The Karamazov Correspondence: Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev 9781644690543

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The Karamazov Correspondence  Letters  of Vladimir S. Soloviev

Studies in Russian and Slavic Literatures, Cultures, and History

Series Editor: Lazar Fleishman (Stanford University, Palo Alto, California) Other Titles in this Series War, Revolution, and Governance: The Baltic Countries in the Twentieth Century Edited by Lazar Fleishman & Amir Weiner Spaces of Creativity: Essays on Russian Literature and the Arts Ksana Blank Fifty-Five Years with Russia Magnus Ljunggren Watersheds: Poetics and Politics of the Danube River Edited by Marijeta Bozovic & Matthew D. Miller “Our Native Antiquity”: Archaeology and Aesthetics in the Culture of Russian Modernism Michael Kunichika Poetry and Psychiatry: Essays on Early Twentieth-Century Russian Symbolist Culture Magnus Ljunggren Literature, Exile, Alterity: The New York Group of Ukrainian Poets Maria G. Rewakowicz Andrei Siniavskii: A Hero of His Time? Eugenie Markesinis I Saw It: Ilya Selvinsky and the Legacy of Bearing Witness to the Shoah Maxim D. Shrayer The European Nabokov Web, Classicism and T. S. Eliot Robin Davies

Keys to “The Gift”: A Guide to Vladimir Nabokov’s Novel Yuri Leving Epic and the Russian Novel from Gogol to Pasternak Frederick T. Griffiths & Stanley J. Rabinowitz Life In Transit: Jews in Postwar Lodz, 1945–1950 Shimon Redlich Vladimir Soloviev and the Spiritualization of Matter Oliver Smith All the Same The Words Don’t Go Away: Essays on Authors, Heroes, Aesthetics, and Stage Adaptations from the Russian Tradition Caryl Emerson Mandelstam Oleg Lekmanov The Superstitious Muse: Thinking Russian Literature Mythopoetically David Bethea A Reader’s Guide to Nabokov’s “Lolita” Julian W. Connolly Early Modern Russian Letters: Texts and Contexts Marcus C. Levitt Language and Culture in Eighteenth Century Russia Victor Zhivov A Companion to Andrei Platonov’s “The Foundation Pit” Thomas Seifrid A “Labyrinth of Linkages” in Tolstoy’s “Anna Karenina” Gary Browning For more information on this series, please visit: academicstudiespress.com/russianandslaviclit

The Karamazov Correspondence  Letters  of Vladimir S. Soloviev Edited and Translated, with Introduction and Commentary, by

VLADIMIR WOZNIUK

Boston 2019

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Solovyov, Vladimir Sergeyevich, 1853–1900, author. | Wozniuk, Vladimir, translator, editor, writer of added commentary. Title: The Karamazov correspondence : letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev / edited and translated, with introduction and commentary, by Vladimir Wozniuk. Description: Boston : Academic Studies Press, 2019. | Series: Studies in Russian and Slavic literatures, cultures, and history | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019008859 (print) | LCCN 2019012869 (ebook) | ISBN 9781644690543 (ebook) | ISBN 9781644690536 (hardcover) Subjects: LCSH: Solovyov, Vladimir Sergeyevich, 1853–1900--Correspondence. | Poets, Russian--19th century--Correspondence. | Philosophers--Russia-Correspondence. | Philosophy, Russian--19th century--History--Sources. Classification: LCC PG3470.S7 (ebook) | LCC PG3470.S7 Z48 2019 (print) | DDC 891.71/3 [B] --dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019008859 ©Academic Studies Press, 2019 ISBN 978-1-64490-53-6 (hardback) ISBN 978-1-64490-54-3 (electronic) Book design by PHi Business Solutions Ltd. Cover deisgn by Ivan Grave Published by Academic Studies Press in 2019 1577 Beacon Street Brookline, MA 02446, USA [email protected] www.academicstudiespress.com

Contents

Introduction: The Karamazov Correspondence  Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically  Appendix 1: On the Deathbed Confession of V. S. Soloviev Appendix 2: Brief Biographical Information on Soloviev’s Correspondents  Editor-Translator’s Annotations  Index of Biblical References  General Index ­­

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I

t is commonly believed that Fyodor Dostoevsky modeled his fictional ­character Alyosha—the novitiate monk in the novel Brothers Karamazov—on his young friend, the budding religious philosopher Vladimir Sergeevich Soloviev (1853–1900). However, Dostoevsky’s wife, Anna, believed that the young Soloviev provided greater inspiration for her husband’s fashioning of the middle ­Karamazov—the intellectual Ivan. Moreover, it has been suggested that Soloviev also influenced the depiction of the intemperate elder sibling, Dmitri, which, when added to the other two portrayals, yields a kind of literary triptych.1 Facets of this Karamazov triptych—the otherworldly Christ-likeness of Alyosha, the rationalism of Ivan, and the intemperate nature of Dmitri— are also displayed in the real-life Soloviev’s personal letters, which contribute enormously to understanding this complex figure, who was so crucial to late ­nineteenth-century Russian intellectual and literary discourse. Soloviev’s correspondence with family, friends, and contemporary notables, as well as with his readers more generally, eventually filled more than four published volumes, which provide an intimate supplement to the ten volumes that comprise his other writings.2 For it is in these letters that we find Soloviev’s deepest thoughts, impressions, and feelings on myriad subjects that would have been considered revelatory—and in some instances even shocking—while he lived: these include aspects of his love life; the serious and multifaceted health problems that he faced; his day-to-day worries about money and debts; and his sometimes rather explicit and coarse comments about the luminaries he knew. All this appeared against the backdrop of his overarching concerns—the religious, social, and political problems of his day. Most, if not all, of the seeds of the writings for which he is better known may be found in these letters. After a youthful infatuation with nihilism, Vladimir Soloviev, the son of the eminent historian Sergei Mikhailovich Soloviev, sensed a calling to a ­destiny

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greater than following in his father’s footsteps or occupying a comfortable niche in the imperial Russian bureaucracy. Indeed, he would eventually forsake many conventional norms considered more or less standard for someone of his class and intellectual prowess in Russian society—married life, a university post, and a sinecure in that bureaucracy—in favor of the twofold mission of change to which he understood himself being called: serving Christ and Christianity in the task of ecumenism and unity, and evangelizing to Russia’s elites about their obligations to the world in this regard. So it was at the age of twenty that Soloviev first began to elucidate this calling in a series of distinctly evangelistic letters to his then-fiancée Katya, at about the same time that he started to outline the contours of a portion of that lifelong mission: bringing to light what he referred to as the “absolute unity” of Divinity. That notion would later translate into the idea of “all-unity” (vseedinstvo), Soloviev’s signature term for Divinity’s penetration and unification of all reality through the God-man Jesus Christ. Soloviev’s youthful letters to his fiancée echo many of Jesus’s imperatives to his disciples, such as that their lives should be dedicated not to reclusive contemplation but to active participation in change: “At one time, monastic life had its high appointment, but now the time has come not to run from the world but to go into the world, and to go into the world in order to transform it.” Other letters to friends and family also disclose a great deal about that purpose and just how he thought about achieving it, as well the successes and failures he encountered along the way. The letters in the present volume confirm, with considerable power, the scope and significance of Soloviev’s contributions to ecumenical discourse and unity, which have long been appreciated as crucial in the Orthodox East but less so in the West. For a long while, Vladimir Soloviev was recognized in the West primarily for a few of his philosophical writings and his posthumous influence on the so-called second generation of Russian Symbolist writers (Andrei Bely, Alexander Blok, Vyacheslav Ivanov). The Russian Academy of Sciences more fully acknowledged his activity as transcending intellectual or artistic boundaries, accepting him into its ranks in the triple capacity of philosopher, social and political commentator, and poet.3 And so it is significant that on the centenary of his death, the Vatican officially praised him as a “Russian figure of extraordinary depth, who also noted with great clarity the tragic division among Christians and the great urgent need for their unity.”4 For the first time, readers of Soloviev in English may now follow the evolution of his thought through his correspondence, as he cultivated the germs of

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ideas into the final versions of works such as The History and Future of Theocracy, Russia and the Universal Church, and The Meaning of Love. They can also view facets of his humanness that have been otherwise eclipsed by his prowess and activity as a public intellectual—things he held in common with all who have ever walked the earth, ranging from times of carefree happiness and enjoying simple pleasures to others of interpersonal tensions and grief, jealousy as well as anger. They will also become privy to interludes of profound loneliness, when he craved company but had none, and to times of deep sorrow, when one or another of his friends or acquaintances passed away. And they will also find glimpses of a much lighter side, in perorations on a night of imbibing too much wine or in humorous reflections on the absurdities of life and his own mortality, which seems to have been a constant companion for him, considering his frailties and the chronic, often debilitating, illnesses that plagued him from cradle to grave. Soloviev explored all sorts of traditional and nontraditional remedies and therapies for the various maladies that seemed to afflict him without respite: it was even rumored that he regularly drank turpentine as a therapeutic as well as using it externally as a disinfectant.5 In any event, his letters relate—at times in excruciating detail—the extent to which illnesses of all kinds impeded his ability to work over the course of his adult life.6

MASTER OF LANGUAGE AND STYLE Soloviev’s failure to meet writing deadlines because of one or another of his infirmities or ailments may have contributed to some friction with editors, but his habitual tardiness with personal correspondence was more likely due to a self-professed “laziness” to respond, which even bordered on a loathing that he once referred to as “epistolary phobia”—somewhat surprising, especially given the sheer number as well as the length of many of his letters. Although he composed the vast bulk of his correspondence in Russian, Soloviev also produced a number of letters in French, and at least one—a humorous note—has survived in passable English. Perhaps more purposefully than most others around him, he regularly laced his writing with smatterings of other languages too, ancient as well as modern; so we find phrases in H ­ ebrew, Church Slavonic, Greek, Latin, German, and Italian throughout his correspondence as well as in his professional work. And as is evident in other letters, he even toyed with Croatian and Swedish (the latter in a platonic interlude with a chambermaid on one of his Nordic excursions).

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Soloviev’s love of languages may have inspired him to flirt with one or another of them at different times, but his heart would always belong to ­Russian. The purity of this love was discerned early on, long before it had fully matured, and even by some who seemed instantly critical of the young upstart of a p­ hilosopher-in-the-making. After the renowned Slavophile and critic Nikolai N. Strakhov read through Soloviev’s master’s thesis (“The Crisis of Western Philosophy: Against Positivism,” 1874), he penned his impressions in a letter to his friend, the novelist Lev Tolstoy: I share your opinion about Soloviev; although he manifestly disclaims ­Hegel, he secretly follows him. The entire criticism of Schopenhauer is based on this. But it seems it’s even worse. After rejoicing that he’s found the metaphysical essence, Soloviev’s now ready to see it everywhere, face to face, and he’s disposed to a faith in spiritism. Moreover, he’s awfully sickly, as if emaciated—one should fear for him—he won’t end well. But his booklet, the more I read it, the more talented it seems to me. What mastery of language, what communication, what force! (1875).7

Kudos similar to those at the end of Strakhov’s comment may also be applied to Soloviev’s letters, if not altogether evenly. For, as an eloquent artist of the word in both prose and poetry, he would often create artful and witty gems in his correspondence as well. Although only a shadow of Soloviev the master stylist can be achieved in translation, I have indicated the contours of his epistolary style and tone in various ways, while unburdening the reader from arcane terms of theological and philosophical discourse or the tedious formalities that reflect the stiffness of the Victorian Age in which he lived. Readers of these letters can follow the development of Soloviev’s tone and style from that of a young person searching for a voice and purpose to a mature, conscientious man of faith becoming more and more convinced of his mission, at the same time playfully exploiting the myriad and confounding absurdities of “life on this planet,” as he referred to it more than once. Soloviev’s inclination to playfulness with language expanded as he aged, often defying his subject matter and even running counter to his mood at the moment. And this inclination grew in tandem with a conscious turn to humorous verses (shutochnye stikhi), his letters eventually becoming littered with wry allusions and punning of all kinds, including double entendre and interlingual

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word play that challenge modern readers, even in Russian. Witty versification and erudite punning certainly pleased some of his correspondents, while just as certainly alienating others. In any event, the literary quality of his wordplay more often impresses than disappoints. Take, for instance, the tongue-in-cheek “Epitaph” that the poet-philosopher provided for his own tombstone, some eight years before he died: Vladimir Soloviev lies in this place; A philosopher first, now a skeleton’s face. ‘Twas many that held him truly dear, For others an enemy he was to fear; But too passionate and lost in love, He cast himself from high above. A soul too lean, body no fatter: Devil took the former, dogs ate the latter. Passerby! Learn well from this instance, Love’s ruinous, and faith—good in persistence.8

HAZARDOUS DISCOURSE Soloviev’s self-deprecating humor may have amused many, but he no doubt jested a bit too much with respect to others, at times pushing the boundaries of propriety. It is quite telling that Ernest L. Radlov, the original editor of Soloviev’s letters, found it necessary in his introductory comments to the first volume to deflect any potential hard feelings over the “gentle jests and mocking” contained therein. Radlov simply ascribed this jesting and mocking to a divinely inspired “purely childlike mirth.” On this point he quoted the Croatian Catholic bishop Josip G. Strossmayer, who defended Soloviev as being “an honest soul, pious and truly holy.”9 However, the tendency to mock and jest seemed to present a problem for readers of Soloviev’s published letters, as can be inferred from the fact that Radlov felt obliged to continue with this line of explanation in his introduction to the second volume, where he suggested that “moral inspiration” somehow trumped places of “indelicacy and even vulgarity.” And with regard to the “hazardous comments” that sometimes made their way into Soloviev’s letters, Radlov asserted: “One ought not to look for a hostile attitude or desire to condemn anybody—it’s usually just a witty joke, a play of the mind—and nothing more.”

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If some did find discourse with Soloviev to be hazardous, it was probably because of his deftness and acuity in crowning a bluntly honest observation with a brilliant jest that hit too close to the mark. To be sure, and as his letters clearly show, the philosopher-poet always seemed prepared to take the initiative to reconcile with anyone who may have taken umbrage at his witty and at times crude critiques either from his pen or face-to-face, not to speak of polemics on the printed page. And so claims of innocent banter could not always suffice as a defense, especially when “moral inspiration” challenged the intellectual and moral essence of renowned public figures such as Lev Tolstoy or Nikolai Strakhov. As these letters detail, after many disagreements and tension-filled verbal battles, Soloviev’s relationship with Strakhov gradually changed, the elderly ma­ terialistically inclined thinker eventually shunning the theologian-­philosopher, who would end up referring to Strakhov as his “enemy-friend” (vragodrug), a neologism that nevertheless seemed to hold out hope, however faint, for reconciliation. And so, when the aged Strakhov fell mortally ill, Soloviev discreetly inquired about his enemy-friend and continued to seek reconciliation, but to no avail. The Soloviev-Tolstoy relationship may have been just as tumultuous, but it did not end in bitterness. Soloviev seemed to be more of an irritating gadfly to Tolstoy, who commented privately in 1884 that he found the young philosopher “tedious and pitiable,” but later admitted, if only to himself, that he did not feel comfortable around him: “Spoke with [Soloviev], not easily. I am somehow exceptionally cautious with him. Don’t know why.”10 One reason for that caution is suggested by an incident in which, after the appearance of Tolstoy’s heretical “Brief Exposition of the Gospel” (1881), Soloviev-the-evangelist criticized him to his face—as well as in letters and on the printed page—regarding the liberties that the novelist-moralist had taken with the Christian Gospels. For Soloviev, this “pseudo-Christianity” may have been no different from other attempts over the ages to add or delete something from Christianity as put forward in the Nicene Creed, yet he would not let the matter drop, even referring once to Tolstoy’s views as “semi-Buddhism” and at another time to Tolstoy himself as “our indispensable Columbus of all the discovered Americas.” Even so, Soloviev defended Tolstoy’s right to say and write what he wanted in defiance of the official censorship, although he did not stop trying to convince him both directly and indirectly. It was in a long letter to Tolstoy that Soloviev produced one of the most eloquent and logically consistent Christian apologias on the topic of resurrection as a kind of ultimate reconciliation, with biological

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evolution serving as a backdrop for the mystery. With Christ as a model, he summarized it thus: Victory over death is the unavoidable natural consequence of intrinsic spiritual perfection; a person in whom the spiritual principle has taken away the power over everything lower, decisively and finally, cannot be subdued by death; spiritual power, having achieved the fullness of perfection, inevitably overflows, so to speak, over the edge of subjective-psychic life; it seizes corporeal life as well, transforms it, and then finally inspirits it, indissolubly tying it to itself.

IN QUEST OF DIVINE WISDOM, FOR LOVE OF SOPHIA Soloviev’s lifelong quest for mystical knowledge always seemed to lead back to scripture, where his frame of reference and mainstay would remain the eternal call of “wisdom” (Gk. “Sophia”), which resonates especially powerfully in the Hebrew Bible: “Does not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice? On the heights along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; beside the gates leading into the city, at the entrances, she cries aloud: ‘To you, O men, I call out; I raise my voice to all mankind’” (Proverbs 8:1–4). As a religious philosopher, the youthful Soloviev would find room in the Wisdom tradition for the idea of Divine Humanity (or Godmanhood—bogochelovechestvo), while at the same time attempting to preserve within it the idea of “the eternal feminine.”11 Not only do Soloviev’s love letters to his cousin Katya provide glimpses of a romantic nature—at times tender, at times cross, and at others even j­ ealous— but it is in them that we also first encounter the subtlety—perhaps even the sublimity—of Soloviev’s quest for Divine Wisdom, as embedded in his Christian faith. And this appears almost coincidentally with an idealized spousal ­vision that could never have been ultimately realized in this life, but which may help shed some light on E. L. Radlov’s curiously brief and enigmatic observation that “Soloviev attached importance to these letters, and asked whether they were intact.” The fact that Soloviev could not give first place in his heart either to Katya or to anything else that could interfere with his primary mission in quest of the Wisdom found in Christ undoubtedly contributed to the end of their relationship. He wrote to her:

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Introduction: The Karamazov Correspondence For the majority of people, the whole thing ends with this; love and what should follow: family happiness—constituting the major interest of their life. But I have a completely different mission, which becomes more clear, definite, and fixed for me each day. I will dedicate my life to its fulfillment, within my powers. Therefore, personal and family relations will always occupy second place in my being. And this is all I wanted to say when I wrote that I can’t give all of myself to you.

As it happened, Soloviev would never be done with Wisdom—that is, ­Sophia— either as an ideal or in practical reality. As Soloviev’s early letters reveal, after the breakup with his cousin, his quest for Wisdom led him to various excursions into the occult—that is, “Spiritualism” and “Spiritism,” both in vogue at the time—even conducting him to destinations as far off as the British Museum and the Egyptian desert, most of which turned out to be disappointing in one way or another. But it was not all for naught, for Soloviev’s philosopher friend Dmitri N. Tsertelev, who joined him at times in that quest, played a key role in his next serious encounters with femininity, acquainting him with two of his relatives, both of whom happened to be named—Sophia: Countess Sophia A. Tolstoy, widow of the poet Alexei K. Tolstoy, and her married but estranged niece, Sophia P. Khitrovo.12 The countess would hold seances at one of her residences, and Soloviev would participate, clinging to hope that a form of wisdom might be found therein, until he began to have unwholesome, even frightening visions and premonitions related to these experiences with the occult. Yet he had other reasons to frequent Krasny Rog and Pustynka—the Tolstoy estates—for a romantic relationship had blossomed between him and Sophia P., who lived with the countess. He would eventually end up spending long weeks, even many months, at one or the other, from time to time corresponding to friends and family about both Sophias. Unfortunately, apart from a few poems and remarks, no letters to Sophia P. seem to have survived, but a number of Soloviev’s letters addressed to ­Sophia A. have, and these are replete with sentiments and comments about “love.” When taken together with remarks appearing in various other letters over the years, the tenor of these letters to the elderly Sophia could be interpreted as reflecting his involvement with the younger Sophia. Soloviev would later maintain that he had remained chaste all his life, indirectly suggesting that this and every other romantic relationship of his had never exceeded religious or public norms of propriety. And though a few ­surviving letters to another married (but in this case younger) Sophia—Sophia

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M. Martynova—may be read as intimating something more, his involvement with women has generally remained enigmatic. Sophia M. enthralled as well as vexed him over the years 1892–1895, a span that has been referred to as his “erotic” period. Any questions about Soloviev’s chastity during that time must be placed in the larger context of a masterful series of essays that he was working on as his health declined. Appearing under the collective title “The Meaning of Love” (Smysl liubvi), these essays on the subject of sexual union seem to move back and forth from an aloof and distinctly analytic tone to one strangely wry and playful. This back-and-forth, from analysis to playfulness, may be attributed at least in part to Soloviev’s overall purpose—to cast light on the fundamental nature of the universe as the “all-unity” idea, only imperfectly realized in clumsy, corporeal reality. Taken together with his essays on sex and cosmic all-unity, Soloviev’s love letters seem to hold two interdependent principles as central: Wisdom may be found in the mystery of eternal Divine Femininity as the source of potential regeneration for all humankind, while a mercurial, if inept, syzygy (Gk. a conjunction or combination of forces) supplies necessary signposts toward that telos. Famously conceived and written near Lake Saimaa in Finland, Soloviev’s serious poetry during this time suggests the fading of an idyllic dream, and perhaps even a descending fatalistic mood, which might be understood as implying an internal struggle between that dream, or mood, and Wisdom. Among various verses carrying that sense in his letters to Sophia M, the following four lines stand out: When my daydream at the edge of previous days Finds you somewhere back there in a foggy haze, I’ll cry sweetly, just like the first Jew At the brink of the Promised Land.

But the inspiration that Soloviev’s muse provided came at a price, for it brought along unexpected practical headaches and costs, such that he would remark to his younger brother Misha about Sophia M.: “Imagine, I have to deal with such a disposition, compared to which S. P. [Sophia Petrovna] is simplicity and ease themselves.”

JUST BUSINESS: PUBLISH OR PERISH, “SEND IT REGISTERED” Soloviev’s letters also offer rare insights into more mundane aspects of his life, including the business of publishing in Russia—all the processes ­involved

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in reviewing, editing, and distributing books, pamphlets, and reprints at a time when the system of censorship was still in place, though weakening. Some of them also provide a peek at motivations from the other end—the unofficial infrastructures of dependency, personal favors, financial support and patronage, without which Soloviev could not have produced all that he eventually did. And little of this had anything at all to do with Soloviev’s abbreviated ­career as a professor, teaching courses on idealism and the history of philosophy. That career ended in the wake of his public stance against the death penalty for Tsar Alexander II’s assassins (March 1881). In truth, Soloviev did not take to teaching or to the role of professor at all. After resigning his teaching position and his “sinecure”—as collegiate adviser to the Academic Committee at the Ministry of Public Education—he had to reinvent himself rather quickly in order to support himself through writing. There is little indication in his correspondence that he ever regretted these decisions; and later he even spoke with disdain about “the duties of a teacher” and curtly rejected the “title of professor” when it was used to identify him to the public. With no steady stream of income, financial concerns forced Soloviev to bear down and deal directly with the business end of writing, a raw fact of life that we sometimes find spilling over into other places in his correspondence, as well as his professional writing. The imperative to “publish or perish”—so familiar to the modern university professorate—applies almost literally to Soloviev’s predicament. Irregular royalties and “honoraria,” along with occasional assistance from his mother and siblings and some royalty income from his late father’s work, could not prevent this generous almsgiver from regularly finding himself in desperate financial circumstances; and the situation was never permanently ameliorated, even with his appointment in 1891 as editor of the philosophical section for the most important reference work of his day, the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary (Entsiklopedicheskii slovar´ F. A. Brokgauza i I. A. Efrona [1890–1907]). The amount of time and energy Soloviev invested in the day-to-day business of publishing may come as a surprise to many. Correspondence with ­various patrons, publishers, and editors, as well as his own devoted readers, constitutes a substantial portion of the original volumes of letters. Page proofs, contracts, advances—all had to be forwarded and received quickly, seemingly in a never-ending stream. Yet the sometimes frantic tone audible in all this just as quickly dissipated in patient, sympathetic personal responses to his readers, relative strangers who would inquire about this or that aspect of faith and life,

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or in one case even distress him with misguided rants (i.e., the self-professed mystic Anna Schmidt, who fantasized herself as his soul mate). It is difficult to see how Soloviev could have accomplished all the business of publishing—marketing and distribution, receipt of payments, and so on— without the assistance of his younger and “favorite” brother Misha, who often acted both as his agent and his business partner. The letters to his brother are among the most enjoyable and informative to read, for Misha not only worked in these capacities but also remained his famous elder brother’s most trusted adviser and confidant. Lack of a steady income contributed to the reality of Soloviev’s stressful life, which he himself understood as not unlike that of a restless wanderer, amounting to a “nomadic” existence that at times bordered on vagrancy. But this wanderer on the brink of vagrancy would also be saved from complete destitution by family and friends. He spent time with family, of course, but also became the guest of their friends as well as his own, paying extended visits to homes and estates throughout Russia and abroad. Favorite retreats included his mother’s Prechistenka residence in Moscow; Lipyagi, the residence of his friend Dmitri Tsertelev; Vorobievka, the estate of the poet Afanasy A. Fet; as well as Krasny Rog and Pustynka, Countess Sophia A. Tolstoy’s estates. And when a boon of royalties arrived, he would manage to go abroad to recuperate, rest, and finish important projects—spending a month, sometimes more, here or there, at the French writer Leroy-­Beaulieu’s country cottage outside Versailles or on the Riviera near Nice. He would, of course, still conduct business from these and other retreats—by post. But the Russian imperial postal service all too often failed to meet even the most basic expectation of safe and timely delivery of letters and packages to their destinations. As Soloviev once wrote to his Jesuit friend and informal ­editor ­Father Pavel Pierling, “the Russian post does not live under law, but under grace.” Alternate means of conveyance were a necessity for Soloviev and others of his intellectual and social class; communications would quite commonly be delivered by private messenger, occasional courier, and friends and a­ cquaintances— the last especially for those containing “sensitive” material. Such means were not only meant to speed up transit or guarantee same-day delivery but also to assure that serious and lasting consequences would not result from a failure to take precautions with mail, either sent within Russia or from abroad. In fact, the more Soloviev challenged church and state authorities through his public activities and in print—for example, “correcting” the former on dogma, questioning the latter on minority rights—the more his mail seemed to ­ experience “problems” with privacy, security, and/or timely delivery.

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S­ omething more than just the standard incompetence of a prying and blundering bureaucracy immediately came under suspicion when a letter or book sent by post arrived with evidence of tampering or did not reach its destination at all. Soloviev began to harbor somber concerns about the interception of his mail early on, even when it was sent “registered,” a designation that ostensibly insured secure dispatch and arrival. The situation would remain highly problematic, his correspondence eventually peppered almost continually with commentary on the deficiencies of the postal service. It is with characteristic wit and eloquence that Soloviev concluded one of his letters in 1895 with the following request for a response from its addressee, V. V. Rozanov: Send it registered. Disdain for the institution of registered letters is incompatible either with providential humility or with respect for state authority. If Providence has repeatedly manifested examples of postal faultiness for us, evidently it’s so that we take precautionary measures accessible to us, not troubling higher powers with a demand for supernatural help. On the other hand, if government wisdom has established and supports the institute of registered letters, this means it’s essential, and since cases of its application are not indicated in law, this means we must consider it essential in all cases. In general, the difference that exists between humble and proud people is that the former dispatch registered letters, and the latter dispatch letters that don’t reach their destination.

Suffice it to say that the writer of these words would have been greatly amused by the fact that a brief note he sent to his friend E. L. Radlov in 1900 was only received months after his own death.

RELIGION AND POLITICS: HUMAN RIGHTS AND THE CONSCIENCE OF LIBERALISM The greatest jeopardy for Soloviev lay in the justice-infused Christian utopianism that he publicly propagated, directly challenging the collectivistic and individualist materialist philosophies of his day, on the one hand, and the church and state bureaucracies, on the other. Beginning with his doctoral thesis, Soloviev would argue in different ways that “true community” was “indissolubly linked with true individualism.” Popular materialist philosophies in particular appeared to him to work on the assumption that religion, morality, church, and state all amounted to mere

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“props” and/or “defensive instruments of the existing economic order,” which could hardly qualify as promoting either human dignity and freedom or morality.13 Just as elsewhere in his writing, in his letters Soloviev drew a close connection between what he would later refer to as “true religion and sensible politics,” a position that emerged organically from his understanding of the Bible, especially the New Testament on the subject of reconciliation. He never stopped considering it his “duty” to explain Christianity as “the idea of the Kingdom of God as the fullness of human life, not only individual but also social and political, reunited through Christ with the fullness of Divinity.”14 While taking to task all European culture for abandoning Christian teaching, Soloviev directed the brunt of his critique at Russia and Eastern Orthodoxy. He understood Christian faith as both social and political vocation that incorporated the pursuit of justice, while rejecting all rationales for religiousand ethnic-based persecution and retribution of any kind. Along these lines, he openly championed full and equal legal rights for the Russian Empire’s minorities (including schismatics). Just as in his essays and books, he took every opportunity in his letters to clarify how and why power relationships mattered in human rights and in church-state relations, as well as in social norms more generally; as a result, he became isolated from most social and political institutions, as well as much of the clerical establishment, with serious material consequences for his ability to earn a living in Russia through his writing. Soloviev would show particular concern for the plight of Jews and Judaism and the treatment of Catholics and Catholicism. First, however, he had to break away from his ties to Slavophilism and its ideology. The gradual process of breaking off completely may have had its start when he went off to war in the spring of 1877, not as a soldier but—thanks to a malady that “saved” him from military service—as a correspondent for the Moscow Gazette. The few weeks that he was attached to a regiment gave him time enough to witness some of the damage inflicted on “truth” by officialdom during the brief Russo-Turkish War. Letters from Kishinev and Bucharest, as well as from the border of Bulgaria, seem to reflect not only a distinct mix of stir and apprehension but also the beginning of a turn away from conservative ideas and toward more liberal inclinations. The process of this conversion may be understood as accelerating just ­after Dostoevsky passed away (in February 1881), when Soloviev protested the death penalty for Tsar Alexander II’s assassins. Moreover, his letters to Slavophile leaders in the first half of the 1880s evince a sharpening of arguments in defense of religious and ethical principle and against the dogma of Slavophile ideology. Taken collectively, these letters chart the weakening and increasing

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disarray of that ideology, which Soloviev would exploit in the ensuing years, eventually leading up to his taking the credit for having dealt a “mortal blow” to it. Especially poignant in this regard are his letters to the editor Ivan S. ­Aksakov, who originally published Soloviev’s “The Great Debate and Christian ­Politics” (1882–1884) serialized in the journal Rus´. These letters, written during the same period, first appeared in print only in 1913 and were likely withheld from earlier publication because of their withering criticisms of the Slavophiles’ lack of principle as well as their dishonest methods and the crude deceptions conservatives perpetrated against him personally. Foremost among these criticisms was Soloviev’s response to the unsubstantiated Slavophile charge that he had “turned Catholic,” which more than coincidentally began to be circulated at about the same time that he came under police surveillance, with his passport even being confiscated at one point. In his correspondence with Alexander A. Kireev, another Slavophile ­editor—but one with a conscience who, as it happened, shared a distrust of the clerical mindset—Soloviev analyzed conservative dogmatic obstacles to his core mission at the time: that is, the unity of the Eastern and Western churches. He began to expand on his thoughts about impediments such as the Eastern rejection of the filioque in the Nicene Creed and the Western assertion of papal infallibility. Indeed, it could be said that Soloviev eventually became a liberal by default, in large measure as a result of the hostility with which conservatives—­secular as well as clerical—met his demands for an honest assessment of R ­ ussia’s overall attitudes toward the West. The decadence of the West may have been amply apparent, but it nonetheless possessed an energy that was lacking in an East suffering from oppressive reliance on stagnant tradition at the expense of progress and ukase at the expense of law. Soloviev’s attraction to that western energy strengthened in the 1886– 1888 period. Evidence in his letters suggests that it was his extended stay in Austro-Hungarian Croatia in 1886 that opened wide both his heart and his eyes to fellow Slavs who lived under imperial political, economic, and social circumstances that were much freer than those of his homeland. Part of his stay in Croatia was dedicated to publishing the first volume of his History of Theocracy, which, however, would in the final analysis never make it to Russia. Upon returning from Croatia, he was greeted with scorn and even rejection, leading him to complain bitterly to another Slavophile editor, A. N. Aksakov, that it was now “impossible to publish anything” in Russia. It is at about the same

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time that Soloviev’s letters begin to detail a deluge of disinformation and false witness against him, the purpose of which was apparently to discredit anything he might write. Not only would that campaign continue even after Russian censorship eased substantially in the waning years of the nineteenth century, but it virtually followed him to his grave and beyond, based as it was first and foremost on rumors and charges that he had abandoned Orthodoxy and/or had converted to Roman Catholicism. Such rumors and charges cannot be substantiated or supported in his correspondence, which flatly contradicts them. Soloviev repeatedly gave testimony over the years, vigorously protesting what he called “slanderous accusations,” and insisting that his life’s calling did not include communion with Rome or entail convincing others to leave Orthodoxy for Catholicism. And he pointed out that the conveyers of such rumors and charges, even if they were Orthodox priests, did not have authority, in his words, to “excommunicate me from the church.” By the spring of 1887 clerical authorities had subjected Soloviev’s History and Future of Theocracy (published abroad) to “total sequester” in Russia, an application of what he called the “blunt Greco-Russian fist.” In great frustration he was forced to abandon this multivolume project on biblical righteousness, which he viewed as a kind of Christian political theory of the state—in his words, a “theocratic Leviathan”—based on what he called “free theocracy.” (The project clarified the Hebrew Bible’s representation of three distinct branches or offices: prophet, priest, and king.) Only much later would he indicate that he had wasted his “best years” on it. Soloviev’s transition from Slavophilism to liberalism—to which he adjoined himself at first “on practical grounds”—progressed substantially during this time of rejection. It was at this time that he explored the possibility of publishing his work with Mikhail M. Stasiulevich, editor of the decidedly liberal secular journal Messenger of Europe (Vestnik Evropy): and by 1891 Soloviev would consider himself an “employee” of that journal. It was also during this time of transition that Soloviev’s letters to friends began to detail how he was putting his efforts into a “little book” that would have to remain a “big secret”—perhaps because it was being prepared abroad with editorial assistance from two Russian Catholic priests in France, the Jesuit Fathers Pavel Pierling and Ivan Martynov. This association with Jesuit priests may have been a prime reason why slanderous rumors and stories about Soloviev expanded, especially after the big secret was published as the little French book that would make his name known throughout Europe—Russia and the

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Universal Church (La Russie et l’Église universelle, 1889). A running account of all the problems relating to the appearance of that work highlights his correspondence with Frs. Pierling and Martynov in that period. The number and content of Soloviev’s letters to Jesuits—whose “bad” reputation he had initially accepted sans critique in his youth—conveys the extent to which he relied on their good counsel at a critical point in the development and refinement of his publishing agenda in 1886–1888. Soloviev’s correspondence with the Jesuit fathers illuminates his desire to mold his agenda to suit Western audiences and suggests how much he relied on Jesuit help for the initial reception of his ideas. Indeed, without the counsel and significant editorial assistance of Frs. Martynov and Pierling, it is difficult to see how that work could have taken shape at all, much less met with approval in France and across Europe. There is some irony in the fact that Russia and the Universal Church proved to be a watershed in Russia as well as abroad, for this work brought the kind of attention and audiences that Soloviev could not have reasonably expected up to that time. By abandoning the cumbersome detailing of Old Testament law and ethics in favor of an elegant sketch of Russia’s cultural and political failings— especially regarding ethnic and religious reconciliation and its irrational rejection of Europe—he secured for himself a place in the pan-European intellectual pantheon. Moreover, Soloviev’s Jesuit correspondence may be seen as the beginning of his embrace of a “social” gospel, which would take shape more clearly in his societal and political commentary, as he addressed the religious, theological, and political strictures plaguing Russia. At a critical juncture in the long conception period of Russia and the Universal Church, Soloviev summarized in a letter what was to become that little book’s first part: (1) One has no reason to believe in a grand future for the people of ­Russia in the domain of purely human culture (social institutions, science, philosophy, arts and letters). (2) The true orthodoxy of the Russian people possesses nothing special and will not separate us from the West. (3) One does not find any positive element determining the religious ­future of Russia either in the official church or among dissidents. (4) Russian caesaropapism is a principle of foreign origin and essentially anti-Christian. (5) It is absolutely impossible to find or to believe that there is a center of unity and a guarantee of liberty for the Church in the East.

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Soloviev’s inclination “to be just” toward Catholics and Catholicism had begun at least a decade earlier, in his “Lectures on Godmanhood” (or “Divine ­Humanity,” 1877), in spite of his early Slavophile sentiments and his relationship to Dostoevsky, who had not only become famous in Russia for his prose fiction but also for his antisemitic, anti-Catholic, and, more specifically, zealously apocalyptic anti-Jesuit views. We learn from Soloviev’s extensive correspondence with the Jesuit fathers how and why the young philosopher’s “sympathies” had started to deepen and run counter to such views, moving in the direction of reconciliation even while Soloviev and Dostoevsky were exchanging ideas and associating rather closely in the late 1870s. The spiritual and material elements of that reconciliation appear markedly in his letters beginning in the late 1880s, as his evangelistic fervor embraced East and West, Catholics and Orthodox, Christians and Jews, liberals and conservatives, and rich and poor, as well as Russians and Slavs themselves, both within and outside the empire. When Soloviev wrote about Russia and Europe, a painful note may be detected both in his use of terms and in his tone, because he believed Russia to be an integral part of Europe, not an alien adjunct or peripheral addendum. But the reality that confronted him was for the most part that of a predictable reactionary impulse on the part of Russian officialdom to keep separate from the West, seemingly at every turn. Along these lines, Soloviev went to some length to point out the harmful direction that the thinker Nikolai Ya. Danilevsky had justified in his influential work Russia and Europe, a standard for Slavophiles and other conservatives who feared and despised Catholicism, Judaism, and the effects of Westernization more generally. Directly taking issue with Danilevsky many times in his correspondence of those years, Soloviev used that writer’s work as a launching pad for his own early forays in the subject of national identity or “nationality”— which he affirmed as a positive trait. But his underlying purpose in that discussion was to expose the anti-Christian roots of divisive “nationalism”—a negative phenomenon. Taking the extreme Slavophile-Orthodox version of nationalism to task, he would compare it to a plague of “syphilis,” and refer to nationalists themselves as representing a “pseudopatriotic clique … a grunting and howling embodiment of the national idea.” If one keeps all this in mind, the conclusion of a long draft essay (not included in this collection) carrying the title “The Sins of Russia” [Grekhi Rossii, 1887] becomes particularly instructive. Not surprisingly, it remained unpublished, surviving in rough form only in a letter to Soloviev’s friend the young Jewish legal scholar and activist Faivel Bentsilovich Gets:

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Later, in a letter to M. M. Stasiulevich, Soloviev alluded to the contours of ­Russia’s political-religious ailment on the occasion of the passing of Mikhail N. Katkov, another leading Slavophile reactionary voice who had claimed that Russia’s “vital essence” lay in state control of religion: “Katkov repeated a thousand times that the basic advantage and vital essence of Russia consists in the absence of independent religious authority, through which the absolute monarchy of the state is secured. De facto, he was right, but wouldn’t it be useful to show that from a Christian point of view this state monarchy is usurpation de jure?” It seems clear that Hebrew lessons from Faivel Gets beginning in the ­early 1880s helped accelerate what quickly blossomed into an unflinching lifelong conviction of the need for full and equal civil rights for Russia’s Jews. Soloviev’s activity on behalf of the Jewish minority’s efforts to attain such rights earned this Christian the signal honor of a long posthumous entry in the BrokhausEfron Jewish Encyclopedia [Evreiskaia entsiklopedia Brokgauza-Efrona]. A number of letters in this collection add to our knowledge of Soloviev’s activity on the part of the Jewish minority and against antisemitism in Russia— culminating in the famous protest he composed and circulated against the wave of pogroms in 1889–1890. Supported and signed by several dozen intellectuals that included L. N. Tolstoy, the collective effort eventually appeared in The Times of London in December 1890. Publication of the London Times letter on antisemitism along with the appearance (at long last) of Soloviev’s “little book” in France provided fodder for intensified and crude editorial attacks against him in clerical and conservative secular organs such as The Moscow Gazette (Moskovskiia vedomosti), The Church Messenger (Tserkovnyi vestnik), and The Citizen (Grazhdanin). The cloud of false claims about Soloviev’s religious affiliation—along with fabrications about his personal life, overt misstatements, misquotations from and distortions of his work in these and other publications—did, however, prove to have a silver lining: they presented him with opportunities to “correct” his opponents, answering them at length in letters to editors. Readers of these

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p­ ublications were treated to the deftness of Russia’s most brilliant polemicist, whose candor, sharp wit, and keen sense of language compelled them to take him seriously—and his opponents to take more care the next time they engaged him on the printed page. It is in the context of this relentless campaign against Soloviev that the devastating famine of the early 1890s set in, leaving an indelible imprint on perceptions of Russia’s political and economic state of affairs both domestically and internationally. He complained directly and bitterly in his letters about the lack of response on the part of Russian authorities, expressing frustration over their unwillingness to permit any public discussion of the famine, much less to allow private associations to help feed the starving masses in order to mitigate its worst aspects. Prevented from publishing about the situation directly, he embedded thinly veiled references in various texts, as at the end of an article titled “Imaginary and Effective Measures for Lifting Public Well-being” (1892), where he suggested that a kind of moral “disease” had afflicted the body politic for a number of years and in a number of ways: Let’s picture for ourselves a kind man, healthy and strong, wise and sensible, clever and capable from birth—and everyone considers our Russia as precisely such a person, and justly so. We learn that this person, or nation, finds itself in an extremely sad condition: it’s ill, ruined, demoralized. If we want to help it, we will certainly try first of all to find out what’s the matter, why it is that it has fallen into such a pitiful situation.

