The Icon and the Axe

by James Billington

  This ideological protest against modernization left a corrosive legacy of xenophobia. Internal schism in the wake of widespread violence engraved the anti-Jewish attitude implicit in the Muscovite ideology deep into the popular imagination. The Old Believers accused Nikon of permitting Jews to translate sacred books; and the Nikonians accused the Old Believers of letting Jews lead sacred services. Both parties considered the council of 1666-7 a "Jewish mob," and an official publication of the council blamed its opponents for falling victim to "the lying words of Jews." Throughout the society rumors spread that state power had been turned over to "cursed Jewish governors" and the Tsar lured into a corrupting Western marriage by the aphrodysiacs of Jewish doctors.135 Anti-Catholicism also became more widespread if not more intense than during the Time of Troubles. One Orthodox historian has pointed out that "until the sixties of the seventeenth century, aside from the name itself, the simple people could in no way distinguish Uniat from Orthodox."136 Henceforth, the general antagonism vaguely felt toward the Pope of Rome and "the Latins" was also directed at the Uniat Church as a tool for the "guileful politics of the Polish republic."137

  To say who was responsible for the schism in the Eastern Church of Christ would be no easier than to determine who was responsible for the crucifixion of its founder. In both cases, the main historical arena of the immediate future belonged to men of state: the "great" Peter and Catherine and the "august" Caesar. Yet the "third Rome" was to be haunted by schismatics almost as much as the first Rome had been by the early Christians. The year 1667, which brought a formal end to religious controversy, saw the beginning of two powerful social protest movements against the new order. From the north the monks and traders of Solovetsk began their active resistance to tsarist troops, which was to inspire the Old Believer communities that soon formed along the Russian frontier. At the same time Stenka Razin (who had made two pilgrimages to Solovetsk) began the Cossack-led peasant rebellion which provided the precedent for a new

  tradition of anarchistic rural revolt. The subsequent history of Russia was to be, in many ways, the history of two Russias: that of the predominantly Baltic German nobility and the predominantly White and Little Russian priesthood, which ran the Romanov empire; and that of the simple peasants, tradesmen, and prophets from whom its strength was derived.

  The original fundamentalists and theocrats made an impressive final exit from the stage of history in the late seventeenth century. Even after both positions had been rejected and Avvakum and Nikon were dead, each camp managed to give one last witness to its old ideals: one final ringing vote of no confidence in the new order.

  The fundamentalist protest was that of communal withdrawal from the world. In the very year after the council in 1667, peasants in Nizhny Novgorod began to leave the fields and dress in white for all-night prayer vigils in anticipation of the coming end. Further north along the Volga, the unkempt Vasily Volosaty ("the hairy one") was attracting interest in his program for the destruction of all books and the launching of a penitential fast unto death. Others taught that the reign of Antichrist had begun in 1666, or that the end of the world would come in 1674 or 1691 (which was thought to be 1666 years after the entrance of Christ into hell). The death of Tsar Alexis in 1676 just a few days after the final fall of the fundamentalist redoubt at Solovetsk was seen as a sign of God's disfavor and an assurance of His intention to vindicate soon the defenders of the old faith.

  Some sought to anticipate the purgative fires of the Last Judgment through self-immolation; others withdrew to form new puritanical communities in the virgin forests. The formation of these communities permitted the fundamentalist tradition to survive into modern times; but their creative activities belong more to the eighteenth than the seventeenth century. The final years of the seventeenth century were dominated by more negative protests against the new order, reaching a climax in the movement to abjure all worldly speech save repetition of the word "no"-the famous netovsh-china of a peasant from Yaroslavl named Kozma Andreev.138

  Only a few miles from the spot where Kozma was trying to exercise his veto power against the modern world, there arose at the same time the last great monument to the rival, theocratic protest against secularism: the new Kremlin of Rostov the Great. Built by the Metropolitan Ion Sysoevich during the 1670's and 1680's as part of a deliberate effort to perpetuate the cause of his friend Nikon, the Rostov Kremlin is one of the most magnificent architectural ensembles in all of Russia. The majesty of its symmetry and relative simplicity of its brick and stone construction represent a direct effort to perpetuate the Nikonian style in architecture, and they constitute a massive, silent rebuke to the exotic pretentiousness of the

  new state architecture. There could hardly be a more striking contrast than that of this massive yet white and austere ecclesiastical ensemble with the garish colors and chaotic appearance of the new architectural ensembles concurrently built in wood by Tsar Alexis: the palace at Kolomenskoe and the foreign office building within the Moscow Kremlin.

