Leo Tolstoy's "The Cossacks"

Leo Tolstoy’s The Cossacks weaves together disparate philosophical elements to produce a tale about the spiritual emptiness of modern urban life, the redemption that can be found in the primal state of nature and the rural communities close to it, and the way that sudden romantic love can derail this particular path to salvation. This narrative structure is expressed through the life and journey of Olenin, an aristocratic Russian who, like other members of the 19^th century nobility, whittled away his time engaging in shallow pursuits—attending balls, gambling, drinking and womanizing. For Olenin, the enjoyment derived from these activities is ephemeral and ultimately produces an enduring sense of anomie and ennui, as well as large financial liabilities. He has become cynical and detests the superficiality of it all, and seeks redemption by joining the army and subjecting himself to the rigour, hierarchy, and struggle of the military while getting a post far away from the modern enclave of Moscow. Olenin is posted with a Cossack regiment, which is on the front lines of Russia’s conflict with the obstreperous Chechens, who have a reputation—now just as much as in the middle of the 19^th century when The Cossacks was written—as being fierce and brave warriors.

Although the Chechens are Muslims and the Cossacks are Christians, they are historically and ethnically related and hence share many traits, particularly those associated with warrior tribes—the love of freedom, a strong sense of honour, the celebration of strength, risk, and courage, and none of the social stratifications which characterize modern life. Both are also rural communities and are therefore very close to the land and to nature’s capricious rhythms. When Olenin goes to live with Cossacks, it is the natural world which sparks his moral and spiritual transformation. Tolstoy is at his literary best when recounting this change, particularly when describing Olenin’s emotions. When the latter would look at the pristine mountains in their eternal and resplendent beauty, he would not only see them, but would feel them (emphasis Tolstoy’s). Olenin’s epiphany reaches its apotheosis one beautiful day in the woods; he realizes that he intrinsically part of nature and not morally different from other living things. Like other beasts, he was born, will decay, and will die. This sense of his own oneness with nature, and his mortality, leads him to the conviction that the accoutrements, and social distinctions, of his privileged aristocratic life in Moscow are meaningless. All that matters is the intrinsic value of God’s creation, and since Olenin’s existence is insignificant in the vastness of it all, his ultimate purpose is not to serve his own needs, but rather those of others. Complete self-negation and unconditional love for everything and everybody becomes his credo, and it brings him genuine happiness, which further strengthens Olenin’s conviction that he has found the secret of life.

Olenin’s epiphany clearly reveals Tolstoy’s odd mix of romanticism and Christian mysticism, and his belief that combining them can fill the spiritual hole in the heart of modernity. Readers familiar with Tolstoy’s other works will recognize these ideas, and their representation in The Cossacks probably tracks very closely Tolstoy’s own experience. He was, after all, a Russian noble who found modern life to be deeply unsatisfying, and who consequently decided to become a soldier and was sent to a Cossack settlement. Tolstoy’s emphasis on the emotional dimensions of this eclectic philosophy perhaps leads him to minimize the logical tensions between, on the one hand, the romanticization of nature and, on the other, the Christian worldview. For the latter, original sin means that man no longer lives in a paradise characterized with the harmony of things; rather, humans are in a constant struggle with others and with nature. This fallen state means that true redemption cannot be achieved in the present state of affairs, which is why doctrinally orthodox Christians, although they may admire nature’s beauty, cannot venerate it while staying true to their core beliefs. Rather, they look towards either the next life in heaven or the paradise that will be established after Judgement day.

But The Cossacks is a novel, not a philosophically rigorous text. Therefore, logical inconsistencies matter much less than the emotional power of Olenin’s moral and spiritual transformation. The relationships Olenin develops with individual members of the tribe are central to this development. One in particular stands out: a Cossack who Olenin affectionately calls “uncle Yerovshka” becomes a frequent visitor and is, despite his rural simplicity, a remarkable man with a character forged from years of experience as a soldier, father, friend, and loyal member of the Cossacks. Despite a life of physical labour, aged 70 years old and a heavy drinker, uncle Yerovshka brims at the seams of his wrinkled face with confidence, optimism, wisdom and affection for everything and everybody (except the Chechens). He is past his prime but is still energetic and jocular, and never misses an opportunity to flirt with pretty Cossack girls or to drink and socialize with everyone else. At the same time, he embodies the warrior values of his tribe, sharpened by direct experience of fighting on the front lines. Another Cossack with whom Olenin becomes close is Luka, a youthful and brave soldier in his physical prime, who finds nothing to be more glorious than fighting Chechens.