The image proceeds on to false ideas—bordering on a grandiose and hostile “mania”—as being the cause of that illness, the sickly entity imagining “all its neighbors as enemies” posing “nonexistent dangers” that require readiness to “spend all its means and time” on defensive measures, even against internal foes.15 It has been suggested that Soloviev went even beyond such criticism, to the point of discussing with others overt opposition to the regime.16 A few of the letters from that period do appear cryptic in tone, but none that contain anything more than innuendo have survived—if in fact any such serious discussions ever took place. However, two letters to Count L. N. Tolstoy do contain an intimation of another fascinating story tangentially related to the famine. In them Soloviev referred in passing to “Krauskopf,” a name that gives access to a seldom-told tale in which Soloviev acted as kind of go-between in a US attempt to lend material assistance to Russia’s Jews.

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A Prussian-born American reformed rabbi and teacher named Joseph Krauskopf had helped assemble two shiploads of food relief during the 1891–1892 famine. In 1894 he tried to obtain permission to enter Russia to offer “the Czar a plan that might end or lessen the terrible persecution of the Jews in his realm.” The plan, directly inspired by Tolstoy’s pastoral ideas, essentially involved setting up self-sufficient agrarian communities somewhere in the interior of Russia. As Krauskopf relates, after being denied a visa by Russian authorities because of his religion, he “conferred” with US President Grover Cleveland and his secretary of state. The latter then cabled the US consul to St. Petersburg, Andrew White, a scholar as well as a diplomat, who was instructed to obtain permission for Krauskopf from the foreign office there. White received the following peremptory reply: “Russian government deeply regrets its inability to accede to request in behalf of Reverend Jewish divine.” The matter somehow soon ended up on the floor of the US Congress, in which “a bill was introduced … to the effect that the treaty between the two countries be declared abrogated if an American citizen be turned back from the gates of Russia by reason of his religion.” That seemed to have solved Krauskopf ’s visa problem. But it was Soloviev who apparently had a hand in assisting White in facilitating Krauskopf ’s meeting with Count Tolstoy at his estate, Yasnaya Polyana. There the American rabbi and the Russian novelist eventually did have a lengthy meeting, which, of course, could never have led to any resettlement or self-government for Russian Jews but did inspire Krauskopf to set up agricultural schools in the United States.17 Interestingly, Tolstoy’s written response to Soloviev concerning Rabbi Krauskopf contained a characteristically eccentric complaint, especially considering the letter’s recipient. While sympathizing with Krauskopf ’s position, the count found the American to be of a “very un-Christian spirit,” and he expressed repulsion at the rabbi’s belief that “an eye for an eye” was preferable to “turning the other cheek.”18 Perhaps of more direct interest here is Rabbi Krauskopf ’s amusing (if inaccurate) recollection of the man who had anonymously assisted in easing his meeting with the literary and moral icon: My first impression that I was classed with the other afflictions of the count’s universal popularity soon wore off, however, by reasons of a letter to the family which I brought with me from a distinguished professor. This gentleman had, a short time before, been dismissed from the university of St. Petersburg because he had published an essay on The Ethics of the

Introduction: The Karamazov Correspondence Talmud, in which he had endeavored to show the lofty moral teachings of the Jews. I had made his acquaintance while in St. Petersburg, and before leaving that city he called on me, and asked me whether I would not take a letter from him, of an entirely uncompromising nature, to Tolstoy, inasmuch, as at that particular time, a letter mailed to the count did not, for easily accountable reasons, always reach him. I readily consented, and that little service, the professor having been a great favorite of the count, made me a welcome guest also to the family.19

ENTER THE DRAGON, AND EXIT SOLOVIEV Soloviev’s stances on politics and human rights even found their way into his poetry at the end of his life, albeit in somewhat less than lucid fashion. His enigmatic and perhaps most misunderstood poem “The Dragon” (Drakon)—­ concerning Germany and China—first appeared in a letter to M. M. Stasiulevich a few weeks before his death. Here is my unrhymed translation: The Dragon (To Siegfried) From out of the invisible heavens The dragon showed its brow— And the approaching day followed With a fog of irrefutable miseries. Indeed, jubilations won’t cease Nor praises to eternal peace, Careless laughter and exclamation: “Life is good and there’s no evil in it!” Heir of the sword-bearing host! You are faithful to the banner of the cross, The fire of Christ is in your Damascus blade, And menacing words are—holy. God’s bosom is full of love, It calls us all alike … But before the dragon’s trap You conceived: the cross and sword—are one.20

It is true that Soloviev had elsewhere expressed criticism of Chinese culture as a historical fount of materialist philosophy; and he had portrayed in his “Brief

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Tale about the Antichrist” a future revanchist China that, by allying with Japan, overwhelms Europe and Russia prior to the arrival of a Nietzschean “man of the future” who restores hope and order while attempting to transcend both secular and moral law at the “end of history.”21 But “The Dragon” must be read in context both of this “end times” sense and of the actual historical details surrounding it. The poem carries the date 24 June 1900, a few days after Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany—the “Siegfried” to whom the poem is ostensibly dedicated—sent a regiment to support other ­European troops in their infamous and bloody pacification of Chinese ­resistance to ­Western imperialism. When read alongside Soloviev’s poem “Pan-­Mongolism” (dated 1899), the dragon poem reflects Soloviev’s long-standing pessimism and deepening despondency concerning declining Christian norms across Europe (including Russia) in favor of pagan, materialistic values.22 ­Russia was to pay a high price, as the last lines of “Pan-Mongolism” suggest: And scraps of your banners are given for amusement to the yellow children. He who could forget the testament of love Will resign himself in trembling and terror, And the Third Rome lies in the dust. And now there will not be a Fourth.

The first four lines of “Pan-Mongolism” were actually penned in October 1894, appearing in a letter sent from Finland to M. M. Stasiulevich dated April 1895. In that letter Soloviev satirically congratulated himself, Stasiulevich, and another friend “on the conclusion of an alliance between Japan and China,” referring indirectly to the Treaty of Shimonosaki of 1895, which ended the very brief Sino-Japanese War—a fact that no doubt helped in forming part of the later Antichrist story’s plot. However, Germany—with the help of France and Russia—sought to ­replace Japan as the arbiter of China’s destiny. Moreover, Kaiser Wilhelm (who is credited with coining the racist phrase “yellow peril” [gelbe Gefahr]) also just happened to be a rabid antisemite and, as Soloviev had warned long before, the poisonous antisemitic press in Germany and Austria had been spreading its messages throughout Russia, a fact that spurred the Russian theologian-­ poet on in his defense of the Jewish nation.23 Therefore, Soloviev could not have understood the German Kaiser as a good and moral Christian ruler, as the standard-bearer of a truly “Christian” kingdom. And in the context of Soloviev’s

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a­ rticle “China and Europe,” written ten years earlier, Europeans had no business at all exploiting and doing battle with China, for such behavior would not solve the West’s own intrinsic and problematic materialism.24 According to Sergei Trubetskoy, who attended Soloviev’s deathbed, the two old friends discussed the paucity and inadequacy of European ­diplomacy toward the East, with the Western empires simply proposing to engorge themselves materially by partitioning China. Soloviev’s last observations on the ­matter implied a rejection of European response to the tumultuous Boxer ­Rebellion in 1900, that such machinations were bound to fail: “And what’s the moral baggage that the European nations are going to battle China with! Not Christianity, no ideas other than those of the Trojan War’s epoch.” Trubetskoy also related that the two then returned to the topic of the “dragon” with reference to Kaiser Wilhelm’s frightful incitement of the troops being dispatched in early July. Soloviev clarified the meaning of the poem as reflecting the onset of the “end times.” Just as significantly, as Soloviev faded away, he asked Trubetskoy’s wife to prevent him from going to sleep because he “had to pray for the Jewish nation” as he read the Psalms to himself in Hebrew, clearly fearful about what might be in store for the people.25

TECHNICAL MATTERS: ASSEMBLY, CHRONOLOGICAL RECONSTRUCTION, TRANSLATION, SOURCES This book represents the first translated and annotated assemblage of Vladimir S. Soloviev’s essential correspondence in a coherent chronological order. I took on this project fully understanding that the letters themselves had to be reimagined and rearranged to achieve a narrative effect that would do justice to their writer. E. L. Radlov faced the problem of consolidating and assembling Soloviev’s letters without knowing how many he would ultimately receive; they kept coming to him from a variety of sources. By the publication of the first volume (1908), he seemed to think that two volumes would be the result, with a second to contain many that had already been published in one or another journal.26 With the publication of that second volume (1909) a third was deemed necessary to ­accommodate these, but Radlov remarked that even that would be “far from all the letters of Vl. Soloviev,” suggesting that “the most important ones” might be forthcoming in a distant future. That final (fourth) volume turned out to be after the Bolshevik Revolution, including some letters that may have been i­ ntentionally withheld from the first three due to religious and political sensitivities.

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Perhaps in haste, Radlov did not attempt to organize the letters on a strict chronological basis within each volume, but only separately, according to the name of each correspondent. Many lacked a precise date, while others turned out to have been misdated. Understandably, this arrangement proved less than optimal. In his introduction to the third volume, Radlov did acknowledge that a small number of letters required chronological reconstruction, and he affirmed that an index of some kind would have been helpful to readers of the first three volumes, but all he was able to do was provide an index of personal names for the fourth. Separated by more than a century from the people and events of that time, contemporary readers are faced with another equally challenging problem in these volumes—Radlov supplied almost no historical notes and only scant biographical information for a very few of Soloviev’s correspondents; neither did he think it necessary to identify for his readers the many other people and events cited or alluded to in passing by Soloviev. The lack of such essential features substantially clouds the modern reader’s ability to appreciate them in context (even for those encountering Soloviev in the original Russian). I have addressed these several matters as follows. First, many more than just the few letters Radlov mentioned turned out to be misdated. After some effort, I was able to situate a lot of these misdated letters—along with many others that remained undated—more precisely and then to reorganize these letters strictly on the basis of chronology (dispensing completely with the “individual correspondent” organizational principle), beginning with the very first (from 1871) and continuing through to the end of Soloviev’s life (1900). Annual variations in the volume of surviving correspondence suggested its arrangement, either grouped over several years (1871– 1873; 1874–1876) or by single year (1886; 1887). The overall effect, I believe, is much more organic, in that the reader is able to follow the same topics and concerns that absorbed and inspired Soloviev chronologically over the course of days, weeks, months, or even years, in a much more lively and compelling manner than in the original form in which these letters first appeared in print, scattered as they were over many different publications and then assembled somewhat idiosyncratically over four volumes, published separately over the course of more than a decade. Since Soloviev left no autobiography, these letters, reorganized in this way, have for his readers a “biographical significance” lacking in his books and essays, perhaps even supplying what is the most reliable narrative available to us, not only covering the thirty years of his life for which letters exist but also

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providing personal reflections on his younger days.27 Apart from several posthumous biographical essays by Soloviev’s friends, the several attempts at booklength biographies of Soloviev exhibit inaccuracies and speculative judgments often based on personal loyalties and/or rumor, which tend to undermine their overall quality and reliability. Conversely, his letters offer a consistently frank diary-like account, which illuminates his thought world as it developed over the course of his adult life. To reiterate, my translations give English reading audiences for the first time an intimate view into the evolution of ideas that moved him, as well as private glimpses into his humor, pathos, and poetic imagination. Significantly, Soloviev’s letters became a testing ground for drafts of various poems, both serious and humorous (including some not in any collection at all). Almost all of Soloviev’s poetry was written in rhyming verse, which does not often translate well into English. I have attempted whenever possible to produce a suitable rhyme scheme for his humorous verses, where rhythm and rhyme might make more sense in English, but I have avoided doing so with the more serious poems. Transliterations in my notes are intended for Slavicists, linguists, or translators concerned with poetic cadence, rhyme, and sonority. Wherever appropriate, I have used square brackets for brief clarifications and translations of foreign words and phrases that arise intermittently in the Russian text, both prosaic and poetic. I have also supplied a general index and added an index of biblical r­ eferences. Soloviev’s biblical citations and allusions at times appear in an older Slavonic form and at times in more modern Russian; I have replaced them wherever possible with King James English, which I think better suits the nature of the texts. There are two appendixes: one presents eyewitness testimony regarding Soloviev’s final days; another contains brief biographical information on each of his correspondents in hopes of adding a more fluid context for those less familiar with the wide range of people with whom Soloviev exchanged letters. My annotations add relevant information about people, places, and events mentioned in passing or alluded to indirectly in the letters. They appear in consecutively numbered endnotes for each year or group of years, separately from the explanatory footnotes that Soloviev himself at times appended to his letters, along with a number of footnotes added by Radlov and/or Soloviev’s correspondents. (In the latter case, I have indicated their origins by use of Ed. note or a given correspondent’s initials.) My aim here is to help blend Soloviev’s public and personal personas into a single entity, an effort that I believe affords the reader a more holistic view of the moral philosopher’s thinking and behavior— bad as well as good—from various aspects.

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This volume contains more than three hundred letters, notes, and telegrams that originally appeared either in the first editions of his published letters and/or in journals and newspapers prior to 1917. Whenever possible, I made use of the first published version. (Discrepancies sometimes mark ­reprinted versions.) Four criteria governed my decisions to exclude many more letters from this collection: (1) mundaneness and/or brevity—those of one, two, or three lines: brief felicitations, dinner invitations, appointment times, receipts of payment, requests for loans, and so on, adding little or no substance to the biographical narrative, of little or no interest to the general reader; (2) those whose purpose was primarily, if not exclusively, the technical editing of works other than his own, and/or “Dictionary” business; (3) the lack of a date—those without significant new information whose dates could not be determined or even reasonably approximated, even after ­research; and (4) repetition of c­ ontent—those replicating information to ­another individual or other individuals, composed at about the same time. For letters excluded on the basis of criterion no. 4, priority was given either on the basis of date, the existence of significantly important additional material content, or more substantive general “fit” into the biographical narrative. In these instances I have tried to furnish information regarding what has been excluded wherever relevant. A few words are in order about some other minor editorial choices as well as my sources. A number of abbreviations appear in this book with varying degrees of frequency. Some occur only rarely or intermittently, particularly those referring to calendar dating and languages: O.S.: “Old Style,” Gregorian calender, reflecting a difference of thirteen days. Croat.: Croatian; Eng.: English; Fr.: French; Ger.: German; Gk.: Greek; Heb.: Hebrew; Ital.: Italian; Rus.: Russian.

Those representing full titles of major sources tend to occur with greater ­frequency:

Collected Works IRANS: From the Manuscripts of Anna Nikolaevna Schmidt, with letters to her from Vl. Soloviev (Iz rukopisei Anny Nikolaevny Shmidt, s pis´mami k nei Vl. Solov´eva [Moscow: 1916]).

Introduction: The Karamazov Correspondence

MMSp: M. M. Stasliulevich and His Contemporaries in Correspondence, vol. 5 (M. M. Stasiulevich i ego sovremenniki v ikh perepiske, t. 5 [St. Petersburg, 1913]) PVSS: Letters of V. S. Soloviev, 3 vols. (Pis´ma Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva, 3 t. [St. Petersburg, 1908–1911]) PVSSkb: Letters of V. S. Soloviev to his brother Mikhail (“Pis´ma Vladimira Solov´eva k bratu Mikhailu,” Bogoslovnyi vestnik [1915/1916]) SsVSS: Collected Works of V. S. Soloviev (Sobranie sochinenii Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva [St. Petersburg: Obshchestvenaia pol´za, 1901– 1903]) VSP: Vl. Soloviev, Letters (Vl. Solov´ev, pis´ma, ed. E. L. Radlov [Petersburg: Vremia, 1923])

Journals, Newspapers, and Encyclopedias The Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary (Entsiklopedicheskii slovar´ F. A. Brokgauza i I. A. Efrona [St. Petersburg, 1890–1907]) The Brokhaus-Efron Jewish Encyclopedia (Evreiskaia entsiklopedia BrokgauzaEfrona [St. Petersburg: 1908–1913]) The Citizen (Grazhdanin) Journal of the Ministry of Public Education (Zhurnal Ministerstva narodnago prosveshcheniia) Messenger of Europe (Vestnik Evropy) Moscow Gazette (Moskovskie vedomosti) The News (Novosti) New Times (Novoe vremia) Problems of Philosophy and Psychology (Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii) Russian Messenger (Russkii vestnik) Russian Review (Russkoe obozrenie) Russian Thought (Russkaia mysl´) Transactions (Transactions of the Petersburg Slavic Society [Izvestiia Peterburgskago Slavianskago Obshchestva]) Voice of Moscow (Golos Moskvy) The Week (Nedelia) Finally, a few comments are in order about matters such as formal titles of address, anachronisms, spelling, and diacritics. I have followed Soloviev whenever he abbreviated the Russian titles of prince or princess (kniaz´, kniaginia)

xxxv

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Introduction: The Karamazov Correspondence

with “Pr.” (Rus. kn.) and of countess and count (grafinia, graf) with “Ct.” (Rus. gr.), but I have replaced many cumbersome, anachronistic salutations and formalities of address as the print originals have them (opting simply for “dear” or “my dear”), retaining such in only a few cases (e.g., letters to the tsar and to ecclesiastic personages). I have also dispensed completely with capitalization in other customary usages that might distract the reader (e.g., the formal ­second-person plural pronoun in various declensions: “You” “Yours” [Vy, Vash]). I have otherwise kept to the text of the print originals and to their layout as much as possible.28 So I have retained all italics as they first appeared in print, as well as infrequently occurring diacritical marks in languages other than English (French, German, Greek, Croatian, Swedish). My overall intent has been to approximate the original feel of the letters in print for a modern English reading audience, without obscuring the sense of things. Along these lines my transliteration from the Cyrillic for the most part follows the Library of Congress system, with some adjustments, specifically with respect to commonly used spelling of names (e.g., Dostoevsky, Tolstoy). .

Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically 1871–1873 To Ekaterina V. Selevina [née Romanova] Moscow, 21 December 1871

PVSS, 3:58–59

I don’t know, my dear Katya, how to express the extent to which your valued sympathy awakens the good in me; I’ll strive to be at least somewhat worthy of it. I’m becoming ashamed at the thought of you consoling and encouraging me, since your life is a thousand times more difficult than mine: without mentioning the sickness of your mother, I know that there is nothing worse than the constant captivity of an outwardly trivial life for one who, like you, strives for another, better one. But steadfast certainty consoles me that you have another, inner life, inaccessible to any outward trifles; whatever your external situation might be, you will always preserve an internal moral strength, which makes you free and which nothing outside of you will take away. It may even be good that this inner life has turned out so inconsolable for you; because the wise saying the worse, the better conforms fully to this life. The pleasure and enjoyment of it are dangerous because they are illusory; unhappiness and grief often appear as the only salvation. It will soon be two thousand years now that people have known this, and meanwhile, just like children, they don’t stop chasing happiness. At least we won’t be like little children in this respect, my dear. Write me everything that you are thinking and feeling, darling, and be assured of my sincere, heartfelt sympathy. You are very mistaken if you think that I have become all absorbed in my folly, as you completely correctly call my silly novel; for a long time now this folly has not interfered in anything, and now it has almost entirely passed— indeed, the memory only returns to me at times on sleepless nights.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

Vsevolod [Soloviev’s elder brother], it seems, takes you altogether for a little girl: the books you write about do not require any special preparation, and they’re not at all “too serious”; on the contrary, if judged strictly, they’re not quite serious enough. However, I think they can be put to a certain use; therefore, read them if it comes to pass. Only take it as a general rule: never submit to bookish authority; therefore, if you read something even strictly substantiated, but with which your inner conviction is not in agreement, then believe yourself more than any book, because an inner unsubstantiated and unconscious conviction in serious questions is God’s voice. Farewell, my precious dear, affectionately embracing you, your friend forever, Vl. Soloviev I’m sincerely grateful for the photograph—I’ll send mine as soon as it’s taken. To E. V. Selevina 27 January 1872

PVSS, 3:60–61

I have thought about you a lot, my dear Katya, as regards your last letter. I won’t begin to say anything for the time being about what it is you personally understand by the “road” along which you have decided to go; as you now understand it—it’s all the same. What’s important is that you rejected the first, common road—that is, you rejected what for the majority of people constitutes all of life—a life of egoism and personal interests, with the foolish phantom of happiness as the final goal.1 You understood that this is a lie and evil, that this life is death. And you have not only understood this but have steadfastly resolved to be delivered from this lie and this evil. With this decision, you have already made the first hardest and most important step toward deliverance. But much still remains ahead. If that which counts as real life is a lie, then there must be another, true life. The embryo of this true life is within us ourselves, because if it did not exist, we would be satisfied with the lie that surrounds us and would not search for anything better. If we were always in total darkness and did not know anything about light, we would not complain about darkness and would not search for light. True life is within us, but it is suppressed, perverted by our limited personality, by our egoism. One has to come to know this true life, what it is in itself, in its purity, and by what means it is possible to achieve it. All this has ­already long ago been revealed to humanity by true Christianity, but in its ­history Christianity itself has experienced the influence of the false life—of the evil that it was obliged to destroy; and this falsehood so darkened, so covered

1871–1873

over Christianity, that at the present time it is as difficult to understand the truth in Christianity as it is to arrive at this truth directly for oneself. But whoever has steadfastly renounced falsehood will certainly arrive at truth as well. You have made this first difficult step, and I am quite confident that you yourself will arrive at the goal, although* a great deal of all kinds of rubbish lies ahead for you to pass through; but you know the other road isn’t strewn with roses either—there’s only suffering everywhere. It is only over the present road that this suffering is atoned and leads to truth, but the suffering of a false life is fruitless and senseless. Farewell, my dear, yours with true love, Vl. Soloviev To E. V. Selevina Moscow, 7 March 1872

PVSS, 3:62–63

You probably did not receive my last letter, dear Katya: I addressed it to Kiev without knowing you had already left. I intended to write several times after that, but my studies hindered me by day, and at night—melancholy on account of the news about the marriage of V. This news produced a rather strong effect on me beyond expectations, although short-lived: it has now passed almost entirely and, one hopes, forever. I’m sincerely glad for you, darling, in that you are finally free from agitation. And I am perfectly confident in you yourself, as well as confident that you will arrive at the goal, although the goal itself will still appear to you in various forms but remain inwardly one and the same. I am not surprised that practical objective science attracts you now more than anything, and it’s necessary to begin with this. Later you will proceed on to something else, because science cannot be the final goal of life. The higher, true goal of life is another one—moral (or religious), for which even science serves as a means. However, it will be better to talk about this when we see each other; about the “subjection” of women as well, which we’d have to debate, but this is inconvenient in letters. I hope to see you before Easter in Kharkov; from there I’ll go to Fedorovka for about ten days to breathe a little clean air; otherwise the start of spring in ­Moscow is intolerable for me. If nothing hinders me, I’ll set out as soon as I finish my current studies.2 Why are you sorry for V.? To the contrary, I hope that she will now become an excellent woman—“a faithful wife and virtuous mother”—but they say that before her marriage, E. was just as frivolous and inconstant as she is. V.’s major shortcoming was pretense, striving to seem to be that which she could not be; * Three lines crossed out. Ed. note.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

but now that her situation has been completely determined there is nothing for her to pretend to be, and this striving should disappear.3 Farewell, my dear, I hope to see you soon. Yours, Vl. Soloviev I’ll go have a picture taken tomorrow, I’ve not managed up to now. To E. V. Selevina Moscow, 26 March 1872

PVSS, 3:64–65

I finally received your letter, dear Katya—the letter of 19 March—after three months of silence: I did not receive the previous one that you talk about and therefore did not consider it possible to write you, bearing in mind certain accusations; but since you don’t impart any significance to them, I’m very glad that I can talk with you again. What is this that you’re writing: “it seems I am not to blame for anything,” and so on; “it was sad to be wakened,” and so on. I don’t know why you’re writing this, I don’t know why you don’t want to understand the very simplest thing. In any event, if you still doubt the constancy of my affection, I consider it useless to assure you of it: without swearing to the actual fact! If this is only a manière de parler [Fr. manner of speaking] on your part, then please give it up and be sincere. It would be much better, my dear, if in place of “pitiful words” you would write me a little more about yourself and about our relatives. What are you doing now, what are you studying? It seems to me (to my great satisfaction) that your striving for “science” has significantly cooled. Ma foi! [Fr. My word!] und es ist gut! [Ger. and this is good] I am of the opinion that studying the empty phantoms of outward phenomena is even more foolish than living by means of empty phantoms. But the main point is that this “science” cannot achieve its goal. People look into microscopes, slice up unfortunate animals, boil all kinds of rubbish in chemical [distillation] retorts and imagine that they’re studying nature! One should write on the foreheads of these asses: Nature, with all of its beauty and all of its sheen, Does not allow removal of its cover for your eyes, And you will not compel from her by any machine, What your spirit does not correctly surmise.4

They kiss dead skeletons instead of living nature. We’ll talk about this and much else when we meet, for I hope (or dream) to see you at the end of May, when

1871–1873

I finish my examinations and will be as completely free as a bird. For the time being I embrace you in my imagination. Yours always, Vl. Soloviev To Ivan O. Lapshin Kharkov, 21 May 1872

PVSS, 1:157

Dear Ivan Osipovich! I arrived in Kharkov safely, and even cheerfully, but I’m now passing the time in considerable melancholy, which is fortified by the thought of the long road still before me and a two-month stay in a bestial condition. Yesterday such despondency fell upon me that I very nearly decided to return to Moscow or go the Kherson countryside with my cousin [fem.]; but today prudence has prevailed, and tomorrow I leave for Saratov, where I hope to find a letter from you with news from the world of spirits. I didn’t see or hear anything remarkable in Kharkov. Little is said about the former disorders; it seems this was complete nonsense in a political respect, but not nonsense according to the number killed, counting as many as a hundred here.5 I wish you and dear Susanna Denisevna all the best. Convey my greetings to Alexander Gerasimovich. With sincere respect I remain yours truly, Vl. Soloviev To Susanna D. Lapshina PVSS, 1:158–59 [tr. from imperfect French, sprinkled with English, and a little Russian] 18 Aug. 1872, from Moscow (I beg your pardon for my horrific French) My dear Madame [Eng.]! Your unnatural insomnia pains me much. You told me that you would consult a doctor; there is one, I believe, in Ostankino who is good enough,* named M. Tarrasenkof: address yourself to him, if he is still there. Or else, how will you get to the village several times during these six weeks? Why not consult your own Artemovsky, whether you are already doing well? But this is only on

* Ostankino: Alex. D. Schumakher’s estate, where S. D. Lapshina was a guest at this time. Ed. note.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

condition that he does not put you under hypnosis, because I am sure that it’s exactly this cataleptic state in which you find yourself during seances, and which deprives you of the faculty of sleep afterward. When will you be cured of your suspicions? The cause of my strange behavior [Eng.], if there has been any, could not have any relation to my opinions on spiritualism. The general state of sadness or gaiety, when it has any moral cause, must depend on a comparative state of organic well-being, which I suppose was the case with me the other evening. You relating to me of your materialist friends’ opinion on Samarin vividly recalls my childhood.6 At the age of thirteen or fourteen, when I was a materialist zealot, it was a great problem for me: how can you have spirits and at the same time be Christian? And I was explaining this strange fact to myself, supposing either hypocrisy or indeed a kind of folly particularly apt for spirits. This was stupid enough for a bambino; but when one listens to the output of such nonsense by people of a venerable age—one can only, according to the oriental expression, “hang one’s ears on the nail of astonishment.” I do not know if your friends are materialists in the strict sense of the word, orthodox materialists of the confession of Vogt, Büchner, etc.; if this is the case, I will be very curious to see them, to listen to them, for this is a sort that is already disappearing. As in the West, the logical absurdity of the system has been recognized, and materialists, always so little reasonable, have passed on to positivism, a beast of a different genre altogether and not to be scorned.7 As for materialism, it has never had anything in common with reason or conscience but is a fatal product of the logical law that reduces to the absurd the human spirit separated from divine Truth. But to prove this assertion, I would need to write an entire dissertation, which I must consign to a more opportune time. Please write to me whether I may, without inconvenience, come to see you in Ostankino? I am willing after the twenty-seventh. Iskrenno Vam predannyi [Sincerely yours], Vl. Solov´ev [Vl. Soloviev] I saw your husband last evening. To E. V. Selevina Moscow, 16 December 1872

PVSS, 3:71

I’m now writing you a fifth letter, dear Katya—writing randomly, not knowing whether it’ll arrive. What improbable absent-mindedness!—not to write your

1871–1873

address, both tormenting yourself, as it seems, and placing me in an intolerable situation. Just send a telegram: did you receive my letter? (The question assumes that maybe I didn’t even receive it) reply to it [sic]. But if I didn’t receive your letter, what will I reply to and where?8 It’s perfectly incomprehensible to me how your last letter could have even arrived, addressed to God knows where. And again: write immediately, but to where: unknown—I’ve already requested your address twenty times both from Babushka and from Poliksena, and not a word from anyone. If I don’t receive a letter with an address from you in another week, I will come to E. I live on Denezhny Lane, Denezhny, Denezhny, Denezhny. To E. V. Selevina Moscow, 31 December 1872

PVSS, 3:73–77

My dear Katya, I’m going to say a lot to you, and first about the most important thing. I’m gladdened by your serious attitude to the supreme (and in my opinion the single) question of life and knowledge—the question of religion. Relative to this, your current error (almost all errors are at first unavoidable) consists in the fact that you confuse faith in general with one of its forms—with a faith that’s childish, blind, unconscious, thinking that there is no other sort of faith. Of course, not much intelligence is needed to reject such a faith—I denied it at the age of thirteen—of course, a person who’s at all reasoning cannot believe as when he was a child; and whether this person has superior or limited intelligence, he remains so with this easy denial of his childish faith in full certitude that the fairy tales of his nannies or the school phrases of the catechism constitute true religion, true Christianity. On the other hand, we know that all the great thinkers—the glory of humanity—were truly and deeply believers (atheists have been only idle babblers in the manner of the French Encyclopedists or contemporary Büchners and Vogts, who’ve not created a single distinctive thought). The well-known words of Bacon, the founder of positive science, are: a little intellect, a little philosophy, distances one from God; more intellect, more philosophy lead back to Him once again.9 And though God is one and the same, the faith to which more philosophy leads is without doubt already not the faith that a little intellect distances one from. No wonder that one surmises the faith of a conscious and thoughtful Christian as somehow differing from the faith of an old woman in the countryside, though the subject of faith is the same and both of them can be true Christians; even the inner feeling of faith itself that they have is identical. But the

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

difference is in the fact that the old woman from the villages either thinks not at all about what she believes in, or if she does think, then it’s in concepts that correspond to her intellectual state; conscious Christians, rationally understanding the teaching of Christianity, find in it the resolution of all higher questions of knowledge—such a wealth and depth of thought that the contrivances of the human intellect are pitiful before it all. But it’s evident to them that it’s not they alone who are putting this deep meaning into Christianity, because they clearly realize the complete insignificance and impotence of their intellect, of their thoughts before the greatness and power of divine thought. Now I won’t begin to explain to you what this divine content of the Christian idea consists of; in order for that to be accessible, it’s necessary to complete the passage of inner development that you are just now beginning—may God grant that you finish it as I’m hoping! Now allow me to relate to you how a human being becomes a conscious Christian. Everyone accepts beliefs prepared beforehand in childhood and takes them, of course, on trust; but even for such a faith a certain idea, if not an understanding, of the subjects of faith is inevitable, and a child actually arranges for itself such notions, more or less absurd, and gets used to them and considers them as an inviolable relic. Many (in former times, almost all) remain with these ideas forever and live as good people. The intellect of others grows with the years and outgrows their childish beliefs. At first fearfully, later with self-satisfaction, one belief after another is subjected to doubt, is criticized by a semi-childish reason, turns out be absurd, and is rejected. As for me personally, at this age I not only doubted and denied my previous beliefs but also hated them with all my heart—it’s shameful to remember what I said and did then, the stupidest contempt for sacred subjects. All beliefs are rejected to the end, and the youthful intellect is quite free. Many stop at this sort of freedom from any conviction and are even very proud of it; afterward they routinely become practical people or swindlers. Those who aren’t capable of such participation strive to create a new system of convictions in place of the eliminated one, to replace beliefs with rational knowledge. And here they turn to positive science, but this science cannot establish rational convictions because it knows only outward reality, facts alone and nothing more; science refuses to provide this— true meaning for facts, a rational explanation of nature and humankind. Some turn to abstract philosophy, but philosophy remains in the sphere of logical thought; for it reality, life itself, does not exist; but a person’s actual conviction must not be abstract but alive, not in the reason alone, but in all one’s mental being; it must hold sway over one’s life and contain in itself not just the ideal

1871–1873

world of concepts but the real world as well. Neither science nor philosophy can provide such conviction. Where does one search for it? Here one arrives at an awful state of despair—even now it’s grievous for me to remember it—a complete emptiness inside, darkness, death in life. All that abstract reason can provide is exhausted and turns out unfit, and reason itself rationally proves its own insolvency. But this darkness is the beginning of light, because when a person is compelled to say: I am nothing—he says by the same token: God is everything. And here one gets to know God—not the childish notion of a previous time and not the abstract concept of reason, but a God alive and real, who “is not far from every one of us; for in Him we live, and move, and have our being.”10 Then all the questions that reason presented but could not resolve find an answer for themselves in the deep mysteries of Christian teaching, and the person now believes in Christ not only because all the needs of the heart receive their satisfaction in Him, but also because all the problems of the intellect, all the demands of knowledge, are resolved by him. Faith in hearsay is replaced by faith in reason; like the Samaritans in the Gospel: “Now we believe, not because of thy saying: for we have heard him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world.”11 And so you see, regarding properly developed religion a person passes through three stages: the first period, childish or blind faith; the second ­period—development of reason and denial of blind faith; and finally, the last period of conscious faith, consciousness based on the development of reason. You now find yourself at the second stage; God grant that you arrive at the third. But for the time being let’s cross over to worldly matters. Your rejection of Prince Dadiane very much saddened me: of course, I cannot judge this matter from a distance of 1,000 versts [km], without knowing anything very well; but it strongly seems to me that it would be better to accept the proposal. If he is a good man, you would be able through him or together with him, with his wealth and significance, to do very much good that you cannot do alone. In any event, the reasons for rejection that you write are entirely bad. “I do not love him enough,” etc. I’m very sorry if you believe the foul fable thought up by foul scribblers of foul novels in our foul century—the fable about some special, supernatural love, which must unite two hearts in mutual bliss, and without which it would as if be impermissible even to enter into lawful marriage. On the contrary, proper marriage must not be a means to enjoyment or happiness but an exploit of self-sacrifice. And what if, let’s say, you do not like family life— then is it really necessary to do only what you like or what you love?

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So then, if the thing is still not entirely finished, for God’s sake think it over a while. If you have no other more valid reasons, and if my advice means something to you, then I advise you resolutely and insistently: accept the proposal of Pr. Dadiane. If you do not like this advice, then you should at least acknowledge that it is completely unbiased. You are reasoning rather strangely about decorum and its violation. If it’s all completely insignificant (as doubtless it is), then why violate it, struggling with it as though with something important, why exhibit your strength in petty things—only pettiness and childishness can be exhibited by this. Do you think that such a great matter as freedom of conviction can have any relation to such nonsense as decorum? Even more unpleasant for me was the hostile and nearly savage tone with which you talk about your relatives. If there is little love and meekness in you (which I do not, however, think), then this is very sad and there is nothing to be proud of here. I wanted to write you about much else still, but there is a limit to everything, therefore until another time. If you will not marry Dadiane, it will be very much a pity; of course, I’ll come to Fedorovka in the summer, if it’s permitted; as for the Vienna exhibition, then merci beaucoup! When we had a polytechnic exhibition this summer I did not go even once to Moscow, much less to Vienna. In general, I am a mortal enemy of these exhibitions, at which the cursed western civilization admires itself. And besides, what a fantasy, the two of us going together to Vienna! If you want to compromise yourself in every way possible, then of course it won’t be me that’s helping you in this. And you wrote to me about caution! However, I hope that all this is nonsense, all this cocksure childishness will harmlessly pass through you soon. Farewell, yours always Vl. Soloviev You write about Skliarevich; greetings to him from me; I saw him one day at the Shafonskys, and I liked him very much. As for his atheism, this sometimes happens with good people, either for the fact that they have thought little about it, or the spirit of the times, or for other external reasons. Shake him around on this subject at the opportunity, and you’ll see how deep his denial of religion is. 1 January 1873 If, my dear, something offends you in this letter, you will pardon me, because you know that I love you, even more than necessary. Please write to me soon, I’m very interested in the matter of the proposal, and besides that,

1871–1873

you should know that for me each line of yours is forty thousand times more ­valuable than all the writing and printed paper in the world. To Nikolai I. Kareev 2 June 1873, Moscow

VSP, 147–48

I’m sincerely grateful to you, my friend, for the invitation, which I will of course make use of. I am going to Petersburg for a while on some business, and if nothing delays me there, I’ll come see you in the middle of June. If I don’t, I’ll be expecting you in August. Meanwhile, I’m fulfilling your good wishes: I’m comparatively healthy and, inasmuch as my temperament allows, cheerful; I’m wishing you the same. My intentions with respect to the future have changed a little: I want to replace the master of philosophy with a master of theology. For this, I’ll first pass the candidate’s examination at the religious academy; it’s equivalent to our master’s, so it’s completely specialized and there isn’t another one after this; I’ll then be obliged to defend a dissertation straightway. All this will take two years, during which time I’ll be living at Trinity, since it’s more convenient to study there. And further, after that—the most convenient road for me. It’s only sad that I’ll be completely alone on it; at least turning aside altogether from my previous comrades. I’ll come then for a farewell. Yours, Vl. Soloviev To Poliksena V. Solovieva PVSS, 2:1 19 June [1873] I didn’t write to you from Viazma, dear Mama, because you packed the writing implements in the suitcase, and there was no time for me to unpack there. I traveled through Viazma to Kareev’s village perfectly safely and very pleasantly (twelve hours). Smolensk Province turned out much better than I assumed: great, thick forests with picturesque glades, streams, and rivers, which I crossed at fords, and so on. Nor is the locality where I’m now staying bad either; the Dnieper’s—a verst [km] away. Notwithstanding the foul weather, I’m feeling rather well, which I wish you as well. I’ll probably not be writing more, since the city is far from here, and they don’t go there often. I’ll be in Moscow the first days of July. Kiss Papa and everyone for me.12 Yours Vlad. Soloviev

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

Address: To Smolensk Province, city of Sychevka, to Nikolai Ivanovich Kareev. To E. V. Selevina 19 June 1873, vill. Okosovo

PVSS, 3:79–80

I’m very glad, dear Katya, that the irritable tone of my last letter surprised you: this means you do not surmise the reason for this irritation, and consequently, the cause is invalid. In any event these are trifles that are not worth talking about. In one of your letters (from the seventh of May this year), you incidentally wrote that you have set as a goal for your life the founding of a public school, since even “any persons at all freed from this awful ignorance in which the entire Russian people find themselves mean much, when so few are brought out of this horrible darkness.” I assume that you are quite seriously thinking about this matter, and therefore I want to speak with you about it. I won’t concern myself with various practical conditions for the realization of this intention; I’ll only say a few words about the matter itself: “Bring the people out of the horrible darkness.” In what do you assume the darkness is, and where do you see light? You understand, of course, that the ability to read, write, and count is not yet enlightenment; what’s being read is important. And what can anyone offer now? Contemporary literature? If you don’t know, I’ll tell you: it’s impossible to find a better means to intellectual debasement and moral depravity than contemporary literature. The people have common sense and will immediately grasp what the essence of contemporary enlightenment is; but this essence, no matter how it might be covered over, consists in the denial of every religious, moral principle and the affirmation of animal nature alone. All the wisdom of this century amounts to a very simple attitude: human beings are cattle. That’s the light with which we can enlighten our people’s darkness! True, the moral state of the people is very low—it has fallen almost to that of cattle—but as long as they preserve the great concept of “sin,” as long as they know that human beings must not be cattle, the possibility of being raised up remains; but when they become convinced that they are cattle according to their nature, and consequently, living like beasts, acting only in correspondence to their nature, any possibility of rebirth will disappear. Thank God that this will never happen and that preachers of bestiality do not have any influence on the people.

