldn’t see anything in front of you, and the stars were barely visible.

Suddenly they hear a horse stomping ahead. You can hear horseshoes clinging to stones. Zhilin lay down on his belly and began to listen on the ground.

- That’s right - here, the horseman is coming to us.

They ran off the road, sat in the bushes and waited. Zhilin

crawled up to the road, looked - a Tatar on horseback was riding, chasing a cow, purring something under his breath. A Tatar passed by. Zhilin returned to Kostylin.

“Well,” said God, “get up, let’s go.”

Kostylin began to get up and fell.

- I can’t, - by God, I can’t; I have no strength.

The man is heavy, plump, sweating; and when he was enveloped in a cold fog in the forest, and his legs were skinned, he felt unsweetened. Zhilin began to lift him by force. As Kostylin shouts:

- Oh, it hurts!

Zhilin froze.

-Why are you shouting? After all, the Tatar is close - he will hear. – And he thinks: “He’s really relaxed; what should I do with it? It’s not good to abandon your comrade.”

“Well,” he says, “get up, sit on your back, I’ll take it down, if you can’t walk.”

He lifted Kostylin onto himself, grabbed him under the thighs with his hands, went out onto the road, and dragged him.

“Just,” he says, “don’t crush me by the throat with your hands, for Christ’s sake.” Hold on to your shoulders.

It’s hard for Zhilin - his legs are also bloody and exhausted. He bends down, corrects him, throws him up so that Kostylin sits higher on him, drags him along the road.

Apparently, the Tatar heard Kostylin scream. Zhilin hears, someone is driving behind, calling in his own way. Zhilin rushed into the bushes. The Tatar pulled out a gun, fired, missed, screamed in his own way and galloped away along the road.

“Well,” says Zhilin, “they’re gone, brother!” He, the dog, will now gather the Tatars in pursuit of us. If we don’t get three miles away, we’re gone. “And he thinks to Kostylin: “And the devil dared me to take this deck with me.” If I were alone, I would have left long ago.”

Kostylin says: “Go alone, why should you disappear because of me?”

- No, I won’t go, it’s not good to abandon a comrade. He picked him up again on his shoulders and hit him. He walked like this for a mile. All the forest is coming and there is no way out in sight. And the fog had already begun to disperse, and as if the clouds had begun to set, the stars were no longer visible. Zhilin was exhausted.

I came, there was a fontanel by the road, lined with stones. He stopped and unseated Kostylin.

“Let me rest,” he says, “and I’ll get drunk.” Let's eat some flatbread. It must be close.

As soon as he lay down to drink, he heard stomping behind him. Again they rushed to the right, into the bushes, under the steep slope, and lay down.

They hear Tatar voices; The Tatars stopped at the very place where they turned off the road. We talked, then got into a groove, like baiting dogs. They hear something crackling in the bushes, and someone else’s dog is walking right towards them. She stopped and wandered around.

The Tatars are also coming in; they are also strangers; They grabbed them, tied them up, put them on horses, and drove them away.

They drove about three miles, and Abdul the owner met them with two Tatars. I talked something with the Tatars, they put me on their horses, and took me back to the village.

Abdul no longer laughs or speaks a word to them.

They brought him to the village at dawn and sat him down on the street. The guys came running. They beat them with stones and whips and scream.

The Tatars gathered in a circle, and an old man came from under the mountain. They started talking. Zhilin hears that they are being judged, what to do with them. Some say: we need to send them further to the mountains, but the old man says: “we need to kill them.” Abdul argues and says: “I gave money for them, I’ll take a ransom for them.” And the old man says: “They won’t pay anything, they’ll only cause trouble. And it’s a sin to feed the Russians. Kill and it’s over.”

We separated. The owner approached Zhilin and began to say to him:

“If,” he says, “they don’t send me a ransom for you, I’ll have you locked up in two weeks.” And if you decide to run away again, I’ll kill you like a dog. Write a letter, write well!

They brought them papers and they wrote letters. They put stocks on them and took them behind the mosque. There was a hole there about five arshins, and they lowered them into this hole.

6

Life became completely bad for them. The pads were not removed or released into the open world. They threw unbaked dough there, like dogs, and drained water in a jug. The stench in the pit, stuffiness, phlegm. Kostylin became completely ill, swollen, and there was aching all over his body; and everyone moans or sleeps. And Zhilin became depressed and saw that things were bad. And he doesn't know how to get out.

He began to dig under, but there was nowhere to throw the earth; The owner saw him and threatened to kill him.

He once squats in a hole, thinks about living freely, and is bored. Suddenly a flat cake fell right on his knees, then another, and the cherries fell down. I looked up, and there was Dina. She looked at him, laughed and ran away. Zhilin thinks: “Won’t Dina help?”

He cleared a place in the hole, picked up clay, and began to sculpt dolls. I made people, horses, dogs, and thinks: “When Dina comes, I’ll throw it to her.”

Only the next day Dina is not there. And Zhilin hears - horses trampled, some people drove by, and Tatars gathered at the mosque, arguing, shouting and remembering the Russians. And he hears the old man's voice. He didn’t make it out well, but he guessed that the Russians had come close, and the Tatars were afraid that they might enter the village, and they didn’t know what to do with the prisoners.

We talked and left. Suddenly he hears something rustling upstairs. He sees: Dina squatted down, her knees sticking out above her head, hanging down, the monists hanging, dangling over the pit. The little eyes sparkle like stars; She took two cheese cakes out of her sleeve and threw them to him. Zhilin took it and said:

- Haven’t been there for a long time? And I made you some toys. Here you go! “He started throwing one at her. But she shakes her head and doesn’t look.

“No need,” he says. She paused, sat and said: “Ivan!” they want to kill you. – She points to her neck with her hand.

- Who wants to kill?

- Father, the old people tell him to. And I feel sorry for you.

Zhilin says:

“And if you feel sorry for me, then bring me a long stick.”

She shakes her head, saying “it’s impossible.” He folds his hands and prays to her:

- Dina, please! Dinushka, bring it!

“You can’t,” she said, “they’ll see, everyone’s at home,” and she left.

Here Zhilin sits in the evening and thinks: “what will happen?” Everything looks up. The stars are visible, but the month has not yet risen. Mulla shouted, everything fell silent. Zhilin had already begun to doze off, thinking: “The girl will be afraid.”

Suddenly clay fell on his head; I looked up - a long pole was poking into that edge of the hole. He stumbled, began to descend, and crawled into the hole. Zhilin was delighted, grabbed it with his hand and lowered it - the pole was healthy. He had seen this pole on the owner's roof before.

