A history of Russia

by Riazanovsky

  It is remarkable that, although no dogmatic or doctrinal differences were involved, priests and laymen in considerable numbers refused to obey ecclesiastical authorities, even though the latter received the full support of the state. The raskol began in earnest. The Old Believers or Old Ritualists - starovery or staroobriadtsy - rejected the new sign of the cross, the corrected spelling of the name of Jesus, the tripling instead of the doubling of the "Hallelujah," and other similar emendations, and hence rejected the Church. Persecution of the Old Believers was soon widespread. Awakum himself - whose stunning autobiography represents the greatest document of Old Belief and one of the great documents of human faith - perished at the stake in 1682. The Solovetskii Monastery in the far north had to be captured by a siege that lasted from 1668 to 1676. Apocalyptic views prevailed among the early Old Believers, who saw in the Church reform the end of the world, and in Nikon the Antichrist. It has been estimated that between 1672 and 1691 over twenty thousand of them burned themselves alive in thirty-seven known communal conflagrations.

  Yet, surprisingly, the Old Belief survived. Reorganized in the eighteenth century by a number of able leaders, especially by the Denisov brothers, Andrew and Simeon, it claimed the allegiance of millions of Russians up to the Revolution of 1917 and after. It exists today. With no canonical foundation and no independent theology to speak of, the Old Belief divided again and again, but it never disappeared. The main cleavage came to be between the popovtsy and the bespopovtsy, those who had priests and those who had none. For, although the Old Believers refused to change a tittle in the texts or the least detail in the ritual, they soon found themselves without priests and thus without the liturgy, without most of the sacraments,

  and in general without the very core of traditional religious life: bishops were required for elevation to the priesthood, and no bishops joined the Old Belief. Some dissenters, the popovtsy, bent all their efforts to obtain priests by every possible means, for instance, by enticing them away from the established Church. The priestless, on the other hand, accepted the catastrophic logic of their situation and tried to organize their religious life along different lines. It is from the priestless Old Believers that most Russian sects derive. But all this takes us well beyond the Muscovite period of Russian history.

  The raskol constituted the only major schism in the history of the Orthodox Church in Russia. It was in an important sense the opposite of the Reformation: in the West, Christians turned against their ecclesiastical authorities because they wanted changes; in Russia believers revolted because they refused to accept even minor modifications of the traditional religious usage. Many scholars have tried to explain the strange phenomenon of the raskol. Thus Shchapov and numerous others have stressed the social composition of the Old Believers and the social and economic reasons for their rebellion. The dissenters were originally and continued to be mostly well-established peasants and traders. Their action could, therefore, be interpreted as a protest against gentry domination and the entire oppressive Muscovite system. More immediately, they reacted against the increased ecclesiastical centralization under Nikon which led to the appointment of priests - formerly they had been elected in northern parishes - and to the loss of parish autonomy and democracy. In addition to being democrats - so certain historians have claimed - the Old Believers expressed the entrepreneurial and business acumen of the Russian people. Over a period of time they made a remarkable record for themselves in commerce. Some parallels have even been drawn with the Calvinists in the West. As to the other side, the drive for reform has been ascribed, in addition to the obvious reason, to the influence of the more learned Ukrainian clergy, and to the desire of the Muscovite Church and state to adapt their practices to include the Ukrainians and the White Russians, with a further view, according to S. Zenkovsky, to a possible expansion to the Balkans and Constantinople.