Luka and Olenin are both soldiers, and hence they develop that special bond of comrades in arms. But their relationship is strained by the rivalry over the beautiful Cossack girl Maryanka. And it is here where we arrive at the next part of Tolstoy’s narrative structure: the power of sexual desire to derail spiritual development (Tolstoy, a notorious womanizer, was probably writing from personal experience). Maryanka is the daughter of the owner of the house rented by Olenin, and so he sees her frequently. Although he immediately recognizes her beauty and develops an affection for her, it is not, at least initially, carnal. Rather, Maryanka is perceived through the prism of Olenin’s spiritual transformation. As such, she is beautiful but in the same way that the mountains, trees, and sunsets are. He loves her in the same way that he loves nature—abstract, generalized, and lofty. But this changes when Olenin is corrupted by Beletsky, another member of the Russian nobility who comes to live as a soldier with the Cossacks. He invites Olenin to a soiree where there will be alcohol and young Cossack girls; Olenin intuitively senses it is a bad idea, but ignores his inner voice and goes to Beletsky’s event, where, because of the latter’s drunken shenanigans, Olenin unexpectedly finds himself alone with Maryanka. They do not sleep together but connect nonetheless through sincere and profound conversation and physical closeness. Subsequently, Olenin’s new- found philosophy of self-negation falls like a proverbial house of cards. He falls madly in love with Maryanka, and, in Tolstoy’s own words, nothing is more egotistical than emotional rapture.

Olenin’s love for Maryanka has now become carnal rather than spiritual, and hence obsessive and maddening. He can’t stop thinking about her, and wants nothing more than to marry and live with her. She has complete control over him, which in modern language we would call being “whipped”. The problem is that she is slated to marry Luka, the brave Cossack soldier who, like Olenin, loves her deeply. When the narrative reaches this point, the text produces a strong sense of suspense because the reader can perceive a coming climax of betrayal, revenge, and tragedy. Only one can get the girl, which means one must be jilted, but in the context of a warrior culture based on honour and the violent resolution of disputes, one will probably die. At a certain point, readers may get the impression that Maryanka will accept Olenin’s marriage proposal, since she does not give him an affirmative answer but promises to the next day. Before then, the Cossack squadron, which includes both Luka and Olenin, encounters a group of Chechens and a vicious firefight ensues. Unsurprisingly, Luka, the bravest and fiercest soldier, charges and slaughters many, while Olenin, in a clear demonstration of his privileged origins, makes a cowardly effort to avoid danger. The former is gravely shot despite slaughtering many Chechens. When the Cossacks return to the settlement, Olenin visits Maryanka, but she is distraught about Luka. Readers who think, or hope, that at this point she gives her hand to Olenin will be disappointed. Despite Luka’s inevitable death, she rejects Olenin and even looks at him with an air of contempt and hatred. Olenin leaves her house, distraught at being rejected, and shortly after returns to his vacuous life as a Russian noble in Moscow.

Evidently, Maryanka’s loyalty to her tribe trumped the potential marital bliss and material comfort with Olenin. One should not be surprised that Tolstoy ended on this note. Olenin, after all, betrayed his original epiphany which taught him that the secret to life was complete self-negation, selflessness, and service to nature and to others. The rural life of the Cossacks, and individual members of the tribe like uncle Yeroshvka, led him to salvation, and once obtained, he was tested when temptation came his way in the form of Beletsky. Rather than following his inner voice and avoiding Beletsky’s soiree, he surrendered to his baser instincts; soulless reason was no defense, since all it did was help him to rationalize his action. Olenin became smitten and then tried to trade his salvation for a woman, but in the end he got neither. Even worse, he was forced to abandon the pristine beauty and the spiritual fulfilment of the Cossacks, return to Moscow, and end his days living the empty and meaningless life he tried to escape.