1871–1873

Be that as it may, before thinking about the enlightenment of others, one needs to possess light oneself, or at least know where it is. But do you know? In the next letter you ask yourself: “Will I remain in that horrible darkness?” So then, you see that we, you and I, are still a long way from bringing the Russian people out of darkness: we do not even know yet where it is dark and where it is light. I’m ending, because they’re going to the city presently. Write me in Moscow at Neskuchnoe. I don’t know why Crime and Punishment troubled you. Read it to the end, and it would also be useful to read through all of Dostoevsky: he is one of a few writers who have still preserved the Divine image and likeness in our time. I’ll be in Petersburg the second half of June.13 Until then, yours Vl. Soloviev To E. V. Selevina Moscow, 11 July 1873

PVSS, 3:82–83

It’s sad, my dear Katya, that even with identical mutual love we don’t altogether understand one another. However, I myself am more guilty in this: be that as it may, I’ll try to speak more clearly. I think you cannot doubt my love: I was not even able to hide it before now, when you’re giving me the possibility to speak openly: I love you, as I can only love a human being, and maybe even more strongly, more strongly than I should. For the majority of people, the whole thing ends with this, love and what should follow: family happiness constitutes the major interest of their life. But I have a completely different mission, which becomes more clear, definite, and fixed for me each day. I will dedicate my life to its fulfillment, within my powers. Therefore, personal and family relations will always occupy second place in my being. And this is all I wanted to say when I wrote that I can’t give all of myself to you. But as I conclude from your last letter, this can’t change your feelings toward me. For my part, although the mission that I’m talking about is of a kind that cannot be shared with anyone, of course, the sympathy of an affectionate woman should support and fortify energies in the difficult labors and the vital struggle to which the resolution of any serious mission is necessarily tied. This help is irreplaceable, and, of course, I can accept it only from you alone. But you know, my dear, that our relations do not depend on us and our love. You know the obstacles that do not allow our union (although it is a little difficult for me to write about this so directly, but I should add that I only mean the single union that is blest by law and the church: any other relations between us are out of the question). Removing these obstacles is possible but

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

very difficult. In any event, it’s necessary to use all means. ­Meanwhile, I ­propose the following: we will wait three years, during which time you will occupy yourself with your inward cultivation, and I will be working on laying the initial foundation for the future realization of my chief mission and will also strive to achieve a definite societal position, which I could then propose to you. If you agree, then we’ll talk more about this when we meet. I would like to say much to you, but words are mute and trite. Farewell, my dear, yours always Vl. Soloviev To E. V. Selevina Moscow, 2 August 1873

PVSS, 3:87–90

I’d just dispatched a complaint about your silence, my dear Katya, when I received your letter, which gladdened me endlessly. (Don’t, however, think that I displayed my joy: upon receipt of your letters I express personified indifference. In general I’m becoming much more restrained and even beginning to dissemble, I assure you: I want to be wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove.)14 As for our relations, whether you like it or not, I gave you and am giving you the word that you speak of. Whether I’m capable of deceiving will be shown in the future; in practice, there’s nothing to say about it. I’ll strive to reply better to your question about my goal and my studies as much as possible in a single letter. From the time that I began to understand anything, I realized that the existing order of things (predominantly the social and civic order, the relations of people among themselves, which determines all human life), that this existing order is far from what it should be, that it is based not on right and reason but, on the contrary, for the most part on senseless chance, blind force, egoism, and violent subjection. Practical people, although seeing the unsatisfactoriness of this order (it’s not possible not to see it), find it possible and convenient to conform to it, to find their warm little place in it, to live and live well. Others, not able to reconcile themselves with worldly evil but considering it unavoidable and eternal, must take pleasure in impotent contempt toward existing reality, or curse it à la Lord Byron. These are very noble people, but nobody takes warmth or is cooled from their nobility. I don’t belong either to one category or the other. For me, the conscious conviction in the fact that the present state of humanity is not as it should be means that it must be changed, transformed. I do not deem existing evil to be eternal, I do not believe in the devil.15 Realizing the necessity of transformation, I bind myself by the same token to dedicating all my life and all my strength in order that this transformation actually be accomplished.

1871–1873

But the most important question is: where are the means? There are those, it’s true, for whom this question seems very simple and the mission easy. Seeing (however, very superficially and narrowly) the unsatisfactoriness of that which exists, they think to do the whole thing by fighting fire with fire—i.e., annihilating force with force, untruth with untruth, washing away blood with blood—they want to revive humanity through murder and arson. Maybe they’re very good people, but they’re very bad musicians. God forgives them, “for they know not what they do.”16 I understand the matter otherwise. I know that any transformation must be made from within—from the human mind and heart. People are governed by their convictions; consequently, it is necessary to act on convictions, to convince people of the truth. The truth itself— i.e., Christianity (of course, not the supposed Christianity that we all know according to various catechisms)—this truth is in itself clear in my consciousness, but the question is how to insert it into the universal consciousness, for which it is at the present time some monstrum [Lat.]—something completely alien and unintelligible. First, the question: what does this alienation of the contemporary mind from Christianity arise out of? To accuse human error or ignorance of everything would be very facile but also just as frivolous. The reason is more profound. The point is that Christianity, although unconditionally true in itself, has had up to this time, owing to historical conditions, only a very one-sided and insufficient expression. With the exception of only selected minds, Christianity was for the majority just a matter of simple semiconscious faith and vague feeling, but nothing spoke to reason or entered into reason. In consequence, it was confined to a form not corresponding to it, to a nonrational form, and encumbered by all kinds of thoughtless rubbish. And human reason, when it grew up and tore itself free from medieval monasteries, rose up against this kind of Christianity and repudiated it fully and rightfully. But then, with Christianity now ruined in a false form, the time came to restore true Christianity. A mission lay ahead: to introduce the eternal content of Christianity into a new form corresponding to it—i.e., an unconditionally rational form. For this it’s necessary to make use of all that has been elaborated by the human mind over the last centuries: it’s necessary to acquire for oneself the universal results of scientific development; it’s necessary to learn all of philosophy. I am now, and will ever be, doing this. Now it is clear to me, as twice two is four, that the whole great development of western philosophy and science, apparently indifferent and often hostile to Christianity, was only in reality elaborating a new form for Christianity,

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

a form worthy of it. And when Christianity will actually be expressed in this new form, when it appears in its true form, then that which obstructs it from entering into the universal consciousness—namely, its supposed contradiction of reason—will disappear on its own. When it appears as light and reason, it will then make itself the essential, universal conviction—at least, the conviction of all those who have anything in heart and mind. When Christianity becomes true ­conviction—i.e., such that people will live according to it—to realize it in reality, then evidently everything will change. Imagine that a certain, even if small, part of humanity were to carry out quite seriously in reality the teaching of unconditional love and self-sacrifice with conscious and strong conviction—would falsehood and evil long resist in the world? But meanwhile this practical realization of Christianity in life is far off. Now it’s still necessary to work forcefully on the theoretical side, on the theological teachings of faith. This is my present concern. You probably know that I’ll be living at a religious academy this year for the purpose of studying theology. They imagine that I want to become a monk and am even thinking about the archpriesthood. Let it be so—I won’t disabuse them. But you can see that this does not at all suit my goals. At one time, monastic life had its high appointment, but now the time has come not to run from the world, but to go into the world, and to go into the world in order to transform it.17 You understand, my dear, that with such convictions and intentions I must seem altogether insane, and that I’ll have to be restrained against my will. But this does not embarrass me: “Divine madness is more intelligent than human wisdom.”18 Farewell, my dear. Hoping to see you, yours always Vl. Soloviev I forgot about the portrait. If the negative has been saved at the photographer’s, I’ll send the one that you speak of. Otherwise I’ll take another one. To E. V. Selevina Moscow, 25 August 1873

PVSS, 3:95–96

As usual, day after day goes by But letters—you never ever send. What’s wrong … tell me why, oh why? I just don’t understand it, my friend.19 At least I’m at ease that you’re well, for you’re writing to others. You see, however, what love can lead even philosophical natures to: a little more—and

1871–1873

I’ll be writing proper verses, I’ll be copying them into a notebook and entertaining those close to me with them, as per the example of a gentleman well known to you, about whom, incidentally, there’ll be something to say. On the day after his departure, I’d just awakened and hadn’t yet quite come round, when suddenly Apollon (not the one whom the ancient Greeks worshipped, but our lackey Apollon) appears and hands me a letter, received on the eve of my absence. I see your hand and, without having sorted out the address quite well, I unseal it and read the beginning. From this beginning I see that the gentleman mentioned (to whom it turned out your letter was addressed) is intruding where nobody wants him. You would do very well if once and for all you put a proper limit to his outbursts. Constantly suffering from my own credulity, I have more than enough of a basis to warn you: don’t trust people in general, and Petersburg gentlemen in particular. No matter how I strive to see a proper human being in all people, I have to acknowledge a long-known primary truth, that in some people there’s altogether little human, and the image of various wild animals predominates, such as the wolf, fox, pig, hyena, ass, and the like. As for gentlemen, I’ll report to you only the following. In intimate conversations with me, X and Y—of course individually—told me the most disturbing vile things about one another, with deafening pathos (from which my nerves suffered badly) and with corresponding body movements and eyes bulging (a common habit of both, very much unpleasant for their interlocutors). X assured me that Y’s a scoundrel and adduced factual arguments. Y proved that X is a scoundrel plus quam [Lat. more than] and supported this with arguments just as factual. How justified is the latter—I don’t know; I myself can’t say anything against X, and he’s even likable; as for Y, although in general I won’t say anything about his “personality,” I’m obliged to report that I unfortunately had occasion to be convinced with complete indisputability that he has intentions with respect to you that I can’t call good. I became convinced of this by means of a little, very simple experiment, about which I can report at our rendezvous. So be careful—it’s much more necessary for you than for me. Believe me, my darling, that I concern myself with this filth only with the greatest aversion, only due to the most extreme necessity; I cannot be indifferent when they splatter this filth at you. Write to me your opinion about this. You never write me anything about yourself. Don’t you believe that everything that concerns you is important for me? I am seriously worried, write. Yours always Vl. Soloviev

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To E. V. Selevina 26 August 1873

PVSS, 3:97–98

I am for the time being now staying in our city apartment on Denezhny (not Gazetny) Lane in the Dvortsovaya building, so write to me there. “V. once told me your opinion,” and so on: I already wrote you, dear, don’t believe V. with respect to me, because I was not sincere with him: I really did say what he conveyed to you, but I said it deliberately, which I warned you about. I don’t know why it’s unpleasant for you that I’m living like a hermit—i.e., avoiding senseless amusements and not indulging in debauchery. You’ve probably been told lies. I can only note with respect to your doubts that our separation is long enough that the “fleeting passion” has successfully passed; I have had fleeting passions and I know the ­difference. As for my opinion about the capability of woman to understand higher truth, without doubt—she’s quite capable, otherwise she wouldn’t be human. But the point is that according to her passive nature she cannot find this truth alone but must receive it from man. It’s a fact: not one religious or philosophical teaching has been founded by a woman, but teachings that have already been founded have been adopted and disseminated predominantly by women. I’m guessing that women will play an important role in the consciousness of humanity even with the revolution that lies ahead. And it will begin where nobody expects. You wrote to me about the Stundist sect (I was very glad that you turned your attention to it): it’s not alone, such a movement is also appearing in other places: for example, in Kaluga Province there’s a sect of spiritual Christians under the name “lamenters” and so on.20 Soon the peasant will show his proper strength to the great confusion of those who do not see in him anything besides drunkenness and crude superstition (in this opinion, you my dear were also culpable earlier). Glorious but difficult times are drawing near, and it’s good for those who can await them with hope and not with fear. Farewell my dear. Will it really be impossible for us to see each other earlier than December, as you think? Mama was saying that she would be very glad if you come to visit us; you understand, I will be living at Trinity.21 Incidentally, to your question: I will probably only be there this year—i.e., until June—and then, whatever God may grant. Yours Vl. Soloviev

1871–1873

To E. V. Selevina [undated]

PVSS, 3:105–6

Dear Katya, my joy, I wanted to devote the whole night to a conversation with you; early tomorrow I need to catch a train, and if I’m not to oversleep, it’s better not to lie down at all. I find myself in a rather original position now. My arrival at the academy produced nearly the same impression as the arrival of the sham inspector to that famous city “from which even if you gallop three days—you won’t get to any state.”22 The professors here imagine that I arrived with the exclusive goal of confusing their tranquillity with my criticism. All are amiable with me to the extreme, like the military governor with Khlestakov.23 In gratitude I leave them alone as much as possible in tranquillity (although the lectures which I’ve heard up to now are rather respectable). However, they place a very low value on themselves and their business, and in no way can they believe that an outside person, a nobleman and candidate at the university, could get the fantastic idea of studying theology; and this is really the first example; therefore, they assume some kind of practical aims in me. And meanwhile the academy does not in any event represent such an absolute desert as does the university. With all their crudeness the students seem to me businesslike people, moreover good-­ natured and cheerful and great masters of drinking—in general, healthy people. However, I won’t be able to become friends with them—there’ll be no time. Although you don’t require a report on my studies, I consider myself obligated to deliver it. First, I’m writing a “History of Religious Consciousness in the Ancient World” (the beginning is already being published in a journal). The aim of this work is the explanation of ancient religions, and essential because without it a full understanding of universal history and of Christianity in particular is impossible. Second, I continue to occupy myself with the Germans and am writing an article (also for a journal) about the contemporary crisis of western philosophy, which will later enter into my master’s dissertation; an abstract of the latter has already been written by me. Third, I’m reading Greek and Latin theologians of the ancient church. Their study is also essential for a full understanding of Christianity.24 All this is only the beginning, preparatory study, the cause proper is still ahead. Without this cause, without this great mission, there would be nothing for me to live for, without it I would not even dare love you. I would not have any right to you if I were not quite certain that I can give you what others cannot. You have seen and can always see at your feet a multitude of people

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

that have all the outward advantages over me. Meanwhile, at present I’m nothing* … In the lines crossed out I wrote what’s unsuitable to write. It’s better not to continue. Farewell. Yours, Vl. Soloviev To Fyodor M. Dostoevsky 23 December 1873, Petersburg

Materialy i issledovaniia, 10:20225

Dear Fyodor Mikhailovich, I was going to come by to see you, but to my great regret, an unpleasant and unforeseen circumstance took the whole morning, so that I could not come. Yesterday, when N. N. Strakhov found your note on the desk, I guessed that it was you that I had met on the staircase, but due to near-sightedness and the twilight I didn’t recognize you. I’m hoping we can meet again, I’ll probably be in Petersburg in the autumn. With deepest respect I remain sincerely Your devoted servant, Vl. Soloviev Convey my regards to Anna Grigorievna [Dostoevsky’s wife].

1874–1876 To Dmitri N. Tsertelev Moscow, 19 June 1874

PVSS, 2:221–23

I’m ever ready, my dear Dmitri Nikolaevich, to speak on philosophical subjects both orally and in writing, and was already going to reply to you with an entire dissertation in epistolary form, setting forth general principles on the basis of which it would be possible to arrive at a positive resolution of our misunderstanding; but since I have to set forth these general principles in my present dissertation, and since this can certainly be done with greater comprehensiveness than in a letter, I considered it more convenient to limit myself only to that which directly relates to your objections. Everything that is said about dogmatism on the second page relates especially to “right before Kant held sway over dogmatic metaphysics”—i.e., Wolff ’s system—and is stated only in order to present Kant’s point of departure.1 In the first article pre-Kantian philosophy in general and the system of Descartes * Nine lines crossed out. Ed. note

1874–1876

in particular are mentioned only in passing and set forth in detail in the fourth, which I’m now finishing; in it, incidentally, are shown the logical transition from the dualism of Descartes to the monism of Spinoza and further on until Kant, as is also done for post-Kantian systems in the first article.2 “It (idealism) negates the external world—does this then resolve the question?” You only used the expression “negates the external world” for brevity, of course, and it is not necessary for me to prove its inaccuracy to you. As for whether the metaphysical question resolves itself by idealism, I assume that it is not resolved, but its resolution becomes possible inasmuch as idealism proves the inconceivability of unconditional-subjective or unconditional external being, proves that “subjective being” has only a relative meaning—namely, relative to the thing for which it is the subject—so that objectivity, appearance, matter, and the like, are relations, and not substances, and cannot be of an unknowable subject or thing, because to be a subject or thing means nothing other than to be knowable, and the external world precisely only signifies the knowable world, as this directly follows from an analysis of concepts.3 Now about space: defining it as a necessary condition of our representation, you later yourself note that this definition is so general that nothing is resolved by it. In actual fact, as a necessary condition of our representation, space can be something in itself, but what is unknown, since in Kant’s definition it is affirmed precisely that space exists only in representation, as its general form, and representation is known directly. “As for bodies, which we see, we must relate to them as if they were extended,” et cetera. This is not completely precise. We relate to bodies as to extended things because they are really extended. In no way does it follow from the fact that space exists only in representation that bodies were nonspatial or nonextended, because even bodies exist as bodies only in representation. “Space is the general form of representation”—for idealism this means precisely what it does for realism: “space is the general property of bodies.” Kant calls matter das Bewegliche [Ger. the movable] but what is Bewegung [motion, movement] for Kant? However, as it is probably known to you, Kant reduces matter in the final analysis to the action of attractive and repulsive forces. I do not affirm the unknowability of extended matter; I affirm its nonexistence, on the basis, incidentally, that it is possible to ascribe real existence to what is given in external or internal experience, but we find matter neither in the one nor in the other.4 True, we have in external experience subjects— possessing, incidentally, properties of extent and materiality (i.e., resistance to action)—which are reduced by analysis to the action of mental principle; but

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

matter and extent in themselves are in any event only abstract concepts of reason, outside of which, consequently, they do not even exist. The abyss between the I and the not-I, about which you speak, does not exist precisely for idealism, since in it the not-I is deduced from the absolute I, as its internal and necessary action. If you are going to write to me again, dear Dmitri Nikolaevich, please set forth the bases that force you to acknowledge anything in matter besides the relation of forces, i.e., of mental principles. P.S. I’m very thankful for the photograph; I still have not gone to have my picture taken, but am absolutely going to sometime. I am in Moscow until the middle of July, at Neskuchnoe. To D. N. Tsertelev Moscow, 13 September 1874

PVSS, 2:224

I hurry to reply to you with a few words before your departure to Paris and mine to Petersburg. I am now so piled up with obligatory work that I must for a time put off the continuation of our philosophical correspondence, which is highly desirable to me. The point is that Yurkevich, not being in a condition to read lectures, asked me to take this upon myself in the second half of the year, and therefore I must hurry with my master’s, for which I’m setting off to ­Petersburg—so I can only go abroad in the summer; I hope at least to see you in the interval between your return and my departure.5 As you guessed, conversation about Lermontov was renewed at S’s. No doubt Lermontov has the advantage of reflection and a negative attitude to present reality, although I’m in agreement with S., in an artistic respect Pushkin is higher. As for the poem: “I skuchno i grustno” [Both boring and sad], it’s not possible to deny it’s a little prosaic as to form.6 I fully agree with your comments relative to das Ewig-weibliche [the divine feminine], although on the other hand I must also confess a sad truth that, notwithstanding its evident insolvency due to a certain fatal necessity, this Ewig-weibliche even so zieht uns an [beckons] with insuperable force.7 I don’t even have one decent poem in final form; when I return from Petersburg, I’ll occupy myself with Hamlet as relaxation of a sort; as for philosophical articles, I’ll send the whole book to you in Paris; a part of it is being put together and should be published in a month; this will be my master’s dissertation. If you have a definite Paris address, inform me—this will be more reliable; write to me in Moscow: it will be forwarded from there. I wish you a safe journey.

1874–1876

P.S. In Petersburg I’m contemplating seeing the famous medium Williams; if there’s anything remarkable, I’ll write. To P. V. Solovieva and Sergei M. Soloviev 25 Sept. 1874

PVSS, 2:2

In the 7,382nd summer since the creation of the world, the 1,874th since the incarnation of God’s Word, on the twenty-fifth day of this September, half past the eleventh hour to midnight, we arrived safely and triumphantly in the ruling city of St. Petersburg, illuminated by the vivid northern radiance of the sun, in which it is not possible but to see the special action of Divine work.8 Upon entrance into the city, we were met by numerous crowds of people, after which we all set off in carriages ordered beforehand to the city center, along with the retinue that accompanied us from Moscow, among whose number were found women, children, and porters. Indulging a petition recommended to us by a deputation from the England Hotel, we stayed preliminarily at this establishment, occupying in it the highest place becoming us—namely, the first floor— counting down from the moon. However, this whereabouts of ours isn’t final, as will be elucidated below. The population of St. Petersburg—in particular the monuments and other buildings—have been found by us to be in a highly satisfactory condition. As judged by us, the trees between the Vishera [River] and Petersburg deserve as well every approval and commendation because of the extraordinary good color of their leaves—yellow, red, and green. [27 Sept.] I fulfilled your instructions. This evening I’m moving to Voznesensky Prospect. I found Vsevolod in a rather good state, as well as his wife, of whom I highly approve. Be well. Kisses for everyone. Yours Vladimir To D. N. Tsertelev Moscow, 8 January 1875

PVSS, 2:225

Why don’t you write, dear Dmitri Nikolaevich, about what you saw in London? Is it really possible you didn’t see anything? Or the opposite: you saw so much and such things that it’s not possible to convey it all in a letter? I’m anticipating, with great impatience, a rendezvous with you—incidentally, also in order to conclude our philosophical argument, which the booklet I sent can ­occasion—I’ve occupied the chair of the late Pamfil Danilovich [Yurkevich] and

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

in a few days will begin to read lectures in his spirit and tendency, notwithstanding the complete difference in our characters. In summer I’m going to London for a year or a year and a half, granting the chair anew to my selected colleague, Troitsky, who you apparently have knowledge of.9 I’ll now be teaching a historical introduction to metaphysics, and I assume upon return from London— the history of ancient philosophy and metaphysics. I’m being convinced more and more of the importance and even necessity of spiritist phenomena for the establishment of a proper metaphysics, but for the time being I don’t intend to express this openly, because it will not benefit the matter but only supply me with a bad reputation; in addition I don’t have any indubitable proof of these phenomena now, although the probability in favor of them is great. When you see A. N. Aksakov, convey my greetings and gratefulness to him for the dispatch of Psychische Studien.10 I need to write him and Lapshin too, but have an awful laziness for letters. I hope that in any event you’ll be in Moscow before the summer, and so til then. P.S. If you won’t be here again promptly, please write. Denezhny Lane, near Prechistenka. To D. N. Tsertelev PVSS, 2:227 Warsaw, 27 June 1875 I’m very much to blame before you, dear Dmitri Nikolaevich, that I’ve not written for so long; however, there were circonstances atténuantes [Fr. attenuating circumstances]. Now I’m on the road to London. I stayed in Warsaw a few extra days and therefore can’t stop in Berlin, but Hartmann is probably not there now; I’ll get acquainted with him on the return trip—I’m grateful to you for attention to my poems; for the most part I agree with your notes, but there’s no time to redo them now, and therefore I won’t give them to Messenger of Europe.11 Yours are being published in the July issue. My reply to Kavelin was put in the June issue.12 If you’ll be in Moscow for a few days and won’t be too lazy to drop by Neskuchnoe, you’ll get a reprint; I didn’t manage to take them. I feel excellent (in a moral respect) and am thinking over a plan for my work in detail. Meanwhile it’s coming along coherently and harmoniously, even symmetrically, something of the sort of a Kanto-Hegelian trichotomy. The only unpleasant thing is that I’ll have to read a lot of rubbish. I’m reading Mickiewicz in Polish as a form of relaxation and have become completely enamored of him. You should absolutely learn Polish, even if just for him alone, but there are others too.13

1874–1876

I’m sending you my rather repulsive photograph. I wanted to send a portrait, but they misappropriated it. I’ll send it from London. Just as repulsive, it seems, is the following little translation from Heine: When you’ve deceived yourself, lovesick— Quickly fall in love the sooner again, Or better—take your favorite walking stick, And set out to wander, my friend.     You’ll see seas and mountains     As this new life (and people?) pours     Down and douses with fountains     The fire of love that was yours. You’ll hear the mighty scream Of the eagle high in the skies And forget about love’s dream— And those trivial sorrow-sighs.14

Be well. Convey my respects to the princess. To P. V. Solovieva 17/29 July, 1875

PVSS, 2:5–6

Dear Mama, I finally received your letter; I don’t know why it was so late. I thought something unusual had happened to you. I’ve settled into London rather well. I’m spending the greater part of my time in the library. I’ve been in the countryside once and at local parks several times. A large field amid the city, much larger than our Maiden’s Field (and there are few such here) is called a park; groups of trees and flower beds are strewn across the field. These parks constitute one of the reasons why London is distinguished by clean air and is the most healthy city in the world.15 Besides that, there’s no dust at all here, and it’ll soon be three weeks now that there hasn’t been one hot day. Therefore I do not feel a particular need for country life, which wouldn’t be realizable at that, since in England there’s properly nothing either like our countryside or our dachas. Only country walks are possible, which I intend to undertake occasionally. I meet with our docent, I. I. Yanzhul, almost every day. He and his wife are very helpful to me, especially in a practical respect. At his place I got to know the Kharkov scholar M. M. Kovalevsky, an excellent, plump man. I also got to

25

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

know a certain Ralston—an Englishman studying ­Russia—along with some other Englishmen. Today I was at K ­ apustin’s but didn’t catch him there. I’m awaiting Aksakov and Novikov at the end of August.16 The library of the British Museum is an ideal thing in all respects, and I have very much to do there.17 It closes for only one week in September (also in January and May). Therefore I’m thinking of staying in London the whole time and only visiting Paris and Switzerland on the return trip. Some fool corresponding in the Moscow Gazette wrote that diseases are rife in London. As I said, London is a most healthy city—and there are no diseases in it, with the exception of the French plague, of course—but, for reasons known to you, this does not concern me. So then, don’t think about my health. Affectionate kisses for you, Papa, and everyone. Congratulations to Masha. Don’t settle up with me in letters. Yours Vl. Soloviev In the first letter I dropped the letter “C” in my address. Here’s how one should write it: 39 Great Russel Street. W. C. (opposite the British Museum). To Mr. Solovieff. London. To D. N. Tsertelev London, 22 August (3 September) 1875.

PVSS, 2:228

I don’t know, dear friend, whether you received my letter from Warsaw; I’ve not written from London up to now, because all this time I was hoping to report something interesting from the realm of spiritism, but I hoped in vain. English spiritism has produced the same impression on me as the French has upon you: charlatans on the one hand, blind believers on the other, and a small seed of actual magic, which there’s almost no possibility of discerning in such a milieu. I was at a seance at the celebrated Williams’ place and found that this conjurer is more brazen than skillful. He produced an Egyptian darkness but didn’t demonstrate any other miracles. When the little bell that had been flying in the darkness sat on my head, I seized it, and together with it a muscular hand, the owner of which did not announce himself as a spirit. After this the remaining details are of little interest. The John King that appeared is as similar to a spirit as I am to an elephant. Yesterday I was at a gathering of the local spiritualistic society and got acquainted incidentally with the well-known Crookes, and with his medium—the former Miss Crookes, and today Mrs. Connor … In any event, the statement made by Mr. Crookes is not bereft of wit: that relative to the Katy King who had appeared to him he “fully acknowledges the reality of the phenomena but declines to indicate their actual reason.”18

1874–1876

In a week there will be a “test seance” [Eng.] in the light at the spiritist society, but with the same V., who apparently was a little embarrassed by my discoveries the last time. If, beyond expectation, he demonstrates something interesting, I will report. To S. M. Soloviev London. 8/20 September 1875

PVSS, 2:11

Of course, dear Papa, I cannot accept Meshchersky’s offer; there is neither the time nor the desire. Incidentally, since it’s likely he meant to do me a favor, thank him for me and say that I am in no way getting into this business, because in order to conscientiously fulfill it, a more practical sense of it is needed than I have; and then—the content of the museum is so rich that the basic use of it does not leave time for any kind of other pursuit. I now remain nearly all alone in London.19 Former compatriots have left, and new ones have not yet arrived; the only one whom I see occasionally is the sexton of the local church, Orlov. Of Englishmen, I have gotten acquainted with the famous zoologist Wallace [Eng. with Russian case ending: Wallace’om], who sometimes furnishes me with the pleasure of being in the actual countryside—he lives about 40 versts [km] from London. I’m thinking of going to Newcastle in October, and in January to Bristol. I’m feeling Heimweh [Ger. homesickness] rather strongly and I’m trying to return to Russia by July—if I can just finish the work with which I am now occupied, and which I must publish in English; I already have a suitable translator for it. Be well, affectionate kisses. Kisses to Mama, and thanks for dispatching the dissertation. Vera, Nadia, Liuba, kisses and congratulations. Kisses to all the others, but no congratulations.20 If the second Poliksena Vladimirovna is still there with you, greetings to her from me; I regret that we didn’t get to see each other. To P. V. Solovieva London. 14/26 October 1875

PVSS, 2:13

Dear Mama! Sending a winter coat would be completely useless, since it’s colder in the houses here than outdoors. Winter hasn’t yet begun, but I’ve managed to catch

27

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

cold thoroughly. Fortunately, my studies require setting off for several months to Egypt, where I proceed the day after tomorrow. I’ll be going through Italy and Greece. I’ll write you from the road. I’ve not received a single letter from the Lopatins; what’s happened with them? Is it true that Alexei Tolstoy and Dostoevsky have died?21 Be well. Kisses for Papa and everyone. Vl. Soloviev To D. N. Tsertelev Paris, 2 November 1875

PVSS, 2:229

Dear Dmitri Nikolaevich! It’s now three months that I don’t have any news about you; I don’t know whether you received my two letters from abroad. I was in London all this time but didn’t find anything important there in my field. The spiritism of that place (and consequently spiritism in general, since its center is in London) is very much a pathetic thing. I saw famous mediums, I saw famous spiritists, and I don’t know which of them are worse. Among spiritists, the most prominent is “Wallace” [Eng.]—Darwin’s rival, in many regards a respected person, but in spiritism he became a humble student of Allan Kardec (with whom, thanks to a translation, the English are now becoming acquainted, and it turns out that they weren’t Kardec-ists, only because they didn’t know Kardec); moreover, this remarkable researcher, after having become a spiritist, considers it his duty to blindly believe any medium.22 As for the latter, the very best of them, Home and Kate Fox (now Mrs Jenkin [Eng.]) are unarguably ancestors of the recent spiritism. I became acquainted with them both. Both are ill and don’t function. Home says, “quand j’etais médium” [Fr. when I was a medium].23 According to the expression of an archpriest, it’s better “to respect the participants with silence.” I’m now in transit in Paris. I’m setting off for Egypt and, maybe, India. I’ll write from Cairo and await a reply. Be well. To P. V. Solovieva [November 1875]

PVSS, 2:14

Dear Mama! I have given up “the foggy shore of Albion” at last—not without regret, because my new friend Kovalevsky returned to London and met with me not long before my departure.24 I didn’t feel the slightest sign of seasickness during the two-hour crossing from Dover to Calais, in spite of the strong rocking and

1874–1876

tossing, which is very much a consolation since I’ll have to be at sea for three days. The day after tomorrow I’ll be in Italy, and in a week in Cairo, where I’ll take up residence. Paris put me in an excellent mood; I’m feeling perfectly healthy; in London I’d begun to get ill. I’m staying in a very good room on the fifth floor Rue de la Paix, Place de l’Opéra, close to all the noteworthy places in Paris. Today I received your letter from Kovalevsky in London (in an envelope, unopened). You probably sent it before receiving news about my voyage to Egypt. Why aren’t you writing anything about Papa, is he in Moscow or Petersburg? Be well. Affectionate kisses for everyone. Yours Vl. Soloviev To P. V. Solovieva Cairo, 18 November 1875

PVSS, 2:17

Dear Mama! Yesterday I learned that, at the same time I sent my last letter, the post office in Alexandria was robbed; my letter was probably also lost, therefore I’m writing another to you quickly, so you don’t worry. I’ve been in Cairo a week already. It’s not possible to find a better place to winter. The weather’s like May in our country; there are three or four rainy days the whole winter; the climate, as I’ve read, is especially helpful for illnesses of the stomach, lungs, and nervous disorders. Life here is a little more expensive than in London, but if the money from the ministry doesn’t delay, I hope to manage without assistance. I looked over almost everything here that’s remarkable. I climbed the Pyramid of Cheops (700 ft high) and descended into underground tombs, where it’s necessary to creep at a crawl through several tens of feet in complete darkness; I bathed in the Nile, and saw the actual Sphinx; all this within 10 versts [km] of Cairo over an excellent road. In Cairo itself I descended into Joseph’s Well [Cairo Citadel], also nearly 700 ft deep, looked over the main mosques, the magnificent museum of Egyptian antiquities, etc. The Russian consul, Lex, was in Alexandria all this time, and that’s why I haven’t gotten to know anybody besides the famous general Fadeev, who’s staying at the same hotel.25 If I’m not mistaken, a letter takes a little less than twenty days between Cairo and Moscow. Therefore I’ll write you without waiting for your reply. Be well. Kisses for Papa and everyone. Yours Vl. Soloviev

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

I’ll stay here until I learn the Arabic language, i.e., probably four or five months. After that, I’ll maybe return directly to Russia, for in western Europe there’s definitely nothing for me to do. I think that it will be better for you to address letters to me using the name of the consul here: Son Excellence Mr de Lex, consul général de Russie. Caire. Egypte; pour Mr V. S [Fr.]. To P. V. Solovieva Masr—el Cairo, 25 November 1875

PVSS, 2:18

Dear Mama! I’m withdrawing into the desert, away from the beautiful local places.26 When you receive this, I’ll be in Thebes, about 200 versts from here, in a wild and illiterate place, to which and from which the postal service doesn’t go, and it isn’t possible to get to any civilized state other than by foot. I’ll stay there for the month and upon return will feel an extreme need of so-called money, and so please send 200 rubles, if by Christmas time, according to your old-style [calendar], it won’t be possible for me to receive any from the ministry (which I’m asking you to find out about from the authorities holding it). However, I still have not received a single letter from anywhere; it’s necessary to address it to me using the name of the general consul thus: Le Caire. Egypte. A Son Excellence M. de Lex, consul général de Russie. Caire. Egypte; pour Mr V. S. Besides this, there’s nothing extraordinary. I hope you are well. The Sphinx conveys his profound greetings to Mama, with whom she, for some reason, considers herself to be in kinship. Kisses for everyone in order. Yours Vlad. Soloviev P.S. Prince Ra-Men-Hotep, born seven thousand years ago, today spends his time in the Bulaq Museum, “there where the yellow Nile, eternally alien to shadow, washes the cracked steps of imperial graves.” He repeatedly expressed regrets to me that he couldn’t get to know the much respected Misha, from whom he could have accessed much useful information regarding verbs in μι and the equivalence of triangles.27 However, he cordially conveys his greetings to all. To P. V. Solovieva Cairo, 27 November 1875

PVSS, 2:19

Dear Mama! My journey to Thebes, which I wrote you about in the last letter, turned out to be impossible. Upon leaving, about 20 versts from Cairo I was nearly

1874–1876

killed by Bedouins, who took me for the devil, and I had to spend the night on bare ground, etc., in consequence of which I turned back.28 If it’s not possible to speed up the dispatch of money from the ministry, then I’m asking papa to send 200 r. as quickly as possible. I will be obliged from next week on to live on credit in the hotel; a more inexpensive apartment in Cairo is not to be had. It’s necessary to send both monetary as well as ordinary letters to Egypt via Trieste and using the name Lex. If the money’s by bill of exchange, then the bill of exchange must be on Paris or London. Letters take about eight days through Trieste, but through Constantinople and Odessa more than two weeks, and besides, more often than not they’re lost. I’ve gotten to know a certain somebody here, he was in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—a wily Armenian but of no interest to me. I often see General Fadeev—a Russian bear type, however, quite an intelligent man. But I’m beginning to write like Ivan Alexandrovich Khlestakov. And so, farewell. Affectionate kisses for you and everyone. Vl. Soloviev To P. V. Solovieva Cairo, 28 November (10 December n. s.) 1875

PVSS, 2:20

Dear Mama! I’ve just now received the first letter from you. I’m replying on scraps, because there’s nothing with which to buy paper. I already wrote with respect to money, in any case I repeat: it’s necessary to send it through Trieste: use the name Lex. (Caire, Egypte, via Trieste. A Son Excellence M. de Lex, Consul général de Russie, pour M. V. S.). I’m completely well; it’s still summer here. The other day there was a storm with great rain, portending important political events, because great rains happen here once in fifty years. Meanwhile, besides a highly stupid war with the Abyssinians, there’s nothing. The viceroy had diarrhea, but it passed. Tell Papa there shouldn’t be an Eastern problem before 1877, and if there is, it’ll be of the mangiest variety, and in any case, all Europeans in Egypt are happy, besides the English. Be well. Kisses for everyone, and congratulations to Anna Kuzminichna [governess who lived with the Soloviev family for more than ten years]. Yours Vlad. Soloviev

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To P. V. Solovieva Cairo, 4 March 1876

PVSS, 2:23

Dear Mama! I’m hurrying to reply to your letter of 3 February. I hope you received the other letter, sent two weeks ago. I’m completely well and have never been sick. I moved from the hotel to an apartment, thinking that it would be less expensive, which, however, turned out to be a fanciful dream. I haven’t found food of any kind for myself in Egypt, and thus in eight days I’m leaving here for Italy together with Kalachovy (son of the archives director), who has been staying here all this time. Tsertelev is leaving even earlier. In Italy I’ll take up residence for a month in Sorrento, where I’ll write in quiet solitude, completing a work of a mystical- theosophical-philosophical-theurgo-political content, and in dialogue form.29 After that I’ll set off to Paris, where, for cleansing of conscience, I’ll work a little at the Bibliothèque Nationale and, after visiting London for a few days, return to Moscow through Kiev in July. I recently received a letter from Vsevolod, from which I concluded to my pleasure that he’s satisfied with his fate. Why have you written me two times about some kind of surprise and later reported nothing? I’ll be writing in good time to Lev Lopatin and also to Nadia, Anna Kuzminichna, and the children. Affectionate kisses for you, Papa, and everyone. A kiss for Pelagia. Yours Vl. Soloviev To P. V. Solovieva Sorrento. 20 March 1876

PVSS, 2:24

Dear Mama! After abandoning Egyptian soil on 12 March and safely voyaging across the sea, I arrived at Naples on the sixteenth, where I stayed two days, dispatching a telegram to you about sending money. From there I left for Sorrento with Kalachovy (with whom I arrived from Egypt). As you probably know, Sorrento is a small seaside town in sight of Naples and Vesuvius, noted for all kinds of natural beauties, which I haven’t yet been able to enjoy for reasons of continuous rain and stormy winds, characteristic of the month. I’m staying in a rather inexpensive hotel right above the sea itself, and thinking of remaining here to the end of April, the best month in Italy.