  More important, however, the ecclesiastical construction at Great Rostov represented an effort to vindicate Nikon's theocratic ideas by dramatizing the majesty of the ecclesiastical estate and its pre-eminence over the civil. Sysoevich borrowed many of the ideas and technicians that Nikon had used in his own building program. Like Nikon's new monasteries, the ensemble of churches and ecclesiastical buildings at Rostov was built in a spot of beauty by a lake and was richly endowed. As in Nikon's monasteries, Sysoevich established a kind of theocratic rule over the village of Rostov, which even today is totally dominated by its Kremlin.139 Like Nikon, Sysoevich had become preoccupied with the need for discipline and order while serving in the hierarchy of Novgorod. He went so far as to declare once in public that "the Jews were right to crucify Christ for his revolt"- which became regarded by the Old Believers as one of the outstanding blasphemies of the new church even though Sysoevich was severely punished for it.140

  Sysoevich's Kremlin in Rostov was the headquarters for a metropolitan who controlled the rich and powerful Yaroslavl-Kostroma region of the upper Volga, where the most lavish churches of the century were built. The elaborate frescoes of the 1670's and 1680's that filled every nook and arcade of the new churches in this diocese represented a final effort of Muscovy to produce an all-encompassing hieroglyphic encyclopedia of the faith. But the intrusion of secular subject matter-a harvest scene, women looking in a mirror, a nude being seduced by a devil-destroyed the spiritual integrity of these vast new compositions.141 In Yaroslavl and Rostov as elsewhere in late-seventeenth-century Russia, scenes of Christ's passion and crucifixion borrowed from the West began crowding out the more exalted images of transfiguration and resurrection that had traditionally dominated the iconography of the Savior in the East. Christ no longer seemed altogether comfortable on His throne at the center of the new icon screens in the cathedrals of Yaroslavl.142 There was no longer any sanctuary, no place for God to be present on earth, behind the icon screens of the Old Believer temples that were springing up in the nearby woods along the Volga. But there was still the hope that God's presence might be maintained within the great Kremlin of the metropolitan at Rostov; and the legend had begun that "one must see Rostov the great before dying."

  Many of its churches rose up directly and majestically over the walls

  of the Kremlin. Within them, classical columns framed the approach to the royal doors and a throne behind the altar provided the metropolitan with a suitably Nikonian place of authority. The main church of the Savior on the Walls must have been the scene of marvelous singing in view of its unparalleled acoustics and a choir area nearly as big as the nave. Even today its bells are among the most sonorous in Russia. Faithful to both the xenophobia and the love of pictorial beauty of Old Muscovy, the Last Judgment scene on the west wall of the Church of the Savior is a magnificent monolith that depicts an unprecedented three rows of foreigners among the ranks of the condemned.143

  But history was about to condemn
this mighty monument of Muscovy rather than the foreigners in its frescoes. In 1691, the year of Metropolitan Ion's death, young Tsar Peter began the humiliation of Rostov, making the first of many forced exactions from its rich store of silver. He was soon to complete the process of subordinating the church by abolishing the patriarchate and establishing a state-controlled synod as its ruling body. There were to be no more "Great Sovereigns" from the clergy like Philaret and Nikon, no more Great Rostovs in the world of Peter the Great, Catherine the Great-and the Great Revolution.