I looked up - the stars were shining high in the sky; and just above the pit, like a cat’s, Dina’s eyes glow in the dark. She bent her face to the edge of the pit and whispered: “Ivan, Ivan!” - and she keeps waving her hands in front of her face, saying “be quiet, please.”

- What? - says Zhilin.

“Everyone has left, only two are at home.”

Zhilin says:

- Well, Kostylin, let’s go and try. last time; I'll give you a ride.

Kostylin doesn’t even want to listen.

“No,” he says, “it’s obvious that I can’t get out of here. Where will I go when I don’t have the strength to turn around?”

- Well, then goodbye, - don’t remember it badly. – Kissed Kostylin.

He grabbed the pole, told Dina to hold it, and climbed. It broke off twice—the block was in the way. Kostylin supported him and somehow made it to the top. Dina pulls him by the shirt with her little hands, with all her might, laughing herself.

Zhilin took the pole and said:

“Take it back, Dina, otherwise they’ll catch you and kill you.”

She dragged the pole, and Zhilin went downhill. He climbed down the slope, took a sharp stone, and began to unscrew the lock from the block. And the lock is strong - it won’t knock down, and it’s awkward. He hears someone running from the mountain, jumping lightly. He thinks: “that’s right, Dina again.” Dina came running, took the stone and said:

She sat down on her knees and began to twist. Yes, the little hands are as thin as twigs - there is no strength whatsoever. She threw a stone and cried. Zhilin began to work on the lock again, and Dina squatted down next to him, holding his shoulder. Zhilin looked around and saw that to the left behind the mountain a red glow had lit up, the moon was rising. “Well,” he thinks, “we have to cross the ravine before the month and get to the forest.” He got up and threw a stone. Even if it’s in the block, you have to go.

“Goodbye,” says Dinushka. I will remember you forever.

Dina grabbed onto it: she rummaged through it with her hands, looking for somewhere to put the cakes. He took the cakes.

“Thank you,” he says, “you’re smart.” Who will make dolls for you without me? - And stroked her on the head.

As Dina began to cry, she covered herself with her hands and ran up the mountain, like a goat jumping. Only in the dark can you hear the monists in braids rattling their backs.

Zhilin crossed himself, grabbed the lock on the block with his hand so as not to rattle, walked along the road - dragging his leg, and he kept looking at the glow, where the moon rose. He recognized the way. Go straight for about eight miles. If only I could get to the forest before the month is over. He crossed the river, and the light behind the mountain had already turned white. He walked through the ravine, walked, and looked for himself: he wouldn’t see him for another month. The glow has already brightened and on one side of the ravine it is becoming lighter and lighter. A shadow is creeping down the mountain, everything is approaching him.

Zhilin is walking, keeping all the shadows. He is in a hurry, and the month is getting closer; the tops of their heads began to glow to the right. He began to approach the forest, a moon emerged from behind the mountains - it was white, as light as day. All leaves are visible on the trees. Quiet, light in the mountains, how everything died out. You can only hear the river gurgling below.

I reached the forest and no one got caught. Zhilin chose a darker place in the forest and sat down to rest.

I rested and ate a flatbread. He found a stone and began to knock down the block again. He beat all hands, but did not knock them down. He got up and walked along the road. I walked a mile, exhausted, my legs ached. He takes ten steps and stops. “There’s nothing to do,” he thinks, “I’ll drag on as long as I have the strength.” And if I sit down, I won’t get up. I won’t reach the fortress, but when it dawns, I’ll lie down in the forest, out front, and go again at night.”

I walked all night. Only two Tatars came across on horseback, but Zhilin heard them from afar and hid behind a tree.

The month had already begun to turn pale, the dew had fallen, close to the light, but Zhilin did not reach the edge of the forest. “Well,” he thinks, “I’ll walk another thirty steps, turn into the forest and sit down.” He walked thirty steps and saw that the forest ended. He went out to the edge - it was completely light, like the steppe and the fortress in front of him, and to the left, close under the mountain, the lights were burning, going out, smoke spreading and people around the fires.

He looked closely and saw: guns shining, Cossacks, soldiers.

Zhilin was delighted and gathered his with the last of my strength, went downhill. And he himself thinks: “God forbid, here, in an open field, a Tatar on horseback will see; even close, but you won’t leave.”

Just thought - look: to the left, on a hillock, there are three Tatars, two tithes. They saw him and ran towards him. And so his heart sank. He waved his arms and shouted at the top of his voice:

- Brothers! help out! brothers!

Our people heard it, and the Cossacks on horseback jumped out. They set off towards him - in defiance of the Tatars.

The Cossacks are far away, but the Tatars are close. Yes, and Zhilin gathered his last strength, grabbed the block with his hand, ran to the Cossacks, but he didn’t remember himself, crossed himself and shouted:

- Brothers! brothers! brothers!

There were about fifteen Cossacks.

The Tatars got scared, and before they could get there, they began to stop. And Zhilin ran up to the Cossacks.

The Cossacks surrounded him and asked: “Who is he, what kind of person is he, where is he from?” But Zhilin doesn’t remember himself, he cries and says:

- Brothers! Brothers!

The soldiers ran out and surrounded Zhilin; some give him bread, some porridge, some vodka, some cover him with an overcoat, some break the block.

The officers recognized him and took him to the fortress. The soldiers rejoiced, their comrades gathered to see Zhilin.

Zhilin told how the whole thing happened to him and said:

- So I went home and got married! No, apparently this is not my destiny.

And he remained to serve in the Caucasus. And Kostylin was bought out only a month later for five thousand. They brought him barely alive.

in Wikisource

"Prisoner of the Caucasus"- a story (sometimes called a story) by Leo Tolstoy, telling about a Russian officer captured by the highlanders. Written for ABC, first published in 1872 in the magazine Zarya. One of the most popular works writer, reprinted many times and included in the school curriculum.

The title of the story is a reference to the title of Pushkin's poem "Prisoner of the Caucasus".

Story

The plot of the story is partly based on a real event that happened to Tolstoy during his service in the Caucasus in the 1850s. On June 23, 1853, he wrote in his diary: “I almost got captured, but in this case I behaved well, although too sensitive.” According to the memoirs of S. A. Bers, the writer’s brother-in-law,

The peaceful Chechen Sado, with whom L. N. was traveling, was his great friend. And not long before they exchanged horses. Sado bought a young horse. Having tested it, he gave it to his friend L. N-chu, and he himself moved to his pacer, who, as you know, does not know how to gallop. It was in this form that the Chechens overtook them. L.N-ch, having the opportunity to gallop away on his friend’s frisky horse, did not leave him. Sado, like all mountaineers, never parted with his gun, but, unfortunately, it was not loaded. Nevertheless, he aimed it at his pursuers and, threatening, shouted at them. Judging by further actions pursuing, they intended to capture both, especially Sado, for revenge, and therefore did not shoot. This circumstance saved them. They managed to approach Grozny, where a sharp-eyed sentry noticed the pursuit from afar and raised the alarm. The Cossacks who came to meet them forced the Chechens to stop the pursuit.