1874–1876

If for some reason you have not received my telegram (which would be very sad for me), I ask you to immediately send me money by draft transfer to Sorrento upon receipt of this letter, if possible to any Neapolitan bank, in the contrary case, as before, to Paris. Be well. As formerly, I’m healthy. Why aren’t you writing anything precise about Papa’s jubilee? Affectionate kisses for him and for all of you. I’ll be writing to the others tomorrow. Yours Vl. Soloviev To Mikhail S. Soloviev Sorrento, 8/20 April 1876

VSP, 136

Dear Misha! Congratulations on your coming of age, but I regret that on this occasion I can’t send you either a festive ode or even a long letter, for my hand is working poorly. Returning from Vesuvius two weeks ago, I fell along with my horse and wounded my knee, smashing both hands. I lay four days motionless, and even now am still barely able to walk.30 Be well, give my regards to Mikhail Ivanovich, whose letter, unfortunately, I didn’t receive. Yours Vl. Sol. To Ivan I. Yanzhul 9/21 May [18]76, Paris

VSP, 146–47

Dear Ivan Ivanovich! Although less than a year has passed since the time of our stay in London, such motley changes have transpired that for me that time appears a distant past; I’m hoping, however, you have not managed to altogether forget about my existence and will not be surprised by this letter. After many travels by sea and land and various ill adventures I have composed myself in Paris. At the beginning of June I’ll visit London, where I’ll maybe meet you, since it seems you were going for the summer. From ­London I’ll go to Prague, where I’m thinking of publishing my essay, after which I’ll hurry to Russia, for which I’ve been yearning a long time now. I could not, of course, draw out any positive results from my travels but on the other hand received many negative impressions—for example, that the East is a heap of old rubbish and new s—t, that Italy is the worst country in the world, etc.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

Our mutual London friend M. M. Kovalevsky sent me two of his works, it’s unknown from where, but he doesn’t write a line in reply to my letters ­addressed to his host, so I definitely don’t know what countries of our planet bear his voluminous body; but it’s necessary to know, since I left my books at his place. If you know or can somehow find out his place of residence, do me a favor and inform me. There’s nothing interesting in Paris now, if one doesn’t count the obscene affair of Rouvier as such. This radical deputy depicted the pagan god Priapus in front of five little girls in the garden of the Palais-Royale, for which they want to try him.31 I got acquainted with the famous Renan—the emptiest of babblers, and with bad manners.32 Be well, til next we meet. Convey my respects to your wife. Yours truly, Vl. Soloviev To D. N. Tsertelev Moscow, Neskuchnoe, 19 June 1876

PVSS, 2:233

I just now received your letter from Lipyagi, dear Dmitri Nikolaevich; I haven’t received the other one you write about, and for that reason haven’t written, not knowing where you are. I returned from abroad two weeks ago. I didn’t publish my work in French for various reasons, but after circulating it significantly and furnishing it with an appropriate quantity of Greek, Latin, and German quotes, I’ll publish it in Russian as a doctoral dissertation, for I have neither the capacity nor the desire to write any special work with this aim. I’m very glad both for you and for myself that you didn’t give up on Schopenhauer. Regarding your errand in Paris, I could only ask Renan (I didn’t have occasion to get acquainted with anyone else from this sphere); he told me only the French can write for academic prizes—maybe he was talking nonsense, since in general he produced on me the impression of a most vain liar. University programs are not sold in the stores. However, with all my attempts, I couldn’t even comprehend the general structure of higher education in France, and what Université [Fr.] means there. In general such a melancholy fell upon me in Paris that at the first opportunity, after quitting all business and study, I rushed to Moscow without looking back. I’ll come to Lipyagi at the end of July without fail. My wound has healed, although it still pricks me before bad ­weather—as though still present.

1877–1881

1877–1881 To D. N. Tsertelev [ January 1877,] Moscow

PVSS, 2:242

My dear friend, after arriving in Moscow the other day, I received your three letters together: everyone expected me to be coming here, and therefore did not forward them to Petersburg. The arrangement of public lectures on religion delayed me in Petersburg and met with great obstacles that were suddenly and unexpectedly removed, but not without hindrance—a finger in the face by one highly placed personage. I won’t stay here for long either; there won’t be a session of the ruinous society during my stay, but your wish will probably be fulfilled, since the representative is now my old friend Yuriev.1 As for your lecture, if you want to read it in Moscow (I suppose it would be more interesting in Petersburg), then it’s most convenient in this society—no special authorization is necessary—without any trouble. In the coming days your first article on Schopenhauer should be out in the Journal of the Ministry [of Public Education]. You probably saw the beginning of my dissertation in Russian Messenger. I would be very glad if you could come to Petersburg by the beginning of my lectures, i.e., by the fifteenth of January; I could even postpone it a week for you, i.e., to the twenty-second of January. There will be twelve lectures in all, of course for the benefit of the Red Cross but in part also for the benefit of the restoration of Hagia Sophia.2 If replying immediately, write to Moscow—in the opposite case to Petersburg, at the Red Bridge, Sobolev’s hotel. To Countess Sophia Andreevna Tolstoy (née Bakhmeteva)* Shpalernaya, 18 [St. Petersburg], 4 April 1877

PVSS, 2:199

I’ve just now arrived at Shpalernaya and am awaiting L., in order to deliver your letters to him, dear Countess.3 I spilled a few tears in front of the cold fireplace in the sitting room, but think that it will be very good for me here anyway. All is quiet and melancholy, as it is in my heart now. If it were only always possible to know what’s going on with you and not to be inventing impossible horrible things at night! Is Riurik well, and when are you going? Write me a few words before departure. I’ll be writing to S[ophia] P[etrovna] and V. from Krasny Rog.**4 * The widow of Count A. K. Tolstoy. Ed. note. ** Estate of Count Tolstoy. Mess. Eur. note.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

I stopped by at my brother’s and found various papers for me from the ministry—it’s good that I didn’t remain in Moscow—it turns out my post isn’t a sinecure at all—that’s nothing—un métier comme un autre [a job like any other], if only die göttlich Sophia [Ger. the divine Sophia] would keep to the background.5 Nothing’s decided yet in the wider world. They say in the coming days the guard is deploying; it must join the body of the western army at the ­Austrian border under command of the heir apparent.6 But these are only rumors, and meanwhile there isn’t even a manifesto. L. arrived just now, anguishing over you. He thinks you’ll have to stay in Moscow for a long time yet; however, it seems he sees everything in a dark light. Be well—and the gods preserve you. To D. N. Tsertelev St. Petersburg, 12 April 1877

PVSS, 2:235

I’m very much at fault before you, Dmitri, my friend, but it seems that my epistolary phobia is getting stronger all the time. However, not only don’t I write to anyone lately, but I don’t visit anyone either—I’ve become altogether a misanthrope. I’ve already begun my service on the scholarly committee. The ­sessions—a deadly bore, and the nonsense inexhaustible; it’s good that it’s not often yet. I’m occupying myself con amore [Ital. with pleasure] only at the ­library. The countess probably wrote to you about your issue. It seems there can’t be any obstacles. I’m staying for the time being at Shpalernaya together with Lesevitsky, since the apartment has remained reserved by the countess until the first of May. I just received a telegram about the happy arrival at Krasny Rog. They spent Easter and a part of Thomas Week in Moscow at the Slavic Bazaar.7 However, you probably had news from them yourself. How are your studies and state service? Write also when you’re going abroad. Since it’s not possible for me to get out of Petersburg earlier than the end of May, it’ll be more convenient to come to Lipyagi the second half of the summer, after your return from abroad. Please write. Cordial greetings to the princess. Congratulations on the war. Be well. P.S. I’ll send you a comedy written by me with the next letter—“Kozma Prutkov.”8 The countess (Tolstoy S. A.) and Sophia Petrovna found it amusing, laughed a lot, covering themselves with their cloaks.

1877–1881

To Countess S. A. Tolstoy 27 April 1877, St. Pbg.

PVSS, 2:200

… It’s essential for me to have news from you; previously L. served as a certain source, but now he’s left, and everything that was beautiful disappeared with him. I’m going now to Pustynka,* and after that, perhaps to Asia Minor, into the embraces of the plague and the Turks—in the capacity of volunteer or [war] correspondent of the Moscow Gazette; though I’ve already written to K ­ atkov (in reply to his proposal to write as correspondent from Petersburg, which is now completely senseless); all this is probably only “a chimera of light-hearted youth …”9 I have worked rather a lot these three weeks, written a fourth [dissertation] chapter, much more interesting than the previous ones, and have given it back for rewrite in order to read through it at Krasny Rog (if I find myself there instead of Asia Minor). Meanwhile I haven’t found anything special at the library. There’s much support for my own ideas among the mystics, but nothing like a new light; moreover, almost all of them have an extraordinarily subjective character, and drivel, so to speak. I found three specialists on Sophia: Georg Gichtel, Gottfried Arnold, and John Pordage [Lat. letters].10 All three had a personal experience nearly like mine, and this is the most interesting thing, but all three are rather weak in theosophy proper; they follow Boehme but are beneath him. I think Sophia spent time with them more for their innocence than anything else. Anyway, as a result only Paracelsus, Boehme, and Swedenborg turn out to be genuine, so that the field remains very wide open for me.11 I got acquainted a little with Polish philosophers—the general endeavor and tone are very nice, but there’s no positive content—on a par with our Slavophiles. I’m not writing about my service or about much else because I’m in a hurry. Our doves are well, and I’m thinking of taking them to Pustynka … To Countess S. A. Tolstoy 14 May 1877, St. Pbg.

PVSS, 2:201

Dear Countess, you will not believe how awfully much I love you and how difficult it is for me that I can’t come to your place soon; I count the days like a schoolgirl. * Estate of Count [A. K.] Tolstoy, near Petersburg. Mess. Eur. note.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

I just now received your letter by city post, which at first both surprised and very much scared me. I also received your previous letter and immediately replied; I’ll be very glad if my reply didn’t arrive, because it was very foolish. Was it really unpleasant, and not amusing, for you to read “Three Forces” in Messenger of Europe? …* I have a partial presentiment of what you will tell me, but I’m announcing beforehand that there cannot be anything in common between me and prudence, since my goals themselves are not prudent. No type of calculation will help here—“neither conjecture, nor the mind, but madness and luck can lead you to that country!”12 Therefore why do you accept an uncharacteristic role for yourself? In no way could I come to Pustynka; I’m vegetating in Petersburg, vegetating in the literal sense, for the snow’s at the point of freezing here, and instead of nightingales drunken philistines are singing, returning from Demidov’s garden. Lord, what vileness and melancholy! It seems I’ll not be going to Asia Minor; in any event, if I don’t die, I’ll be at Krasny Rog at the end of the month. Will the nightingales still be singing?13 I just received a letter from Dmitri. He awaits me. My relatives also await me in Moscow. So then, I’m obliged to be in three places at once! In spite of everything, I’m very cheerful. A great story very much gladdens me. A rumble growing, as in a sleeping sea Before a terrible and fateful storm— Soon, in martial dispute you’ll see The earthly orb start to churn its harm …14

To D. N. Tsertelev Kishinev [Moldova], 18 June 1877

PVSS, 2:238

After various peripatetics, which are not worth writing about, I finally left for the army on the Danube. I visited Krasny Rog for two days. Are you well, and was there anything peculiar happening with you on the night of the thirteenth or fourteenth of June? Some kind of devilry occurred there in my presence:

* Article by A. V. Stankevich, “Three Debilities: Three Forces. Vl. Soloviev’s Public Lecture” (April 1877).

1877–1881

your spirit appeared, and I don’t know what else. Owing to this we were all very much worried about you. They wanted me to send a telegram, which I did not do in order not to frighten you. I hope all this is nonsense. I’m now in Kishinev for receipt of a passport, and going on assignment early tomorrow morning. It’s hot here, and I’m exhausted from sleepless nights; therefore I’m not writing about anything in detail. Til the next letter. Be well. To P. V. Solovieva Bucharest. 28 June 1877

PVSS, 2:30

I doubt whether this letter will reach you, dear Mama. No proper communications exist out of here, the majority of letters are burned at the post office, telegrams go missing. I already wrote you two letters: one from Kishinev [­Moldova], another from here—they probably didn’t arrive. I’ve already been waiting here a week for money from Katkov, and, not able to wait any longer, I borrowed some today and am setting off to cross the Danube. I met Katya on the road from Yass to Bucharest and rode together with her for a few hours. They’re here now for a second month without any go-ahead and haven’t seen a single wounded soldier. They probably don’t believe the official information about our casualties at the Danube crossing among you back there. But it’s completely beyond doubt that at the Svishtovo crossing there were less than six hundred wounded and killed, and at Galatz nearly a hundred—far from the thirty thousand that they were jabbering about in Moscow.15 Convey to Papa that I’d be able to communicate some interesting things but prefer to do this when we see each other. Write to me meanwhile at Svishtovo in Bulgaria, at the HQ of the field army, to Colonel Skalon. Send it r­ egistered— ordinary letters definitely don’t arrive. What’s been happening there? What of Vsevolod and his illness? I’m absolutely healthy all the time. Yesterday there was an excellent storm here, after which it became cooler, but before that there was awfully hot weather. Congratulations to Papa on his name day, and to you on your birthday, kisses to everyone. Be well. It’s possible that I will return for good at the end of July, but it’s possible as well that I’ll come for only several days in September, and after that return again to Bulgaria. Don’t search for my correspondence in Moscow Gazette earlier than the middle of July. I embrace you affectionately, dear Mama, til we see each other. Vlad. Soloviev

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To Countess S. A. Tolstoy Moscow, 11 September 1877

PVSS, 2:202

There could be other reasons as to why I didn’t write to you, besides the one which you assume. However, I’m not surprised at all that you’re interested in me; I know that you’re interested in all subjects—both living and inanimate equally (sometimes I belong to the latter). I myself am now more than anything interested in my book, out of which something great is coming. I’ll send it to you as soon as it’s ready. It’s only a pity that I can’t destroy two chapters, written in winter, and as empty as my head at that time. Avec des apparences de bonté j’ai un coeur trés mèchant. C’est mauvais, mais je n’y pas puis rien [Fr. Neath the appearance of goodness, I’ve a very wicked heart. It’s bad, but there’s nothing I can do]. When an Englishman was reproaching him for some deception, a Chinese merchant replied, “I am a rogue—can’t help it” … [Eng.]. Farewell for a long while. I’m hoping we’ll have a better rendezvous—i.e., when I will be better. To Ivan I. Lapshin (from his notebook when he was seven years old)             PVSS, 3:167 September 27, 1877 My dear Vanya! Since your papa wants me to write you something instructive, and since I don’t know what paths you’ll take, I can only tell you a truth obligatory for all people and for all paths. Like a wave, the will of people vacillates, But there’s a sacred will that’s changeless. One vital idea—exceeding time and space Radiates with a beauty that is ageless, And a single Mighty Spirit goes on—immovable, Nimbly, complete with peace, interminable.16

Vlad. Soloviev To Alexander A. Kireev (ca. Easter) [1878]

PVSS, 2:95

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! The local university authorities had difficulty giving me their hall for the public lectures, probably finding that aula academica is intended more for

1877–1881

s­ tudent dances and public beatings of authorities than for discussion of dry materials. In view of this I am obliged to rent an auditorium for myself and finally settled on the credit society’s hall. But I don’t at all know how to do this. Meanwhile, I have to hurry, the lectures have been authorized for a long time, their content has become known through newspapers; declining to give them is both awkward and undesirable for me, and putting them off any more is also impossible, Easter is approaching. Would you be so beneficent as to add yet one more thing to the numerous rights you have to my gratitude, arranging the hall for me? In any event you can do this forty times quicker and easier than me. The price is all the same to me, even if it comes to giving back all the money collected. The time is Thursday and Saturday of this week, in the evening— however, if this is for some reason inconvenient, other days are also possible. Be so kind as to give me a reply. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To Olga A. Novikova (née Kireeva) 22 May 1878, Spb.

Russkii vestnik (December 1901): 473–74

Olga Alexeevna, after overcoming, by force of courageous spirit, the weakness of a drowsy nature today, I set out at ten o’clock in the morning (!!!) to Alexander Alexeevich [Kireev’s] but didn’t catch him, even at this impossibly early hour; he’d left at nine! Nevertheless, I’m hoping somewhere and sometime to catch up with him and will inform him about what ensues. But for the time being I can only convey what one individual uttered about me: “There’s that nihilist.” And another individual, having met me on Nevsky [Prospect] pompously notified me in front of an “astonished Petrograd” that to deny the eternity of fiery Gehenna is worse than denying God’s existence. This, of course, is harmless nonsense, since it relates to an abstract question, but if one recalls that various individuals also display such nonsense in other purely practical matters, then ça donne à penser … [Fr. that suggests]. But I notice that it’s time for me to end this letter. Til soon we meet. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To O. A. Novikova 2 June 1878, Spb.

Russkii vestnik (December 1901): 474

Olga Alexeevna, I met with Alexander Alexeevich and concluded from conversations with him that not only will I not be burned at the stake, but no other less radical means of destruction threaten me, of which I have the pleasure to

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

inform you. Fearing once again to evoke your displeasure with the character of my writing, I’m discontinuing it. Til soon we meet, always yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To Nikolai N. Strakhov 26 Jan. [18]79, Moscow

PVSS, 1:9

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! I’m writing to you from my sickbed—suffering from a fever as well as something else. Of course, even without this I would not have come to Petersburg but will now all the more abstain from it. However, don’t think that I’m committing myself “to foolishness, laziness, and passions”—on the contrary, just as in a healthy state, the hours of my solitude in sickness are also illuminated by the lamp of Epictetus.17 Forgive me for writing nonsense, but I have a high temperature. What are you doing, and why in Petersburg? Write if you have the time. We’ll probably see each other at the beginning of March; until that time be so kind—obtain my sinecure income with the enclosed letter of trust and send it to the following address:—to Moscow, Her Exc–cy Poliksena V. Solovieva, Denezhny Lane, Dvortsovaya Office Bldg—you’ll do me a great service. I have prepared several poems and an entire mystery play for you—but I’m afraid they’ll get lost at the post office. Be well. Greetings to whomever you come across. Yours always Vl. Soloviev To D. N. Tsertelev Moscow, 16 Feb. 1879

PVSS, 2:247

My dear friend Dmitri, I’ll come to Petersburg on the fourth of March for two weeks. I’m advising you not to stand on ceremony with N., but to send him as much as you consider fitting, after adding something for vodka. I’ll strive to carry out your instructions with respect to the Russian Messenger, but without a definite promise. Why don’t you give all you’ve written on Schopenhauer to Journal of the Ministry of Public Education?—this would be reliable income.18 I’m studying a lot in Moscow—however, reading more than writing. I’ll probably be finishing the dissertation by summer; consequently, I’ll be defending in autumn. By way of sacrifices, I worked out saving my lectures, and they’ll continue in the Orthodox Review.

1877–1881

In many respects, I feel rather poorly, but I’m not preparing to die. I’ve not been writing foolish poems lately, but then again, have begun three mystical ones. I’d like to holiday this spring in the lap of nature, but don’t know whether it’ll work out. Sophia Andreevna and S. P. probably despise me for the silence—tell them they shouldn’t. Convey my cordial greetings to Pr. Varvara Semenovna. Til we meet. Yours Vl. Soloviev To D. N. Tsertelev Neskuchnoe, 1 July 1879

PVSS, 2:248–49

I am living through a very sad time, Dmitri my dear friend. My father will apparently not improve anymore: he has adipose degeneration of the heart—an incurable illness—it seems Alexei Tolstoy died from it. For all my desire, I don’t know whether it will work out for me to come to Lipyagi this summer. I’m very busy now. The first (ethical) part of my dissertation concluded successfully in the last issue of the Russian Messenger, but I’m lost in the abyss of metaphysics, searching for a reply to Proconsul Pilate’s question, revived in our days by Marquisa N.19 At the same time, in spite of the sad circumstances, I’m producing various poetic nonsense of the following sort:     Resignation of the Sage Don’t ask: Why have all the flowers wilted? And why does gray darken our sky? And why gardens gaze, faded and stilted, Grieving in dimmed windows: Why?     Don’t ask: Why is the valley such muck?     And the mountain so slippery of slope?     And why is the fall wind out of luck,     Always howling and wailing sans hope? Don’t ask: Why do nature’s law and power Make your lady get mad and then rage? Fruitless words: at adversity’s hour, Who quietly sips tea and rum?—The sage.20

More successful, it seems, is an epic poem being composed by me now … a poem under the title “Love’s labor lost” [Eng.], the hero of which is my friend,

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

N., and with an epigraph from Pushkin: “The inconstant general didn’t distinguish himself in the heat of action.”21 I’ll report when I’m finished. At present, the most contrary moods coincide within me, and I represent a living example of the unity of contradictions. The other day I received very nice letters from Krasny Rog. It seems everything is happy there now; but for them the summer also began rather sadly. Be well. My deepest respects to the princess. Forgive me that I’ve held up your books for such a long time. I’m sending the invoice; the person to whom I entrusted this didn’t think to insure it; I’m hoping, however, that it will arrive this way as well. Write more often. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To D. N. Tsertelev Moscow, 3 Oct. [18]79

PVSS, 2:250

Dear Dmitri! I received your letter, the one in which you’re inviting me to come to Petersburg or to go abroad. Unfortunately, both the one and the other are impossible for me now, mainly because I’m definitely finishing my dissertation, which I’ll be defending without fail in February—if not with Vladislavlev, then with Struve in Warsaw. I’m hoping, however, I won’t have to resort to the latter extreme. What about your affairs? I wrote to you about Preobrazhensky and your pamphlet; don’t delay in replying. I spent several days in [the village of] Rozhdetsvino and want to go back again for a week; it’s very convenient to study there.22 Allow me to give to you a small errand: my brother, or the one known to you as Oscar Lambert [Vsevolod], will hand over 42 r. to you, which you’ll be so kind as to deliver (with greetings from me) to F. A. Banliarsky—I completely forgot about the rest of my debt. Write when you’ll be in Moscow. Greetings to S. A. and to S. P. What’s going on with them? Yours Vlad. Soloviev [note: Vladimir Soloviev’s father, Sergei M. Soloviev, died on 4 October 1879] To Konstantin N. Bestuzhev-Riumin [1880]

PVSS, 3:32

Dear Konstantin Nikolaevich! Without knowing who you have as dean, I’m sending you my petition and the just- finished dissertation. The book will be quite ready the day after tomorrow; I’ll send the necessary copies then.

1877–1881

Since my main official opponent received the greater part of the book back in December, and since it was published in the Russian Messenger over the course of two years, I hope that the faculty will find it possible to shorten the official period and allow me to defend on the last Sunday of March or the first Sunday of April. Incidentally, I am busy at the present time with drawing up a detailed program of philosophy for women’s courses, according to your wish. Apropos of this a thought came into my head, about which we’ll speak when we meet. I’m thinking to be in Petersburg in about five days; I overstayed my leave, all due to Katkov’s printer. In expectation of our forthcoming meeting I remain with the deepest respect yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To K. N. Bestuzhev-Riumin 7 March 1880, Moscow

PVSS, 3:33

Dear Konstantin Nikolaevich! I just received a letter with a second, insistent invitation from Nekrasov (dean of the Odessa faculty) to an appointment in philosophy and with the assurance that “the entire faculty is in favor of such an invitation.” I have decided to accept this offer, if at the next session of the faculty here attention is not turned to my moderate wish for an extra-ordinary appointment with senior lecturer salary, and a decision to petition the minister with this. I consider the further postponing of my reply to the Odessa faculty to be awkward. I’ll drop by your place Monday morning. With deepest respect, yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To P. V. Solovieva [1880]

PVSS, 2:34

All this time I have been and continue to be awfully busy, dear Mama: lectures at the university, lectures at the women’s courses, a public lecture on Dostoevsky, all of which I have to write word-for-word; otherwise they won’t authorize me to speak. Beyond that, S. P. was sick—a slight case of typhus; now, thank God, she’s better. I was at Vsevolod’s and also at Elena’s. Her address: at the corner of Nevsky and Bolshaya Morskaya, building 9, apart. 20. A kiss for Vera, something’s going on with her, poor girl; I recommended a good doctor to her. I also saw Katya with her fiancé. Will Nadia be coming with you to Petersburg? Tell her from me that this would not be for nothing. See you soon then. Kisses for you all. I’ll write to Misha when there’s time.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To Afanasy A. Fet* To Vorobievka, 10 March 1881, Petersburg

PVSS, 3:107

Apparently, you did not receive my letter from Moscow, dear Afanasy Afanasievich. Even then I thought, and now I suppose all the more, that publishing “Faust” earlier than autumn would be both difficult and disadvantageous.23 Both Nikolai Nikolaevich Strakhov and the countess share this opinion. I myself will be in Moscow for Easter, and later in various places; and Nikolai Nikolaevich will not take on the work of publication himself now. In general, it seems to me that publishing it would be more convenient in Moscow, where I am thinking of taking up residence by autumn, after finally leaving the Finnish Sodom.24 I completely understand your reluctance to busy yourself with the finishing touches on your translation and think that on the whole it’s so good that it can and should be published in any event. Of course, I will do everything that’s possible for me to, according to the instructions of the countess and Tolstoy and others, but some time is even necessary for this as well, all the more since the help of the countess is as valued as it is difficult to procure. In any event I hope to bring your translation to you ready for press at the end of spring or the beginning of summer. In expectation of our meeting, I respectfully remain yours truly Vladimir Soloviev To P. V. Solovieva [March 1881]

PVSS, 2:35

Dear Mama, I was very busy with public lectures, which you’ll surely hear about. I’d like to go to Moscow soon but don’t know how it’ll work out; there are various complications. I’m rather well, but very tired. I’m resigning from the ministry and thinking of abandoning Petersburg altogether. Be well, kisses for everyone. I’ll be writing to Misha. Vlad. Soloviev To Nikolai M. Baranov, Byloe, nos. 10 and 11 (May 1918): 333–3425 Governor of S. Pbg. [Late] March 1881 Your Excellency! When I asked for authorization of my lectures, I announced that I would not be speaking on politics. And I did not speak on politics. I did not say a word * The letters to A. A. Fet were published in Northern Flowers (1901), 146–59. Ed. note.

1877–1881

about the events of 1 March themselves, and spoke only about forgiveness for the criminals in the form of a declaration on the part of the sovereign that he stands on the Christian principle of all-forgiveness, constituting the moral ideal of the Russian nation. The conclusion of my lecture was approximately the following: “the resolution of this matter does not depend on us, and it is not for us to judge tsars. But we (society) must tell ourselves and loudly declare that we stand under a Christian banner, and serve one God—the God of love. Then we will be able to reunite spiritually with our nation—then it will recognize its soul in our thoughts and will see its life in your light.” Out of eight hundred listeners, of course, many could incorrectly understand and directly misinterpret my words. For my part I can cite many wellknown and respected persons who, as I know, correctly understood the meaning of my speech and can support this with evidence. With perfect respect, I have the honor to be Your Excellency’s humble servant. Vlad. Soloviev After the lecture, an unknown gentleman insistently demanded I declare my opinion on the death penalty, in reply to which I, rising to the stage, said the death penalty in general, consonant with the principles laid out, is an unforgivable matter and should be abolished in a Christian state. To Emperor Alexander III [March–April] 1881

Byloe, nos. 10 and 11 (May 1918): 33626

Your Imperial Highness, Most Gracious Sovereign! News about the speech made by me on 28 March has doubtlessly reached the ears of Your Highness, probably in distorted form but in any event exaggerated. Therefore I consider it my duty to convey to Your Highness the matter as it was. Believing that only the spiritual power of Christ’s truth can conquer the power of evil and destruction, manifest today in such unprecedented dimensions, believing as well that the Russian nation in its entirety lives and acts with the spirit of Christ, and believing, finally, that the Tsar of Russia is the representative and exponent of the national spirit, the bearer of all the best forces of the nation, I decided to confess this, my faith, from a public pulpit. At the end of my speech I said that the present onerous time gives an unprecedented possibility for the Russian Tsar to declare the strength of the Christian principle of all-forgiveness and to accomplish by this a most great moral deed, which will raise His power to previously unattainable heights and confirm His power as

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

upon an immovable foundation. In sparing the enemies of his power, contrary to all the natural feelings of the human heart, and to all the calculations and considerations of earthly wisdom, the Tsar will stand at a superhuman height and by this deed alone show the divine meaning of Tsarist power, show that the highest spiritual force of the Russian nation lives in it, because not a single person may be found in the entire nation who could accomplish more than this deed. This is what the essence of my speech consisted in and what, to my extreme regret, not only was interpreted inconsistent with my intentions but also in direct contradiction to them.       Your Imperial Majesty’s faithful subject Vladimir Soloviev To A. A. Fet PVSS, 3:108 To Vorobievka, Post. Sta.; Krasnoyarskaya, Chernigov Prov., 18 August 1881 Dear Afanasy Afanasievich! I’m not justifying myself for not delivering “Faust” to you yet but only want to set forth mitigating circumstances. I was going to come to your place with the manuscript several times this summer so we could work on it together, but each time was compelled to postpone my intention, not losing hope of fulfilling it later, and thus kept your ms. at my place. On the other hand, Countess Tolstoy (she of the red snout) did not fulfill her promise either, not just due to absence of energy, but mainly because all summer she had to look after her niece, who had fallen dangerously ill. I’m thinking of coming to see you in a week, but in any event sending by registered mail one of the two copies of “Faust” I have at my place. If it doesn’t work out for me to come again, we’ll see each other in Moscow—this is now definite. Please convey my respects to your wife. Strakhov has probably already left for Constantinople. Until we meet. Respectfully and truly yours Vladimir Soloviev To N. N. Strakhov [ca. October–November 1881]27

PVSS, 1:12

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! Here it will soon be a month now that, although I exist, I don’t have a legal foundation for my existence, for the Department of the Ministry of Public Education isn’t sending me any documents. If this signifies that my discharge

1877–1881

has not yet come about, the absence of a formal reason (causa formalis) for my existence will be compensated to some degree by the presence of a material reason (causa materialis), in which case I’m also giving you the enclosed letter of trust. However, “salary” received, even if for a whole two months, does not constitute the content of life.28 As for the latter, I am rather zealously and even with inspiration writing my large book, “The Archpriest’s Letter,” as you probably saw in Rus’. It’s changed for the better, it seems. From among our mutual acquaintances I see L. Tolstoy, from whom you of course have news, Aksakov, and Fet, who is publishing his “Faust”; and sometimes I converse very pleasantly and amusingly with N. F. Fedorov, who has perfectly charmed me, so that I think that even his strange ideas are not far from truth. And with respect to “dust,” this was an allegory. I altogether hope for and rejoice in advance at your arrival for Christmas in Moscow. Vous me manquez [Fr. I miss you], as people have the habit of saying in French. Be well and come soon. I’ll be sincerely glad, even if you don’t bring me any pay apart from the content of your intelligent conversation. With respect, yours truly Vlad. Soloviev If my discharge has come about, please make Georgievsky arrange the quickest dispatch of the documents to me in Moscow—Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg.29 To K. N. Bestuzhev-Riumin [ca. late 1881 or early 1882]

PVSS, 3:36

Dear Konstantin Nikolaevich! I have decided to leave active teaching, not only out of desire for leisure of philosophical writing but also for other more obligatory reasons, which make my decision irrevocable. If it doesn’t cause you difficulty, I would ask that you distribute the reprints of my “Readings” that were supplied to you by Kireev to whomever you wish, or destroy them at your discretion. I’m sending photographs and cordial greetings to the students in my courses. Pelgorskaya* wrote to me about the lectures; I’ll reply to her separately. I don’t know what and where I’ll be now, but I’m

* Elizaveta A. Pelgorskaya—auditor, Higher Women’s Courses; published lectures on philosophy; today she is chief of Stavropolsky Women’s Regional Training College. Ed. note.

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a­ waiting a lot of things ahead. I’m hoping we’ll see each other sometime, only not in Petersburg. Be well and don’t bear ill will against me. Respectfully, yours truly Vlad. Soloviev

1882–1885 To Nikolai F. Fedorov [ January 1882]

PVSS, 2:345

Dear Nikolai Fedorovich! I read your manuscript hungrily and with spiritual pleasure, dedicating all night and part of the morning to this reading, as well as the next two days, Saturday and Sunday; I thought a lot about what was read. I accept your “project” unconditionally and without any discussion: it’s not necessary to speak about the project itself, but about certain of its theoretical foundations or presuppositions, and also about the first practical steps to its realization. I’ll bring the manuscript to you at the museum on Wednesday, and we should meet someway at the end of the week, in the evening. I have much to tell you. But meanwhile I’ll say only one thing, from the time of the appearance of Christianity, your “project” is the first movement forward of the human spirit on the path of Christ. For my part, I can only acknowledge you as my teacher and spiritual father. But your goal is not to make proselytes, or to found a sect, but the common cause of saving all humanity, and for this it’s necessary first of all that your project become generally acknowledged. What are the most proximate means that can lead to this—that’s mainly what I would like to speak with you about when we meet. Be well, dear teacher and consoler. Cordially yours, Vladimir Soloviev To N. F. Fedorov [Summer 1882]

PVSS, 2:346–47

Dear Nikolai Fedorovich! My friend Tsertelev left for Petersburg back in May and has not returned to his village yet; and I do not know when he will return—therefore (apart from certain other impediments) it won’t be possible to fulfill my wish to see you in Kerensk. So we’ll see each other in Moscow, for which I am leaving even now. But I should like to speak with you before that time.

1882–1885

The matter of resurrection, not only as a process but also according to the goal itself, is something conditional. Simple physical resurrection of the dead, in and of itself, cannot be the goal. Resurrecting people in a condition where they strive to devour one another, or resurrecting humanity at a degree of cannibalism, would be both impossible and completely undesirable. So, the goal is not simple resurrection of the personal composition of humanity, but restoration of it to a proper form: namely, in a condition such that all its parts and separate units do not exclude and do not replace but, on the contrary, preserve and supplement one another. You are, of course, in perfect agreement with this: if the proper form of humanity (what it will be at the resurrection of the dead and the life of the age to come) is still only desired and not actual, it is in no way possible to reason about a proper image for actual humanity. This is because, if proper humanity (in which God is everything in everyone) does the will of the Father fully, so that God himself acts in human actions here, directly and inseparably, so that there is no need of any special actions of God, then it is altogether otherwise in actual humanity, which does not do the will of the Father at all and is in no way the direct expression and form of Divinity.1 Inasmuch as our actions do not correspond to the Divine Will, for us this Will obtains its own special action, which appears for us as something extrinsic. If humanity would by its activity put a screen in front of Divinity (as in your future psychocracy), then God would really not be visible behind people; but this does not exist now, we do not put a screen in front of God, and therefore Divine grace peeps out for the sake of our reality and, moreover, the more it does so in alien (miraculous) forms, the less we ourselves correspond to our God.2 If a grown son is in solidarity with his beloved father, so much that in all his actions he does his will, without needing any extrinsic instructions, for a child, the father’s will of necessity appears to a certain degree as extrinsic force and incomprehensible wisdom, from which he requires instructions and guidance. Meanwhile, all of us are children and thus have need of the child guidance of extrinsic religion. Consequently, in positive religion and the church we not only have a rudiment and prototype of resurrection and the future Kingdom of God but also a present (practical) path and actual means toward this goal. Thus, our enterprise must have a religious, not a scientific, character and must lean on the believing masses, not on the reasoning intelligentsia. This is just a brief justification for you of the feelings I was recently expressing to you in Moscow. Good-bye, dear teacher. God preserve you. Concern yourself more with your physical health, remaining within you in abundance. Are you assembling

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the manuscripts? It would be good to prepare them by autumn for the lithographer. Fondly and respectfully, yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To Vasily P. Fedorov [Summer 1882]

PVSS, 3:4–6

I’m sincerely sorry that, owing to my nomadic life, I was able to receive your letter of the twenty-eighth of April only the other day. I’m hurrying to reply point by point. (1) I’ll be sending you everything that will be published by me; the old articles are hardly to be found—however, I’ll look. (2) I definitely don’t know when and how long I’ll be in Moscow. (3) What with my vagrant life, your desire with respect to philosophical lessons seems to me unfeasible. However, maybe God will lead us to see each other some time—then we’ll talk.    I’ll reply briefly to your question about the mechanical worldview. (4) Everything that exists has a mechanical aspect as well, everything existing is also incidentally a kind of mechanism; attempts to prove everything existing is only a mechanism, to reduce everything only to the single mechanical aspect, have been and always will be untenable.    In particular, objections to the hypotheses of Darwin are being raised more and more by naturalists, and at the present time, although the opinion that natural selection in the struggle for existence is considered as having been established, it does act on the change of organic forms, but far from to the degree and strength that Darwin thought, and can in no way serve as a full and single explanation for the entire development of the organic world.3 (5) As far as I know, there are no new followers of Hegel in Germany, but the old ones, about whom you speak, are repeating the same old thing. (6) The human soul, being itself eternal (in potential), can accommodate the eternity of divinity as well. (7) By perfect human being, “in which all the fullness of the Deity lives bodily,” I mean Christ, and these words do not belong to me but to the Apostle Paul.4 (8) The conversation about the relations of church and state is especially remarkable in Brothers Karamazov, and even more the short story: “The Grand Inquisitor.”

1882–1885

(9) While it is said, “God is love,” it is not said that God is justice. Justice is not repudiated by this but is only acknowledged as a form, an instrument or means of love, and not in itself, about which there’s more detail in “Critique of Abstract Principles”—I don’t recall in what chapter. And it is not I and not Dostoevsky who say that love alone is unconditional, and it alone remains—but the Ap. Paul and John.5 As for evildoers, the restriction of their freedom does not contradict love, if it is done not just for the security of others alone but for the benefit of the evildoers themselves as well, with the goal of their correction and rebirth. (10) Russian belles-lettres have little in common with philosophy. However, I can indicate to you Don Juan by Count A. Tolstoy, and “Two Worlds” [Dva mira] by [the Parnassian poet A. N.] Maikov. I don’t know whether you have foreign languages, and good translations are few. A new translation of Goethe’s Faust by A. Fet appeared only recently, the first part has come out, and the second will soon—I recommend this to you. (11) I was seriously interested in spiritism for some time and had occasion to become convinced in the reality of many of its phenomena, but I consider the practical study of this subject very much harmful, both morally and physically. (12) My articles: “Philosophical Principles of Integral Knowledge” has remained unfinished. As to the meaning of the position “nature is alive,” I won’t undertake elucidating it for you in a few words. I’ll try to find and to send you a copy of my “Lectures on Godmanhood,” where this is elucidated to a certain degree. Incidentally, these “Lectures on Godmanhood” precisely constitute a published adaptation of the lectures on religion that I gave at the Society for Devotees of Spiritual Enlightenment. (13) Any artistic work can serve as a visible example of “Idea” (as against “concept,” on the one hand, and “phenomenon,” on the other)—for example, the statue of the Belvedere Apollo [The Belvedere Torso]: first, it does not express a simple physical phenomenon as just another piece of marble; second, it does not express a simple concept, for example, the concept of beauty, masculine strength, etc.; it is something more—namely, a fixed and an incarnate ideal of beauty and youthful strength in a living image.6 The perception of this ideal by the mind of the artist who realized it is an example of intuition. By “content” of unity I mean a connection by virtue of which a lot or many become one. If a certain regiment is a unity, then all that connects the members of the regiment to each other is somehow the content of this unity: the

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

same kind of weapons, regimental devotion, common military merits of the regiment, etc. In general, nothing of this is included in the abstract concept “regiment”; consequently, in it [i.e., the concept] the unity expressed by the word “regiment” is bereft of its content. (14) The place cited by you, it seems, is sinning with a gallicism. The sense is that our knowledge only gradually becomes adequate to its subject (truly existing) but has still not achieved this in its present situation. (15) Up to now my published works have only a preparatory character. They ought to be read in the following order: (1) “Crisis of Western Philosophy,” (2) “Critique of Abstract Principles,” (3) “Lectures on Godmanhood.” I will try to send you the last; a transition to positive teaching is already contained in it. I’m concluding for the time being in order not to delay my reply, even so, already badly late. May God give you every success in the good enterprise. If you write, make it to Moscow: Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg. Anyway, this is the most reliable address. Please write your full name. Vlad. Soloviev To Alexander N. Aksakov [2 November 1882]

PVSS, 2:276–77

Dear Alexander Nikolaevich! Alexandrovsky* wrote me you wanted to send me the first pages of Hellenbach to look through, but I didn’t receive them.7 Or you found the translation satisfactory, and not necessary for me to redo—all the better. And what about the translation of the English books on hypnotism? My lady friend translator awaits news. And what of our poor Ivan Osipovich [Lapshin]? I would be very grateful if you would write to me about him; he’s probably not in a position to write himself. I have another small request to make of you. The editorship of The Theosophist [Eng.] considers me an obligatory subscriber for a second year now; this would not yet be a tragedy, but it’s sad that issues 5 through 10 of the journal don’t get to me, while invoices, on the contrary, do with extraordinary accuracy and, moreover, with increasing geometric progression, so that inevitable bankruptcy threatens me. To avoid this, if you correspond with E. P. Blavatsky sometime be * Alexandrovsky—a student who was enthused by the mysticism and philosophy of V. S. Soloviev. Alexandrovsky died in the middle of the 1880s. Ed. note.