  2. The Westward Turn

  Ihe rejection of both fundamentalists and theocrats meant the end of any serious efforts to maintain a civilization completely distinct from that of the West. The religious ideology of Muscovy was rejected as unworkable for a modern state, and the rigid barriers against Western influence which both Nikon and Awakum had sought to shore up were largely removed after 1667.

  It was not yet clear how much and what kind of Western influence was to prevail in the ungainly new empire. Only gradually and fitfully was Russia able to fashion a creative culture and an administrative system which harmonized with those in the rest of Europe. The celebrated reforms of Peter the Great pointed the way to the future. But the fresh religious gropings that preceded these reforms and the exotic resistance movements that developed in reaction to them indicate that the triumph of secular modernization was far from complete.

  New Religious Answers

  The last quarter of the seventeenth century-from the death of Alexis to the assumption of real power by Peter the Great-was a kind of interregnum. The continued progression toward Western ways was dramatized by the emancipation of women from the terem (the special upstairs chamber to which they had previously been largely confined) under the regent Sophia, daughter of Alexis, who became the first woman to rule Russia. Her principal minister, V. V. Golitsyn, provided an important link between the Westernizing work of Alexis and that of Peter. Golitsyn helped reorganize the military establishment, abolish the antiquated system of social precedence (mestnichestvo), and modify many of the more cruel forms of legal investigation and punishment.

  However, Golitsyn was more successful in changing old ways than in establishing anything in their place. He was eventually rejected and exiled -as were most other innovators of the period. Russia was not yet willing to commit itself to new ways of doing things. The continuing search for new answers was concentrated in the overgrown wooden metropolis of Moscow, where every shade of opinion was represented from the xenophobic fundamentalism of the streltsy quarter to the transplanted Germanic efficiency of the foreign suburb. The young Peter the Great derived many of his new ideas and tastes from a carefree boyhood spent largely in this Western enclave of Moscow. But the preoccupation of the uneasy ruling elite with combating religious-tinged rebellions against innovation-by Razin, So-lovetsk, and the streltsy--naturally conditioned them to look for religious answers of their own: for a viable religious alternative to that of Old Muscovy. Thus, although the ruling elite had nowhere to look for guidance after 1667 but to the West, it still looked for religious answers: solutions of the old sort from the new font of wisdom.

  The late years of the seventeenth century saw the consideration in Moscow of four religious answers-all of them brought in from the outside. Only after rejecting these last efforts to find religious answers for Russia's problems did Russia turn to the West for the secular and political solutions of Peter the Great.

  Each of the four religious answers proposed in Moscow represented an effort to come to grips with the reality of the schism and the irreversible changes in Russian life. None of these solutions was proposed by Great Russians steeped in the Muscovite ideology, like Nikon and Avvakum. Two of the solutions-those of the Latinizers and Grecophiles-were group movements sponsored by new elements within the Russian Orthodox Church anxious to give it solid new foundations. Two other, more radical proposals-direct conversion to Roman Catholicism and Protestant sectarianism-were offered from without by lonely prophets coming to Moscow from the West. This proliferation of conflicting solutions bears testimony to the state of confusion and uncertainty into which the schism had plunged Russian Christendom.

  The Latinizing and Grecophile solutions arose because of the belated acceptance within the Russian Church of the need to develop a systematic educational system. Such a need had not been keenly felt by prophetic partisans of the Muscovite ideology. Neither Nikon nor Awakum had attached any importance to systematic education of the clergy, though both advocated careful study of the holy texts of which they approved. The question that divided the two parties in the post-1667 church was simply

  whether Latin or Greek language and culture should dominate the religious education of the new polyglot hierarchy.

  The continued influx of Ukrainian and White Russian priests and the banishment of the Grecophile Nikon gave a considerable initial advantage to the Latinizing party. Polotsky set up in Moscow during the 1660's an informal school for instructing state servants in Latin culture; and one of Polotsky's first students, Silvester Medvedev, became the champion of the Latinizing party in the 1670's. Medvedev was a widely traveled diplomat who had helped negotiate the treaty with Poland in 1667 and had taken monastic vows only in 1674. In 1677 he was given important new responsibilities in Moscow as chief corrector of books and head of the Zaikonospassky Monastery, which became the center of an expanding program of Latin instruction in the capital. In 1685 he petitioned the regent Sophia (who had also studied under Polotsky) for permission to convert his school into a semi-official academy.