Tolstoy's daughter talks about in this case as follows:

Tolstoy and his friend Sado escorted the convoy to the Grozny fortress. The convoy walked slowly, stopped, Tolstoy was bored. He and four other horsemen accompanying the convoy decided to overtake it and ride forward. The road went through a gorge; the mountaineers could attack at any moment from above, from the mountain, or unexpectedly from behind cliffs and rock ledges. Three drove along the bottom of the gorge, and two - Tolstoy and Sado - along the top of the ridge. Before they had time to reach the ridge of the mountain, they saw Chechens rushing towards them. Tolstoy shouted to his comrades about the danger, and he, together with Sado, rushed forward to the fortress with all his might. Fortunately, the Chechens did not shoot; they wanted to capture Sado alive. The horses were playful and managed to gallop away. The young officer was injured; the horse killed under him crushed him and he could not free himself from under it. The Chechens galloping past hacked him half to death with sabers, and when the Russians picked him up, it was already too late, he died in terrible agony.

While actively compiling The ABC, Tolstoy wrote a story about a Caucasian prisoner. Sending the story to N. N. Strakhov in March 1872, Tolstoy noted:

The story “Prisoner of the Caucasus” was published in the magazine “Zarya” (1872, No. 2). It was included in the “Fourth Russian Reading Book,” published on November 1, 1872.

Tolstoy himself highly appreciated his story and mentioned it in his treatise “What is Art? " in the following context:

At the same time, he defines the “second kind” of good art there as “art that conveys the simplest everyday feelings, those that are accessible to all people of all ages.” peace - art worldwide."

Commenting on this treatise, the philosopher Lev Shestov notes that “...he actually perfectly understands that his “Prisoner of the Caucasus” or “God knows the truth, but will not tell soon” (only these two stories of all that he has written, belongs to he to good art) - will not have for readers the meaning that not only his great novels have - but even “The Death of Ivan Ilyich.”

Plot

The action takes place during the Caucasian War.

Officer Zhilin serves in the Caucasus. His mother sends a letter asking him to visit her, and Zhilin leaves the fortress along with the convoy. On the way, he overtakes the convoy and comes across several mounted “Tatars” (Muslim mountaineers), who shoot his horse and take him prisoner. Zhilin is brought to a mountain village, where he is sold to Abdul-Murat. The same owner turns out to have Zhilin’s colleague Kostylin, who was also caught by the Tatars. Abdul forces the officers to write letters home so that they can be ransomed. Zhilin indicates the wrong address on the letter, realizing that his mother still cannot collect the required amount.

Zhilin and Kostylin live in a barn; during the day they put pads on their feet. Zhilin makes dolls, attracting local children and, above all, Abdul’s 13-year-old daughter, Dina. While walking around the village and its surroundings, Zhilin wonders in which direction he can run back to the Russian fortress. At night he digs in the barn. Dina sometimes brings him flatbreads or pieces of lamb.

When Zhilin notices that the inhabitants of the village are alarmed because of the death of one of his fellow villagers in a battle with the Russians, he decides to escape. He and Kostylin crawl into a tunnel at night and try to get to the forest, and from there to the fortress. However, due to the slowness of the corpulent Kostylin, they do not have time to get there; the Tatars notice them and bring them back. Now they are put in a pit and the pads are not removed at night. Dina sometimes continues to bring food to Zilina.

Realizing that the mountaineers are afraid of the arrival of the Russians and could kill the prisoners, Zhilin one day, at nightfall, asks Dina to bring him a long stick, with the help of which he climbs out of the hole (the sick and soggy Kostylin remains behind). He tries to knock the lock off the blocks, but cannot do this, including with the help of Dina. Having made his way through the forest, at dawn Zhilin goes to the location of the Russian troops. Subsequently, Kostylin is ransomed from captivity.

Reviews

“Prisoner of the Caucasus” is written in a completely special, new language. Simplicity of presentation is put in the foreground. There is none extra words, not a single stylistic embellishment... You can’t help but be amazed at this incredible, unprecedented restraint, this ascetically strict execution of the task taken upon yourself to tell the people the events that are interesting to them “without further ado.” This is a feat that, perhaps, will not be possible for any of the other luminaries of our modern literature. The artistic simplicity of the story in “Prisoner of the Caucasus” is brought to its apogee. There is nowhere to go further, and before this majestic simplicity the most talented attempts of the same kind by Western writers completely disappear and fade into obscurity.

The theme “Russian among the Chechens” is the theme of Pushkin’s “Prisoner of the Caucasus”. Tolstoy took the same title, but told everything differently. His prisoner is a Russian officer from the poor nobles, a man who knows how to do everything with his own hands. He's almost not a gentleman. He is captured because another, noble officer, rode away with a gun, did not help him, and was also captured. Zhilin—that’s the prisoner’s name—understands why the highlanders don’t like Russians. The Chechens are strangers, but not hostile to him, and they respect his courage and ability to repair the watch. The prisoner is freed not by a woman who is in love with him, but by a girl who takes pity on him. He tries to save his comrade, he took him with him, but he was timid and lacking energy. Zhilin was dragging Kostylin on his shoulders, but was caught with him, and then ran away alone. Tolstoy is proud of this story. This is wonderful prose - calm, there are no decorations in it and there is not even what is called psychological analysis. Human interests collide, and we sympathize with Zhilin - to a good person, and what we know about him is enough for us, but he himself doesn’t want to know much about himself.

Film adaptations

• "Prisoner of the Caucasus" - a classic 1975 film adaptation; director Georgiy Kalatozishvili, in the role of Zhilin Yuri Nazarov

• "Prisoner of the Caucasus" - a 1996 film in which the motives of the story are used, but the action is moved during Chechen war 1990s; director Sergei Bodrov Sr. , in the role of Zhilin Sergei Bodrov Jr.

Audio performances

There are several audio versions of the story:

Vladimir Makanin's story “Prisoner of the Caucasus” (1994) in its title contains a reference to several works of Russian classics called “Prisoner of the Caucasus”, including Tolstoy’s story. Also in Makanin’s novel “Asan” (2008), dedicated to the events of the Chechen War of the 1990s, the main character’s name is Alexander Sergeevich Zhilin.