1882–1885

so kind as to convey to her, along with my deepest respect (and with respect to the receipt of foreign journals), the following. Not holding a position at any institution and having no permanent place of residence, I am left fully to the arbitrariness of postal bureaucrats who act relative to me not according to law but according to grace, in consequence of which I sometimes receive an issue of the journal but for the most part do not. Therefore, for all the desire to keep receiving the theosophical journal, I must decline subscription, and I will strive to send what’s owed by me to the editorship according to the invoice at the first chance.8 What’s going on there in Petersburg? Can you manage to write to me through Ivan Sergeevich, this is better than by post, for officials of the post office are noted more for their inquisitive desire for knowledge than for modesty. There’s nothing to report from Moscow—everything’s going fine. Be well. Regards to all who remember me. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To Ivan S. Aksakov [Late December 1882]

Russkaia mysl´ (Dec. 1913): 769

Dear Ivan Sergeevich! Polemic does not come easy for me. As soon as I prepared the circulated reply to Engelhardt in order to send it to Anna Fedorovna [Aksakova, the poet Tiutchev’s daughter], and then reread it, hesitation overtook me. I recalled a wise aphorism of Kozma Prutkov: “If somebody’s neck hurts, don’t rub their heels.”10 It seemed to me that talking about sacraments and hierarchy with people for whom God is only metaphor and Christ only a human being of exemplary conduct, or a model revolutionary, means precisely rubbing the heels of an ailing person. I thought about this and threw all this history into the fireplace. And now I’m writing another reply, quite short, but it seems landing right on the neck. As for the circulation of E’s article, I am not at fault for this. I could not give anything to L. Tolstoy, since it has been a long while now since I have seen him, and he is “like a pagan or publican” to me.11 Yet there’s a young man in Moscow, M. S. Sukhotin, who, having a religious itch, begged it from me to read, but copied it and now circulates the copy himself; the original is with A. M. Ivantsov.12 I have not seen Strakhov yet; when I see him, I will try to fulfill your wish. When my second article is to be composed in type, be so kind as to send me the galleys: I want to make several insignificant insertions and will return it for printing. The third article is turning out rather substantial. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To I. S. Aksakov [February 1883]

Russkaia mysl´ (Dec. 1913): 8013

Dear Ivan Sergeevich! Some vicissitudes befell my speech in memory of Dostoevsky, as a consequence of which I can only deliver it to you for issue no. 6 of Rus’. The point is that a prohibition to speak arrived at the time of my giving it, so the speech itself is understood as allegedly not having been given at all, and Petersburg newspapers are obliged to keep silent about the evening of 19 February although there were more than a thousand persons there. In consequence of this police prohibition the trustee Dmitriev, who authorized the speech, desired to have the text of it for his own defense as quickly as possible, and I was obliged to promptly copy it for myself. But it would be impossible to send this hieroglyphic copy to you, and now I am obliged to copy it once again—the speech is rather long, plus I am in addition disconcerted and wearied by the requiems and funeral of an old friend [I. O. Lapshin]. Thus, don’t even think about placing the speech in no. 5, and I will bring it to you in Moscow myself. But it’s necessary to publish it as an article, not as a speech, and under another title. And all this—[due to] our friend K. N. Pobedonostsev.14 Now about your letter, which I received just before my departure from Moscow. I am sincerely grateful for your friendly inclination toward me, in which I completely believe and which I’m hoping to preserve always. I am very grateful as well for the openness with which you address yourself to me in this letter. Its content calls forth some explanations on my part. In order not to complicate the matter, I will limit myself to the establishment of two facts and one categorical statement: (1) I have thought over the content of the article on Cathol. and the divis. of the churches since last spring, i.e., almost a whole year. (2) After agreeing with you that it’s presently unsuitable according to form and tone of exposition, note: I did not reject a single one of the views expressed, either before you or Al. Mikh. [Ivantsov-Platonov] (3) In speaking of reconciliation with Catholicism, I am supposing that Catholicism is not false in principle, because it’s not possible to reconcile with falsehood. I see in Catholicism an erroneous application, but an application can also change.15 Having such a view, in ­conscience, I really have to defend Catholicism from what are in

1882–1885

my opinion unjust accusations, and therefore rumors about my apologia of Catholicism cannot frighten me and hold me back from reading the article to my friends both in Moscow and Petersburg. I’m hurrying so as not to be late for the postal train. With sincere respect, yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To N. N. Strakhov PVSS, 1:14 18 Feb. 1883 I dropped by, dear Nikolai Nikolaevich, in order to call on you this evening to go to Million [St.] no. 30, where, first, Fet is going to be, and second, I might read my article on Catholicism, which frightened Aksakov. I hope you will be free. In any event, til we meet in the near future. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To I. S. Aksakov [March 1883]

Russkaia mysl´ (Dec. 1913): 82–8316

Dear Ivan Sergeevich! When a bad odor strikes you, whether from forest bugs or from carrion, you hold your nose and walk past it. But when a bad odor comes from putrefying wounds on your brother’s body, of course you overcome your repulsion and don’t start to expound on sickness but try to help the sick person. It isn’t in my power to make the divided churches whole, but it is in my power and my obligation not to set their wounds with polemic but to ease them with a word of justice and reconciliation. If I do not know how to say the word, let someone else say it, but no one speaks. If my path does not lead to the goal, let them indicate another, a better one, but no one indicates anything. There’s only denunciation of catholic sins and enmity against papism. But denunciation does not ease, and enmity does not heal.17 By their fruits you will recognize them.18 What are the fruits of our ­thousand-year polemic against Catholicism? We’ve not helped the West, we’ve not vivified the East, but have infected ourselves with an alien disease. In our enmity toward Catholicism, not only Greeks but our own people as well have become keen on falsifying documents, as for example, the Kazan Religious Academy in its translation of the acts of the ecumenical councils. But I do not

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

want to give in to polemic. It will be more useful to indicate the basic point of our misunderstanding with you. It seems to me you look only at papism, and I look first of all at the great, holy, and eternal Rome, a fundamental and inalienable part of the universal church. I believe in this Rome, bow before it, love it with all my heart and wish for its restoration, with all the strength of my soul wish for the unity and wholeness of the universal church, and may I be cursed as a parricide if I ever pronounce a word of judgment upon the sanctity of Rome. The change in the article proposed by you is possible only if I transfer the question altogether from the religious sphere into the social-historical sphere, where it will be possible to speak not about eternal Rome itself, but only about its temporal phenomenon.19 Such a point of view will perhaps appear less abstract to you, yet in my opinion this is in fact an abstraction. But that’s enough arguing. I’ll have to write another article for you, but will publish the first one abroad in French, after having corrected and expanded it in a whole treatise. Until we meet at the end of this week. The speech is being rewritten. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To A. A. Fet To Vorobievka, Post. Sta., Moscow, 8 Apr. 1883

PVSS, 3:109

Dear and esteemed Afanasy Afanasievich! I frequently think of you and miss you, and I’d like to find myself in Vorobievka a little sooner. But it’s likely I won’t be able to come sooner than June. Since you reproach me for my silence (as it’s been conveyed to me), then here it is: I’ve written you. In addition, I want to tell you how bitter and insulting it is for me, and how ashamed I am of a Russian society in which nothing has been said in print up to this time either about Faust or about Evening Fires [Vechernye ogni]. I’m writing letters of reproach to Strakhov and Kutuzov; if they don’t move on this, I’ve decided to put my own business aside and write a small review, at least for my own assuagement. Are you well, and what are you doing? Write a couple of words. Cordial regards to Maria Petrovna and to all yours.20 To A. N. Aksakov St. Petersburg—27 Apr. 1883

PVSS, 2:279

Dear Alexander Nikolaevich! I left my book unfinished for the summer and started on the foreword to Hellenbach. But this is not a “work,” just a foreword—not more than one print

1882–1885

sheet, and I’ll send it to you in the first days of May. But much more time is needed for a “work,” i.e., for something thorough. What was the desire behind your polemicizing with me because of several words on wanton spiritism, words that don’t relate at all to serious people like you and Butlerov, which was also stipulated by me? And why did you ascribe to me such an inconsistency as the allegedly “great truth” of spiritism is that “it’s unsuitable.” The truth of spiritism, in my opinion, is only in the fact that it acknowledges the necessity of an objective basis for religion; but the “truth” that it in fact offers—i.e., the phenomena of spirits—turns out to be unsuitable, because, in the first place, it’s insufficiently objective, and in the second place, it’s bereft of any inherent religious significance. However, I replied to you with a few words in Rus’, and if you don’t like my entire reply, then at least you will, I’m certain, like its conclusion. I’m hoping that this little polemic will not upset your friendly disposition to me, which is very dear to me. Yours truly               Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915):42 [May–June 1883, from S. A. Tolstoy’s estate, Krasnyi Rog] My dear Misha! Write me something about yourself, and also inform me as to where to write our pilgrims in the ruinous Caucasus. It seems I’ve almost recovered. But I did actually have typhus; my hair even started to fall out, and I had to shave my head. This so augmented my beauty that the youngest of the children here, Riurik [Georgi Khitrovo], asked all the folks with a worrisome look: “So, is Soloviev a monster, truly a monster?” I’m now rewriting a continuation of “The Great Debate,” sending it to Aksakov by the fifteenth of July. I’m reading Polish and Italian. Peaceful currents are sometimes interrupted by bloody incidents. The large yellow dog named Rog recently ate a similarly yellow, but small, squirrel. Veta [Khitrovo] was fussing with her favorite squirrel in her arms, when suddenly and unexpectedly she dropped her to the ground. Rog darted with the speed of lightning, bit off her head, and with a furious appetite swallowed the torso, wiping himself with the tail instead of a napkin. Words of the poet [Lermontov] are recalled involuntarily: The sky is clear There’s lots of room beneath the sky down here

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically But man alone does not live at enmity Continuously, in vain. What do I see! Yes, fear for man!21

I’m waiting for Levushka [Lopatin], but he’ll probably sing out: Don’t wait for me, don’t wait in vain.22

Send me Mama’s address soon. I want to write to her by the seventh of July. Have you been in Moscow, and how’s business? Before my departure someone bought something, but alas! For only 12 r., which I’m saving for you—it’s not worth forwarding—I’m awaiting a long letter from you, my dear boy. Maybe we won’t see each other earlier than October. An affectionate embrace, and cordial regards to Olga Mikhailovna and to all in Dedovo. Sophia Petrovna [Khitrovo] the same. She thanks O. M. for the letter and will write. Yours Vlad. S. To A. N. Aksakov [August/September 1883]

PVSS, 2:283

Dear Alexander Nikolaevich! After my last letter to you (month of May) I fell ill with typhus: the ill health I wrote you about was the beginning of it. Over the summer I got better, and have recently worked a lot; by the way, I also finished the foreword to Hellenbach.23 I would have finished earlier, if a disappointing delay hadn’t occurred: after the typhus, I was leaving for Moscow, still semi-ill and very weak. On account of natural absent-mindedness, deepened by this sickly condition, I forgot to take with me the foreword that I had begun, and meanwhile was certain that I had taken it. When I wanted to get to it in August, I looked for it a long time; I finally wrote to my brother in Moscow to search for it in my papers. It wasn’t in Moscow, and I couldn’t find it when I first arrived. All this took about three weeks. And what’s more, your cousin, along with his archpriest, caused me trouble; I had to defend myself factually from false accusations.24 Thus, I finished the foreword just today—it didn’t come out as thorough as one would like, but it’s a little something anyway and, it seems, stated and written in a more lively fashion than my previous philosophical works. Without any news from you, I’m not certain whether you’ve remained with your previous

1882–1885

intention; please inform me quickly by letter to Moscow, where I’m going after tomorrow (as before: Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg.). I’m thinking of coming to Petersburg for a brief time in the middle or at the end of Sept. So—til we meet. But first write me, how’s Vanya Lapshin? Give him a kiss for me. Regards to the Butlerovs and to all good acquaintances.25 Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev P.S. Having only the one copy, I’m not going to send the manuscript until there’s news from you. To I. S. Aksakov [September 1883]

Russkaia mysl´ (Dec. 1913): 84–8626

Dear Ivan Sergeevich! You’ll receive this around the feast of John the Divine [“repose”: September 26], so first of all best wishes on this day. I received your letter long ago, but Rus´—just yesterday. I don’t wish to resent you and Al. Mikh. [Ivantsov-­ Platonov] for my article, mutilated without my consent and almost reduced to a mess to read. But there’s one thing that I resolutely cannot leave as is. I didn’t believe my eyes when I read the remark at the end of 20. Not only is an absurd and immaterial assertion that I never made anywhere ascribed to me (about chairmanship of the popes at the ecumenical councils), but then caustic conclusions and allusions to my authorial unprincipledness are deduced from this absurdity, falsely ascribed to me. You know my relationship with Al. Mikh., and it is precisely an enemy who wrote this remark, and moreover an enemy unashamed of the means of attack. The “chairmanship of the popes,” the “personal presence of the popes”—but where and when did I ever talk about this? There’s nothing like this in the single phrase in which the chairmanship at the ecumenical councils is recalled by me; it’s only said in this phrase (article no. 14, pg. 34) that “Roman legates chaired the ecumenical councils, and eastern monks spoke as allies of the western hierarchs.” The chairmanship of Roman legates, for example, at the Fourth or at the Sixth Ecumenical Council is an unquestionable and publicly known fact. But where’s there a personal presence here, where are all the councils here? Chairmanship at the ecumenical councils was spoken about in the previous article, but the opposite of what Al. Mikh. ascribes to me. I’m glad I kept the proof sheet. I’m sending it to you: read the underlined place and show it to Al. Mikh. I’ve written an essential reply and demand its immediate publication. Don’t be offended by this word; this is not a legal demand but a moral and

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friendly one. I consider you and Al. Mikh. as people without fear and reproach, consider your journal as the most unsullied in Russia. But the mistake made— accidentally, I believe—must be corrected: it’s not personal; the writer’s conscientiousness is suspect, and if the manifest untruth of suspicion will not be pointed out, readers’ trust may be lost. It doesn’t matter if no. 19 is ready now: my reply is so short that it can be preprinted on a separate slip of paper, as you did with Chicherin’s statement.27 But without fail in this issue. I retained only what’s most essential in my reply and will publish it in any event. You reproach me for inaccuracies. If you mean factual inaccuracies (it’s only worth speaking about these), then only one factual inaccuracy is indicated in all the remarks; true, an awfully crude one—but it turns out to be the expression of Al. Mikh. Indeed, it’s sooner necessary to correct this one. You also reproach me for enthusiasm. The point is in the subject of enthusiasm. I’m not ashamed of my enthusiasm. And I even warned you a year ago. I wanted to take exception to something in your letter about fetishism, practical-ism, etc., but I’m postponing it til we meet. I have to ponder over the ending of my article: it comes out oddly. But I’ll probably find something less disputatious for you than the great dispute. Of course, the publication of my reply is also here a conditio sine qua non [Lat.]. But enough about this. I hope you had as good an autumn as here recently, and I hope that life in the countryside helped Anna Fedorovna’s health. Convey to her my cordial regards. I’m counting on leaving Moscow on 1 October. So then, see you soon. Respectfully, yours truly Vlad. Soloviev Show this letter to Al. Mikh. Keep the manuscript of the article, and the proof sheets as well. To A. A. Kireev [Moscow,] Prechistenka, 10 Oct. 1883

PVSS, 2:102

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! I thank you for the good letter. I’m not averse to a polemic with you: in any event this won’t be a polemic in the bad sense of this word. I also agree completely that to expound on theological subjects is more convenient in Rus´ than in New Times. But the point is that I. S. Aksakov, it seems, is frightened of my “Catholicism” and at the same time a little confused and vexed by the unseemly turn given to “Great Debate,” with his passive participation—and all this forces him to hope the questions raised by me quickly founder somewhere. For my part I was so quick-witted and courteous that I resolutely announced to him a

1882–1885

discontinuation of “Great Debate” in Rus´. Although it should not hinder your article, replying is awkward for me now. Therefore, wouldn’t it be better for you to give your article least of all a polemical character—to exclude from it all that would demand a direct and immediate reply? And then, if I publish “Great Debate” in a separate book, it will be possible to debate with you at leisure in a foreword or in an appendix, or else even in the text itself. As for the journal of the Slavic Society, I’ll gladly write something about nationality and nationalism for you, and I think that we won’t be debating here. Incidentally, what you wrote to Countess S. A. [Tolstoy] concerning Bulgarian affairs—gave me true pleasure: I’m in agreement with this kind of Slavophilism—I’m awaiting publishing news from you. I’ll probably have to visit Petersburg, but when—I don’t yet know. My external affairs are also poor. I haven’t seen any of our mutual acquaintances here besides Aksakov. Be well. Anyway, I hope that you’ve gotten better since the month of May. I clasp your hand affectionately. Respectfully, yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev [Autumn 1883]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 43–44

My dear Misha! Please inform everyone about my leaving for three weeks to a month (Sophia P. is ill—seriously but not dangerously)—inform the following via note: the Baratynskys (Malaya Nikitskaya St., Federov’s bldg.) and Mrs. Polyanskaya (Ekaterina Ivonovna), also Malaya Nikitskaya, at Egorya on Vspole, Nozhina’s bldg. And I’d ask you to drop by Aksakov’s and tell him police surveillance has been instituted on me (probably at Pobedonostsev’s insistence), and my passport was taken away here, but returned later. Therefore, he shouldn’t reproach me if my postings (articles, etc.) are late or arrive by indirect method. Maybe it’s all based on a misunderstanding. More than anything else, it’s amusing to me. I’m thinking of coming to Moscow in a week for a day or two. Be well, our regards to Olga Mikhailovna. Yours Vlad. Lopatin, Shenshin, etc., will probably be notified by our family. I telegraphed Mikh. Iv.28 If my manuscript doesn’t get to Aks. on time, ask him to print a correction to the misprint in my last article in the next issue. What’s printed as coal [uglerody] should be carbohydrate [uglevody]—inquire on what page and line. Thanks, dear brother, be well. Vlad.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To A. N. Aksakov St. Petersburg, October 1883

PVSS, 2:284

Dear Alexander Nikolaevich! I wanted to safeguard your publication against an erratum that found its way into my foreword published in Rus´ (I also looked to see if it had found its way into the sheets sent by you, and it had). A crafty quibbler of a proofreader put some coals [uglerody] in place of my carbohydrates [uglevody] (pg. 28, second column from the top). If you’ll be reading the proofs yourself, do not allow these coals in, and if not you yourself, then tell whomever necessary. And if it’s already late, append a list of errata, and the coals with them. Otherwise some other literary trickster will find fault. I remember how much trouble one omitted comma caused me in the title of my master’s dissertation. Once bitten, twice shy.29 Incidentally, Varvara Ivanovna descended upon me today. It seems she definitely wants to exhaust me to death, just as she did the late [P. D.] Yurkevich. And what use is this to her? If you have any influence with her, please block this criminal intent. Be well. A kiss for Vanya. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To I. S. Aksakov [October 1883]

Russkaia mysl´ (Dec. 1913): 86–8730

Dear Ivan Sergeevich! After long reflection I arrived at the conclusion that it’s essential for me to finish the “great debate” in Rus´, essential for both you and me, as well as for the matter itself. An unmistakable rumor is being spread about me—that I have gone over to Latinism. I would not consider it shameful to do this by conviction, but it’s precisely my convictions that do not permit anything like this. I’ll use a crude comparison: imagine that my mother’s at daggers drawn with her sister and doesn’t even want to acknowledge her as a sister. Is it possible that I should give up my mother and go over to my aunt in order to reconcile them? This is absurd. All I must do is to suggest with all my power to my mother (and to my confreres) that her opponent is in any case her legally born sister and not a …, and in any case, with all her old sins, a well-bred woman and not a …, and that it’s better and more noble for them to give up old scores and be for the same thing. Speaking without allegory, here’s what I am “troubled” about:

1882–1885

(1) That the representatives of our church not consider the clerical dispute of East and West resolved in the sense of an unconditional judgment of the western church, for the judgment of which they do not have any plenary power. (2) That they not blow up disputatious points to absurd and fantastic dimensions. (3) That they surrender their “denunciatory” and polemical theology, which by name alone betrays itself now, to the archives and in place of judicial and military relations toward the western church permit solidarity and familial relations in the religious, theological and clerical spheres, leaving secular politics for the time being to ministers and governors-general. A moral change in our relationship to the western church will be the first step of a Christian politics, the substance of which is the fact that it issues from moral sentiments and obligations, but not out of interest and not out of self-conceit. A fraternal relationship to the western church is contrary to our natural interests and our self-conceit but is therefore precisely obligatory for us morally. There’s not even a mention here either of any outward union, even flowing from a compromise of interest, and in the concluding article that I want to give you, there will be expressed a resolute judgment of all past unions, both general (Lyonnaise, Florentine) and even more specific (Brest, hitherto, unfortunately, existing in Galicia). In desiring that this article, by the way, free me from the accusation of unilateral Latinism, I wish by the same token to remove from you the accusation of publishing my articles. With the indicated conclusion there will be nothing prejudicial in them, nothing contrary to Slavophile principles. But in the meantime I am examining the edifying little articles that I spoke to you about and won’t delay in sending you the first of them for no. 21. I don’t know how much time I’ll spend in Orel. I telegraphed you about dispatching me the honorarium for the published articles (I took the last honorarium in April). If it’s inconvenient to transfer it to a bank, send it as a cash letter. I arrived here unexpectedly without money, and for the time being am living in debt. I hope to work a lot in Orel. If (as I can foresee) it comes to staying here about a month, during this month I’ll come to Moscow for a day or two. So, til then. Be well. My best regards to Anna Fedorovna. Yours truly Vl. Soloviev, Orel, Hotel “Berlin”

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To A. A. Kireev [1883]

PVSS, 2:103–4

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! I have to apologize for the belated reply again. Though Countess S. A. Tolstoy told me she wrote you twice, and since she does not always write in a sufficiently definite manner, here’s the requested piece of information about S. P. She won’t be traveling abroad. According to the local chief doctor, Zakharin, she’s ill with general neuritis, or neuritises. One of my friends pronounces the word nevrity [neuritises] divided thus: ne vri ty [don’t you lie]. It is possible, of course, that the aforementioned chief doctor erred, but it seems to me in the given case he did not.*31 The illness isn’t dangerous but may be very lengthy and requires immobility. I’m writing a little article about nationality for you. I don’t know how it will appear to you. I acknowledge nationality as a positive force, serving the universal (supranational) idea. The more a certain nation is devoted to the universal (supranational) idea, the stronger, the better, the more significant it is itself. Therefore, I am decidedly an enemy of negative nationalism or national egoism, the self-deification of nationality, which in essence is just as disgusting as a one’s own self-deification. I take the second commandment unconditionally: do not make idols for yourselves, neither any likeness, etc. But the old believer Slavophiles (to which you do not belong)** make an idol precisely out of nationality, and raise the incense of their verbose and shallow phrases before it. If only they’d think about this, that it’s not at all original—they who take such pains about distinctiveness. What could be less distinctive, less original, less national, than this eternal talk about distinctiveness, originality, nationality, to which patriots of all countries devote themselves? They don’t want to understand a simple thing: to display their national distinctiveness in practice it’s also necessary to think about the matter itself, to strive to resolve it in the very best way, and in no way the most national. If nationality is good, then the very best resolution will also come out as the most national; if it isn’t good, then the devil take it. But patriots then ­suddenly

* The chief doctor [arkhmedik] should not be taken for a diminutive of Archimedes, just as it does not follow to think an assistant to [Dr.] Botkin should absolutely be called Subbotkin [Saturday, Sabbath]. If you do not like these puns, report them to N. N. Strakhov—he’s a fan of nonsense. [VS] ** Of course, Soloviev was mistaken in this. From the time I began my activity writing on public and social affairs (1870s), I did not deviate from my Slavophile ideals. A. A. Kireev’s note.

1882–1885

jump up demanding, for example, that the church question be resolved not ad majorem Dei—but ad majorem Russiae gloriam, not on religious and theological grounds, but on the grounds of national self-conceit. In this case, perhaps, you’ll recall that “patriot” rhymes with “idiot.” It seems I’m beginning to curse, and this is contrary to my rules. So it’s necessary to stop. However, I’m certain even you agree with the form, if not the essence, of my judgment. In the article, the form is different. Be well. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To I. S. Aksakov [November 1883]

Russkaia mysl´ (Dec. 1913): 88–8932

Dear Ivan Sergeevich! I was, against my will, very gladdened by your letter. Although I am not working very much, working to deadlines exhausts me awfully. But now I am not hurrying and can give a final trimming to my last article without i­ nterruption. In the manuscript that I was going to send you today, the place about “an Emperor” had already been excised, not that I reject this idea but because, laid out briefly and in fragments, it could actually evoke crude and incorrect conceptions. But there’s nothing crude in the essence of this idea. One need recall that such a widely embracing principle as a “World Emperor,” “Universal Primate” etc., appears first of all as a banner or as a symbol, and every symbol, if it is separated from its ideal and living content, is something material and coarse.33 For example, what can be more crude than a cross: a stick over a stick! However, don’t think that I perceived something offensive to myself in your remark. This is impossible now because the idea of a world monarchy does not belong to me but is the eternal expectation of the nations. This idea inspired thoughtful people in the Middle Ages, among them Dante, and in our century Tiutchev stood for it, a man, as you well know, of extraordinarily subtle mind and sentiment. In the full edition of “The Great Debate” I intend to lay out the idea of a worldwide monarchy for the most part in the words of Dante and Tiutchev.34 As for the confusion of Russian readers and the joy of Catholics concerning my articles, the former grieves me more than the latter. I fully acknowledge our essential solidarity with Catholics and fully believe in our visible future reunification, and thus the approval of Catholics—our future brothers and allies in the common Christian cause—is without offense to me. The attention of Bishop Strossmeyer is without offense as well because with all his unilateral

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Latin zeal (a common sin) he is, as far as I know, a much respected man and a good bishop. I completely understand and approve your decision not to allow yourself further polemic and to leave the final word to yourself in Rus´. If, contrary to expectation, there’s something in this, your last word, requiring a reply on my part without fail (in mutual interest), it will remain for me to object to you somewhere else. But I don’t foresee and don’t desire it at all. To A. A. Kireev 12 November 1883

PVSS, 2:105–6

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! Various troubles and my moving have interfered with my replying to your good letter earlier, and thanking you for the package. Of course it is possible to hand over our Old Catholics to the archive, all the more so that you completely correctly reduce the question about Old Catholics to the more general question about “Vatican dogmas.” Herein is our principal discord in the entire matter as well. In your opinion, these “new” dogmas—i.e., “infallibilitus” and “immaculata conceptio,” to which you also join the “filioque” [Lat.]—constitute heresy and deprive Catholicism of the significance of church in the true meaning of this word.35 In my opinion these dogmas are neither new nor contain in themselves any kind of heresy either in essence or formally and, consequently, cannot take away from Catholicism the character of true Church either, since true church-ness does not depend on more or less progress in the revelation and formulation of dogmatic particularities but depends on the presence of apostolic succession, on orthodox faith in Christ as perfect God and perfect man, and, finally, on the fullness of sacraments. All this is found identically both in our country and among Catholics; consequently, both we and they constitute together one holy catholic and apostolic church [from the Nicene Creed], notwithstanding our historically temporal division, which does not correspond to the truth of the matter and is thus all the more sad. Therefore, I resolutely reject the opinion, ascribed by you to me, that a universal church does not yet properly exist. On the contrary, it exists both in eastern Orthodoxy and in western Catholicism. As for Protestantism, its historical and moral equality in rights with Orthodoxy and Catholicism does not yet give it any right within what is a properly ecclesiastical and m y s t i c a l sphere. Detached from apostolic succession, unsure in the confession of godmanhood and deprived of the fullness of sacraments, Protestants find

1882–1885

­themselves outside the Church, whereas both we and Catholics are within the Church. I set all this forth in more detail in the concluding article of “The Great Debate,” which it seems [I. S.] Aksakov has decided to publish in order to have the last word as his in this regard as well. Though the greater part of my conclusion was written before reading your article, you will find an indirect reply to your main remarks there as well. Thus, there is for the time being no need of direct polemic between us. As for Transactions of the Slavic Society, as I already wrote you, I will send the article on nationality with pleasure, as soon as I manage to write it.36 I agree in the essence of the matter with your “profession de foi” [Fr. profession of faith], only I don’t know how it will appear to Catholic, constitutional, and non-Russian Slavs. However, you are not attacking anyone, and it is even very good if they would attack you for this. Be well and be cheerful. I clasp your hand ­affectionately. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To A. N. Aksakov [1883]

PVSS, 2:290–91

Dear Alexander Nikolaevich! I have a request for you, in explanation of which I should set forth two circumstances. I published two articles in New Times in the summer of this year. The honorarium for the first was sent to me, but I did not receive an honorarium for the second—the more extensive one—probably because the editorial office was in doubt relative to my place of residence. This is the first circumstance. (2) The other consists in the fact that in the last years of I. O.’s [Lapshin’s] life I had a custom (which I wish to hold to in future as well)—of making small monetary gifts to N. My request flows from these two circumstances. Could you send someone to the office of New Times with the enclosed letter of trust and, having received the honorarium coming to me (about forty rubles), insert it into the enclosed note (excluding small change) in N.’s name, then seal it and convey it to her (without telling her that you know the contents). Of course, it would be simpler to send it to her directly from Moscow, but alas! Not everything simple’s possible; and recently I’ve had to recall certain critical moments in the life of Job …

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

However, I’m not resting on festering matter and am even going to publish a few booklets. Whether I’ll indeed begin, however—I don’t know, I’m crossing out and rewriting everything. Maybe I’ll come to Petersburg in the middle of December, but—maybe not. It seems Ivan Sergeevich is closing up shop. And there’s a reason. He pronounced the receding of Slavophilism for three whole years, but it’s fallen to me to inflict a final blow to this doctrine—a coup de grâce [Fr.]. Incidentally, a friend of Khomiakov and Kireevskii died here—Alexander Ivanovich ­Koshelev—the last representative of the old Slavophile coterie. What are you doing? Has “Individualism” come out into the world? I h­ aven’t seen it in the newspapers.37 Be well. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To A. A. Kireev [November or December 1883]

PVSS, 2:107

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! Yesterday I sent you an article on nationality, but I fear that it will disappoint your expectations. I definitely have nothing against pan-Slavism, but we will in no way meet on the church question, and for me everything is reduced to it: no matter what I begin to write, it’s always one conclusion: caeterum censeo instaurandam esse Ecclesiae unitatem [Lat. but I think there is to be restoration of a united Church]. However, even from a pan-Slavic point of view, it seems to me, ça donne à penser [Fr. that suggests]: but for all that the Slavic question is—Russo-Polish, i.e., Orthodox-Catholic, Greco-Latin, Byzantine-Roman, or as you like. True, Aksakov, whom you reference in your last article, sees the essence of Slavophilism in spiritual and societal solidarity between Russia and the rest of the Orthodox-Slavic world. But where, however, is this Orthodox-Slavic world? Who are these Orthodox Slavs, besides Russia? Are the Bulgarians excommunicated from the church? Are the Serbs, who allowed the destruction of the church among them in a most shameful manner? Whatever the case, you won’t publish my article without proviso, and I, of course, fully agree with this. But don’t make any changes besides the place I noted. Also, please don’t divide the article, though it’s a little long for Transactions. If you decide to publish it, please leave me a few reprints, which you’ll send to Moscow as well. Be well. Inform me about my “nationality.” Yours truly, Vlad. Soloviev

1882–1885

To A. A. Kireev [Moscow, late 1883]

PVSS, 2:110

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! Of course you can cross out the phrase about [N. Ya.] Danilevsky, but in that case it’s also necessary to change what’s said about [K. N.] Leontiev. I leave this to be done by you yourself. Your agreement with my basic views very much gladdens me, but it’s in vain that you think our view is generally Slavophile; at least Aksakov is definitely distancing himself from me and doesn’t approve of you. All the worse for him. Alexander Alexeevich! I’m over thirty-one and starting to be weighed down by idleness; won’t you devise some practical occupation for me (besides professor, for I don’t want to return to it)? L. Tolstoy is now publishing a new book under the title “What Do I Believe? [V chëm moia vera?]. One of my friends, who read it in page proofs, says that he has never read anything more brazen and foolish. The essence of the book is embittered polemic against the idea of the eternal life of the soul, against the church, the state, and the social order—all in the name of the Gospel. The Apostle Paul is called a “crazy kabbalist” who completely perverted Christianity. Of course, this book will be prohibited, which won’t prevent its dissemination in public, but will make its refutation in print impossible. Be well. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To N. N. Strakhov 1884, January 13

PVSS, 1:16

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! Accept my belated thanks for the book you sent, and also (as a reader) for your two excellent little articles on Turgenev and Evening Fires.38 As for the biography, I won’t be scolding you for it, since I read it in one night with much pleasure, but I heard many are displeased with it, allegedly for its dryness. I don’t see this. In general it seems unjust to me to grab people by the throat and demand from them what they don’t at all have in mind to provide. If you wanted to write a full, multilateral biography of Dostoevsky at your leisure, it would be possible to demand you observe due proportion between Dostoevsky’s intrinsic significance and his extrinsic life in the history of Russian thought and philology, which you really do not have in sufficient relief. But you only wanted to

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

gather personal literary-everyday recollections (and had to gather quickly, on a deadline)—I read you from this point of view and remained satisfied. Additionally, the full publication of your recollections is accompanied by the letters of D. himself, which I haven’t read, but which probably supplement your outlines very much. I’ve heard you’re writing on spiritism, promising me new pleasures. I read your article on physiology after the typhus, still sick and with watery brains, and later didn’t get to see Russian Thought and couldn’t reread it. If you have a reprint—send it, please. I forwarded an article to Kireev on the invitation to the Varangians [Vikings] for the journal edited by you. He insistently asked me for this article, but whether it will be decided to publish it—I don’t know. Be well and don’t forget us. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To A. N. Aksakov 14 Jan. 1884

PVSS, 2:285

Dear Alexander Nikolaevich! Imagine—the Popov who came to you with a letter from me, along with an ardent desire to become acquainted with spiritism, died all of a sudden three days after that. Thus, he can now acquaint himself with spiritism directly and in situ. I haven’t seen any publication about Individualism either in New Times or in the Moscow Gazette. I heard that there was a review in the St. Petersburg Gazette, but anyway it seems to me it would have been necessary to publish one in both New Times and the Moscow Gazette as well. I could get one into the latter if you want. It wouldn’t be a bother for Vagner to write a review in New Times as well.39 I don’t know whether you sent copies to the editorship of any journals. It seems to me one ought to—of course, not to those from which one can possibly expect only a rebuke in advance—there’s no need to ask for this. But it would have been possible to send it to Russian Messenger, to The Citizen, to The Week, and to Russian Riches. Maybe you have already done this—in that event, forgive me for the unnecessary advice. N. N. Strakhov is writing against spiritism. Incidentally, on the opponents of spiritism. The major one here—is [D. D.] Home. He published some sort of lampoon against you. He didn’t even hint at this to me, and well that he didn’t. However, I don’t consider him morally

1882–1885

responsible; like all these mediums, he’s more an instrument than an individual. Be well, Alexander Nikolaevich, a kiss to Vanya from me and my regards to mutual acquaintances, and do not forget Very truly yours Vlad. Soloviev To A. A. Kireev [ January 1884]

PVSS, 2:116–17

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! Everything you wrote in your last letter is completely justified. But my question properly related to the point that you come to only at the end of your letter, leaving it without examination. And I think it better to lay aside this conversation til we meet. I’m sending you seven copies of my “Christian politics”—for you, for M. N. Ostrovsky, for T. I. Filippov, for Princess Volkonskaya, for S. A. Feoktistovaia, and two for Strakhov (one for himself, and the other for Stakheev, who sent me his novels).40 You probably see these individuals and won’t have difficulty with the conveyance of this little booklet. These are only reprints from Rus´, but I would very much like to publish a full book, i.e., twice the size of the current one. These reprints are authorized by the secular censor and free of the religious censor. There isn’t anything else contrary to the censor in the proposed supplements than what has already been authorized. Nevertheless obstacles are possible. Without agreeing with me on particulars (if I’m not mistaken) in your amicably polemical article in Rus´, you arrive, however, at the conclusion that my reasoning on the church question is useful and desirable. And so I hope that you’ll show me friendly cooperation for an edition of the book here in Russia, for I would very much not like to turn abroad. In any event, I request that in about three weeks, after inquiring at length from those one should, you please inform me whether I can proceed with printing the book without great risk. For I can’t financially afford to create fireworks. I received an insistent invitation from A. G. [Anna Grigorievna] Dostoevsky to read something at a literary evening, but I’m definitely declining. Basta! [Ital.]41 Be well, dear and respected Alexander Alexeevich. All the same, thank you very much for your good, and justified, letter. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To N. N. Strakhov March 2, 1884

PVSS, 1:17–18

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! First of all, about squabbles. Such is the order—both of the world and of our life—inter feces et urinas nascimur!—sed, to which I myself am adding, illic morari nefas [Lat.].42 Kireev telegraphed me to appeal to you. So then, could you send the correction to the article about me to New Times from the editorship of Slavic Transactions (in no. 2870, of 24 Feb. P.S. But maybe it isn’t worth it? Decide yourself.), and [tell them] I do not have any destructive schemes against our clergy—in a word, a factual excerpt from the note I sent you. As for the latter, I’m asking you to correct two expressions in it. And namely, in the middle, closer to the end, I have: “And our local Russian church, long ago bereft of canonic administration and no one lawfully representing” and the like. There should be: hierarchic in place of lawfully. And right after that is written: “So then, if a correct resolution of the church question is not given to us on the path of power, then we should search for it on the path of freedom.” In place of path of power should be path of authority. Be so kind—make these corrections. Something else needed to be corrected, but I’ve forgotten already. I would very much like to see a reprint of my article, and if there aren’t any, be so kind as to order that several copies of February’s Transactions be sent. I haven’t been receiving your letters on spiritism regularly. Incidentally, on spiritism. Allow me to propose a question that you are quite competent to settle, for you are: (1) a zoologist, (2) a literary critic, and (3) lately studying spiritism. So then, tell me, why does Horace call the medium ibis, and the safest kind to boot: Medio tutissimus ibis.43 In exact translation: O Medium! Most safe ibis. You want to know about my work. I’m publishing two booklets: (1) on Dostoevsky, a part of which is newly written, and (2) “On the Religious Foundations of Life”—I’ll remain silent about the rest of my labors, since they still lie in portfolio with the gilded inscription: collection of the unfinished (d’inachevé).44 I definitely don’t agree with what you write about Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. In Dostoevsky there was a certain lack of candor or insincerity (an exclusivity, so to speak), but only of a shell, which you speak about so excellently; yet he was capable of breaking and discarding this shell, and then much turned out that’s genuine and good. But in L. N. Tolstoy the lack of candor and insincerity was deeper—but I don’t wish to enlarge upon this: in the first place, in view

1882–1885

of your feelings toward him, and in the second place, in view of Lent, and in the third place, in view of the commandment: do not judge, which I continue to understand in a moral, and not in a juridical, sense. However, besides the personalities, I should supplement your general position a little, that the whole point is so that a thought be carried through into life, embodied in reality. It seems to me it’s still necessary to know: is a thought worthy of embodiment? Otherwise, if a thought comes into my head to walk around in circles in front of a society of people hardly acquainted with me, or to grab at the legs of dancing ladies, then I will do excellently if I abstain from the embodiment of such a thought. And here, for example, you’re now probably cursing me for the nonsense that I’m writing to you, but I write this perfectly sincerely. Forgive me, be well, and til we meet—without fail. All yours Vlad. Soloviev

To N. N. Strakhov [1884]

PVSS, 1:20–21

Now I’m writing to you about myself, dear Nikolai Nikolaevich, and even asking a favor. I received a letter from Anna Grigorievna, who requests insistently that I participate in a literary evening in memory of F. M. [Dostoevsky]. I telegraphed a conditional agreement, but I’m afraid that she’ll take my telegram in the sense of an unconditional agreement; and in the meantime I was reminded of and then realized in my imagination both the dress coat and the lecture hall of the Credit Association, as well as the “well-disposed” public. I finally decided not to go to Petersburg and not to lecture on that evening: I don’t feel myself sufficiently young for that kind of publicity now. But this subjective reason for my decision will be insufficient for A. G.; it’s necessary to indicate an extraneous reason. And in fact it’s inconvenient to absent myself from Moscow now, when I have sick people here (don’t forget, that I’m a doctor of philosophy). And in about ten days I’ll write to A. G. on this topic, but I’m asking you to develop and support my arguments on your own when you meet with her. I received the first volume and at the end of it saw—to my considerable distress—my words at the gravesite.45 The distress here relates properly to awful misprints: in place of divine race [rod Bozhii] they put divine slaves [raby Bozhii], as a result of which the entire meaning’s lost. This, of course, is a trifle, but even now I can in no way accustom myself to proofreading crimes.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

For some consolation to A. G., I intend to bring together in supplemented and corrected form everything I had to say over these three years as regards Dostoevsky and to publish this in the form of a separate booklet. Of course, this will only be “as regards” even in the aggregate, because for proper and full evaluation of Dostoevsky one has to be, besides everything else, a literary critic, but God has not granted me that. And if you, a premier literary critic, have limited yourself now only to “memoirs,” my rightful fate is “a point of view and a little something.”46 I fully approve of your intention to abstain from inveterate contribution to Rus´. For if you become a journalist, who’ll be a writer? As regards Mendeleev’s opinion that the literary period has now concluded, you ask: what period has begun?47 It seems to me the reply is evident: if the literary or philological period’s ended, a speechless period’s begun. Of course, speechlessness far from signifies the “silent life” Pobedonostsev prays about. On the contrary, all sorts of inarticulate sounds, both of howling and of squealing, as well as roaring, are totally sufficient. There just isn’t a free and clear human word, mastering the self, conscious of the self. The other day I read Tolstoy’s “What Do I Believe?” Does a wild beast roar in a deaf forest? Yesterday I received Kozma Prutkov’s collected works, which only just came out, and with a portrait and facsimile of the author. Be well, dear and respected Nikolai Nikolaevich, and don’t be dejected. True, not everything ends up as local rubbish. Only don’t fall for speechless religion—that’s even worse than speechless literature. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To N. N. Strakhov [Winter 1884]

PVSS, 1:22

Now’s the time, dear Nikolai Nikolaevich, to inform Anna Grigorievna [Dostoevsky] of my declining the invitation to lecture. I’m writing her today that due to family circumstances I can’t absent myself from Moscow. And, if you can, drop in on her and tell her on your own more definitely about my illness (neuritis) and so on, as I asked you in the last letter. Well, Nikolai Nikolaevich, I read the whole first volume [on Dostoevsky]. Ah! And where’s that real figure that you’re talking about? I only see someone’s dirty laundry. But is my figure defined by my laundry? Maybe I haphazardly bought a ready-made shirt in a shoddy store! Maybe my first cousin-once-­ removed made me a gift of his old drawers! Where’s my proper figure here? But

1882–1885

then the figure isn’t the main thing, it’s the person, and you’ll in no way guess this correctly, even by the very best laundry. And I thought that a collection of letters would complete your “memoirs.” But it’s come out the other way: what you had of interest has completely sunk into this sea of unnecessary squabbles. I’m speaking completely openly with you, because I respect you and am fond of you. I received the January issue of Slavic Transactions. Ah! Orest Fedorovich Miller declared himself a confessor. I hope that this is true and that by Lent he shall be confessing his sins, and that the merciful Lord will forgive him. We too shall forgive him in a Christian way. Yet all this is vanity. But I also have a serious thought: how about you, Nikolai Nikolaevich, coming to Moscow for Easter? For a long time now you have wanted to be at the Kremlin for early mass, and it seems you haven’t yet fulfilled this desire. Easter this year is not early, 8 April. Everything’s most favorable. Besides Ivan the Great, you’ll probably even find Lev Tolstoy in Moscow. There will even be dii minorum gentium [Lat. lesser gods of the nations]. Fet is remaining here for Easter in order to bestow eggs on his peasants, the little ones. So then, til we meet soon. Isn’t that so? Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev Convey my greetings with gratitude to D. I. Stakheev, as well as one of two books, which A. A. Kireev will convey to you; the other’s—for you. To N. N. Strakhov 19 October 1884

PVSS, 1:19

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! My Mansi and Athanasius the Great have maybe gotten lonely for me, and therefore I ask you to tell them that I’m going to Petersburg and to lie at rest peacefully.*48 I have for my part gotten lonely, both for them and for you. God willing, we’ll see each other at the end of this or the beginning of next week. I’m writing and publishing. I’ll bring what’s published, but I’ll communicate something to you here from what’s written, and namely verses inspired by Athanasius—not by the Alexandrian, but by the Vorobevski-an and * This is about the books V. S. was reading at the Imp. Public Library in the Juridical Department, of which N. N. Strakhov was in charge. Ed. note.

