The Icon and the Axe

by James Billington

  The Icon and the Axe

  James Billington

  THE ICON AND THE AXE

  An Interpretive History of Russian Culture

  by James H. Billington

  Vintage Books

  A DIVISION OF RANDOM HOUSE NEW YORK

  PREFACE

  This is an interpretive history of modern Russian thought and culture. It is the product of one man's scholarship, reflection, and special interests. There is no illusion-and I hope no pretense-of offering an encyclopedic inventory of the Russian heritage or any simple key to understanding it. This is a selective account which seeks to provide new information and interpretation and not merely to codify an already established consensus: to open up rather than to "cover" this vast subject.

  The period under consideration is the last six hundred years, during which Russia has emerged as a powerful, distinctive, creative civilization. The narrative will deal with some of the anguish and aspiration as well as the achievements of Russian culture; restless dissenters as well as ruling oligarchies; priests and prophets as well as poets and politicians. No attempt will be made to provide a complete picture of any individual cultural medium or personality, or to make the quantity of words devoted to a given subject a necessary index of intrinsic cultural quality. This work will draw on those materials which seem to illustrate best the distinctive central concerns of each era of Russian cultural development.

  Two artifacts of enduring meaning to Russians-the icon and the axe-have been chosen for the title. These two objects were traditionally hung together on the wall of the peasant hut in the wooded Russian north. Their meaning for Russian culture will be set forth in the early pages of this book; they serve to suggest both the visionary and the earthy aspects of Russian cultufeTThe eternal split between the saintly and the demonic in all human culture is, however, not provided in the Russian case by any simple contrast between holy pictures and unholy weapons. For icons have been used by charlatans and demagogues, and axes by saints and artists. Thus, the initial focus on these primitive artifacts contains a hint of the ironic perspective with which we shall end our examination of Russian culture. The title also serves to suggest that this is a work which will seek

  to locate and trace symbols that have played a unique role for the Russian imagination rather than examine Russian reality primarily in terms of the ideas, institutions, and art forms of the West.

  The emphasis in this work is on the elusive world of ideas and ideals which Russians refer to as dukhovnaia kul'tura: a term far less narrowly religious in suggestion than its English equivalent of "spiritual culture." This work does not purport to relate ideology systematically to economic and social forces, or to prejudge the deeper question of the relative importance of material and ideological forces in history. It seeks only to establish more fully the historical identity of the spiritual and ideological forces which are recognized even by Marxist materialists in the USSR to have been of great importance in the development of their country.

  This work does attempt in some measure to balance the frequent concentration on political and economic history by providing a general historical guide for the oft-visited but less charted terrain of thought and culture. The term "culture" is used here in its broad meaning of a "complex of distinctive attainments, beliefs, and traditions,"1 and not in any of the more specialized senses in which "culture" is sometimes understood: as an early stage in social development that precedes the higher stage of civilization; as a quality of refinement nurtured in museums; or as a distinct type of accomplishment that can be altogether disembodied from its material context.2 Within the general category of cultural history, which "concentrates upon the social, intellectual and artistic aspects or forces in the life of a people or nation,"3 this work emphasizes the intellectual and artistic-dealing only incidentally with social history and hardly at all with sociological analyses. The basic framework for this study is chronological sequence, which is as important in cultural history as in economic or political history. There will be flashbacks and anticipations-particularly in the first, background section; but the main concern is to provide in the sections that follow a chronological account of successive eras of Russian cultural development. The second section portrays the initial confrontation of primitive Muscovy with the West in the sixteenth and the early seventeenth century. Then follow two long sections covering a century each: the third section dealing with the protracted search for new cultural forms in the rapidly growing empire of the seventeenth and the early eighteenth century; the fourth, with the brilliant if uneasy aristocratic culture that flowered from the mid-eighteenth to the mid-nineteenth century. Two final sections are devoted to the last hundred years, when the problems of industrialization and modernization have been superimposed on earlier patterns and problems of Russian cultural development. The fifth section deals with the richly creative and experimental era that began during the reform period of

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  Alexander II. The last section considers twentieth-century Russian culture in relation to that of the past.

  There has been a kind of unity in most of Russian culture, a feeling that individual Russians and separate artistic forms are all in some sense subordinate participants in a common creative quest, philosophic controversy, or social conflict. To be sure, Mendeleev's chemistry, Lobachev-sky's mathematics, Pushkin's poetry, Tolstoy's novels, Kandinsky's paintings, and Stravinsky's music can ?? be appreciated with relatively little reference to their Russian background or to criteria other than those of the particular scientific or artistic medium. But most of Russian culture- indeed much of that created by these truly European figures-acquires added meaning when set in the Russian context. Some understanding of the national context of individual creative activity is more necessary in the case of Russia than of many other national cultures.