  Even more rewarding as an explanation of the raskol has been the emphasis on the ritualism and formalism of Muscovite culture. The Old Believers were, characteristically, Great Russians, that is,. Muscovite Russians and not, for example, Ukrainians. To them the perfectly correct form and the untainted tradition in religion could not be compromised. This, and their arrogant but sincere belief in the superiority of the Muscovite Church and its practices, go far to explain the rebellion. The reformers exhibited a similar formalism. In spite of the advice of such high authorities as the

  patriarch of Constantinople, Nikon and his followers refused to allow any local practice or insignificant variation to remain, thus on their part, too, confusing the letter with the spirit. As we have noted, the Russian Church had developed especially in the direction of religious ceremony, ritualism, and formalism, which for the believers served as a great unifying bond and a tangible basis for their daily life. It has been estimated, for instance, that the tsar often spent five hours or more a day in church. Even visiting Orthodox hierarchs complained of the length of Russian services. The appearance of the Old Belief, as well as the excessively narrow and violent reaction to it, indicated that in Muscovy religious content in certain respects lagged behind religious form. The raskol can thus be considered a tribute to the hold that Muscovite culture had on the people, and, as time made apparent, to its staying power. It also marked the dead end of that culture.

  Miliukov and others have argued that, because of the split, the Russian Church lost its most devoted and active members and, in effect, its vitality: those who had the courage of their convictions joined the Old Belief; the cowardly and the listless remained in the establishment. Even if we allow for the exaggeration implicit in this view and note further that many of the most ignorant and fanatical must also have joined the dissenters, the loss remains great. It certainly made it easier for Peter the Great to treat the Church in a high-handed manner.

  Muscovite Thought and Literature

  In addition to the issue of the true faith, the issue of the proper form of government preoccupied certain Muscovite minds. It concerned essentially the nature and the new role of autocracy, and discussion of it continued the intellectual trend clearly observable in the reigns of Ivan III and Basil III. Such publicists as Ivan Peresvetov, who wrote in the middle of the sixteenth century, upheld the new power and authority of the tsar, while the events of the Time of Troubles provided variations on this theme of proper government and seemed to offer to the Russians unwanted political experience. The most famous debate on the subject took place between Ivan the Terrible and Prince Andrew Kurbsky in two letters from the tsar and five from the fugitive nobleman, written between 1564 and 1579. The sovereign's brilliant letters strike the reader by the sweep of their assertions and their grandiose tone. Ivan the Terrible believed in the divine foundation of autocracy, and he declared that, even if he were a tyrant, Kurbsky's only alternative, as a Christian and a faithful subject, remained patient suffering. The prince, on his part, proved to be stronger in his criticism of the tsar's conduct and in personal invective than in political theory. Yet his views, too, represented a system of belief: they harkened back to an earlier

  order of things, when no great gulf separated the ruler from his chief lieutenants, and when an aristocrat enjoyed more freedom and more respect than Ivan IV wanted to allow.

  In foreign relations, as in domestic matters, Ivan the Terrible and other tsars reiterated the glory of autocracy and demanded full respect for it. They considered the Polish kings degraded because the latter had been put on their throne by others, and thus could not be regarded as hereditary or rooted rulers. They asked why Swedish monarchs treated their advisers as companions. Or, to quote the frequently mentioned bitter letter of Ivan the Terrible to Elizabeth of England, written in 1570: "We had thought that you were sovereign in your state and ruled yourself, and that you saw to your sovereign honor and to the interests of the country. But it turns out that in your land people rule besides you, and not only people, but trading peasants…"

  Passing on to the subject of Muscovite literature as a whole, one
should note the development of the "chancellery language," based on the Muscovite spoken idiom, in which official documents were written, and also the gradual penetration of popular language into literature in place of the bookish Slavonic-Russian. Avvakum's autobiography, written in the racy spoken idiom, was a milestone in Russian literature. Religious writings continued and indeed flourished, especially in the seventeenth century. They included hagiography and, in particular, menologia, that is, calendars with the lives of saints arranged under the dates of their respective feasts, the most important of which was compiled by Metropolitan Macarius. They also included theological and polemical works, sermons, and other items. After Ukraine joined Muscovy, the more learned and less isolated Ukrainian clerics began to play a leading role in a Russian literary revival.