Notes

Links

• “Prisoner of the Caucasus” in the Collected Works of Leo Tolstoy in 22 volumes (“Russian Virtual Library”)

Bibliography of Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy
Novels	Family happiness Decembrists War and peace Anna Karenina Resurrection
Stories	(Trilogy) Childhood Adolescence Youth Two Hussars Albert Morning of the Landowner Cossacks Polikushka Canvasser Notes of a Madman Death of Ivan Ilyich Kreutzer Sonata The Devil Father Sergius Hadji-Murat
Stories	Sevastopol stories (collection) Raid Marker's notes Forest cutting Blizzard Demoted Lucerne Three deaths Caucasian prisoner God sees the truth, but he will not tell soon How much land does a person need? Françoise Is it expensive? The owner and the worker Who is right? After the ball Fake coupon Alyosha Pot of Roots Vasilyev Berries For what? Divine and human Khodynka What I saw in a dream Accidentally
Dramas	The power of darkness The fruits of enlightenment The living corpse
Educational and methodological manuals	ABC New alphabet Arithmetic First Russian book for reading Second Russian book for reading Third Russian book for reading Fourth Russian book for reading
Pedagogical articles	About public education Upbringing and education Progress and definition of education About public education
Journalistic works	About the census in Moscow Confession So what should we do? About life Hunger or not hunger? The kingdom of God is within you
	Who should learn to write from whom, the peasant children from us or us from the peasant children? A few words about the book “War and Peace” About art What is art? About Shakespeare and drama
Other	Reading Circle

Wikimedia Foundation. 2010.

I would like to present one of the works of L.N. Tolstoy, his summary. “Prisoner of the Caucasus” is a work that the writer took on at the request of the editors of two magazines: “Zarya” and “Conversation”. At that time, these magazines were not widely distributed. Tolstoy completed his story in 1872 on March 25th. The publication of the work did not have to wait long: in the same year, “Prisoner of the Caucasus” appeared on the pages of the Zarya magazine.

The basis of the story was an incident that actually happened to the author. On June 13, 1853, five Russian officers were attacked by Chechens in the Caucasus, among them was Tolstoy.

Summary. “Prisoner of the Caucasus”: the beginning of the story

Officer Zhilin served in the Caucasus. One day he received a letter from his mother, after reading it, he decided to visit home. On the way there, he and Kostylin (another Russian officer) were attacked by highlanders. Everything happened through the fault of Kostylin; instead of covering Zhilin, he started to run. So the officers, instead of their home, were captured by the highlanders. The prisoners were shackled and locked in a barn.

Next we present the story “Prisoner of the Caucasus” (summary). Then the following events occur. The officers, under pressure from the mountaineers, were forced to send letters to their relatives asking them to ransom them. Kostylin wrote, but Zhilin deliberately indicated an unreliable address, because he knew that the poor old mother would not have any money. They lived like this in the barn for a month. During this time, Zhilin won over the owner’s daughter Dina. A Russian officer surprised a thirteen-year-old child homemade dolls, the girl thanked him for this, secretly bringing cakes and milk. Zhilin was haunted by the thought of escaping, and he decided to make a tunnel.

The long-awaited escape

One night they decided to escape: they crawled into a tunnel and planned to get to the fortress through the forest. In the darkness they went in the wrong direction and ended up near a strange village. They had to quickly change direction before the mountaineers caught them. Kostylin complained all the way, constantly falling behind and groaning. Zhilin could not leave his comrade and decided to carry him on himself. Due to the heavy burden (the fat and awkward Kostylin), he quickly got tired. The movement of the officers was very slow, so they were quickly overtaken, brought back, severely beaten with whips and put not in a barn, but in a hole 5 arshins deep.

Savior Dina

Zhilin is not used to giving up. He constantly thought about how he could escape. His savior was the owner’s daughter Dina, whom we mentioned earlier. At night, the girl brought the officer a long stick, with which he was able to climb up.

Having got out of the hole, Zhilin ran downhill and tried to remove the blocks, but the lock was so strong that he was unable to do this. Dina helped the officer with all her might, but the child’s support was in vain. The prisoner decided to escape just like that. Zhilin said goodbye to the girl, thanked her for the flat cakes he brought, and walked away in the stocks.

Freedom at last

The unshakable Russian officer finally reached the end of the forest at dawn, and the Cossacks appeared on the horizon. However, on the other side, the mountaineers were catching up with Zilina, it seemed that his heart was about to freeze. The officer got ready and shouted at the top of his lungs so that the Cossacks could hear him. The mountaineers got scared and stopped. This is how Zhilin escaped.

After this incident, the officer decided to live in the Caucasus. Kostylin remained in captivity for another month, and only then, barely alive, was he finally ransomed.

This concludes the summary. “Prisoner of the Caucasus” is one of the most poetic and perfect works in “Russian Reading Books”.

We told you about the story “Prisoner of the Caucasus” (summary) by Tolstoy Lev Nikolaevich. It is essentially a miniature novel aimed at children.

PART ONE

GenieSSe und leide!
Dulde und entbehre!
Liebe, hoff und glaube!
Conz

Enjoy and suffer!
Be patient and humble yourself!
Love, hope and believe!
Konz (German)
________________________________________

In a big village, under the mountain,
Near the sakleys, smoky and simple,
Circassians late at times
Sitting - about daring horses
They start talking about well-aimed arrows,
About the villages they devastated;
And how the Cossack fought with them,
And how the Russians were attacked,
How they were captured and defeated.
They smoke their tobacco carelessly,
And the smoke, curling, flies over them,
Or, having knocked with their sabers,
The song of the mountaineers will be sung loudly.

Others sit on horses,
But before we part,
They shake hands with each other.

Meanwhile, young Circassian women
Run up steep mountains
And they look into the distance into the darkness - but the dust
Lying quietly along the road;
And the feather grass does not move,
There is no noise or alarm.
There the Terek circles from afar,
Flows between desert rocks
And irrigates with unsteady foam
High bank; the forest is silent;
Only occasionally the deer is shy
He will run through the desert;
Or a herd of playful horses
The silence of the valley will outrage.

Lay a carpet of flowers patterned
Over that mountain and over the hills;
The mountain stream sparkled below
And flowed streamily over the flints...
Circassian women ran to him,
They washed with clean water.
With the simple laughter of youth
Others on the transparent bottom
Dear rings were thrown;
And to your thick hair
Spring flowers were woven;
We looked into the mirror of the waters,
And their faces trembled in it.
Weaving into a quiet round dance,
They sang Eastern songs;
And near the village under the mountain
They sat in a playful crowd;
And the sounds of an arbitrary song
The gorges echoed involuntarily.