  As a result of this feeling of common involvement and interdependence, the kind of debate that is usually conducted between individuals in the West often rages even more acutely within individuals in Russia. For many Russians "to think, feel, suffer, and understand are one and the same thing,"4 and their creativity often bespeaks "a vast elemental strength combined with a relatively weak sense of form."5 The exotic contours of St. Basil's Cathedral, the unorthodox harmonies of a Musorgsky opera, the impassioned vernacular of a Dostoevsky novel offend the classical spirit. Yet they speak compellingly to most men, reminding us that the alleged lack of form may be only nonconformity with the traditional categories used to analyze a culture.

  As one looks at the history of Russian culture, it may be helpful to think of the forces rather than the forms behind it. Three in particular- the natural surroundings, the Christian heritage, and the Western contacts of Russia-hover bigger than life over the pages that lie ahead. These forces seem capable of weaving their own strange web of crisis and creativity out of the efforts of men. Usually they are working at cross-purposes, though occasionally-as in some fleeting moments in Dr. Zhivago-all three forces may seem to be in harmony.

  The first force is that of nature itself. It has been said that Russia's thinkers are not formal philosophers but poets; and behind the apparently accidental similarity of the Russian words for "poetry" and "element" (stikhi, stikhiid) lie many intimate links between Russian culture and the natural world. Some speak of a "telluric" sense of communion with the earth alternating with a restless impulse to be skitaltsy or "wanderers" over the Russian land;6 others of a peculiarly Russian insight in the poem in which a fetus asks not to be born, because "I am warm enough here."7 The underground

  world of the mythological "damp mother earth" has beckoned in many forms from the first monastery in the caves of Kiev to the present-day shrine of the mummified Lenin and the gild
ed catacombs of the Moscow subway. Not only the earth, but fire, water, the sky-the other "elements" of medieval cosmology-have been important symbols for the Russian imagination; and even today the Russian language retains many earthy overtones that have been filtered out of more sophisticated European tongues.

  A second supra-personal force behind modern Russian culture is that of Eastern Christendom. However fascinating pagan survivals, however magnificent earlier Scythian art, Orthodox Christianity created the first distinctively Russian culture and provided the basic forms of artistic expression and the framework of belief for modern Russia. The Orthodox Church also played a key role in infecting Russia with the essentially Byzantine idea that there is a special dignity and destiny for an Orthodox society and but one true answer to controversies arising within it. Thus, religion will play a central role in this narrative-not as an isolated aspect of culture but as an all-permeating force within it.

  Along with nature and faith stands a third powerful force: the impact of the West. For the entire period of this chronicle, interaction with Western Europe was a major factor in Russian history. Russians have repeatedly sought to define this relationship, usually seeking a formula by which they could both borrow from and remain distinct from the West. The celebrated controversy between Slavophiles and "Westernizers" in the 1840's is but one episode in a long struggle. Here, as elsewhere, the self-conscious, intellectualized disputes of the nineteenth century will be placed in historical perspective by considering other Westernizing forces that have sought to determine the direction of Russian culture: Latinizers from Italy, pietists from Germany, "Voltairians" from France, and railroad builders from England. Particular attention will also be paid to those centers of Russian life which have provided a Western leaven within Russia: the real and remembered Novgorod and the majestic metropolis of St. Petersburg-Leningrad.

  Many of the special emphases of this work are at variance with the general image currently reflected in either the formal interpretations of Soviet ideologists or the informal consensus of most Western intellectual historians. Specialists will be aware (and laymen should be alerted) that my interpretation includes among its unconventional and debatable features: a general stress on earlier (though not on the earliest) periods born of the belief that "all ages are equidistant from eternity" and that formative influences sometimes tell us more about later developments than immediately precedent circumstances; detailed immersion in certain critical and often neglected turning points, such as the onset of the schism under Alexis and

  of the anti-Enlightenment under Alexander I; a continuing concern for religious as well as secular ideas and trends; and a relative emphasis within the more familiar period since 1825 on the distinctively Russian rather than the more recognizably Western or "modernizing" aspects of Russian development. I have been encouraged both by the volume of the older materials written on these subjects and by the depth of continuing interest in them among many people deeply immersed in Russian culture, both within and outside the USSR, to believe that the special emphases of this study reflect in some degree objective reality about Russia, and not solely the subjective curiosity of an individual historian.

  The text is based largely on a fresh reading of primary materials and of detailed Russian monographs-particularly those published during the last great flowering of humanistic scholarship prior to the Bolshevik Revolution. Considerable use has also been made of Western and recent Soviet scholarly writings; but relatively little use has been made of other general histories, and almost none at all of the substantial but repetitive and apocrypha-laden body of popular Western literature about Russia.

  The text is written for a broad range of general readers and will, hopefully, be completely intelligible to someone with no previous knowledge of Russian history. The references at the end of the book are designed to provide the more specialized student with the original-language version of key citations and a running bibliographical guide to available materials in major European languages-particularly on subjects that are controversial, unfamiliar, or not adequately treated elsewhere. The length of the documentation is not intended to lend any illusion of completeness or any aura of special authority to my interpretations and emphases. Many good works have not been used or mentioned; many important subjects not discussed.