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­ liushchikhinski-an Athanasius [Fet].49 This poem appeared apt to me, as well P as to others, and if so strict a critic (of me) as you also approves these verses, I’ll have to agree with Fet’s opinion, that they go “immediately, to a weekly readers’ collection at least.” Today, at the same Afanasy Afanasievich’s, I met up with L. N. Tolstoy, who, relying on some German person, as well as on the basis of his own understanding, proved the earth doesn’t revolve around the sun but stands immobile and is the sole “solid” (sic) body known to us; the sun and other luminaries are only pieces of light, flying above the earth, for the reason that light doesn’t have weight. I don’t have anything against this in principle, but regarding its foundations, I doubt it, and advised him to turn to Bredikhin (the astronomer), and also to write to you, but he objected that you’re too enamored of science and will argue.50 I also think that, though you’re enamored of him not less than of science, you’ll not turn out anyway to be as credulous as the philistine to whom “a faithful person from Taganrog wrote” about various scientific discoveries. Til we meet, dear Nikolai Nikolaevich. To A. A. Fet: Having flown over on swans’ wings …**51 Vlad. Soloviev To A. N. Aksakov PVSS, 2:286 24 Dec. 1884 Dear Alexander Nikolaevich! Unfortunately, I won’t manage to drop by your place, since mass ends not sooner than one in the afternoon, and at three I must be at the train station, but I have not yet packed. Let Ambrosius await my return, since he is too big, and I’m burdened this time with candies and all kinds of stuff. Yesterday I was at the Bogdanovs, but unfortunately I didn’t catch Vanya; later I was at Olympiada Os.—I caught up with her, and she was very glad. I also dropped in on Al. Mikh. Butlerov, but there was nobody home there. Be well, dear Alexander Nikolaevich. I wish you all the best for the coming New Year. Farewell til we meet after 6 January. Yours Vlad. Soloviev I’m sending you two of your booklets, I haven’t looked through the others yet. ** See V. Soloviev’s poem: To A. A. Fet. Ed. note.

1882–1885

To A. A. Fet To Moscow, Post. Sta., Petersburg, 22 Jan. 1885

PVSS, 3:111–12

I haven’t been in Pustynka for a long while now, but in Petersburg, dear Afanasy Afanasievich, and that’s why I received your letter only today—an unexpected, amusing thing. Thank you very much. I’m feeling rather poorly, but working meticulously and afraid that my Leviathan won’t even fit into two volumes. But by some instinct of brain hygiene I devote myself every now and then to the creation of Melchizedek-like poems.52 So, the other day, while reconsidering Nekrasov’s little book, I went back on the rule de mortuis aut bene aut nihil [Lat. do not speak ill of the dead]—and Melichizedek-ed the following:    To the Poet-Apostate* (upon reading Nekrasov’s “Last Songs”) Rapture of the soul—with thrifty deception, And with slavish speech—the living language of gods, A peaceful sanctuary—with deafening buffoonery He deceived blockheads and took their place. (etc.)53

Incidentally, on Melchizedek: I dropped by to see [Ya. P.] Polonsky, who’s sick, and with the conversation continuously about Melchizedek, I was already beginning to despair.54 But near the end he found the children’s magazine Rodnik [Spring] and read his poem from it to me: “The Sick Girl Who Was Avoided”—very good, without any Melchizedek, though a little drawn out and complicated. There are still some who are sick at Pustynka. I want to make it to Moscow in order to catch up with you without fail. P.S. And how will you prove to a skeptical posterity that socks are really sewn by Tolstoy and not made-to-order in a store? Incidentally, about madeto-order: aren’t you surprised I’m sending this letter registered? This is only because the dispatch of a letter is an extraordinarily rare event for me, bordering on the province of the miraculous.

* This poem entered his collected verse but is being reproduced here for the sake of certain variants. North. Flow. note.

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To M. S. Soloviev [18 February 1885]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 47–49

My dearest Misha! I received your letter of 23 Jan. just yesterday, 17 February. This happened because I went to Pustynka for the week before Lent and fell ill there, first with a small case of measles, then with a largish case of hives, complicated by some sort of nervous-cerebral thing. Although this all continues, it finally bored me, and I came to Petersburg to finish up my work at the library. I’m already reading the sixteenth folio of Mansi, and much else at home. In the meantime I’m not complicating anything for myself unnecessarily, in writing that is; I’m only collecting material. Do you have there in [the city of] Vladimir any trace of the Orthodox Review? I don’t even know whether my fragment on Theocracy was published. I’m also distressed regarding Janssen.55 The first half—on the intellectual state of Germany—which is unknown to you, is significantly more interesting than the second: nevertheless Katkov “vacillates,” finding that this is “an apotheosis of Catholicism.” I decided to take it back from him and to try either the Journ. of the Min. of Pub. Educ. or Orthod. Rev. In any event, I won’t continue with the exposition of Janssen until it’s printed, for both labor and time are dear to me. The new paper Voice of Moscow is pestering me very insistently, at first directly and then through Leontiev. I threw together something on church affairs in one night, and if it passes the censor, it will be possible to indulge myself a bit, thanks to the money. However, in the meantime I’m not in need of anything for myself, and with gratefulness decline your brotherly-love proposition—My Jew is named Rubin, and Rabinovich his student. It seems State Councillor Leskov led you into error concerning New Israel. I read the documents, their symbol, liturgy, etc. It’s the opposite of Protestantism, although very similar to it.56 The point is that Protestantism, if one looks at its root, disclaims the law, but New Isr. holds onto the law with both hands. This is sooner the primitive Judaic form of Christianity out of which came the Church, not Protestantism. This is why I think that if this matter won’t be smothered in the cradle (I read in the papers that Rabinovich has already been killed), it will serve for a positive reformation of Church and Synagogue. Protestants therefore have related to this movement very unsympathetically. I definitely don’t understand why the Muscovite Girondists were so indignant with Possart—however no, I definitely understand, it’s because Flerov is a contributor to the Moscow Gazette. I’ve read Voltaire and don’t doubt that he was

1882–1885

the greatest vulgarian. Consequently, it’s possible to reproach Possart only for the fact that he considers Voltaire the emperor of thought, when he only reigned where there wasn’t any thought. But nobody suspects either Possart’s listeners or Possart himself of thinking; consequently, it’s clear that the whole affair’s in the Moscow Gazette, and it’s not for nothing that even Yuriev attended here.57 … [lines deleted] … Mikh. Iv.’s reasoning is similar to this: people will always be killing each other, so where’s the sin in cutting up our babushka? Her body’s falling to ruin, and union with spirit can even be preserved in a dead woman. The whole idea of our eastern anti-Catholicism is in this. To change the sad subject, I’ll pass along to you several poems written by me. As you see, I pay tribute to civilization, keeping my spit in the pocket of my memory. I’m passing along ones that have not been published: I.

To the Poet-Apostate. [See above, letter dated 22 January 1885]

II. What a grievous dream! In a crowd of mute visions, Flying around and flashing, I seek in vain the light-winged shadow, That touched me with invisible wing.     But I only gave myself over to the pressure of evil doubt,     Seized by deadly melancholy and horror—     Sensing over myself anew the wing of the unseen shadow,     Speaking soundless words to the heart of me. What a grievous dream! The crowd of mute visions Is growing and growing, blocking the path, And the distant voice of the shadow’s barely heard: Believe the unspoken: love and don’t forget! III.

The ardor of solitary outbursts will not heal us, From the fire of lusts, terrible and unclean, From malicious thoughts and false vanity. The flight of melancholy dream will not carry us away. It’s not amidst life’s mortal desert, It’s not upon the crossroads of abolished thoughts and words, That we find the path to a lost sanctuary— Our bad luck to come upon the footsteps of lost gods. They’re not needed! In goodness beyond measure Our god has not abandoned His earth And a single path’s pointed out and opened

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For everyone, from base pride to humility’s height. And Zion’s strongholds do not vacillate. The beauty of Saron’s splendid roses does not fade, And over living water, in a mysterious valley A holy lily, undecayed and undefiled.

(Variant of the last strophe:

Yes! Zion’s strongholds do not “vacillate,” Oh, if only Katkov would imitate them! And with generosity, standard even for today, Would hand over the honorarium for Janssen!)

IV. Under the alien authority of a burning blizzard, Having forgotten previous visions, I heard anew the dying call Of a lady friend, mysterious.     And with a cry of horror and pain     An eagle caught by iron,     My spirit quivered involuntarily     And tore the net, up and away on high. And upon a summit above the clouds, Before a sea of fiery marvels, All in a shining sanctuary, It caught fire and vanished.58   Vlad. S. I’ll be vanishing from Petersburg in the middle of March, but if I don’t vanish from the world of the living, I’ll come to Vladimir [city] in April. However, we’ll still see each other before that in Moscow for Easter, of course, and meanwhile an affectionate kiss for you and cordial regards to Olga Mikhailovna. P.S. Yes! Such stinking fools as these Giliarovs, Danilevskys, Markovs ­haven’t been seen in the world!59 To M. S. Soloviev [March–April 1885]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 50–51

My dear Misha! I was very glad to receive your letter. I spent last week at Pustynka and didn’t read any newspapers. Before that I met with a Petersburg VIP, who told

1882–1885

me that my article in Rus´ produced agitation in upper echelons. I hope, however, that Aksakov has not been admonished. I want to publish a part of the foreword to my theocracy in Orthodox Review—namely a review of polemics on the question of the union of the churches. Over the last months, three large articles worthy of attention have appeared in Faith and Reason. This at least is the only interesting thing up to now that has been conceived by our opponents of union. My review is nearly written, the censor bribed, [Father] Preobrazhensky’s in agreement. I’ll come to Moscow and publish it, apart from Orthod. Rev., as a separate booklet in six hundred copies. The errand that I wanted to give you isn’t urgent, I can accomplish it myself upon arrival in Moscow. … [lines deleted] … In the train car where I was riding, there was a woman with children who were making such stinking filth of all kinds that I had to run out onto the platform between cars, so that I could vomit in the open air. I’m afraid that this was a prototype of that moral vomiting that is awaiting me. Be well. Greetings to Olga Mikhailovna. Yours Vlad. To M. S. Soloviev [1885]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 64–65

Dear Misha, Here’s the Voice of Moscow for you. Besides mine, more conversation with old believers—read—interestingly—when I fell into melancholy, and then wrote three epigrams: 1 … [deleted] … second epigram—unsuccessful. 3.

A complex word—drawled Sniffingly—the crown’s to blame. In place of prison and chains— Strappado, framework, and bloody axe. Yet with a pleasant distinction in manner Force and progress are—the very same And punishment’s executed in double measure For a dual sin.60

Strakhov arrived: he’s been driven from the editorship of Slav. Trans. for my reply to D–sky [Danilevsky]. [V. I.] Lamansky avowed: either you resign,

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or we will all resign from the council of the society.61 Our “essence of brotherly love” and “broad tolerance” acts swiftly. T. Fil. [Tertii Filippov] writes that in Constantinople τα πνευματα [spirits breathe] malice, and that he expects nothing good. Incidentally, about the bad. In the railcar I composed the following poem, out of twelve lines only one (or two) is good: 1. The time of spring storms not yet passed,    Winter’s now arrived,     And hasty Old Age recounted unexpectedly,     That she’s taken her own life. 2. Over steep places, aimless wandering    Gray fog suspended,     The soul doesn’t sense past sufferings,     Doesn’t recall old wounds. 3. And breathing mountain air gladly,     I’m ready for a new path     Far from the colors of withering May,     From hot Spring dreams.62 Be well, dear fellow. Cordial regards to Olga Mikhalovna. Write to Moscow.                All yours Vlad. Soloviev To N. N. Strakhov [November 1885]

PVSS, 1:24

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! The death of N. Ia. Danilevsky, what unexpected grief! Both the unfinished “Darwinism” and the debate just begun about the union of the churches! And for you, of course, a personal, irreplaceable loss more than anything else. Would you communicate to me some brief biographical information about him? I’d like to write something for Orthodox Review—nobody will write there besides me. When I read the news, I thought about you first of all. Please write about yourself too—I miss you very much. Thanks very much for the book. Letters of Kositsa [Strakhov pseudonym] are the summit of perfection. I repeat this because I’m not sure whether you received my previous letter, sent unregistered. I could contend with something more besides what I wrote to you in it concerning the foreword but don’t want

1882–1885

to. I’m laying it aside until we meet again. Precisely when—I don’t know, but in any event during the winter, if I don’t die. I’m publishing and writing—apart from parts of my theocratic ­Leviathan— several more articles against the Leviathan on Strastny Boulevard. They’ll probably come out better than the first, because they take a longer view and are alien to any temper. I see Aksakov and Fet rather often. Congratulations on the “fraternal-murderous war” that successfully replaces “Turkish atrocities” and “Bulgarian horrors.”63 Yes, history moves along quickly, especially with the help of such “historical” nations as the Serbs and Bulgars, which even the famous “historical” personage—Nozdrev—could envy.64 Be well, dear Nikolai Nikolaevich, and do not forget sincerely            Yours Vlad. Soloviev To A. A. Kireev [1885]

PVSS, 2:120–22

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! If the subject of our correspondence were of a personal character, then of course I would be very much affected and maybe confused by the unperturbed placidity with which you reply to my intended harsh words. But since these harsh words were directed not against the old friend Alexander Alexeevich, but against A. Kireev, the last Mohican of Slavophile pseudo-orthodoxy, I perceive in you a completely unlaudable apathy instead of a laudable placidity. It must be that your concerns are rubbish, when you can’t even get properly angry because of them. Point by point you reply by decree precisely as if on official letterhead, but don’t answer my questions and challenges with a single serious word. For example: I say, Catholics are consistent; they’re free from the internal contradiction into which we’ve fallen. And you answer that consistency isn’t yet truth. Is this actually serious? You even evaded the work of reading my letter properly; in it I make a slip of the tongue several times, saying the intrinsic rightness (in essence) of Catholics—the truth of their dogmas—is a separate question, resolved for myself personally, but which I still have not discussed in print. The point being that although an absence of internal contradiction (among Catholics) is not yet evidence of truth in and of itself, the presence of internal contradiction (among us) is undoubtable evidence of falsehood. Or I say again: Catholics are just, at least according to their point of view, since we are unjust

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even from ours. And you answer: it is insufficient to be just from your point of view. Good Lord! Who said sufficient? But, in any case, it’s better to be just at least from your own point of view than to be (as we are) unjust even before our own principle. But more deplorable than anything is that in one place of your letter you completely, almost point-blank (so to speak), got to the essence of the matter and suddenly shot a cartridge off to the side, having impiously disappointed my fair expectations. You write: Holy Orthodoxy consists not only in what’s enumerated by me but also in—here I expected, finally, interesting information—in what? In what? What stands in the way of us uniting with the papacy. Mother of God! And why not say directly exactly what it is that stands in the way? But what’s the secret? My God, both funny and sad! If someone asked me what is the essence of A. A. Kireev—besides those good qualities, which I, sparing your modesty, am not enumerating—I surely would not answer: in what stands in the way of him properly answering my, Soloviev’s, questions, but I would directly name the property or circumstance that stands in the way, for example, carelessness, apathy, insufficient interest in the matter, and so on. But it must be ordained for you now to spin on a wheel, going round in circles, dodging: we protest against Rome in the name of Orthodoxy; and there’s one answer to the question of what you personally mean by Orthodox: protest against Rome. Debatable questions, dear Alexander Alexeevich, are resolved fundamentally by one of only two paths: either by the path of authority, or by the path of free discussion. Both these paths are closed to you: the first due to the impossibility of a universal Council, and the second due to the absence of religious and scholarly freedom among us. And you might be a squirrel spinning on a wheel all the days of your life. But, joking aside, Alexander Alexeevich, is it really so difficult to understand the following simple consideration? You believe in the intrinsic strength of Eastern Orthodoxy and at the same time acknowledge its present situation as abnormal. But what kind of exodus is there from here, besides free and open struggle with the western Church, at which our sleeping spiritual forces should awaken and be revealed? In my opinion, such a struggle must end with the union of the Churches; in your opinion, with full triumph of the East. But, in any event, this free and open struggle is identically necessary both from my point of view and from yours: but it’s not Petersburg bureaucrats, in your opinion, who will awaken Orthodoxy. You see that we have one and the same medicine, even if we expect dissimilar results from it. Now if you would

1882–1885

begin to propose this single means against our ailment in print, with the same constancy and zealous concern with which you write about some ministry in Serbia and about trifles similar to that, then I would believe in your seriousness and sincerity (on this subject) and would stop considering you in solidarity with Pobedonostsev and Co. in fact.*65 But until that time, you may think what you want, but I can’t.            Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. Francisco Rački [8 December 1885]

PVSS, 1:164

Dear Master Canon!*66 I am very grateful to Your Reverence for the courteous letter, conveyed to me through Mr. Tomich. I also received a personally written invitation from Archbishop Strossmayer the other day via one of my students, who saw His Eminence in Srem. My work is not yet completely ready for publication and, additionally, I have not completely given up hope of publishing it in Russia (I have already published seven small chapters); even so, if it please God, I intend to visit Zagreb and Djakovo anyway, in order to get acquainted with Archbishop Strossmayer personally and to renew acquaintance with you.67 I am sending some of my works with this letter, in three copies—one for you, another for the archbishop, and a third for Fr. Tondini, who, as I heard, is with the archbishop. I remain, respectfully and truly, your Reverence’s humble servant Vladimir Soloviev I humbly ask Your Reverence to forward the enclosed letter, and a portion of the books to his eminence Bishop Strossmayer. To Bishop Josip J. Strossmayer PVSS, 1:180 [December 8] Moscow. On the day of the Immaculate Conception of the Holy Virgin, 1885 Most Reverend, Gracious Prelate! * I responded to the arguments contained in this letter in Aksakov’s Rus´, where Soloviev also wrote “The Great Debate.” A. A. Kireev’s note. *Fr. F. Rački; see Soloviev, Collected Works, 8:432. Ed. note.

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It was a great joy for me to receive your dear note and courteous invitation. If it pleases God, I want to come to Zagreb and Djakovo at the end of this winter to greet and get to know you personally, to receive a blessing from a renowned servant of the Church and zealot for Slavdom and to hear your thoughts and advice in the great matter common to us—the union of the churches. The fates of Russia, Slavdom, and the entire world depend on this union. We Russians, the Orthodox, and the entire East can do nothing until we expiate the sin of church division, until we render the honor due to the chief priestly authority. If Russia and Slavdom are the new “house of David” in the Christian world, then as you know the Divine Restorer of the Davidic Kingdom received baptism from John, from the stem of Aaron—the representative of the priesthood. “It is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness” (Matt. 3:15).68 My heart burns with joy at the thought that I have such a guide as you. May God preserve your precious pate long years for the good of the holy church and the Slavic nation. I had many things to write, but I will not with pen and ink write unto thee: but I trust I shall shortly see thee, and we shall talk face to face.69 Soliciting your archpastoral blessing, I remain Your Eminence’s humble servant Vladimir Soloviev

1886 To M. S. Soloviev [ January 1886]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 52–55

My dear Misha! I thank you for the good recollection. I’m very grieved that you’re ill. However, if I don’t rely on your prudence that you are doing everything necessary for your health, I rely on your wife’s prudence. I myself am suffering all the while from a rather stupid illness, consisting of the swelling of the whole face, and especially of the eyes, without any special pain, but with a frightful periodical itch that doesn’t, however, interfere either with working, eating, or sleeping. I stayed absolutely alone in this huge, cold, old house at Pustynka almost all this time, sleeping mostly without undressing, but in two coats; yet I worked a lot, wrote a very large chapter from Old Testament theocracy. I wrote according to a new method: namely, without any drafts, directly onto a blank sheet—Bible under one elbow, white paper under the other—and I scribble. Not harmful, it

1886

seems, and a great reduction in time. I read, incidentally, two little volumes on Darwinism by the late Danilevsky, attentively and with pencil in hand—highly interesting: But all efforts were in vain: The gilded wings Had now fallen off Sven’s helmet From the blows of heavy steel. The chain mail’s thick knout Penetrated in a terrible tilt And he threw himself into the sea From the overturned barge,1

Which is what Danilevsky did, overturning Darwinism only in order to throw himself into an abyss of immediate and spontaneous creativity. Here’s what it’s like. If I suddenly appeared before you just now, and you asked, exhibiting more than a little amazement on your face, “How did you get here?” and after long reflection I finally answered, “God brought me”—you would certainly have reason to object to such a reply: “None is like unto God— about whom I, having received a pious upbringing in the house of my parents, am rather inquisitive and present no doubts.2 I question not the first and universal reason of all existence but the second and the most particular reasons of your arrival here”; in these words the insignificance and confusion of the above-written reply of mine would be pronounced eminently in a slow, striking voice. That’s why I’m thinking of writing a defense of Darwinism from a philosophical point of view for Messenger of Europe, if only [M. M.] Stasiulevich will agree in advance. However, everything that could be said against Darwinism from various aspects seems to have been said in Danilevsky’s vast work, although the strongest objections, if I’m not mistaken, were already expressed by the English zoologist Mivart (whom even Dan. mentions) and by the German philoso-philistine Hartman, whom he doesn’t mention.3 If this is so, then maybe some Westernizer and cosmopolitan will say: why does the little darvaldaia bell still drone depressingly under the arch, when a machine has already passed over this very place?4 But enough about that. Where and why is my booklet on dogmatic development turning sour for over a month? I hope that it’s only for Preobrazhensko-printing reasons. Could

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there be some other more unpleasant delay? My “discovery of a question,” as Fr. Archpriest [editor of Orthodox Review] expresses it, is so clear and innocent that if it should frighten anyone, it would be in truth out of fear of water. Please inform me. The note from the editors, although showing me the necessity to chew on the point about chalcid. prohibitions some more, however, in general rather comforted me. For if they only reject a Patre solo [Lat. to the Father alone] in essence as dogma and reduce the whole matter to the (imaginary) violation of a (dubious) disciplinary decree of the Chalcedonian council about a symbol, then it will even be visible to a blind man that the original pretext for division of an eaten egg is not worth anything. But enough about this too. The loss of my Christmas letter, apart from the general reminder about all human affairs falling to ruin (I even pasted two stamps and dropped it into the box myself) was even more unpleasant to me because in it I sent you a letter of trust for the honorarium, which it was more convenient to receive before the New Year. However, it’s never too late to receive money. So I’m sending the letter of trust again; drop by, get the money, and let me know how much I owe. Regarding the announcement of the booklet, I’ll write when it comes out. I don’t want to write about other everyday concerns, I don’t want to write on sad subjects. Be well and remember me. I’m in agreement with everything regarding Διδαχη [Didache], whatever you like.5 I wrote a little poem, found to be very sonorous. I’ll read it when we meet.—Regards to Olga Mikhailovna. All yours, Vlad. S. To P. V. Solovieva PVSS, 2:46 Hôt. Europe. 27 Jan. 1886 Hello, my dear Mama! How are you? For the time being I’m all right, thank God. Misha’s the only thing distressing me: first, by the fact that he’s sick, that’s the main thing, and second, it disturbs me a little that he doesn’t write me about the fate of my last book. I wrote to him in detail and asked about it at the same time as the letter to Nadia, from whom I did receive a reply. He keeps silent. I hope, however, that my registered letter made it to him. If there’s no time for him to write now, ask him to convey it to you orally, and then you write to me. I saw Olga and Serezha twice—they’re happy. Tomorrow Kramskoy begins drawing me. The doorman of the building where he lives has two little girls who run out to me, crying out while grabbing the tails of my winter coat, “Holy man, holy man!” evidently taking me for a priest.6 And once on the staircase of the Hôtel de l’Europe an unfamiliar venerable gentleman with a gray beard

1886

threw himself at me with a joyous cry: “How can it be! You’re here, little father!” and when I remarked to him that he was surely taking me for someone else, he objected: “Well, aren’t you Father Ioann?”—to which I of course observed that not only am I not Father Ioann but not a father in any sense at all. Adieu, chère maman. Portez vous bien. [Fr. Goodbye, dear Mama. Take care of yourself.] Yours Vlad. Soloviev Affectionate kisses for everyone. To M. S. Soloviev [Winter 1886]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 55–56

My dearest Misha, I’m very grateful to you for your troubles. Everything was received as it ought. You only confused Preobramuzhskoy [pun: see next endnote]. While still in Moscow I spoke to him [Preobrazhensky] and wrote to him to leave two hundred copies at his place. So, before making the announcement, please order that they be sent off to him (the two hundred copies). Here’s another problem, the resolution of which I’m leaving entirely to you: the Preobradetskoe [pun] note is printed such that it could be easily cut out from each booklet, but is it worth it?7 Dear Misha, please be well. I miss you. If you wish to know what I’m doing, know this: more than anything else I’m studying the Hebrew language. I’m taking lessons from a Talmudic youth. I still don’t know when I’ll come to Moscow. I’m sending the announcement form. Thanks, dear brother. Molto greetings to Olga Mikhailovna and to all yours. How is my godson? Write more, I love your letters very much.     [Signature follows in the Hebrew language]. To M. S. Soloviev [Winter/Spring 1886]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 56–57

Thanks, my dear Misha, for your letter, the humorous part of which I’m even reading to select friends. But what are you going to do about your illness? Where do you need to bathe, in which sea? If it’s in the Baltic, all things being equal—then this is easily realizable. And now it’s not so difficult to go to the Black Sea. Another matter, if it were the Malay Archipelago. However, we’ll get to talk about all this—for you boring—material, when we meet. I’m still

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t­ hinking of leaving for abroad before Easter but will probably only get to Moscow by Easter. Various literature subdued me. Boring to describe. I’m managing some success in Hebrew, and if we stay in close proximity for several weeks in the summer I can give you elementary lessons. If you get a chance, you can inform Fr. Peter [Preobrazhensky] (through someone) that I’m not at all angry at him but on the contrary have prepared something for Orthod. Rev. Courting me here are, on the one hand New Times and on the other liberals, not to mention Jews.8 I’m conducting a subtle politics (if I wore a bustle, I’d say—playing the coquette) both with these, and those, and with others still. But I’ve lost all contact with official Russia. I wonder at her wisdom only from a distance. However, I also saw close up in Revel [Talinn] how the revolutionary endeavors of various Finns and German hatred toward Russia are being incited by the most foolish and artificial methods. But these are all trifles in comparison with the law on military conscription.9 And here we now have in full: quem Deus vult perdere … [Lat. Those whom the gods would destroy …].10 However, I have a guest sitting here, and one needs to be civil. And so farewell til we meet; in any event soon now. Greetings and a kiss. Yours Vlad. To Father Archimandrite Antonii Vadkovsky* 8 April 1886

PVSS, 3:187–88

Respected Father Inspector! I am sending my booklets (the ones I could find) for you, for Fr. Mikhail, for Fr. Antonii, and for distribution at your discretion. In the coming days I will gather more and will send them too. Allow me to express herewith sincere joy and profound gratefulness to all of you for your brotherly benevolence to me and attention to my thoughts and labors. Yesterday I really felt myself amid a Christian society, devoted first of all to God’s cause. This approves and reassures me, and on my part I can reassure you that I will never go over to Romanism. Even if there were some kind of temptations and seductions, I am, with God’s help and your prayers, certain to overcome them. At the end of Easter week, I will come to Petersburg again for several days, and hope to see you before going abroad, but surely—upon * Letters [to Fr. Antonii] were printed as a separate booklet in St. Petersburg in 1901. Ed. note.

1886

return. Please convey my cordial greetings to Fr. Mikhail, Fr. Antonii and to all new acquaintances. I solicit your pastoral benediction, remaining with perfect respect and devotion Vlad. Soloviev To Faivel B. Gets [May/June 1886]

PVSS, 2:137

Dear Faivel Bentsilovich, I’m sending you a letter of trust to procure my “Talmud” manuscript from the editorship of Messenger of Europe in the event that it won’t be published. Inquire at the end of June—but not earlier.11 Today I’m sending you an Arab Bible, but a Syrian one didn’t turn up in Moscow—I’ll send it from Vienna. I’m leaving on Sunday or Tuesday. Please write to me at the following address: Austro-Hungary via Vienne. Agram. A M-r le Président de l’Académie des Sciences M-r F. Rački pour M-r W. Solovieff. Letters arrive more reliably with French than with German address. I stowed the address of Gamelits somewhere remote and won’t perhaps find it.12 Therefore, please write it to me in Agram. I’ll still need to exchange letters with you about certain things. Be well, and if you see [L. A.] Sakketti, convey to him my cordial regards. Before leaving I was all in a fuss and did not manage to visit him.13 Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev [ June 1886]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 57–58

My dear Misha, I hope that you are happy; you have probably been informed about my little misadventure. Vera reported to you how I “got rid of evil” (in the terminology of L. Tolstoy) or “disavowed Ekaterina fivefold” (in the terminology of Nil Alexandrovich). Although in place of the 500 r. abducted by the wily Lichard, I received 450 from Vera and from a barely familiar but very virtuous V. A. Pisarenko, this whole story (especially disillusionment with domestics) nevertheless produced a certain dizziness in me.14 Owing to this, a straight line to the designated place became impossible, and I’m endeavoring for the circularity of a circle, something like Pustynka, Revel [Tallinn], Hapsaal, Stettin, Breslau, Vienna. At the present moment I find myself in Hapsaal, which I recommend to you.

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Joking aside, I find that this would be much more useful and pleasant for you than Crimea. The climate is warm, the grapevines are growing in the open (though, of course, they haven’t fully ripened), the sea temperature doesn’t go below 18 [degrees], and in the middle of the summer usually 25–27. There’s an unusually curative mud, and life’s very comfortably arranged in the German way. If Strossmayer and his spouse Theocracy were not tugging at me, I would remain here the whole summer. If you think of coming to Hapsaal, do so as follows: take the evening train to the Tosno station (Nikolaevsky r. r.); after arriving there, you go half an hour to Revel, and from there on a steamer to Hapsaal. If you depart on Thursday evening from Dedovo, you’ll be in Hapsaal on Saturday evening. Write to me, and I can wait for you here. Since vows are really forbidden by the Gospel—not just the one by Tolstoy, but by the other evangelists too—I give you my word that in all conscience and without any mercenary considerations (for example, seeing you) my guess is that Hapsaal will be more useful than Crimea. Until we meet, if not in June, then in August, and if not in August, then in October. Best regards to Olga Mikhailovna and to all. Yours Vlad. N. B. Steamers don’t go daily. On Saturday for sure, and it seems on Wednesday or Thursday. P.S. I’m sending the introduction to Διδαχη [Didache] to our beekeeper (he’s had your manuscript a long time already). If he won’t be hurrying with publication, won’t you find it possible to convey τροπος του Κυριου [Gk. the way of the Lord] and manners of the Lord? To Bishop J. Strossmayer 23 Juni 1886, Wien, Goldnes Lamm

PVSS, 1:181

After many obstacles, I have finally managed to get to Austria. In a few days I am setting out for Zagreb, and from there to Djakovo to meet with you, which constitutes a major goal of my journey. From Fr. Tondini’s letter to my acquaintance Princess Volkonskaya, I learned that the letter sent by you to me was returned to you. This was extraordinarily lamentable for me, but I was consoled in part by the receipt of the “Circular Letter”—this was a great joy for me. Only it arrived in the month of May. Fr. Tondini’s letter, sent to me it seems in January or February, also reached me in May. I did not even reply, for correspondence presents itself as inexpedient in such a strange state of postal communications.

1886

Thank God! Now I am free, and no δυνάμεις ϰαὶ ἐζουσίαι του ϰόσμου τούτου [Gk. powers and authorities in the world] will hinder me from seeing and conversing with you.15 In the certainty of our meeting soon, I remain with deepest respect and sincere devotion Yours Vladimir Soloviev To Fr. Francisco Rački D. 29. June [1886,] Wien, Goldnes Lamm

PVSS, 1:165

Dear Master Canon! Obstacles of various kinds have delayed my journey to Austria up to now. Thank God, I finally overcame all the difficulties and arrived in Vienna yesterday evening, and in two or three days will go to Zagreb and to Djakovo. I am bringing with me the prepared part of my “History of Theocracy.” The entire work is coming out larger than I thought—three whole volumes—so it will be impossible for me to remain in Austria until its publication. In Zagreb I hope to find a proofreader who knows Russian well. During my recent stay in Petersburg (April) I was invited to the Religious Academy there for a “family” conversation about the union of the churches. In this connection, the inspector of the Academy, Archimandrite Antonii, several monks, and students of the senior course attended. I remained very satisfied with this conversation, but our church (i.e., secular) authorities did not like it so much, and a Fr. Naumovich, recently arrived in Petersburg, was invited to the same academy for conversation with students as a kind of antidote against my temptations.16 I would have been glad to speak with him in public, but unfortunately, in our country open debate is not allowed, so I do not even know what Fr. Naumovich said at the academy. In hopes of meeting soon, I remain with respect and devotion to Your Very Reverence, Vladimir Soloviev To A. A. Kireev [Croatia, 1886]

PVSS, 2:123–24

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! Before speaking on the subject of your letter to Bishop Strossmayer, whom I will be seeing in the coming days in Ragusa where he is taking treatment with

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

the waters, I can reply to you something on my own.17 Your reasoning is based on the erroneous assumption that relative to the given question the Eastern and the Western Church find themselves in an identical situation, whereas the whole matter is precisely in the fact that their situation is essentially different. In the Western (I mean Roman-Catholic) Church mentioned by you, dogmatic points do not constitute a subject of debate today; they are debatable only for us, and consequently we ourselves should resolve this debate, and through this resolution either unite with the Catholics or doubtlessly and decisively separate from them. But now we are sitting between two chairs. If any of the members of the Roman Catholic Church begin to disclaim the Filioque or Infallibilitatem ex cathedra, they excommunicate themselves thereby from the Church. But among us it is possible to openly disclaim the pretend-Orthodox teaching “a Patre solo” and “de nullitate Romani Pontificis,” while remaining in the bosom of the Eastern Church. It is possible to disclaim them not only de facto but de jure, for they do not rely on the single foundation acknowledged by us, that of all-ecclesiastical dogmas. So, before turning to Catholics with any demands or offers whatsoever, it is necessary for us to define our own obligatory relation to the debatable (for us, not for them) questions. Let a Council of all the eastern churches be convened (you yourself have stated more than once there is reason for it to convene), and then one of three things can result: either (1) this Council, having acknowledged itself as universal (and it is acknowledged as such everywhere in the East) will condemn Catholic teachings—then the matter will become clear, in the sense of a division of the churches beyond doubt. Or (2) this Council, having condemned (i.e., having to condemn) Catholic teachings, will not be acknowledged in the East as a universal Council along with the previous seven— the matter will then become clear at least in the sense of the incapability of the Eastern church to have a universal council. (3) Or, finally, this council will acknowledge Catholic teachings as correct—and a union of the Churches will come about. I do not foresee another path, though I also do not disclaim the possibility of the unforeseen. As for Bishop Strossmayer, of course he both cannot and does not want to annul the decrees of the Florentine and Vatican Councils, but he both can and wants to facilitate the matter by a statement, such as for example that the anathemas of these councils do not relate to those Orthodox believers who repudiate certain dogmas owing to incorrect notions about their meaning, and still less to those who strive thus or otherwise to come into union in the name of truth. In general, I suppose, one cannot doubt that any condemnation or anathema, even from the Catholic point of view, relates only to people who lose their way due to evil will.