  Medvedev's efforts to extend his already great authority rendered him vulnerable to the savage intrigues that were characteristic of Moscow during this period of upheaval and suspicion. He met much of the same resistance that Nikon had encountered; but Medvedev lacked the personality, the patriarchal power, and the authority of Byzantine precedent to carry out his reforms. He was soon attacked by a rival faction supported by the Patriarch Joachim and by a rival Greek school attached to the Moscow Printing Office.

  The Grecophile faction acquired new strength with the arrival from Constantinople in 1685 of two well-traveled and educated Greeks, the Likhudy brothers. They undermined Medvedev's position with doctrinal attacks and wrested away, for the use of their Greek school, stone buildings originally designed for Medvedev's Latin academy. Rapidly stripped of his various positions, Medvedev was soon arrested for alleged treason and, after two years of torture and mistreatment, burned for heresy in 1691. As in the Nikon-Avvakum controversy, however, the Medvedev-Likhudy affair resulted in mutual defeat rather than clear victory for either side. The Lik-hudies themselves soon became suspect as foreign intriguers, and their influence declined precipitously in the early 1690's.1

  There were two important issues with long-term implications for Russian culture lying beneath the sordid external details of the controversy. Each side was vindicated on one issue: the Latinizers on that of the basic language and style of theological education and discourse, the Grecophiles on fundamental matters of dogma.

  The Latin bias in theological education represented the final victory of the new clergy over the traditional Greek-oriented monastic establish-

  ment of Muscovy. Henceforth, Russian theological education-almost the only form of education in eighteenth-century Russia-was far more Western in content than before. Latin replaced Greek forever as the main language of philosophic and scientific discourse; and Russia adopted through its church schools a more sympathetic attitude toward secular learning and scholastic theology than the more patristically inclined Grecophiles would have tolerated. It is not accidental that the late seventeenth and the early eighteenth century saw a flood of learned treatises on the Russian Church by Western theologians, and that most of the important theological writing and teaching in the Russian Church during this period was the work of Russian priests originally trained in the Latin-speaking theological academies of Western Europe.2

  The vindication of the
Greeks in matters of dogma was in many ways more surprising than the victory of Latins in matters of form. The scholastic theology of Roman Catholicism has always attracted those in search of rational order and synthesis. Moreover, for the Orthodox, Catholicism was doctrinally far closer than Protestantism. A number of Catholic positions had been endorsed by the Orthodox Church generally at the synod of Bethlehem in 1672;3 and others were quietly accepted by the post-1667 Russian Church without any sense of contradiction or betrayal. The Catholic definition of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary was widely accepted. Leaders of the new Church even proposed that the long-proscribed Catholic phraseology on the procession of the Holy Spirit be reinserted in the Russian creed and that the Russian Church appoint a pope and elevate its four metropolitans to patriarchal rank.1 But the critical doctrinal issue over which the Latinizers came to grief was the nature of the eucharist, or holy communion.

  Behind the seemingly technical debate over this sacrament, this commemorative re-enactment of the Last Supper, lay the deeper question of man's relationship to God in a changing world. The nature of God's presence in the bread and wine had deeply bothered the reformers of the West, most of whom had retained this rite while changing its form or redefining its nature. The Hussites had sought to make the "common service" (the literal meaning of "liturgy") truly common by making the elements readily available to all. Luther spoke of con- rather than trans-substantiation, in an effort to reconcile the concurrent fact of Christ's real presence and of essentially unchanged bread and wine. The Roman Catholic doctrine of the eucharist was systematically drawn up only when the need came to deal with the varying challenges of the reformers. It contended (1) that Christ was really, and not merely symbolically, present in the sacrament; (2) that