IV
The last golden ray of the sun
It burns out on the silver ice,
And Elborus as his head
It covers him like a cloud.
...............................
The mooing of herds was already heard
And the neighing of merry herds;
They are coming back from the fields...
But what is that sound of heavy chains?
Why the sadness of these shepherds?
Alas! then the young captives,
Having lost golden years,
In the desert of the mountains, in the depths of the forests,
Near the Terek they graze sadly
Circassian fat herds,
Remembering what happened
And that will never happen!
How happiness caressed them in vain,
How it finally left
And how it became a dream!..
And there are no compassionate hearts for them!
They are in chains, they are slaves!
Everything merged, as if in a muddy dream,
Without feeling the soul, he
They can already see the coffin before their eyes.
Unhappy! in a foreign land!
The hearts of hope have disappeared;
In some tears, in only suffering
They see their joy.

There is no hope for them to return;
But my heart inevitably races
To the native land. They are soul
We were drowning in a fatal thought.
But the dust rose over the hills
From herds and greyhound herds;
They take tired steps
They're going home. Barking faithful dogs
It was not heard around the village;
Noisy nature fell asleep;
You can only hear the maidens from afar
The tune is sad. The mountains echo
And he is gentle, like a choir of birds,
Like the sound of a welcoming stream:

Like a strong thunderstorm
The pine tree will suddenly bend;
Pierced by an arrow
Like a lion roars;
So Russian in the middle of battle
He will fall before ours;
And with a bold hand
The Chechen will take
Golden armor
And a steel saber
And he will go to the mountains.

Not a horse, lively
Military pipe
Nor the barbarian, dismayed
A sudden fight
It doesn't tremble more fearfully,
When it suddenly shines
The fatal dagger.

The prisoners listened sadly
This sad song is for them,
And my heart ached terribly in sadness...
The Circassians lead them to the sakla;
And, tied at the fence, they left.
The fire crackles between them;
But sleep does not close their gaze,
They cannot forget the sorrow of the day.

The month is pouring with languid radiance.
The brave Circassians do not sleep;
They have a noisy meeting:
They want to attack the Russians.
There are saddled horses around;
Silver armor shines;
Each one has a bow, a dagger, a quiver
And a saber on the inlaid belts,
Two pistols and a lasso,
Gun; and in burkas, in black hats,
Young and old are ready for the raid,
And the tramp of herds is heard.
Suddenly dust rose above the mountains,
And a knock is heard from afar;
Circassians look: between the bushes
Girey is visible to the rider!

He forced with a mighty hand
He pushed the horse with his foot,
And a flying lasso dragged him along
The young prisoner (with) himself.
Girey approached - with a rope
A Russian was tied up, barely alive.
The Circassian jumped down with a deft hand
Cut the rope; but he
Lying on a stone - death dream
Flew over the young head...
....................................
The Circassians are already jumping - just
They hid behind a steep mountain;
The midnight hour strikes a lesson.

From death only out of regret
The young Russian was saved;
They carried him to his comrades.
Forgetting about your torment,
They, without retreating away,
We sat next to him all night...
..............................
And the pale face is washed in blood
It burned in his cheeks - he barely breathed,
and doused with mortal cold
He lay stretched out on the grass

It’s already midday, right above the village,
At a light blue altitude.
He shone in his usual beauty.
Merged with a lingering hum
Circassian herds - over the hills
The breath of nimble winds,
And the murmur of mountain streams,
And the singing of birds in the bushes.
Caucasian peak ridge
Pierced the blue of the sky,
And the dense forest fledged
Its jagged rapids.
Surrounded by degrees of mountains,
The patterned carpet blossomed;
There under the hundred-year-old oak trees,
In the shadows, bound in chains,
Our prisoner was lying on the grass.
Bowing in tears to the young head,
Companions of his misfortune
They tried to revive it with water
(But ah! lost happiness
Nobody could return it).
..................................
So he sighed and stood up,
And his gaze was already opening!
Here he looked!., trembled,.
...He is with unforgotten friends! -
He flared up and rattled his chains...
Terrible sound says it all!!
The unfortunate man burst into tears,
Fell on the chest of his comrades
And he cried and sobbed bitterly.

Happy still: his torment
Friends are ready to share
And cry and suffer together...
But who is this consolation?
Deprived of tears and troubles in this life,
Who is in the bloom of his young ardent years
Deprived of what flattered the heart,
How happiness beckoned from afar...
And if the years have taken away
It's time to look for flowers, as before,
A moment of joy in hope, -
Let him not live on earth.

So my prisoner is with his native country
I said “sorry” almost forever!
Tormented by a past dream,
I remembered her places:
Where did he spend his golden youth?
Where I experienced the sweetness of life,
Where there are a lot of sweet things, I loved,
Where I knew fun and suffering,
Where did he, unfortunate, destroy
Holy hearts of hope...
...................................

He heard the word "forever!"
And doomed by a heavy fate,
He was almost friends with captivity.
Sometimes with friends
He tended Circassian herds.
He looked at them like avalanches
They roll down the mountains and make such noise;
They glisten like snow lava,
How they cover the valleys;
Although he was chained,
But I often went to Terek.
And he listened to the waves howling,
The soles of gloomy rocks are digging,
Flowing among wilds and forests...
Looked like in the height of the hills
The guard lights are shining
And how the Cossacks are around them
Looking at the muddy river current
Leaning on the battle spears.
Oh! how he wished he could be there;
But the chain made it difficult to swim across.

When is noon overhead?
Burned in the rays, then my prisoner
I sat in a cave, where from the heat
He could have gone into hiding. Under the mountain
There were herds of people walking around. were lying
There are other shepherds in the shadows,
In the bushes, in the grass and near the river,
In which the thirst was quenched...
And there my prisoner looks;
How sometimes an eagle flies
He spreads his wings in the wind,
And seeing victims between the bushes,
The claws suddenly grab, and again
He lifts them up with a scream...
“So!” he thought, “I’m the victim,
Which they took as food."

He looked just like the bushes
Or the blue steppe, through the mountains,
Saigas, with with quick feet,
Over sharp stones, over flints,
They fly, despising the rapids...
Or like a deer and a young doe,
Hearing birds singing in the bushes,
From the rocks, without moving, they listen -
And then suddenly they disappear
Whirling up sand and ashes.