1886

Pax homnibus bonae voluntatis [Lat. Peace to people of good will]. I will probably write you more after meeting with Bishop Strossmayer. Be well. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To F. B. Gets [Croatia, 1886]

PVSS, 2:138

Dear Faivel Bentsilovich! I didn’t reply to you for so long because I didn’t have anything good to report. First, I landed abroad only at the end of June instead of May, because a servant stole 500 r. from me on the day designated for departure; the money was meant for the journey, and I had to fuss about for a loan. Second, I received a letter from Stasiulevich, that the “Talmud” [article] cannot be published, for it properly belongs (?) to the religious censorship, which would probably (?) prohibit it.18 The third miscarriage—much less important, but anyway grievous to me—is that in the eight days of my stay in Vienna, I could nowhere find a Syrian bible, notwithstanding all my endeavors (personally and by means of agents). In order to write you at least something pleasant, I’ll report that on the Austrian border I had occasion to be convinced with respect to the Khillul ga-shem [i.e., “desecration of {God’s} name”] principle among Jews. And namely, an old Jewish man was exchanging Russian money into Austrian for me through the window of the train car when suddenly it moved, but he had not paid me several guldens and came running on foot to the next train stop, bringing the remaining money, saying that he did not wish that I reproach a Jew for deceit. I continue with Hebrew readings little by little—finishing [the Bible’s Book of] “Kings.” Be well. Thanks for the courteous invitation. I hope to make use of it. Sincerely Vlad. Soloviev P.S. I’d just finished this little letter when your second letter was brought to me. I’ll reply to it in the coming days. To F. B. Gets [1886]

PVSS, 2:139

My dear Faivel Bentsilovich! Your second letter very much grieved me—not with the news about my manuscript (which, besides, wasn’t news to me, as I wrote you)—but with news

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about new pogroms. I read the Moscow Gazette in Zagreb, but there was only a telegram about one pogrom without any explanation of the reasons. What do we do in such a tragedy? Many pious Jews earnestly pray to God that He deliver the fate of Russia into the hands of religious, rational, and bold people, who would together want, know how, and dare to do good for both nations. As for my article (which you like more than I do myself) there’s yet a new difficulty: sending the list to Stasiulevich, I couldn’t entrust the original to my brother, who left for Crimea. Other members of my family are in the Caucasus, and all my Moscow friends have also gone away for the summer. Amid the worries and troubles that I wrote you about in the last letter, I didn’t at that time think to forward the manuscript to you. So these pages remained somewhere in my desk or in my portfolio. Thus, if in your opinion it’s necessary to publish the article in Russia, then send the list you have to the editorship of Russian Thought (if I’m not mistaken—Leontievsky Lane, at Mamontov’s) immediately and ask that they either publish it soon or return the manuscript to you at once. I’m staying at the present time in the beautiful mountain town of Rohitsch Sauerbrunn (in Styria), but it’s necessary to write me at the previous address: Agram, Ac. des sc. prés. Dr. F. Rački pour le dr. V. Sol. Be well, and don’t be dejected. If you see Sakketti, regards to him.       Truly fond of you     Vlad. Soloviev To A. A. Fet PVSS, 3:113–14 [From Croatia] To Vorobievka. Post. Sta., Kursk, 27 July 1886 Dear Afanasy Afanasievich! Don’t conclude from my lack of letters that I’m not thinking about you. On the contrary, I think of you often. And now I’ve finally advanced to writing as well. I haven’t adapted myself up to now to the two calendar styles and am living as though outside of time, or in false time, for I’m guided by the Moscow Gazette, which is received here nearly a week late, and on that day I lose touch with reality chronologically as well. However, I calculated with reliability that today’s the twenty-second of July Old Style, and consequently Maria Petrovna’s saint’s day; I’m sending her my cordial, though belated, best wishes, in hopes that the united forces of the Austrian and Russian post offices spare this innocent message. I’m not writing registered, knowing that it will give you unnecessary trouble. I’ll report briefly about myself that I’m well, working, publishing a book, and living at a Zagreb canon’s in the most canonical manner.

1886

I’m rising at 8 o’clock every day, walking to a beautiful Gothic cathedral of the eleventh century for mass, conducting acquaintances only with the scholarly and ecclesiastical estate. I don’t feel myself entirely abroad, for I’m speaking for the most part in Russian, and the (simple) people here are entirely like our Ukrainian peasants, only even more religious (which it’s unfortunately not possible to say about protestant Slavs).19 Even on normal weekdays, the churches here are full of people, and on Sunday you can’t push through the crowd. At the same time there’s an academy of sciences and university here, an art gallery and a museum of antiquities—all this founded mainly by Bishop Strossmayer and Canon Rački. I am now staying at the latter’s place, and I’m going to the former’s in two weeks. Although, as you see, I’m satisfied with staying here, anyway I sigh for my distant friends and would very much like to get to Vorobievka, but to my great regret this is impossible. I only landed abroad in June (because our old and devoted servant [Alexei] robbed me, picked me clean on the eve of the designated departure), and although publication of the book got straightened out, I’ll still have to busy myself with the translation, which they want to do here in the German or the French language, so that I’ll get to Russia no earlier than September. So then, until we meet in Moscow. And if you want to gladden me with a letter (more accurately, a registered one) then here’s my address: Autriche-Hongrie, Agram. A. M. le Président de l’Académie des sciences, Dr. F. Racki (Kaptol, 13). Pour le Dr. Vlad. Soloviev. To P. V. Solovieva [Croatia, 1886]

PVSS, 2:44

Draga moia mamitsa!20 I found your letter upon returning to Zagreb today, and I’m replying to it immediately for the sake of the commandment: respect your father and mother, and so on. Otherwise it wouldn’t properly follow to reply, for you fill your letters with so much etiquette, such as you’re afraid of boring me, that you’ve chattered on too much, and so on. This talk isn’t suitable either for you to write or for me to read. It’s to no purpose as well, my dearest Mama, that you don’t copy your address on each letter; my memory has become poor, and I’m writing now for better or worse. I note that you haven’t received one or two of my letters, where, incidentally, I replied to your questions, as to whom I borrowed money from: a part (250 r.) from Vera, whom I’ll be repaying a little at a time, and a part (200 r.) from

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a good person, a friend of Lev Lopatin, Vasily Alexandrovich Pisarenko, to whom I must return the full amount the first of October (I took it on this condition). If it turns out that I don’t have or won’t have enough by this date, then I’ll ask Misha, you, and Nadia along with Senia to come together and rescue me from tragedy. It’s better to be in debt to one’s own than to a stranger. At the present time I don’t need money at all, for I received some from two journals, as well as a little from booksellers through Misha. Dear Mama, if it’s all the same to you and the sisters, come to Moscow a little earlier, otherwise it would be very unpleasant to come to an empty house, or not so much empty as full of memories of Alexei [servant], and so on. “However, I’ve chattered on too much. I’m afraid to bore you, etc.” Don’t be angry, dear Mama, we’ll see each other soon. If you leave Kislovodsk before the twenty-third, accept my congratulations, also Senia. I’m writing to Nadia separately. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To A. A. Kireev [Croatia, 1886]

PVSS, 2:125

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! Bishop Strossmayer approved and confirmed most resolutely what I wrote you in the last letter, that the anathematizing of the Florentine and Vatican councils does not relate at all to those Orthodox who by misunderstanding and bona fide [Lat.] repudiate certain catholic dogmas, especially if they are in other respects striving, as much as they can, for the restoration of church unity. At the same time he instructed me to personally convey to you his fraternal greeting and episcopal blessing. Bishop Strossmayer’s submission to the Vatican decision evidently attests he is (despite what you heard)—a good Catholic about this, notwithstanding the personal opinion previously stated by him about the ill timing of this decision. Be so kind as to notify me about the receipt of my first letter, and this one as well. In addition to what I wrote to you the last time, I will cite several words that relate here from the introductory chapter to my book (finally being published): “Since the time that the division of the eastern and western churches occurred, universal or all-church activity has also become impossible for us precisely by virtue of this division. It is not according to someone else’s

1886

opinion that it is impossible for us, but according to our own confession. Our church situation is false not only from the point of view of Catholics and Protestants, but first of all from our own point of view. We want to stand under a banner that is not in our hands, which we cannot raise. Therefore it is no use for us to turn to others with reproaches and demands. Others can in no way be to blame for the intrinsic contradiction that suppresses our church life; and it is not for others, but for us ourselves, that the division of the churches has had such fateful consequences.” Sincerely yours         Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev [Croatia, August 1886]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 62–63

My dear Misha! Thank you for the telegram and for all the rest. I’m sending two things to you and asking you to convey them to destination: (1) the foreword to the second edition of Dogmat. (2) An announcement for the New Times bookstore about subscribing to Hist. of Theocracy. Please explain to the store that they can supplement the announcement being sent and absolutely even assign definite installments: I want no more than four rubles from the usual subscribers at the start of subscription, and from those using the discount—not more than two. And if they find it possible to take even less at the store, then all the better. The main thing is that the exact addresses of the subscribers remain. But enough about this. My dear friend, I had much to tell you about, unexpected in Djakovo—pleasant and comforting—new important acquaintances, about which at the present moment my sleepy eyes are interfering at this fourth hour of the night. It will be mechanically easier for me to write the following verse: Thoughts without speaking and feelings without names     Joyously powerful surf, Vacillating jetty of hopes and desires     Washed in sky-blue waves. Dark blue mountains around, run up against     A bluer sea in the distance. Wings of the soul lift over the earth,     But will not forsake it.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically On shores of hope and on shores of desires.     A pearled wave dashes. Thoughts without speaking and feelings without names    Joyously powerful surf.21

Day after tomorrow I return to Zagreb, where I’ll surely rake in [pun: zagrebu] many letters. Je vous prie, monsieur, de me recommander aux souvenirs bienveillants de votre aimable famille [Fr.] I pray you recommend me to the beneficent recollections of your kind family]. Vlad. Solov. To Bishop Josip J. Strossmayer [tr. from the French] [1886]

PVSS, 1:182

Monseigneur! After leaving your presence, I have not stopped seeing you each night in a dream. Your very kind letter to me and your marvelous message to Bishop Nicolas (which I will not delay in copying and sending to destination) cheered me very much. It is only very sad that you must keep to your room. Our friends have recounted several small indiscretions, a walk at an hour a little too late, etc. Your health is much too necessary for the entire world, and though I am sure that you are under the special surveillance of good angels, allow me nevertheless to recommend to you a Russian proverb: berezhenago i Bog berezhet, which is to say: Dieu garde celui qui se garde bien [God protects him that protects himself]. I am sending you, Monseigneur, the small memorandum that you are familiar with. I have amplified it and couched it in the form of a letter addressed to you [See next letter]. If you believe it would be of any use, would it not be advantageous, instead of copying it, to print it in a very small number of copies for intimate coteries? I defer absolutely to your judgment. I have received some good news from Russia. Ah! If God would only accord us the good fortune of seeing you in Petersburg or in Moscow, this would change many things, and this would be a unique occasion for us to expiate our sins against your precursor Krizanič.22 I beg you, Monseigneur, to communicate my cordial greeting to your good friend Cepelič and to all your worthy canons and priests. My dreams prove to me that I have truly left a part of my soul in Djakovo. I hope to come and search

1886

for it again one day. In the meantime, awaiting that blessed day, I ask of you, Monseigneur, your benediction for me and I beg you to believe in the sentiments of devotion and veneration with which I am, Monseigneur, Your son and most obedient servant Vlad. Soloviev To Bishop Josip J. Strossmayer [tr. from the French] Agram, 9/21 September 1886

PVSS, 1:183–90

Monseigneur! Providence, the will of the Sovereign Pontiff, and your own merits have made you a true mediator between the Holy See, which by divine law possesses the keys to the future destinies of the world, and the Slavic race, which in all likelihood is called to realize these destinies. Without being content to have contributed powerfully to the marvelous resurrection of your illustrious Croat nation, without being content to remain as a living palladium of its independence, you have taken to heart the higher interests of other Slavic peoples, the majority of whom continue, with Russia at the head, in deplorable estrangement from full catholic unity. Your generous heart has always opened up to a great future for this East, and your luminous intelligence has made you see the principal obstacle for accomplishment of this future as consisting in the millenary misunderstanding that continues to isolate and deprive the two great halves of the Christian world of mutual support. You have employed your genius and your admirable eloquence to serve the divine cause of the Reunion of the Churches since that time, supported on the unshakable Rock of the Church, protected and encouraged by the benevolent wisdom of the great Roman pontiff (which an ancient prophecy has distinguished in the series of popes by the mystical moniker “Lumen de coelo” [Lat. Light from heaven]). Rendering thanks to God to have given such a defender for such a cause, I take the liberty, Monseigneur, to address several remarks to you concerning the favorable circumstances for the desired solution of the great problem that occupies you, inviting you to make use of this little memorandum as you deem fit. The Eastern Church never determined and presented any doctrine contrary to catholic truth as obligatory dogma for belief to the faithful. The dogmatic decisions of the first seven ecumenical councils form the entire sum of absolute and immutable doctrinal truths, constantly and universally recognized by the

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Eastern Church in its totality. All that goes beyond this is subject to controversy and cannot but be considered as particular doctrine of some theological school, of some individual theologian more or less esteemed, but never possessing the authority of infallible teaching. The acts of several specific councils (after the churches separated) and certain catechisms (as that of Petr Mogila of Kiev or Philaret of Moscow) in spite of all the consideration they enjoy never received the supreme and definitive sanction of the Orthodox Church, which could not transform their doctrines into dogma of faith other than by use of the infallible organ of an ecumenical council, which is absolutely impossible in its present isolation.23 Then it was found our Church did not possess any symbolic book in the sense attributed to this term by Catholics, or even by Protestants. It has been forty years since a protestant German [Kimmel] published a collection of documents of different epochs and of very unequal value under the title of Libri Symbolici Ecclesiae Orientalis (which was then changed to another: Monumenta fidei Ecclesiae Orientalis); and among them, a writing decidedly heretical and generally recognized among us as such (the Eastern Confession, ’Ανατολιχὴ ὀμολὀγησις of the celebrated calvinizing patriarch Cyrille Loucaris). Mr. Kimmel’s collection evidently does not possess any kind of ecclesiastical authority and is not known among us except by specialists. At nearly the same time, our government published (in Greek, Church Slavonic, and modern Russian) a code of ecclesiastical laws under the title Book of Rules (Kniga pravil), which, beyond the disciplinary canons of the apostles, of councils, and of several church fathers is venerated by the universal church, also contain the truths of the Orthodox faith—that is to say, those that have been formulated in the two creeds (Nicea and Constantinople) and in the three definitions (ὄροι) of the fourth, sixth, and seventh ecumenical councils. It is evident our Church’s official code does not contain any error, nor any anticatholic element.* This is an ongoing matter, as the opinions of eastern theologians more or less contrary to catholic truth are not in general either proclaimed by them or accepted by the faithful as obligatory and infallible dogmas or of the same standard as decisions of the ecumenical councils; and then it is evident that * Absurd fables inspired by Byzantine hatred of Catholicism were in force among us until this century in the code of religious laws (called Kormčija knigi, “Book of the Helm”). But it is precisely because of these fables that our government found it opportune to suppress the ecclesiastical usage of the ancient Kormčija and replace it with a Book of Rules. V. S.

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it cannot equitably hold the Eastern Church as a body responsible for these anticatholic doctrines of our theologians, to which it has never given definitive sanction. The distinction between a theological school and the doctrine of the Church that this school shares is a distinction up to a certain point applicable to Catholicism itself. Just to cite one example, it is known to the whole world that over several centuries, an entire great theological school, the Thomists, and an entire great religious order, the Dominicans, attacked or at least did not wish to recognize the sublime truth of the Immaculate Conception of the Most Holy Virgin, affirming her participation in original sin. But who would have the audacity to hold the entire Catholic Church responsible for this error of theologians who were otherwise very respected but on this point represented only their own opinion? It is now clear that this necessary distinction between the doctrine of the Church, as such, and the doctrine of a school or of theologians is very beneficial for the cause of the Reunion of the Churches. In effect the dogmas of our Church, reduced to the decisions of ecumenical councils, are consequently altogether orthodox and catholic and the doctrines of theologians in contradiction to Catholicism are not dogmas of faith determined by the Church. So we are united with Catholicism because we ourselves recognize absolute and immutable truth, while the errors that separate us from catholic unity are only opinions having no higher authority than in the eyes of the authors and abettors of these opinions. As for the body of the faithful of the Eastern Church, one cannot accuse them of any determinate error, their faith being the same as the catholic faith, save the ignorance of several doctrinal definitions made in the West after the separation and principally concerning the true character and the attributes of supreme power in the Church, an ignorance the more excusable that this point of the catholic doctrine was not definitively fixed and explained by the Western Church itself other than in a very recent epoch, at the last Vatican council. Moreover, it must not be forgotten, and this is a very important and very advantageous circumstance for the cause of Reunion, that there does not exist in the Eastern Church any internal accord, any unity of view with regard to the Catholic Church. As there has not been (and, according to our best theologians, there cannot be) any ecumenical council in the East after the separation of the Churches, it is found that the cause of this separation was not judged by the sole competent authority that we could recognize in

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such an affair; so that our schism exists de facto only for us ourselves, and not at all de jure. Adhuc sub judice lis est [While the case is still being judged].** In this state of the question, it is not surprising that there is an extreme variety of diverse and contradictory opinions professed by Russian and Greek theologians concerning Catholicism. While certain writers (happily a small number) are going as far as to affirm that Catholicism is not only outside of the true Church but also outside of Christianity in general, other persons more competent and more authorized (as for example the present metropolitan of Kiev, the most reverend Mgr Platon) declare publicly that the Eastern Church and the Western Church are twin sisters separated only by misunderstandings.*** Between these two extreme views, all possible nuances of negative and positive points of view, of antipathy and sympathy toward the western Church, are represented in our theological literature.**** Beyond the differences of opinion between individual theologians, there is again a great contrast between the Russian Church and the Greek Church (properly speaking) in their respective manners in the treatment of Catholics. While the Greeks, as if in mockery of their proper temptations of union, maintain the absurd and sacrilegious usage of rebaptizing western Christians who want to enter into communion with them (without differentiating between Catholics and Protestants), in Russia, to the contrary, not only is all baptism of western Christians recognized as lawful but, again, in this regard the validity of other sacraments administered by the Catholic Church ** As is known, Isidore, metropolitan of all Russia, accepted union with Rome at the Council of Florence. Arriving in Moscow (where the real center of the Russian state and church was already to be found), he proclaimed the act of union at the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Holy Virgin. The boyars and the people, states a chronicler, listened in silence. Grand Duke Basil alone rose and, declaring he would never accept the union, menaced the metropolitan with deposition and prison. Isidore emigrated to Italy, where he died as a cardinal of the Roman Church. After several years, nephews of the grand duke rebelled against him, taking him captive and plucking out his eyes. Restored to the throne, he received from the people a moniker: the Obscure, or the Dark, with which he remains in our history (Vassili Temny). V. S. *** A speech in this sense was given by Mgr Platon in 1884 in a Catholic church in the confines of his diocese. The faithful of the two confessions flocked together receiving words of peace and charity with a joie that Christian feeling placed on the lips of this eighty-plus-year-old pontiff. Antichristian elements in Russia and Poland were in frenzied alarm and strove by all means possible to annul the good effects of this incident. V. S. **** What perhaps provides even more evidence for our Church’s indecisive position in relation to Catholicism is that individuals declaring publicly they believe “new” catholic dogmas to be the legitimate development of orthodox doctrine can stay in perfect communion with the Eastern Church. I can verify this fact through my personal experience. V. S.

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is recognized, and especially of the sacrament of holy orders, in consequence of which Catholic bishops and priests are received at the same ecclesiastical rank among us. And it is again more remarkable that in the year 1839, when united Ruthenians were forced to enter into communion with the dominant Church in Russia, no abjuration of their Catholic beliefs was demanded from the people. All this authorizes us to conclude that the Russian Church recognizes not only the efficacy of grace in the Western Church but also the absence of all dogmatic error or of all heresy in Catholic instruction. And if at the same time one can find some self-professed Orthodox writers in Russia, approved by a certain party of the clergy, who reproduce the ancient injuries of heretics in declaring that Catholicism is nothing other than Antichristianity, etc., this is only one of the numerous contradictions that in sum present a great advantage for the cause of Reunion. In effect, all these contradictions, when recognized, necessarily form an internal stimulus that should force us to place the question to a grand jury and strive for a resolution. Once public attention is called seriously to the abnormal state of our religious and ecclesiastical relations, something must be done to get out of it. And as it is certain that in this regard there is more ignorance among us than bad will, it is enough to clarify the problem by the pure light of truth and of knowledge, for it is already resolved in principle. As for a practical solution, one must consider as a very favorable circumstance the fact that the Eastern Church, and in particular the Russian Church, never participated in the patriarchate of the West, so that the uniform centralization of ecclesiastical power developed in the bounds of the Latin Church cannot be equitably imposed on us in all its force. The present constitution of the Catholic Church is determined up to a certain point by the deplorable fact of the eastern schism, which has limited Catholic action to the Latin patriarchate alone over the course of several centuries, where the Universal Church should gain in unity what it has lost in extension. Sed presente causa tollitur effectus [Lat. But doing away with the present case]. Once the ancient unity is reestablished, the Catholic Church, always remaining Roman at the center of Unity, will no longer be in its totality Latin and western, as it is now by the uniformity of its organization and of its administration (notwithstanding the tolerance of different rites that occupy altogether no more than second place). Romana is the name of the center that exists immutably and equally for the entire circumference; Latina, designating only the half, a great section of the circle, which should definitely never absorb the whole. It is the Church of Rome and not the Latin Church which is mater et magistra omnium

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

ecclesiarum; it is the Roman Bishop, and not the Patriarch of the West, who speaks infallibly ex cathedra; and one must not forget that there was a time when the Bishop of Rome spoke Greek. There are people among us who would like unity but are afraid to be Latinized. It is thus necessary to give them assurance if the Eastern Church returns to Catholic Unity, if it recognizes in the Holy See the power desired and instituted by Our Savior in the person of St. Peter in order to safeguard unity, solidarity, and the legitimate progress of all Christianity, it will preserve not only its rite (that goes without saying) but also all the autonomy of organization and administration that the East has possessed during the separation of the Churches. To touch on a particular point, the superior position that always appertained in the Eastern Church (and that appertains now in Russia) to the power of the Orthodox Emperor, must remain intact. In summarizing that which was said above, the essential basis for the Reunion of the Churches is determined by two distinctions: (1) the distinction between the particular opinions of our theologians— which can be in error, anticatholic, and heretical, and the faith of the Eastern Church in its totality, which remains orthodox and catholic; [and] (2) the distinction between the authority of the Pope as successor of St. Peter, pastor et magister infallibis Ecclesiae universalis [infallible pastor and master of the universal Church], and his administrative power as Patriarch of the West, a distinction guaranteeing the autonomy of the Eastern Church, without which the Reunion would be, speaking in human terms, impossible. I have not insisted on the second point. I have full confidence in the traditional (and divinely assisted) wisdom of the Roman Church and in the superior intelligence and particular virtues of the present Great Pontiff. It is not our business to defend any rights, but to accept paternal love. As for the rest, the Reunion of the Churches would be equally beneficial for the two parties. Rome would gain a true and powerful defender. Russia, which by the will of God has in its hands the East’s destinies, not only would be disencumbered of the involuntary sin of schism, but again and eo ipso would be free to accomplish the great universal vocation of reuniting round itself all the Slavic nations and of founding a new civilization, really Christian: that is to say, reuniting the distinguishing traits of truth and of multiform liberty in the

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supreme principle of Charity, comprehending all in unity and distributing to all plenitude of the singular good. In submitting to Your Excellency these several reflections on the subject that you have so much at heart, I pray you accept the assurance of my most profound sentiments of veneration and of admiration, with which I remain always, Monseigneur, Your son and very devoted servant Dr. Vladimir Soloviev To F. B. Gets [Croatia, 1886]

PVSS, 2:141

My dear Faivel Bentsilovich! Upon returning to Zagreb after a three-week absence, I found your letter and read it with pleasure. I didn’t know anything about the publication of my “Talmud” in Russian Thought. Please, don’t offend me with the assumption that I would want to make use of anything from the German edition of this article. To the laborer goes the reward, and everything made from my article belongs exclusively to you. I grant you full and unconditional right of translation of this essay as well as everything that I’ll write relative to Judaism at any time. In two weeks I’m going to Russia, and in the middle or at the end of October I’m hoping to embrace you, my kind friend. I have fewer and fewer friends than ever remaining in Petersburg. Last year two close friends died, now Butlerov has died, and my elder brother’s wife (divorced, but with whom I preserve fraternal relations) is moving to Moscow. Please, be safe and sound for your friends and for your nation, which is in need of good Israelites. So then, til our forthcoming meeting. I’m sending you my last poem, of a purely lyrical variety.* Sincerely yours                Vlad. Soloviev To Mikhail M. Stasiulevich [Moscow,] Prechistenka, 12 October 1886

MMSp, 5:336–37

Mr. Mikhail Matveevich: It was very gratifying for me to receive your letter from Bretagne: what you say about our affairs seems to me completely true, and it happened that *“ Thoughts without speech and feelings without name” (published in the collection of poetry by Vl. S. S.). F. G.’s note. [See above]

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

I said the very same (with caution) to our good friends the Croats, who see the historical greatness of Russia better from afar than from practical conditions, before which all this greatness must remain dead capital. Without any fatalism, it is impossible, however, to consider our doubly victorious fiasco at the steps of Constantinople—in ’29 and ’78—as simple chance. What, in actual fact, could we have been able to bring there, and how could we have justified our consolidation on the shores of the Bosporus—besides the same Byzantinism that had already ruined the Greek Empire? Your (and my) disbelief in the success of our foreign policy is fully confirmed by historical analogy: from the time that the Russian state was formed, its international significance and influence was spread only by progressive and liberal (for their time) governments of Russia. Nevertheless, I am not dejected, for what is now being extolled as “national politics” in our country, and that I, with your permission, am calling “the politics of frozen s—t,” is held only by the pernicious triumvirate of the false churchman P., the false statesman T., and the false prophet K.,* which—i.e., the ­triumvirate—apparently is becoming decrepit and nearing an end, notwithstanding the recent crowning of the last of them with official laurels. And with the disappearance of these people diverting the eyes of the honest and well-­intentioned Sovereign, one can expect a decisive change for the better. Here’s the question that would be gratifying to discuss with you: how can Russian society and the press help this change? Unfortunately, I’ll hardly return to Petersburg earlier than the end of December. In any event, until we meet.    Sincerely and with respect, your humble servant    Vlad. Sol. To Fr. Francisco Rački 22 Oct. 1886

PVSS, 1:169–70

Dear Lord Canon! I already wrote you, but don’t know whether my first letter arrived. Thanks for sending copies of Catholic Epistles, but I’m sorry there wasn’t any postscript on them in your hand. I’m very much in need of comfort and cheer, although I myself am trying not to be dejected. I wrote to you about censorial difficulties. The other day my censor, with whom I had hoped to come to an understanding, died suddenly in * K. P. Pobedonostsev, Count D. A. Tolstoy, and M. N. Katkov. Ed. note.

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church during liturgy, and I was handed over to a session of the entire censorship committee, which to all intents and purposes prohibited all that is presented by me for print. An announcement about subscriptions for “History of Theocracy” is also prohibited. I’ve decided to go for a personal explanation to the local Metropolitan, and if I don’t gain anything new from him, I’ll try to appeal even higher. I’m not writing anything about political affairs. When this letter gets to you, you’ll probably know more about this than I. Trouble and unpleasantness delay my work. I’ll send the conclusion of the fourth book to the printer in the coming days. In my Croatian article I noticed a small printing error; is it possible to correct for the next issue? Namely on page 323, first paragraph, lines 9–11 from the top—it’s printed: “Ove formule jesu tri prua symbola i dogmaticki zakljucci 2, 6 i 7 sabora.” There should be 4 in place of 2. Upon my arrival in Moscow, a professor of philosophy, Grot, who was transferred here from Odessa, came to see me to get acquainted and proposed participation in a philosophical journal undertaken at the university, which should come out without censorship.24 He is granting me full management of the “philosophy of religion” section. If this comes about, then there’s now some way out of my hopeless literary situation as well. How are our friends? I wrote to Voinovich but don’t have a reply yet. His personal business isn’t overly rich with expectations either. Please, write to me. I often recall my Zagreb life with feelings of pleasure and gratefulness to you. Convey my cordial regards to your family.    Sincerely and respectfully yours    Vlad. Soloviev To Archimandrite Antonii 29 November 1886

PVSS, 3:189–90

Esteemed Father Archimandrite! Permit me to remind you about myself and to turn to you with a most humble request concerning a matter that has, as you will see, a certain importance. I returned from abroad, having acquainted myself more closely and graphically both with the good and with the bad aspects of the Western church, and also having become even more firm in my point of view that not only are any external unification and any personal conversion not required for union of the churches, but that these would even be harmful. First of all, I responded to

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

a­ ttempts at conversion directed against me personally (at an unusual time for this) by taking confession and communion in an Orthodox Serbian church in Zagreb, with its monastic abbot Fr. Ambrosii. And in general I returned to Russia more orthodox—if it is possible to say so—than when I left it. But, perhaps for trial of my strength, unexpected misfortunes befell me here. First, an unconditional prohibition was instituted by the religious censorship—of everything presented by me for publication, even if it does not concern the seductive question of church union. And second, simultaneously with this, fierce attacks and slander, unsupported by any evidence, for the most part in various religious journals, putting me on exhibit as an apostate and opponent of the Orthodox Church. If they remain without reply, these slanderous accusations will make any activity impossible for me not only at present but in the future as well. Perhaps this is precisely what they want. But a question: cui bono [Lat: to whose benefit]? You will find the most proximate confirmation of what is said in the enclosed letter to the editorial staff of Church Messenger, which I most humbly ask you to convey to destination for publication. If, contrary to expectation, you find it impossible to fulfill my request, I ask you most zealously to inform me at the enclosed address. In soliciting your pastoral benediction, I remain sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To the Church Messenger PVSS, 3:192–94 Church Messenger, no. 49, 1886. Elucidation of a misunderstanding (letter to the editors). Dear Gentlemen! I found out from a note published in the Church Messenger, no. 46, that the nine “questions” with which “I turned” to one of the well-known members of the Moscow clergy were published in foreign newspapers. Evidently this concerns the questions that were published by me more than three years ago in the late I. S. Aksakov’s journal (in one of the September 1883 issues of Rus´). It’s completely unknown to me in which foreign newspapers,* by whom, and in what form these questions are now reproduced. I did not make any suggestion of them abroad and did not give any authorization to anyone to produce them. As for the main idea of these questions, it is almost reliably conveyed in the note * The questions are published by Emmanuel in Revue d l’Église grecque unie and are reprinted in Annales catholiques of 16 October 1886. Ed. Ch. Mess.

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in Church Messenger and amounts to suggesting that the argumentative points between our church and the western churches require a universal council for their final and indisputable (on a universal church grounding) resolution. However, the idea does not belong to me, but to the late Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow, who applied such a point of view even to Protestantism (against which, certainly, it is possible to argue). In his well-known Notes on the Life and Times of Prelate Philaret [Zapiski o zhizni i vremeni sviatitelia Philaret] (282), he directly states that for the resolution of the question as to what Protestantism is: heresy or not?—a universal council is absolutely necessary. Thus, it seems to me that the concluding warning in the Church Messenger note with regard to the danger of the ground that I have allegedly entered upon is elicited only by a misunderstanding, which I also consider necessary to elucidate by means of the present letter. Allow me to also turn to the mediation of your respected journal with another even more necessary elucidation, but which, unfortunately, is not just connected to a misunderstanding. An article was published in issue no. 21 of a certain Kharkov journal, Church Bells, under the title “V. Soloviev, Fighting against Orthodoxy in the Foreign Press.” The unknown author of this work found it necessary to report to readers that I (V. Soloviev) am “simply an official of the Ministry of Justice.” This false witness, completely insignificant in and of itself, turns out to be very characteristic of the entire article in Church Bells. For all the rest that is said about me there is just as reliable as this, that I am an official of the Ministry of Justice. Since Church Bells does not represent the only example of the free and easy slandering to which I have recently become a sacrifice, and since this slandering can have grievous practical consequences for my activity, I am obliged to make the following declaration of a purely factual character: (1) having my own opinions relative to debatable ecclesiastical questions, I remain and always hope to remain a member of the eastern Orthodox church, not only formally but also in reality, without violating in any way my confession and fulfilling the religions obligations of union with it; (2) desiring the full and fruitful union of both churches—first or all in spirit and in truth, I have never persuaded anybody to convert from the eastern to the western church, but, on the contrary, have had definite occasions to talk others out of such an intention, for I consider both outward as well as any personal “conversion” not only unnecessary but also harmful for the universal endeavor, although I certainly cannot throw stones at “those converting” according to sincere, even if erroneous, ­conviction; (3) I have not up to this point published any articles for the foreign public except one, under the title “Je li je isto na Crkva pravoslavna” [Croat.] (i.e., “Is the Eastern Church

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

Orthodox?”). Taking the point of view of my Catholic readers in this article, I prove that even from their point of view our Eastern church must be acknowledged as orthodox. This thesis about the orthodoxy of our Eastern church is defended by me against a Roman-catholic theologian, the Franciscan Markovich, who expressed the opposite view in one of his works and then objected to me with the article “Na obranu” (i.e., In Defense). For my part, I sent a brief reply to these objections of my Catholic opponent, but I do not know whether it was published. I presume that these declarations will be sufficient for conscientious readers and will save me from the necessity of further refutation of the systematic slander that is apparently calculated to cause me practical difficulty. To A. A. Kireev [1886]

PVSS, 2:128–29

Dear Alexander Alexeevich! What on earth now is this? I published an article in a Croat journal in defense of the Orthodoxy of our Eastern Church against a catholic theologian, the Franciscan Markovich (who even entered into polemic with me), and they fall upon me in our country with curses and unfounded accusations, as though I am attacking Orthodoxy in the foreign press.25 This is improbable, but yet very simple: the whole point is that my theological opponents (having ties as well with orthodox-atheists in Serbia and Dalmatia), finding themselves not at an advantage in the debate over dogmatic development and, not knowing how to climb out of this hole, arrived through long reflection at the following decision: on the one hand, hand me over to every possible sanctified tale telling and beneficent libel through newspapers and journals, and on the other hand, stand in the way of my publishing anything in Russia through the religious censorship; let him act abroad, they favor mere calumny, so necessary for good deeds; but it’s only Jesuits who use bad means for a good end; we, however, are innocent in this, for we only use foul means for foul ends. And then, as soon as I returned to Moscow with evidence of my orthodoxy in my pocket (from an Orthodox Serbian priest, at whose place I fasted), action taken against me by the sanctified-swindling beneficent system was immediately revealed.* The second edition of Dogmatic Development (where in the * The lamentable and very unwise prohibition placed on Soloviev’s article by the censorship deprived certain of his opponents—for example, D. F. Samarin and me—of the opportunity to continue the polemic with an “unarmed man.” A. A. Kireev’s note.

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foreword, incidentally, I even replied to your, in my opinion, useless article) was detained by the religious censorship, and even the original of it was lost without a trace at the censor’s lodgings. A chapter from Old Testament theocracy, where there was not even one word about the union of the churches or about any other suspicious subject, is unconditionally prohibited, under the pretext that quotations from the Bible in it are translated directly from the Hebrew; but I studied the Hebrew language for that very reason, and though a poor Hebraist, I’m a little better anyway than those academic students who fabricated the synod translation. And after that followed a volley of fables and slanders, which even disturbed you a little in your Pavlovian solitude. Calm yourself. My defense of the orthodoxy of our church (of course, in consideration of its union with Catholicism) did not confuse any of our Slavic brothers, apart from only my Franciscan opponent Markovich, on the one hand, and on the other—a few Serbian atheists, covering up their trashy politicking with a false orthodox mask. I’m returning these brothers to you without a remnant, and with your friend Sh. to boot. Be that as it may, dear Alexander Alexeevich, I’m completely confident that, after recovering and arriving in Petersburg, you’ll make all efforts so that this censorial imperial ban is removed from me, even if for the sole reason that no one could reproach you personally for an attack on an unarmed man. In the given conditions, your polemical article was an error which is essential for you yourself to correct as much as possible. We’re old friends, and this old friendship, it seems to me, not only excuses my openness in the present case but even obligates me to it. I very much regret that I distributed all the copies of my article—“Je li ta ě na Crkva Pravoslavna” [sic] the corpus delicti [Lat.]—to various editorial offices. If I procure one, I’ll send it to you. Be well. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To F. B. Gets [December 1886]

PVSS, 2:142

I haven’t written to you, Faivel Bentsilovich my dear friend, because I awaited your reply to my last letter from Zagreb. Evidently, you wrote to me, but the letter got lost. Your present report about the success of my article abroad in part gladdens me and in part worries me. You probably know that I’m now suffering persecution directly. All my work, not only what’s new but also the republication of

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

what’s old, is unconditionally prohibited. Ober-Procurator of the Synod P—v told one of my friends that all of my activity is harmful to Russia and to orthodoxy and consequently cannot be allowed. And in order to justify such a decision, all sorts of fables about me are being invented and disseminated. Today I’ve become a Jesuit, and maybe tomorrow I’ll get circumcised; at present I serve the pope and Bishop Strossmayer, and tomorrow I’ll probably be serving the Alliance Israélite [Fr.] and the Rothschilds. Our state, church, and literary swindlers are so brazen, and the public so foolish, that anything can be expected. Of course, I’m not dejected and stick to my motto: nobody can harm one whom God helps.26 But one ought to be as careful as possible anyway. Therefore I wouldn’t want an edition of my article to come out abroad without certain provisos and addenda, which it will be necessary to speak about when we meet. I’m thinking of coming to Petersburg in the middle of winter, but maybe even earlier. In any event, Judaism and the Talmud are such perennial subjects that one or two months earlier or later does not mean much in this question. Be well, I think about you often. Regards to Sakketti, if he remembers me.       Cordially yours      Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich [December 1886,] Moscow, Prechistenka

MMSp, 5:337

Mr. Mikhail Matveevich: If no one among your contributors has taken up the recently issued vol. 4 of I. S. Aksakov’s works (on the freedom of conscience and of the press), I would not be against making an article out of it for M. E.; but I won’t begin it without having received a reply from you, for I have in view predominantly extracts from Aksakov—the strongest places. For me to write in these terms now myself, perhaps, is impossible, but they will hardly decide to prevent me copying out of a book that has been authorized by the censor.* Moreover, it seems to me it would be useful to publish with you wholly, without commentary and with only several emphases, Archbish. Nikanor’s sermon “on the fact that the heretical teaching of Count L. Tolstoy undermines the foundations of state order in Russia.” I don’t value Count L. Tolstoy highly as a thinker, but that’s not the point here, it’s in the unimaginable vileness of denunciatory receptions on the part of the chorus leader of our hierarchy and, mainly, * Did not appear in M. of E. Ed. note.

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in the cynical disbelief in the intrinsic spiritual power of their own endeavor—a disbelief that the entire “sermon” is steeped in. If you want, I’ll make the necessary emphases in the text of the sermon and add several introductory and concluding words in a restrained, ironic tone.** I await your reply. The time of my arrival in Petersburg is in doubt. Respectfully, your humble servant Vlad. Sol.