  The Domostroi, or "house manager," constituted one of the most noteworthy works of Muscovite Russia. Attributed to Sylvester and dating in its original version from about 1556, it intends in sixty-three didactic chapters to instruct the head of a Muscovite family and its other members how properly to run their households and lead their lives. The Domostroi teachings reflect the ritualism, piety, severity, and patriarchal nature of Muscovite society. Some commentators have noted in horror that the author, or more likely authors, write in the same peremptory manner about the veneration of the Holy Trinity and about the preservation of mushrooms. Possibly the most often cited directive reads:

  Punish your son in his youth, and he will give you a quiet old age, and restfulness to your soul. Weaken not beating the boy, for he will not die from your striking him with the rod, but will be in better health: for while you strike his body, you save his soul from death. If you love your son, punish him frequently, that you may rejoice later.

  If the Domostroi, with its remarkable ritualism, formalism, and emphasis on the preservation of appearances, is considered by some to be a kind of Muscovite summa, other events in literature, especially in the seventeenth century, pointed in new directions. Gradually the lay literature of the West spread in Russia. Coming through Poland, Ukraine, the Balkans, and sometimes more directly, the stories assumed a romantic, didactic, or satirical character and were usually full of adventure, which the religious writings of ancient Russia as a rule lacked. Often, through the vehicle of such recurrent themes as the tales of the seven wise men or of Tristan and Isolde, the stories acquainted Muscovites with the world of knighthood, courtly love, and other concepts and practices unknown in the realm of the tsars. Soon, Russian tales following Western models made their appearance: for instance, stories about Savva Grudtsin, who sold his soul to the devil, and about the rogue Frol Skobeev. Numbers of these tales enjoyed great popularity.

  Syllabic versification also came from the West, from the Latin and Polish languages, largely through the efforts of Simeon of Polotsk, who died in 1680. It remained the dominant form in Russian poetry until the middle of the eighteenth century. After some productions of plays arranged by private individuals, Tsar Alexis established a court theater in 1672 under the direction of a German pastor, Johann Gregory. Before long, a few Russian plays enriched the repertoire, which was devoted primarily to biblical subjects.

  The traditional oral literature of the people continued to thrive throughout the Muscovite period. Tales and songs commemorated such significant events as the capture of Kazan, the penetration into Siberia, or Stenka Razin's rebellion. The byliny retained their popularity. Pilgrims and beggars composed religious poems at venerated shrines. The skomorokhi went on entertaining the people, in spite of all prohibitions. All in all it seems quite unfair to characterize Muscovite culture as silent, as has sometimes been done, all the more so because it is probable that many writings of the period have been lost. On the other hand, Muscovite literary life does appear meager by comparison with the riches of its contemporary West. Nor did it measure up, in the opinion of specialists, to Muscovite architecture and other arts.

  The Arts

  In architecture, as well as in literature and in culture as a whole, no divide rises between the appanage and the Muscovite periods of Russian history. Building in both wood and stone nourished in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. As described earlier, wooden houses of the boyars and mansions

  of the rulers - the so-called khoromy - were remarkable conglomerations of independent units which usually lacked symmetry but compensated for it by the abundance and variety of parts. Outstanding examples of this type of building included the khoromy of the Stroganovs in Solvychegodsk and the summer palace of the tsars in the village of Kolomenskoe near Moscow. Furthermore, it was especially during the Muscovite age that the principles of Russian wooden architecture, with its reliance on small independent structural units and its favorite geometric forms, found a rich expression also in the stone medium, notably in churches.

  The church of St. Basil the Blessed at one end of Red Square, outside the Kremlin wall, provides the most striking illustration of this wooden type of construction in stone. Built in 1555-60 by two architects from Pskov, Barma and Posnik, it has never ceased to dazzle visitors and to excite the imagination. This church, known originally as the Cathedral of the Intercession of the Virgin, consists in fact of nine separate churches on a common foundation. All nine have the form of tall octagons - a narrower octagon on top of a broader one in each case - and the central church, around which the other eight are situated, is covered by a tent roof. Striking and different cupolas further emphasize the variety and independence of the parts of the church. Bright colors and abundant decorations contribute their share to the powerful, if somewhat bizarre, impression. While the church of St. Basil the Blessed and its predecessor, the church in the village of Diakovo that consisted of five churches, seem strange and unsymmetric to Western eyes, they succeed, in the opinion of many specialists, in combining their separate units into one magnificent whole.