XV
Watched the mountaineers rush to battle
Or they gallop boldly over the river;
Stopped - horses
They push with a bold foot...
And suddenly, falling to his bow,
They flash near the shores,
They rush - and, galloping again,
Falling headlong from a cliff
AND...
... disappear noisily in the spray -
Then they swim and reach
Already opposite shores,
They are already there in the darkness of the forests
They are hiding themselves from the Cossacks...
Where are you looking, Cossacks?
Look, the waves are by the river
They turned white with gray foam!
Look, the corvids are on the oak trees
They perked up and flew away,
They disappeared screaming into the hills!
Circassians lasso the traveler
They will lure you into their gorges...
And, hidden by the night fog,
The shackles will cause death to you.

And often, driving away sleep,
In the dead of midnight he looks,
Like sometimes the Circassians through the Terek
Sails on a faithful tuluk,
The waves are raging on the river,
Visible in the fog far shore,
On a stump in front of him they hang all around
His weapons are steel:
Quiver, bow, combat arrows;
And the saber is sharp, with a belt
Tied, ringing on it,
He flashes like a dot in the waves,
It suddenly appears, then disappears...
Here he landed on the shores.
Trouble for the careless Cossacks!
They will never see their native Don,
Don't hear the bells ringing!
Already a Chechen under the mountain,
The iron chain mail shines;
The bow is ringing, the arrow is trembling,
The fatal blow is coming!..
Cossack! Cossack! alas, unfortunate one!
Why did the villain kill you?
Why is your lead dangerous?
Didn’t he get hit so quickly?..

So my poor captive sadly,
Even though he himself is under the burden of shackles,
I watched the death of the Cossacks.
When did the midnight light
He rises, he is near the fence
Lies in the village - quiet sleep
Only rarely closes his eyes.
With friends - remembers
Oh dear one home country;
Sad; but more than them...
Leaving there a lovely pledge,
Freedom, happiness, that I loved,
He set off into an unknown land,
And... he destroyed everything in the region.

PART TWO

One day, while deep in a dream,
Sometimes he sat late;
On a dark vault without radiance
The colorless month is young
Stood and the beam was trembling, pale
Lying on the green hills,
And the shadows of the shaky trees,
Like ghosts on the poor roof
The Circassian sakla lay down.
The fire has already been lit in her,
Blushing, he, in the copper lamp,
A little light illuminated the large fence...
Everything is asleep: the hills, the river and the forest.

But who flashes in the shadows of the night?
Who is a light shadow between the bushes
He comes closer, steps a little,
Getting closer... closer... across the ditch
Walking with wandering feet?..
Suddenly he sees in front of him:
With a silent smile of pity
There is a young Circassian!
Gives with a caring hand
Cool bread and kumiss,
Kneeling before him.
And her gaze depicted
An impulse of the soul, as if in confusion.
But the Russian prisoner took the food
And he thanked her with a sign.

And for a long, long time, like a mute,
A young maiden stood.
And the look seemed to say:
“Comfort yourself, dear slave;
You haven’t ruined everything yet.”
And the sigh is not heavy, but sad
Young sounded in my chest;
Then through the shaft it is steep
I went home along the mossy path
And suddenly disappeared into the shadowy distance,
Like some kind of grave ghost.
And only the virgins veil
Even my eyes flashed in the distance,
And for a long, long time my prisoner
I looked after her - she disappeared.
He thought: but why
Unfortunately for me she
With such pity I bowed down -
He didn't close his eyes all night;
I fell asleep an hour before dawn.

I went to see him on the fourth night
She also brought food;
But the prisoner often remained silent,
I didn’t listen to the sad words;
Oh! a heart full of excitement,
She shunned new impressions;
He didn't want to love her.
And what joys are there in a foreign land?
In his captivity, in his fate?
He couldn't forget the past...
He wanted to be grateful
But the hot heart was lost
In his silent suffering
And, as in an unsteady fog, in it
Absorbed without an echo!..
It is both in noise and in silence
The sleep of his soul is disturbed,

He is always with a sad thought
In her shining eyes
Meets an eternally sweet image,
In her friendly speeches
He hears familiar sounds...
And hands rush to the ghost;
He remembered everything - he was calling her...
But suddenly he woke up. Oh! unhappy,
What a terrible abyss he is in here;
His life will not flourish.
It fades, fades, fades,
Like a beautiful color at dawn;
Like a young flame it goes out
On the consecrated altar!!!

He did not understand her aspirations,
Her sorrows and worries;
He didn't think that she
I came out of pity alone,
Looking at his torment;
I also didn’t think that love
The heart and blood were sharpened in her;
And I was in terrible bewilderment...
.......................................
But that night he was waiting for her...
The fateful night has come;
And driving away sleep from my eyes,
My prisoner lay in the cave.

The wind rose at that time,
Rocked in the darkness of the tree,
And his whistle is like a howl -
How an owl howls at midnight.

The rain made its way through the leaves;
In the distance thunder rolled on the clouds;
Shining, lightning stream
Lighted up the darkness of the cave,
Where did my poor prisoner lie?
He was all wet and shaking...
...........................................
The thunderstorm gradually subsided;
Only water dripped from the trees;
Here and there streams between the hills
They ran in a muddy stream
And they fell into the Terek with splashes.
There are no Circassians in the dark field...
And the clouds are already scattering,
And here and there stars flicker;
The moonlight will soon appear,

And there's a golden moon above him
Floated up on a light cloud;
And to the top of the heavenly glass,
Playing through the blue vaults,
She held out her shiny ball.
Covered with a veil of silver
Hills, forests and meadow with a river.
But who with sad feet
Walking alone along a mountainous path?
She... with a dagger and a saw;
Why does she need a damask dagger?
Is he really going to perform a feat of war?
Is he really going to a secret battle!..
Oh no! filled with excitement
Sad thoughts and reflections,
She approached the cave;
And a famous voice rang out;
The prisoner woke up as if from a dream,
And in the depths of the close cave
They sit down... they sit there for a long time
They didn’t dare give free rein to words...
Suddenly the maiden steps cautiously
She walked up to him, sighing;
And, taking your hand, with gentle greetings,
With ardent feeling, but rebellious,
The words are sad at the beginning:

"Oh Russian! Russian! what's wrong with you!
Why are you with mute pity,
Sad, cold, silent,
To my desperate call...
You still have a friend in the world -
You haven't lost everything yet...
I'm ready for leisure hours
To share with you. But you said
What do you love, Russian, you are different.
Her shadow runs after me,
And that’s what it’s about, both night and day,
I'm crying, that's what I'm sad about!..
Forget her, I'm ready
Run with you to the edge of the universe!
Forget her, love me
Your unchanging friend..."
But a prisoner of his heart
I could not open in deep anguish,
And the tears of the black-eyed maiden
Souls did not touch him...
"So, Russian, you are saved! But first
Tell me: live or die?!!
Tell me, should I forget about hope?..
Should I wipe away these tears?"