  To both the scholar and the general reader I would offer this work, not as a systematic analysis or thorough coverage, but as an episode in the common, continuing quest for inner understanding of a disturbed but creative nation. The objective is not so much the clinical-sounding quality of "empathy" as what the Germans call Einfiihlung, or "in-feeling,"' and the Russians themselves proniknovenie-meaning penetration, or permeation, in the sense in which a blotter is filled with ink or an iron with heat. Only some such sense of involvement can take the external observer beyond casual impressions, redeem unavoidable generalizations, and guard against unstable alternation between condescension and glorification, horror and idealization, Genghis Khan and Prester John.

  This quest for deeper understanding has long agitated the introspective Russian people themselves. Alexander Blok, perhaps their greatest poet of this century, has likened Russia to a sphinx; and the Soviet ex-

  perience has added fresh controversy to the unresolved earlier disputes of Russian history. This search for understanding also belongs to the outside world, which has been deeply affected by the two major events in modern Russian culture: the literary explosion of the nineteenth century and the political upheaval of the twentieth. Historians are inclined to believe that study of the past may in some way deepen one's understanding of the present-perhaps even provide fragmentary hints of future possibilities. However, the history of Russian culture is a story worth telling for its own sake; and even those who feel that this earlier culture has little relevance to the urbanized Communist empire of today may still approach it as Dostoevsky did a Western culture which he felt was dead:

  I know that I am only going to a graveyard, but to a most precious graveyard. . . . Precious are the dead that lie buried there, every stone over them speaks of such burning life that once was there, of such passionate faith in their deeds, their truth, their struggle, and their learning, that I know I shall fall on the ground and shall kiss those s'.ones and weep over them.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am greatly indebted to the libraries in which I have been privileged to work: the Firestone (including the Shoumatoff collection) at Princeton, the Widener and Houghton at Harvard, national libraries at Stockholm, Vienna, and Marburg, the university library at Leiden, the library of the Institut fur osteuropaische Geschichte in Vienna, the New York Public Library, the Library of Congress, the Saltykov-Shchedrin Library, the Institute of Russian Literature (Pushkinsky Dom), and the Russian Museum in Leningrad, and the Lenin Library, Tret'iakov Gallery, and Archive of Ancient Acts in Moscow. I am especially grateful to Drs. Valenkoski and Haltsonen and to the excellent national library at Helsinki for a valuable year spent reading in its rich Russian collection. I deeply appreciate the support I received for this work from the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, from the Fulbright program in Finland, and from the Council of the Humanities and University Research Funds of Princeton University. I also thank the Center of International Studies at Princeton, the Russian Research Center at Harvard, and the Inter-University Committee on Travel Grants for assistance not directly related to this project, but of real benefit to it. I am grateful to Gregory and Katharine Guroff for, respectively, preparing the index and typing the most difficult sections of this manuscript.

  I owe a special debt to Professor Sir Isaiah Berlin of Oxford and the Reverend Professor Georges Florovsky. They are in many ways the spiritual fathers of this book, having generously fortified me with ideas, criticism, and references during and since my years at Oxford and Harvard. I also profited from discussions with Professors Mavrodin and Bialy and Messrs. Malyshev, Gol'dberg, and Volk during my visits to the University of Leningrad as an exchange
lecturer in March 1961, and again in January 1965, while on an exchange with Moscow University. On this latter occasion, I had the privilege of lecturing on the substance of this book at both universities. In Moscow, I benefited from discussions with Professors

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  Klibanov and Novitsky and Mr. A. Sakharov. I am grateful for stimulus as well as courtesies to these and others in the USSR, and only hope that the exchange of often differing views in this area will continue and deepen. I also thank Mme Popova and Director Lebedev for enabling me to study in detail (and obtain reproductions from) the rich collections of P. D. Korin and the Tret'iakov Gallery respectively. I owe a real debt to my colleagues in the History Department at Princeton: Joseph Strayer, Cyril Black, and Jerome Blum, who along with R. Tucker, R. Burgi, G. Alef, N. Berberova, and Professors Berlin and Florovsky were good enough to read and comment upon sections of the book. I owe a special debt to Charles Moser for his reading and comments. None of these people should suffer any measure of guilt by association with the emphases and approach, let alone the imperfections of this work.

  Among the many others whom I should properly thank, I can mention only my lively-I might even say intelligentnye-students at Harvard and Princeton, and three great, departed teachers who profoundly influenced me and will not be forgotten by any who knew them: Albert M. Friend, Walter P. Hall, and E. Harris Harbison. Finally, I must thank my beloved wife and companion Marjorie, to whom this book is gratefully and affectionately dedicated.