  In the Moscow Kremlin itself the construction went on, although the most important work had already been done in the reigns of Ivan III and Basil III. The Golden Gate arose in the first half of the seventeenth century, and as late as 1670-90 towers in the Kremlin wall were topped with roofs, usually in the Russian tent style, while within the walls palaces and churches continued to grow. In addition to the kremlin in Moscow, the beautiful kremlin of ancient Rostov, built mainly in the seventeenth century, and parts of kremlins in a score of other Russian cities have come down to our time.

  In the second half of the seventeenth century the baroque style reached Moscovy through Ukraine and quickly gained popularity, developing into the so-called Muscovite, or Naryshkin, baroque - the last name referring to the boyar family which sponsored it. It has been said that the Russians found baroque especially congenial because of their love of decoration. The church built in 1693 in the village of Fili, now part of Moscow, provides an interesting example of Russian baroque.

  The great Russian tradition of icon painting continued during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries but then was effectively terminated. Two

  prominent new schools emerged: the Stroganov school and the school of the tsar's icon-painters. The first, supported by the great merchant family of the northeast, was active approximately from 1580 to 1630. Its characteristics included bright backgrounds, rich colors, elaborate and minute design, and a penchant for decorative elements and gold, for instance gold contours. In fact, the Stroganov icons tended to become miniatures, "lovely and highly precious objects, if no longer great works of art" in the words of one critic. Procopius Chirin, who later joined the tsar's icon-painters and even became Tsar Michael's favorite artist, was an outstanding member of the Stroganov group.

  The tsar's icon-painters dominated the scene in the second half of the seventeenth century. They found patronage in the so-called Oruzheinaia Palata headed by an able and enlightened boyar, Bogdan Khitrovo. The Oruzheinaia Palata began early in the sixteenth century as an arsenal, but, to quote Voyce: "It became successively a technical, scientific, pedagogical, and art institute, and containe
d shops and studios of icon and portrait painting, gold and silversmith work, keeping at the same time its original purpose - the manufacture of arms." The tsar's icon-painters developed a monumental style and reflected the influence of the West with its knowledge of perspective and anatomy. Simon Ushakov, who lived approximately from 1626 to 1686, was the school's celebrated master. We can still admire his skillful composition and precise execution in such icons as that of Christ the Ruler of the World painted for the cathedral of the Novodevichii Convent in Moscow.

  Although Russian icon painting in the Muscovite period produced notable works and although its prestige and influence in the entire Orthodox world then reached its height, the school of the tsar's icon-painters marked the end of a long road. Ushakov himself has been praised for his remarkable ability to combine Byzantine and Western elements in his art, and the same can be said more modestly of his companions. Before long, the West swept over the East. Secular painting, including portrait painting, had already become popular in Muscovite Russia. After Peter the Great's reforms, art in Russia, as well as all of Russian culture, joined the Western world. Icon painting, of course, continued to exist, and on a very large scale, but as a craft rather than a highly creative and leading art.

  Fresco painting and illumination also prospered in Muscovy. In fact, the second half of the seventeenth century saw a great flowering of fresco painting, which centered in Iaroslavl and spread to other towns in the Volga area. The gigantic scope and the fine quality of the work can best be studied in two churches in Iaroslavl: the church of the Prophet Elijah painted by Gurii Nikitin, Sila Savin, and their thirteen associates, and that of St. John the Baptist, where Dmitrii Grigoriev and fifteen other men painted the frescoes. The frescoes in the last-named church, which were created in