Then he suddenly stood up; flashed
His lovely eyes
And large tears flashed
On them, like light dew:
"Oh no! leave your gentle delight,
Do not be flattered by the hope of saving me;
This steppe will be my grave;
Not on the remnants, glorious, abusive,
But on the bones of my exiled ones.
The painful chain will rust!"
He fell silent, she sobbed;
But she took courage, quietly stood up,
I took the saw with one hand,
She handed the dagger to the other.
And so, under a sharp saw
Iron will squeak; falls apart
The chain shines and rings slightly.
She lifts him up;
And so, sobbing, he says:

“Yes!.. captive... you will forget me...
Sorry!.. forgive me... _forever_;
Sorry! _forever_/.. How happy you will be,
Ah!.. remember me then...
Then!.. perhaps by the grave
I will be hidden and desired;
Perhaps... you will say sadly:
"She loved me too!.."
And the maidens have pale cheeks,
Almost extinct eyes
Confused face, killed by melancholy,
One tear will not refresh!..
And only screams of agony are torn...
She takes his hands
And he hurries into the dark field,
Where the path lies through the cliffs.

They go, they go; stopped
Sighing, they turned back;
But the fateful hour struck...
A shot rang out - and just
My prisoner falls. Not flour
But death portrays a look;
Quietly puts his hand on his heart...
So slowly along the slope of the mountains,
Sparkling in the sun,
A block of snow falls,
How amazed I am with him,
She falls without feeling;
It's like a fatal bullet
With one blow, in one moment,
Both were suddenly struck down.
......................................

But the Russian's eyes close
Death is already a cold hand;
He takes his last breath,
And he’s already there - and there’s blood flowing like a river
Frozen in cold veins;
In his numb hands
The dagger still lies there, shining;
In all his senses numb
Life no longer burns forever,
Joy does not shine forever,

Meanwhile, the Circassian, with an evil smile,
Coming out of the wilderness of trees,
And, like a predatory wolf,
He glances... stands... without words.
He tramples with his proud foot
He saw the dead man...
That I lost my cartridge in vain;
And again he runs away through the mountains.

But then she suddenly woke up;
And he looks for the prisoner with his eyes.
Circassian! where, where is your friend...
He's no longer there.
She's in tears
Can't express horror
Can't wash away the blood.
And her gaze seems to be insane
He depicted a rush of love;
She suffered. The wind is noisy
Whistling, her cover swirled!.,
Gets up... and with quick steps
I went with my head down,
Through the clearing - behind the hills
She suddenly disappeared into the shadows of the night.

She’s already approaching Terek;
Alas, why, why does she
So timidly looks around,
Full of terrible sadness?..
And for a long time rolling waves
She looks. And a silent gaze
Shines like a star in the midnight darkness.
She is on a stone cliff:
"Oh, Russian! Russian!!!" - exclaims.
The waves splashed under the moon,
They splashed on the shore!..
And the maiden disappears with a noise.
Only the white cover floats out,
Rushing along the dull waves;
The rest is sad and sad
Floats like a funeral shroud,
And he disappeared to the stone cliffs.

But who is their cruel killer?
He had a gray beard;
Without seeing the black-eyed maiden,
He hid in the depths of the forest.
Alas! that was an unfortunate father!
Perhaps he ruined her;
And that lead is dangerous
Did he kill his daughter along with the prisoner?
He doesn't know, she hid herself,
And she hasn’t appeared since that night.
Circassian! where is your daughter? look,
But you can’t return her!!

In the morning the corpse is frozen
Found on foamy beaches.
He was cold and ossified;
It seemed on her lips
The voice of the former torment remained;
It seemed pitiful sounds
The lips have not yet fallen silent;
We found out everything. But it was too late!
- Father! you are her murderer;
Where is your hope?
Be tormented forever! live sadly!..
She's no longer there. And behind you
The ghost of the fatal is everywhere.
Who will show you her coffin?
Run! look for her everywhere!!!
"Where is my daughter?" - and the review will say.

in Wikisource

"Prisoner of the Caucasus"- a story (sometimes called a story) by Leo Tolstoy, telling about a Russian officer captured by the highlanders. Written for ABC, first published in 1872 in the magazine Zarya. One of the most popular works of the writer, reprinted many times and included in the school curriculum.

The title of the story is a reference to the title of Pushkin's poem "Prisoner of the Caucasus".

Story

The plot of the story is partly based on a real event that happened to Tolstoy during his service in the Caucasus in the 1850s. On June 23, 1853, he wrote in his diary: “I almost got captured, but in this case I behaved well, although too sensitive.” According to the memoirs of S. A. Bers, the writer’s brother-in-law,

The peaceful Chechen Sado, with whom L. N. was traveling, was his great friend. And not long before they exchanged horses. Sado bought a young horse. Having tested it, he gave it to his friend L. N-chu, and he himself moved to his pacer, who, as you know, does not know how to gallop. It was in this form that the Chechens overtook them. L.N-ch, having the opportunity to gallop away on his friend’s frisky horse, did not leave him. Sado, like all mountaineers, never parted with his gun, but, unfortunately, it was not loaded. Nevertheless, he aimed it at his pursuers and, threatening, shouted at them. Judging by the further actions of the pursuers, they intended to capture both, especially Sado, for revenge, and therefore did not shoot. This circumstance saved them. They managed to approach Grozny, where a sharp-eyed sentry noticed the pursuit from afar and raised the alarm. The Cossacks who came to meet them forced the Chechens to stop the pursuit.

Tolstoy's daughter talks about this incident as follows:

Tolstoy and his friend Sado escorted the convoy to the Grozny fortress. The convoy walked slowly, stopped, Tolstoy was bored. He and four other horsemen accompanying the convoy decided to overtake it and ride forward. The road went through a gorge; the mountaineers could attack at any moment from above, from the mountain, or unexpectedly from behind cliffs and rock ledges. Three drove along the bottom of the gorge, and two - Tolstoy and Sado - along the top of the ridge. Before they had time to reach the ridge of the mountain, they saw Chechens rushing towards them. Tolstoy shouted to his comrades about the danger, and he, together with Sado, rushed forward to the fortress with all his might. Fortunately, the Chechens did not shoot; they wanted to capture Sado alive. The horses were playful and managed to gallop away. The young officer was injured; the horse killed under him crushed him and he could not free himself from under it. The Chechens galloping past hacked him half to death with sabers, and when the Russians picked him up, it was already too late, he died in terrible agony.

While actively compiling The ABC, Tolstoy wrote a story about a Caucasian prisoner. Sending the story to N. N. Strakhov in March 1872, Tolstoy noted:

The story “Prisoner of the Caucasus” was published in the magazine “Zarya” (1872, No. 2). It was included in the “Fourth Russian Reading Book,” published on November 1, 1872.

Tolstoy himself highly appreciated his story and mentioned it in his treatise “What is Art? " in the following context:

At the same time, he defines the “second kind” of good art there as “art that conveys the simplest everyday feelings, such as are accessible to all people around the world - world art.”

Commenting on this treatise, the philosopher Lev Shestov notes that “...he actually perfectly understands that his “Prisoner of the Caucasus” or “God knows the truth, but will not tell soon” (only these two stories of all that he has written, belongs to he is for good art) - will not have for readers the meaning that not only his great novels have - but even “The Death of Ivan Ilyich.”

Plot

The action takes place during the Caucasian War.

Officer Zhilin serves in the Caucasus. His mother sends a letter asking him to visit her, and Zhilin leaves the fortress along with the convoy. On the way, he overtakes the convoy and comes across several mounted “Tatars” (Muslim mountaineers), who shoot his horse and take him prisoner. Zhilin is brought to a mountain village, where he is sold to Abdul-Murat. The same owner turns out to have Zhilin’s colleague Kostylin, who was also caught by the Tatars. Abdul forces the officers to write letters home so that they can be ransomed. Zhilin indicates the wrong address on the letter, realizing that his mother still cannot collect the required amount.

Zhilin and Kostylin live in a barn; during the day they put pads on their feet. Zhilin makes dolls, attracting local children and, above all, Abdul’s 13-year-old daughter, Dina. While walking around the village and its surroundings, Zhilin wonders in which direction he can run back to the Russian fortress. At night he digs in the barn. Dina sometimes brings him flatbreads or pieces of lamb.

When Zhilin notices that the inhabitants of the village are alarmed because of the death of one of his fellow villagers in a battle with the Russians, he decides to escape. He and Kostylin crawl into a tunnel at night and try to get to the forest, and from there to the fortress. However, due to the slowness of the corpulent Kostylin, they do not have time to get there; the Tatars notice them and bring them back. Now they are put in a pit and the pads are not removed at night. Dina sometimes continues to bring food to Zilina.

Realizing that the mountaineers are afraid of the arrival of the Russians and could kill the prisoners, Zhilin one day, at nightfall, asks Dina to bring him a long stick, with the help of which he climbs out of the hole (the sick and soggy Kostylin remains behind). He tries to knock the lock off the blocks, but cannot do this, including with the help of Dina. Having made his way through the forest, at dawn Zhilin goes to the location of the Russian troops. Subsequently, Kostylin is ransomed from captivity.

Reviews

“Prisoner of the Caucasus” is written in a completely special, new language. Simplicity of presentation is put in the foreground. There is not a single superfluous word, not a single stylistic embellishment... You can’t help but be amazed at this incredible, unprecedented restraint, this ascetically strict fulfillment of the task undertaken to tell the people the events that are interesting to them “without further ado.” This is a feat that, perhaps, will not be possible for any of the other luminaries of our modern literature. The artistic simplicity of the story in “Prisoner of the Caucasus” is brought to its apogee. There is nowhere to go further, and before this majestic simplicity the most talented attempts of the same kind by Western writers completely disappear and fade into obscurity.

The theme “Russian among the Chechens” is the theme of Pushkin’s “Prisoner of the Caucasus”. Tolstoy took the same title, but told everything differently. His prisoner is a Russian officer from the poor nobles, a man who knows how to do everything with his own hands. He's almost not a gentleman. He is captured because another, noble officer, rode away with a gun, did not help him, and was also captured. Zhilin—that’s the prisoner’s name—understands why the highlanders don’t like Russians. The Chechens are strangers, but not hostile to him, and they respect his courage and ability to repair the watch. The prisoner is freed not by a woman who is in love with him, but by a girl who takes pity on him. He tries to save his comrade, he took him with him, but he was timid and lacking energy. Zhilin was dragging Kostylin on his shoulders, but was caught with him, and then ran away alone. Tolstoy is proud of this story. This is wonderful prose - calm, there are no decorations in it and there is not even what is called psychological analysis. Human interests collide, and we sympathize with Zhilin - a good person, and what we know about him is enough for us, but he himself does not want to know much about himself.

Film adaptations

• "Prisoner of the Caucasus" - a classic 1975 film adaptation; director Georgiy Kalatozishvili, in the role of Zhilin Yuri Nazarov

• "Prisoner of the Caucasus" - a 1996 film that uses motifs from the story, but the action is moved during the Chechen War of the 1990s; director Sergei Bodrov Sr. , in the role of Zhilin Sergei Bodrov Jr.

Audio performances

There are several audio versions of the story:

Vladimir Makanin's story “Prisoner of the Caucasus” (1994) in its title contains a reference to several works of Russian classics called “Prisoner of the Caucasus”, including Tolstoy’s story. Also in Makanin’s novel “Asan” (2008), dedicated to the events of the Chechen War of the 1990s, the main character’s name is Alexander Sergeevich Zhilin.

Notes

Links

• “Prisoner of the Caucasus” in the Collected Works of Leo Tolstoy in 22 volumes (“Russian Virtual Library”)

Bibliography of Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy
Novels	Family happiness Decembrists War and peace Anna Karenina Resurrection
Stories	(Trilogy) Childhood Adolescence Youth Two Hussars Albert Morning of the Landowner Cossacks Polikushka Canvasser Notes of a Madman Death of Ivan Ilyich Kreutzer Sonata The Devil Father Sergius Hadji-Murat
Stories	Sevastopol stories (collection) Raid Marker's notes Forest cutting Blizzard Demoted Lucerne Three deaths Caucasian prisoner God sees the truth, but he will not tell soon How much land does a person need? Françoise Is it expensive? The owner and the worker Who is right? After the ball Fake coupon Alyosha Pot of Roots Vasilyev Berries For what? Divine and human Khodynka What I saw in a dream Accidentally
Dramas	The power of darkness The fruits of enlightenment The living corpse
Educational and methodological manuals	ABC New alphabet Arithmetic First Russian book for reading Second Russian book for reading Third Russian book for reading Fourth Russian book for reading
Pedagogical articles	About public education Upbringing and education Progress and definition of education About public education
Journalistic works	About the census in Moscow Confession So what should we do? About life Hunger or not hunger? The kingdom of God is within you
	Who should learn to write from whom, the peasant children from us or us from the peasant children? A few words about the book “War and Peace” About art What is art? About Shakespeare and drama
Other	Reading Circle

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