1887 To N. N. Strakhov Sergiev Posad, 11 Jan. [18]87

PVSS, 1:25–26

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! Since it’s now apparently been finally determined that I’ll not be coming to Petersburg at all this year, I’m writing to you; from this you can clearly perceive that my silence derived not from an insufficiency of friendship but only from an abundance of hope to see you soon. I’m writing to you from Trinity, where I’ve spent all the so-called holidays (iniquity and celebration, as one prophet justly remarks) in order to pass them as unholiday-like as possible, which worked out for me.1 In these three weeks I experienced, or began to experience, spiritual solitude with all its advantages and disadvantages. Ah, there beyond Himalayan snows*    A friend lives in cold immersion, Yet I’m alone: the howling of Dog-bellows**    My hearing’s sole diversion. My eyes trace monks both holy and frantic    Age to age in sharp disputation, And day to day in their swindling antics,    But sleep my soul—to destination! ** Did not appear in M. of E. Ed. note. * Should not be understood literally. V. S. ** Should be understood more than literally, apart from household dogs, religious-literary dogs are in mind as well. V. S.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically Fly high, Tibetan plateaus, such a distance    Say: pardon me to one and all To all Cyrils, Nestors, and their assistants    Say: pardon me, I don’t recall … Alas! Brief vision and bliss of dreams!    All must vanish along with it, But the doubt of fate remains, it seems,    Just to oppress my spirit.2

However, besides antediluvian monks, I also have dealings with living ones; they’re very much courting me, apparently desiring to buy me cheap, but I won’t sell myself, even at a high price. Nevertheless, carried away by prudence, I decided to exclude from the first volume of my “History of Theocracy” the question about the primacy of Peter in order to remove proper cause for the [Russian] prohibition of this first vol., which should appear in a short time. A propos [Fr.]: please ask your friend Vyshnegradsky to quickly correct our course, otherwise I’ll have to pay a foreign printer very disadvantageously.3 I’m returning to Moscow the day after tomorrow, please write to me there (Prechistenka). Thanks for the booklet, which I read with enjoyment. At the end I noted something that’s not completely clear to me, which I’ll ask about when we meet. When? Won’t that be at Fet’s in Vorobievka in the spring? Best regards to D. I. Stakheev and his wife and to all good acquaintances. I’ve written to Ct. Kutuzov.4 I’m not saying anything about Grot’s enterprise, since you’ve probably heard from him himself. Be well and happy. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To Archimandrite Antonii 14 January 1887

PVSS, 3:191

Dear Father Archimandrite! I’m delivering to you belatedly (for reasons of unwellness and various troubles) gratitude for your kind mediation in the publication of my remarks in Church Messenger, which, even if it did not curb, disarmed to a certain degree “them that seek after my soul.”5 In order to secure myself even more, I decided to exclude from the first volume of my “History of Theocracy” the argumentative question about the primacy of Ap. Peter, so that no proper cause will

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r­ emain for prohibition of this first vol. And I will wait for better times with the two remaining. I probably won’t come to Petersburg this year. Please convey my cordial regards to your colleagues. It has now been three weeks that I have been staying at Trinity, where it is much more convenient to study than in Moscow. If not for the situation that you wrote about, I would now have greater inclination to become a monk. But for the time being, it is impossible. I am not at all an advocate of unconditional freedom, but I suppose that between such freedom and unconditional captivity there should be something at the mean, namely freedom, conditional on sincere submission to what is sacred and lawful. This kind of freedom, it seems to me, does not contradict the special monastic vow of obedience either, where all-­ ecclesiastical interests are concerned. And in the meantime, will it be permitted for us to have such a freedom in our country, won’t submission to everything without choice be required, whether sacred and lawful, or not? Entrusting myself to your holy prayers, I remain sincerely and respectfully yours. Vlad. Soloviev To N. N. Strakhov Moscow, Prechistenka, 30 Jan. [18]87

PVSS, 1:29–30

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich, * * * will convey this letter to you—the same friend of mine who I wrote to you about in my last letter.6 I hope that you’re receiving my letters—a hope all the more valid, since I’m dispatching them registered. If I. A. Vyshnegradsky has not puffed himself up with pride beyond measure, and is sometimes with you on Wednesdays, then * * * would be able to meet him, which would save you from unnecessary explanations. Today I read Tolstoy’s new drama and I agree unconditionally with your response, which I read in your letter to A. A. [Fet].7 I’m glad, however, this drama appealed to certain personages of the highest rank—now, at least by this indirect path, many frantically suppressive attempts will be subdued, which of course Tolstoy has power over, but I, for example, have not in the least. Incidentally: you’re, so to speak, at the very center of the censorship; is it true that (as I learned from the bookstores) a circular was recently issued, by virtue of which all works published abroad in the Russian language are subject to unconditional prohibition, even those not being subjected to any censorship? I’ve lately been suffering physically and morally, and if you won’t reply to three of mine with even one letter of your own, I’ll think that you’re angry with me for something or have completely forgotten me, which will add an extra grain

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

to these sufferings. However, absolute suffering is hardly possible, and that’s why I don’t just suffer but also act, and namely on Leroy-Beaulieu’s request, who, incidentally, desires to set forth—le système religieux et philosophique de M. Solovieff [Fr. Mr. Soloviev’s religious and philosophical system] in his third vol. of l’Empire des Tzars [Fr. The Empire of the Tsars]. I’m writing a new little work in French for him (due to a complete incapacity to set myself forth)—­ Philosophie de l’Église universelle [Fr. A Philosophy of the Universal Church]— for the time being this is a big secret.8 I hope to see you in Vorobievka, where I’m thinking to spend several months, if nothing changes. I very much thirst for your irreplaceably intelligent conversation; if not for extremely important personal circumstances, I’d come to Petersburg for this. However, you’re not tethered to Petersburg. Remember that you were born in Kursk Province—and come to Vorobievka. All yours Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. Pavel Pierling Moscow, Prechistenka, 31 January 1887

PVSS, 3:138–39

Reverend Father! Right Reverend Strossmayer informs me of your letter to him, the one in which you convey Mr. Leroy-Beaulieu’s desire to have reliable information on my “religious system.” This offer, which opens the possibility of sharing my thoughts with the educated public of the whole world, is all the more pleasant for me since at the present time I am almost entirely deprived of the opportunity to turn to the Russian public personally, owing to the censors’ persecution. The task given me by you and Mr. Leroy-Beaulieu will be, I think, most expediently fulfilled if I myself write, in French, as briefly as possible a full exposition of the concepts of religion and the church, which constitute in my understanding the principal foundation for the matter of union of the churches; there will probably also enter here a philosophical justification of the three teachings of the Catholic church that constitute the main doctrinal barrier between it and the East: namely, the teaching about the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Son as well, then the teaching about the immaculate conception of the Blessed Virgin, and finally infallibillitas Summi Pontificis ex cathedra [Lat.]. All this will constitute an article of four to five print sheets, which I have already begun to write under the title “Philosophie de l’Église universelle.” Mr. Leroy-Beaulieu can use this article either in manuscript or print form, depending on when he’s intent on publishing his third volume.

1887

Please write me details about this, so I know how much I should hasten my writing. As for the lettre-programme [Fr.] that you mention, there is some misunderstanding here. The brief protest* that I was compelled to publish in defense of myself from unconscientious attacks of our pseudo-orthodox can hardly have any interest for the European public. I remain, respectfully and truly, Your Reverence’s humble servant Vl. Soloviev P.S. I am writing to Fr. I. M. Martynov simultaneously with this. To N. N. Strakhov Moscow, Prechistenka, 9 March [18]87

PVSS, 1:31

I’m not to blame, Nikolai Nikolaevich, for the tardiness and brevity of this response to your “spiritism.” Relapsing into illness all the time (very cruel neuralgia), along with many pressing matters coming together at once, does not allow me “to lay down on paper” the thoughts and responses that have taken shape in my head. In three weeks my soul will be released for penitence by the Zagreb printer, Muscovite philanthropy, and so on, and then maybe you’ll receive the whole tract. And meanwhile, if you like, find both “mute praise” and mute protest. It’s not only mute [nemoi], but also not mine [ne moi], for it isn’t I alone who exclaims at your address: “not mine [ne moi] with the thin soap foam of materialism’s dialectic—nothing will come of it besides suds.” By the way, two of my friends, the philosophers Lopatin and Grot, hold such opinions, and we even intend to write you jointly. However, without waiting until the month of May [ne maia]; and therefore here’s mute [nemaia] praise for you right now: I agree unconditionally with and approve the major thesis of your introduction, and namely, that it is impossible to procure religious truth via the path of spiritism. I also approve your assumptions about the existence of eternal truths, against Vagner. Up to now—praise. As for the polemic with Butlerov, your argumentation against spiritist miracles has force (if it has any) as well as against any miracles and against the existence of unseen religious actors themselves—i.e., against any religion: for although, they say, there is a religion without a god (Buddhism), there never has been and cannot be a religion without angels and * “Protest”—probably the letter written in Moscow 28 November 1886 and published in New Times on 30 November, no. 3864, against an article in Church Bells. Fr. Pierling’s note.

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devils. A State without tsars is still possible (the French republic), but a State without bureaucrats and thieves is absolutely unthinkable. Be well and for the sake of old friendship don’t get angry for the fact that I don’t want to cede to you either a heavenly hierarchy or its devil and angels. Yours always Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. Ivan M. Martynov Moscow, Prechistenka, 9 March 1887

PVSS, 3:21

Dear Father! Permit me to turn to you for good advice. I learned only recently from a Russian newspaper that Fath. Guettée published an article against me again in the December issue of Union chrétienne: namely, a reply to nine questions with which I once turned (in Aksakov’s Rus´ in 1883) to Prof. Archpriest Ivantsov-Platonov.9 After obtaining (not without difficulty) the issue of the French journal, I read this article and found it completely nonsensical, essentially not meriting any response. But shouldn’t one reply ϰατ΄ οιϰονομίαν [Gk: in economy]? The author directly calls out to me for a reply, and in view of the brazenness displayed by him, it’s possible to expect that my silence will be interpreted anew in an unfavorable sense, both for me and for the matter itself. Another small detail. French Catholic journals, which called forth abuse in Union chrétienne for their praise of me, distorted my name to fantastic lengths. But the priest Guettée, who receives sufficient Russian subsidies to be attentive to Russian surnames, instead of correcting an evident mistake, on the contrary found pleasure in it and persistently calls me M. Solovico [Fr.]. In the event that I decide to reply to his journal, should I stipulate this circumstance? Or else, perhaps French readers (if only there are such in Union chrétienne) will draw a false conclusion about the existence of a custom in Russia to change the ending of their surnames every three months. Excuse me for troubling you with such trifles. Be well. Please convey my greetings to Fr. Pierling. Did he receive my second letter? Respectfully and sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. P. Pierling Moscow, Prechistenka, 28 March 1887

PVSS, 3:142

Both your letters arrived, reverend Father, although I was apparently not their only reader. Mr. [Henri] Lorin’s [Fr.] letter has also been thumbed through very

1887

much in the interim, which I very much regret.10 I will be writing to him in the coming days. And I was a little slow with a reply to you because of many urgent matters. This week, by the way, I gave two public lectures (for the benefit of poor students at the local university) on the theme “Slavophilism and the Russian Idea.” At the conclusion of the second lecture I indicated the moral necessity for Russia “to fulfill all truth” by acknowledging a Universal High Priest, without which, in my opinion, we cannot realize our universal historical calling. The rather large group, formed out of select Moscow society, with the remnants of our Slavophile circles at its head, at first met me sympathetically, but, of course, was perplexed by and dissatisfied with the conclusion, although it did not express its displeasure in any way. I am satisfied that I expressed this thought precisely under such conditions and circumstances. Pseudo-Astashkov’s book,* which you ask me about, produced a dual impression on me. The first half—about the procession of the Holy Spirit—is too scholastic, displaying unbecoming and unnecessary animosity in polemical places (not speaking now about various mistakes). The second part—about p­ rimacy— is much better and would be able to produce a good effect with its liveliness and clarity of exposition, if it were to be published separately from the first part. Be well. My greetings to mutual acquaintances. Respectfully and truly yours Vlad. Soloviev I am very grateful to you for the kind offer of assistance, which I will not fail to make use of. To A. A. Fet To Vorobievka, Post. Sta., Moscow, 9 April 1887

PVSS, 3:115

Christ is risen, dear Maria Petrovna; hello, dear Afanasy Afanasievich! I’m about to depart and will be at your place no later than Sunday. Decisive arrangement of certain matters detained me up to now. I’m as satisfied with my lecture as the Slavophile Moscow public is displeased with it. I collected nearly two thousand rubles (forgive me, Afanasy Afanasievich) for soup and cereal to poor students and said what I wanted to say. Before the holidays, I received an extremely offended letter from Strakhov about his spiritism.11 I’m putting off a

* Astashkov—a pseudonym [of a German Catholic priest]. His book: Procession of the Holy Spirit and the Universal High Priesthood; publication of Sergei Astashkov; Freiburg in Brisgau; at the bookseller P. Herder, 1886. Fr. Pierling’s note.

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thorough reply until Vorobievka. I was at Intercession two times without you. Til soon we meet. To N. N. Strakhov 12 Apr. [18]87

PVSS, 1:32–34

I swear by Physics, dear Nikolai Nikolaevich, that in blaming you for cunning, I had in view solely what you yourself confess in your last letter, i.e., a union of well-known silences with the use (without reservations) of the usual religious expressions for thoughts of a different kind. That’s all—don’t spit and you won’t get wet. Therefore I was justly grieved by your unjust grief. I was waiting for Kutuzov’s reply, announced by you, but I couldn’t wait any more and am replying on the eve of my departure for Vorobievka. You know very well that you’re more dear to me personally than all the spiritistic quasi- devils and mediums piled one upon the other and raised to the power of Prof. Vagner’s illiteracy. Therefore you won’t take it as a personal insult if I consider myself in the right to treat your antispiritualistic argumentation just as you treated the arguments of your opponents. The spiritists say: argue with us on our ground, on the ground of mediumistic facts. But you find this ground unsteady and refuse to enter upon it. And this, of course, doesn’t mean that you disclaim facts in general, if you repudiate any empiricism: you only find that those facts which spiritists reference should be acknowledged as unreliable in advance, because they contradict truths of a higher order, superempirical truths. In a similar manner, I too don’t want to go onto your ground of mechanistic physics, not so that I’d disclaim physics in general or repudiate any significance of creation’s mechanistic side, but only because your assertions on this ground (for example, the eternity of matter) should be acknowledged as unreliable in advance, because they contradict truths of a higher order, superphysical truths. You make the reliability of a fact conditional on its conformity with the mechanical system of the world, but I can allow this system only inasmuch as it lives in harmony with religious-metaphysical higher truths. You argue not against experience or observation but against all questions being resolved peremptorily by experience or observation. I argue not against mathematics and physics but against the legitimacy of their applications on certain occasions.12 You know that the freethinkers of the fourth and fifth centuries, and after them the French encyclopedists of the last century, and finally our indispensable Columbus of all the discovered Americas, L. N. Tolstoy, all disputed the dogma of the Trinity on the basis of arithmetic: one is not three and three is not

1887

one. It’s not said as an insult to you that, when in the name of physics you disclaim miracles, for example, a person falling from a great height without harm, you are reasoning almost as poorly as L. N. Tolstoy. I fully understand, that, respecting Butlerov [the chemist] as a good scientist-empiricist, you count his spiritistic experiences, however, as not real but illusory. Acknowledging you as an excellent thinker, allow me to ascribe your arguments against miracles not to real but to illusory logic as well. There’s no insult in finding that a thinker or scientist, owing to a one-sided point of view, falls into mistaken conclusions. But when the following dilemma is put to me: renounce everything supernatural in favor of Prof. Vagner, or acknowledge yourself like him, repudiate arithmetic in an outburst of illiteracy—then first and foremost I shout “Help! Guards!” And if, without confining myself to this exclamation, I join to it a long commentary; this is now a manifest sign of special love and respect. You blame me for appealing to authorities. I’ve never referenced them (even N. Grot’s authority) as a final instantiation. I can’t, however, hide my surprise that you so resolutely acknowledge as ignoramuses or as fools numerous persons, both of the theological and the philosophical estate, to whom the light of contemporary science by no means impedes believing sincerely in miracles and supranatural subjects. If you prefer an internal to an external authority, then I’ll rely on myself too. I not only believe in all that is supernatural, but, personally speaking, it is only in this that I believe. I swear by the even and odd numbers that, from the time that I began to think, the material reality weighing over us always presented itself to me not otherwise than as some nightmare of a dreaming humanity that some domestic demon is oppressing. However, in order not to give ourselves up to a flight of mind, let’s return to the present. Since you haven’t written to me about yourself, then I’ll do this in your place: i.e., I’ll write to you about myself (puns straight from Hegel’s “Logic”). I gave two public lectures on “Slavophilism and the Russian Idea” by means of which I delivered 2,000 r. to students, and great displeasure to the Muscovite public. Though speaking poorly due to sickness and other circumstances, I myself am however satisfied both with the fact that I happened to declare my idea in Moscow, “in this heart of Russia,” and also that they could not contrast anything to it besides naked displeasure—a sign that the future is with it. The first volume of my “Theoc” is published, and if you’ll be in Petersburg in May, you’ll receive it. Be well, and malgré tout [Fr. despite everything] believe in the friendly love and respect of yours truly V. Soloviev

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To F. B. Gets [Spring 1887]

PVSS, 2:149

My dear friend! Registered letters are received here from the city (Kursk), to which they’re sent once every ten days. The last time, two letters from you were delivered, both evidently written before your receipt of mine, with letters of recommendation to Feoktistov and Maikov inserted into it. You inform me in one of your letters that you’re casting your undertaking aside.13 Since this letter is without a date (and I didn’t look preliminarily at the envelope stamp, so I don’t know what letter belongs to which envelope), I remain perplexed: have you rejected the undertaking or not? Please inform me about this and if the matter hasn’t been abandoned by you, communicate whether you got my letters to destination, and about anything else. As I already wrote you, my book came out back at the end of April, but apparently the list of addresses sent by me to the printer’s (yours among that number) was lost in the mail, although it was sent by registered letter. What can be done in such conditions? In expectation of news from you I remain gratefully and fondly Vlad. Soloviev To P. V. Solovieva [1887, Vorobievka]

PVSS, 2:51

My dear Mama! I’m doing well, and hope you all are too. I wanted to telegraph Misha from the station and congratulate him on his birthday, but I thought that he would reproach me for the inappropriate extravagance. Please give him a kiss from me and tell him that in the coming days I’ll be writing to him and will send a manuscript that he recognizes. It’s almost the same here as in Moscow, the countryside still standing naked and the grass getting green only in spots. The rooks cry out furiously, but the nightingales cough more than they sing. Don’t think that it’s me coughing; I’m completely well and sneezing in the sun.14 Fet is struggling with shortness of breath and is becoming a little decrepit. However, I’m hoping that he’ll still hold up. Maria Petrovna, having fed me to senselessness, notes with sadness: “And how does he stay alive? You see how he doesn’t eat a thing!” I’ve begun to lead a regular life: rising at nine o’clock and going to bed accordingly.

1887

Be well and write to me thus: To the Moscow-Kursk railroad station Korennaya Pustyn, the Rt Honorable Afanasy Afanasievich Shenshin (vil. of Vorobievka). With delivery to V. S. S. Affectionate kisses for Nadia and everyone else. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev [Vorobievka, Spring/Summer 1887]

PVSSkb, 3/9 (1915): 66

My dear Misha, Here’s the first half of my article for you to read and forward, but the second half (about Peter the G., Pushkin, and the conclusion) requires fundamental reworking, with which I don’t want to hurry until the fate of the article is ensured. I’m not altogether well, suffering from the flu, and from picking at the edges of vegetable dishes, as well as from an unusually correct life (I go to bed at one, rise by eight). I recast the Compliment to Moscow thus: Oh you stupid city, dirty city! Mix of Katkov and carousing, Realm compelling gossip gritty, Ennui, dream, and nonsense housing.     There is no reason left for me     At all to love you here since when     The little stem so dear to me     Dashed off sans trace back then.15

Moreover, I translated the fourth eclogue of Virgil completely anew. I’ll send it to you with the next mail and explain what to do with it. Until a letter from you soon, my dear friend. The late hour—the twelfth— depresses me. Be well, regards to Olga. Here’s my exact address: Moscow-Kursk Rail Rd. Station Korennaya Pustyn. To the Rt Honorable A. A. Shenshin (vill. Vorobievka) for delivery to V. S. S. I already wrote to Mama. Send the enclosed letter with the manuscript registered, to Suvorin (Alexei Sergeevich), editorial office of New T.16 Thank you, dear brother, for everything. Yours Vlad.

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To Fr. P. Pierling PVSS, 3:148–49 20 June (2 July) 1887, Korennaya Pustyn, at A. A. Shenshin’s Reverend Father! Yesterday I received news from Moscow that the Italian booklet arrived there. Thus, I stand guiltlessly at fault before you, having vainly caused troubles with the French postal service. Forgive me magnanimously. I’m grateful to you for the good advice (in the last letter) with respect to the shortening of my “Philosophie.” I’ll try to carry it out, although I don’t know whether this will work in full measure. But here’s a consideration that I hope you’ll permit me to offer for your judgment. In view of the unconditional prohibition to which the first volume of my “Theocracy” has been subjected, I must lay aside continuation of this publication for an indefinite time, for I do not have the material potential to publish a multivolume Russian work that isn’t allowed into Russia. Therefore, I would for the time being like my French essai [Fr.] to replace, to a certain degree, all three or four volumes of the Russian book, and in that event it can’t be too brief now. I have in mind a whole book, even if a small one. After that, if any of those interested in this subject in France would find it useful and possible to make an analyse [Fr.] of my book in the form of a journal article for a more extensive circle of readers and place this article in one of the widespread French revues [Fr.], it would be all that I could desire. The question now is whether such a libraire-éditeur [Fr.] will be found in France, one who would take my book under his care. Without having definite means of subsistence, I used around 2,000 for publication of the first volume of “Theocracy” and am now sitting without a penny, without any hopes for the better in the present situation of affairs in our country. In and of itself this saddens me very little, for sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, and I mentioned this only so that you’d see the real necessity for me to search for a publisher.17 Please write me what you think about this. Your news about the nonreceipt of my Russian book in Paris as well brings me considerable confusion. Apparently, besides the Russian censorship, the Zagreb printer is also to blame for my miseries; a list of addresses was sent to him back at the beginning of April. If this list did not reach its destination as well, I don’t now know what to do. However, everything will get settled somehow. “Nobody can harm one whom God helps.” I’ll begin to abuse your kindness with the next mail, and I’ll send you the first sheets of my “Philosophie.” I think that sending it in parts is less risky; in

1887

addition I’ll manage in this way to make use of your remarks for later exposition. I hope to receive Leroy-Beaulieu’s letter in the coming days. I sympathize with his unwellness. I myself suffer with neuralgia continually. Wishing you the best of health and remaining respectfully yours Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. I. M. Martynov Moscow-Kursk r. r. Korennaya Pustyn Station, 20 June 1887

PVSS, 3:24

Dear Father! Your April letter, which (by a confluence of various circumstances) was delivered to me only the other day, plunged me into sadness and pangs of conscience concerning your news about O. N. S.18 The fact that in my brief and dry letter to her I did not, it seems, manage to hide the un-Christian feeling of disappointment regarding her completely forgivable, and for a woman natural, conceptions and judgments was also shameful for me. And now you write that she is ill. I can’t report anything good about myself for the time being. My book (the first volume of “History of Theocracy”) was subjected to total sequester. (As for copies designated for you and other individuals in Paris, their nonreceipt, about which Fr. Pierling notifies me, certainly depends on the printer’s disrepair alone. I will investigate and arrange for dispatch.) I’m writing “Philosophie de l’Église universelle” now, in French. An entire little book is coming out. God willing, I won’t finally perish from the blunt Greco-Russian fist. I have some notion about the author of the absurd tricks against your Society [ Jesuits]: this is a young Ruthenian, expelled from a seminary in Galicia for some outrage. Now he’s doing his fair share of chicanery in Moscow—a scoundrel of the first order … Be well and don’t forget, respectfully and sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. P. Pierling PVSS, 3:150–51 14–26 July 1987, Moscow, Kursk, r. r., Korennaya Pustyn Sta., at A. A. Shenshin’s. Reverend Father! I see from your letter that I didn’t succeed in abridging as I ought the introductory chapter sent to you. As you know, it’s much more difficult to abridge

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than to expand. I’m quite ready to rely on your opinion, combined with those of Father Martynov and Leroy-Beaulieu. But here’s the question: what am I supposed to do now? You’ll agree that in a work titled Philosophie de l’Église universelle it’s quite impossible to manage without general considerations and far removed intellectualizing. If you find that I should give up this work, carefully considered and already half-written by me, and take up another, then the question is: which one, precisely? Writing about the union of the churches without general considerations and intellectualizing means writing historical research on this subject. But entire volumes are necessary for this. I intended to dedicate further volumes of “Theocracy” mainly to historical research of the question. This is extremely necessary for the Russian public, but as you know, my concerns about it must be laid aside until a better time. As for the French, they have no special need of this, and if it is impossible to find a publisher for a little book, then much more so for several volumes. In view of all this I can’t think of anything else other than turning to you with the following proposal. Could you find it possible (alone or communicating with other competent individuals) to subject my French work to the abridgments and changes necessary in an exposition that will make it more expedient? For my part, it would be perfectly awkward to publish something about the union of the churches that would not be approved by representatives of the Catholic Church. I’ll be awaiting your reply with great interest. Don’t forget to write your plain, open opinion as to the extent to which my French is awful. Since Leroy-Beaulieu asked my opinion about the Russian schism, I sent him a published article on this subject to the Parisian address communicated by you, although another one was on his letter—apparently a dacha. Did I do right? Where is it better to write him? Did Father Martynov receive my letter concerning our lady compatriot [Olga Smirnova]? Katkov is dying, or has already died. It is possible to expect great changes. Forgive me. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. I. M. Martynov 18/30 July 1887

PVSS, 3:25–27

Dear Father! Having made use of your good advice once, I’ve decided to turn to you yet again. This time, however, the matter rather closely concerns you yourself.

1887

Since the month of April many “zealots of orthodoxy,” well-disposed toward me personally, are shooting thick, recently released volumes of Yu. F. Samarin’s works at me; a major place therein belongs to the well-known “Letters about Jesuits.”19 This is both sad and amusing. I’ve already received four copies and, it seems, it won’t remain thus. My respected friends don’t know that the said work, which I read for the first time about eight years ago, significantly assisted in the formation of my sympathies toward the Catholic Church.20 Crude logical missteps and manifest unconscientiousness on the part of, generally speaking, such an orderly and intelligent man as Yu. Samarin, forced me to seriously ponder our relation to Catholicism (from which I don’t separate your Society). The rest is known to you. Allow me now to report to you excerpts out of a letter that is relevant here, received by me the other day from a young man seriously occupied at the present time with a critique (under my guidance) of Slavophile “theology.” I wrote you that I even read Samarin’s “Jesuits,” and here’s my impression of this book: the work is very important, not for its profundity and impartiality, for which I reject him completely, but because it’s the single thing that we have along these lines, and the brainless public loves loud articles and books. Samarin knew this well. He (or Aksakov?) says that after having abused the Jesuits with foul words, without adducing even one piece of evidence, he encountered support in society, for he was speaking “with the Russian public, the Russian Orthodox society.” No matter how hard and desperate your situation, it’s better to be alone on the field of battle than self-confidently and boldly stirring up a pack of dogs poisonously against a newly arrived foreigner, on account of which, if you recall, the entire polemic began. I don’t blame Yuri [S.] very much: if Khomiakov’s articles hadn’t existed, he wouldn’t have written his letters to Fr. Martynov. In the total blindness brought about by Khomiakov, Samarin left the following considerations. (1) Jesuits do not impart absolute significance to the state; from here is a whole series of seemingly unceremonious rules—for example, clandestine compensation. (2) It’s possible not to like the regimentation of morality in general, but it wasn’t the Jesuits who invented it; if one is to pick between their casuistry and the blunt rigorism that contradicts it, then the latter is doubtlessly worse. (3) It doesn’t follow to confuse what’s written in a teacher’s goals for a fatherconfessor with what’s preached to each and every one: I think that Samarin

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically could have understood this rule, but the misfortune’s in the fact that the “teacher” solemnly proclaimed that there are no pupils of the church. (4) What’s better: missionary activity that permits a deal with paganism provisoirement [Fr. tentatively] or absence of missionary activity? Guidance of conscience in a conditional allowance of indulgences or absence of guidance? At the end of the book I encountered several words in which all of Slavophilism consists: relative truth isn’t necessary for us, because we’ve “thirst for unadulterated truth”: i.e., bread isn’t necessary for us, because we thirst for ambrosia, although we’ve no means of getting it.

—My correspondent up to now. [See also next letter.] Upon reading his letter, a thought that had already come into my head more than once returned to me more powerfully than before—namely, to write a thorough critique of Samarin’s book. Before, I intended to make this into appendices to the last volume of my “Theocracy.” But since I have to lay its ending aside almost to the Greek calends, wouldn’t it suit the matter to be occupied with this critique separately? I would be able to get to this immediately upon finishing the French work, about which I wrote to you and informed Fr. Pierling. If you approve my intention in general, then the following questions arise: (1) Does it follow to publish my analysis in Russian or French? The work of Samarin was published in French translation by a certain Boutourlin.21 (2) Should I sign my critique or not? (3) Finally, does it follow to select some thought-up name, or limit myself to a designation such as: par un membre de l’Église orientale, or par un russe orthodoxe [Fr. By a member of the Eastern Church, by an Orthodox Russian]. My personal opinion is that it’s more expedient to publish in French (if someone in Paris will set about correcting it) without my name, and with the latter of the adduced designations. However, in this matter I’m abiding by your decision, which I’ll await with great impatience. Sincerely and respectfully yours Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev [Summer 1887]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 8–10

My dear Misha, Just a few words, for I’m not certain that you’re in Dedovo and this indefiniteness removes the desire from me to enlarge upon anything.

1887

Write when you’re finally moving to Moscow, whether you’re remaining at the previous apartment, and so forth. Then you’ll receive a more significant letter from me. And in the meantime be satisfied with several current news items and with several of Fet’s sayings. (A) Current news items (1) I’m continuing to suffer with neuralgia and sleeplessness, with pauses. However I’m enjoying a placid period. (2) I’m grateful to you for the letter concerning Samarin’s Jesuits, [see previous letter] with which I agree almost completely, and also for the notification about receipt of my book in Moscow. Some copies are arriving, some not, have you received yours? (3) … [lines deleted] … (4) After much fluctuation, it seems my French work has come into focus. (5) Pr. Vo–kaya offered proprio motu [Lat. on her own] 1,000 r. for printing the second vol. of “Theocracy.” I replied, maybe I’ll make use of the current offer, after repayment of an old debt. (6) I’m writing and receiving a multitude of letters. (7) Mama and Nadia invited me to the Caucasus; it seems they were offended by my immobility. (8) After mature discussion, New Times compares Katkov with Voltaire. (9) I found an acknowledgment of Petrine primacy in Strauss’s extensive Life of Jesus. Be thankful for small favors.22 (B) Sayings of Fet (1) What is the State? A mousetrap—and nothing more. (2) What is a conviction? A mask stuck on with foul glue, which naïve people, after purchasing it in a shop for twenty kopecks, later consider by right the inexpungible material of their organism. (3) Awfully difficult to translate from the Latin into Russian. Words are all short in Latin, and in Russian they’re long, yet you can’t always manage with just one word. For example: in Latin there’s asinus, and in Russian you write: You-r Ex-cel-len-cy Lo-rd Chi-ef—Pro-cu-rat-or of the Ho-ly Sy-nod!23 Til we meet again, dear little Misha. Kisses and regards. Yours Vlad.

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To F. B. Gets [1887]

PVSS, 2:150–51

My dear friend! I’m hurrying to reply to you that I’ll carry out your wish with pleasure— and write an article on the Jewish question for The News. I don’t have anything against The News and I don’t deal with any other newspaper. What I wrote to you about Moscow Gazette, it seems, will not come about. Apparently, this paper will remain with the previous editorship—i.e., with Katkov’s collaborators, who imitate him only in what is bad. Given the opportunity, they’ll probably join the Judeophobes. I’ve already begun to write accordingly, under the title “The Sins of Russia.” These sins in my opinion are: (1) the situation of Judaism; (2) the Russianization of Poland; (3) the absence of religious freedom. I find it more suitable in all respects to speak in the press about the Jewish question in connection with these other falsehoods of ours. So then, if you guarantee that The News won’t be afraid to publish my article, and take it upon yourself to convey it to the editorship, then write me soon when you’re moving to Petersburg and whether your address there will remain as before: Sr. Poliach. 16, 27—and in a week or ten days you’ll receive my manuscript. You see that my pen’s always ready in defense of suffering Israel, but what you write about my “friends” is fantasy. One of those named by you, who perhaps even states humane views in oral conversation, will surely neither write nor publish one word for the benefit of Jews; and another (I don’t want to say exactly who) was almost serious in demonstrating that it’s necessary to subject all Jews to a certain operation, which once and for all would remove from them the capacity to multiply! Here’s a collective statement for you, for the benefit of Jews. But you are correct in the fact that if anyone, even I, decisively and with signature of my full name speaks against antisemitism, it can call forth even more, but in the end it will constitute some kind of counterweight to these frenzies. And for the time being I can only offer my own labor. So then, write me soon where to address my manuscript to you.       Sincerely yours     Vlad. Soloviev I’m ill all the time. Remaining here [Vorobievka] until the twentieth of September.

1887

To Fr. P. Pierling PVSS, 3:154–55 7/19 Aug. 1887, Moscow-Kursk r. r. Korennaya Pustyn station, to A. A. Shenshin Reverend Father! Inasmuch as my neuralgia allows, I’m working on the French composition according to a new plan. I’m writing from both the beginning and the end, as well as from the middle. According to your last communication, I abolished “La théocratie dans l’histoire.” In the meantime let it be: “La Réunion des Églises et les devoirs (la mission historique?) de la Russie.” Do you approve the last addition, and in what form? To my way of thinking, “Les devoirs” [Fr. debts] would be more adequate. I have special reasons not to shelve this work. Since the time of my last letter an important change has occurred in my affairs. Completely unexpectedly and without any efforts on my part, God sent me the means of publication for the second volume of “Theocracy.” So, after finishing the French work and yet another polemical booklet, about which Fr. Martynov will inform you, I must devote myself exclusively to polishing the second volume of “Theocracy.” Perhaps it is out of such a favorable turn that there even appeared in me an inner feeling it will go well with the French work as well … The more clearly I see all the evil springing from nationalism, the more I’m imbued with the great and holy significance of a single international or a supranational church. In translating the Aeneid into Russian verse during hours of leisure, I sense with special animation at different moments the mysterious and at the same time natural necessity that made Rome the center of the universal church. Dum domus Aenae Capitoli immobili Saxum (πετρα [Gk.]) Accolet, imperiumque Pater Romanus habebit. [Lat.]     While the home of the Aeneases is the immovable rock of the Capitol     The authority of the Roman Father also resides beyond.24 How is this not prophecy? Of course, Virgil was not thinking about a pope … But this subject is a subtle one that should be written about in the morning, and not at midnight. Even so, it seems, I’ve chattered too much. In conclusion I’ll mention as well that today’s solar eclipse, which was more fully observed precisely in Russia, is in my opinion not bereft of a certain mysterious significance. It relates in the most proximate way to a Ministry of Public Education that has closed down universities and to a religious department that has

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b­ anished (according to a new regulation) three ancient languages from seminaries and academies. And this intellectual darkening will come as quickly as today’s shadow upon the sun. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev I’m writing a long letter to Fr. Martynov; sending vol. 6 of Samarin as per his wishes.25 To Fr. P. Pierling PVSS, 3:156 31 August (12 Sept.) 1887. Beginning 1 October write to Moscow. Reverend Father! You gladdened me very much both with the news about Abbé Villoy’s [Fr.] book and even more with the fact that you share my good presentiment.26 I’ll read your historical article with interest. I read one of your previous works, about Tsar Dmitri, after finding it on my father’s desk while he was still alive. I’m continuing to write the French work with the former conviction of its successful completion. I’m thinking of leaving here for Moscow around the twentieth of September (O.S.), and will drop by the estate near Serpukhov on the way … It will be easy for you to form a definite opinion about the chances of finding a publisher on the basis of a full third. I must be in Moscow by the first days of October O.S. without fail; my address there is as previously: Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg. I’m entirely in agreement with your opinion about a polemical booklet on Samarin; it isn’t worth a separate refutation. But what would you say about a series of booklets under the general title: “Russian Polemics against Catholicism in the Nineteenth Century”? I already prepared material for four such booklets last year: (1) Slavophiles and Jesuits; (2) Metropolitan Philaret and the Universal Church; (3) Archbishop Nikanor and papal supremacy; (4) Archbishop Anatoly and A. Muraviev on Orthodoxy and ­Catholicism. However, it’s still too early to speak about this. First it’s necessary to finish the French work. With respect to the title of the latter, wouldn’t “La Russie et l’Église universelle” be simpler than anything?27 I wish you good health and successful work, remaining sincerely yours Vladimir Soloviev

1887

To M. M. Stasiulevich 17 Sept. 1887

MMSp, 5:337–38

Mr. Mikhail Matveevich: I’m sending you two poems (for November’s M. Eur.) as well as another quatrain, but it’s not for publication, just a “cry of the heart” torn out of me by our “one and only” social commentator. After Katkov’s death, the one and only social commentator is, of course, Pr. Meshchersky.28 But on the other hand, though illiterate, he holds the banner of religion and morality high—in the capacity of a sodomist. According to his profession, he previously had to turn attention more than anything to articles at the back, but now he’s suddenly publishing in his new “big newspaper” that “he will turn special attention to articles at the front.” Is it possible to believe in such an acute change in direction? And isn’t this a mask for more convenient propagandizing of the sodomite idea on the bases of Orthodoxy, autocracy, and nationality?29 That’s how I understood it, and out of the depths of my soul I cried out: Prince of Sodom, a citizen of Gomorrah Comes to Rus with his newspaper bigness. O Lord! Make clear judgment righteous and quick As in days of old, on such sinful vileness!30

If one joins to this quatrain the ancient “Punish, o saints, the Captain of the Trench,” etc., then this, it seems, would be a sufficient reply to the pretentious declaration of this “strictly conservative” writer.31 A propos [Fr.]: the new editorial office of Russian Messenger has thrice invited me to contribute but, having tested the soil, I was convinced that Katkov’s epigones thoroughly preserve his image and likeness (with the exception of his talent, of course) and therefore I’ll resolutely refrain from any literary relations with them. My friend Strakhov is preparing a fourth edition of Danilevsky’s Russia and Europe. My view of this work is diametrically opposed to Strakhov’s, and I am preparing a detailed analysis of Russia and Europe with the addition of several remarks as well on “Darwinism” by the same author. I wanted to call my article “Philosophy of Empty Pretense,” but out of regard for the memory of Danilevsky, who in other respects was a respected and intelligent person, I’ll change the title.32 I’ll send this analysis to you when it’s ready; if we don’t come to an agreement (which I don’t think will happen), I have in mind Russian

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Thought. I’m very sorry that I’m deprived of the freedom of movement. I’m hoping, however, to be in Petersburg at least for several days in the winter. Since the beginning of October I’ve been in Moscow, where my address is as previously: Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg. With respect, yours sincerely Vlad. Sol. To M. S. Soloviev 18 Sept. [18]87

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 10–11

My dear boy Misha, I’m now departing, five months gone just like that; leaving on Tuesday the twenty-second, not directly for Moscow but to the Sollogubs near Serpukhov.33 I need Mrs. Sollogub for the sake of correcting and improving my French manuscript, a third of which is now ready. They’re promising to publish it in Paris without any expense to me. I threw out everything theosophical and titled the work “La Russie et l’Église universelle.” A certain Abbé Tilloy [Fr.] is publishing a whole book on me (or concerning me) with a foreword in the form of a letter to me.34 I’ll stay at the Sollogubs around ten days, and fall into your embrace on the second or third. On this convenient occasion I’ll communicate certain facts about my further intentions, which would be fastidious to write about, as the late Duvernois used to say.35 But now I’ll share the fruits of my muse. First, a cry from the heart: Pr. Meshchersky … suddenly announced that he’ll be turning special attention to articles at the front of his new “big newspaper.” I did not trust in such a sudden change of direction and exclaimed: Prince of Sodom and citizen of Gomorrah Comes to Rus with his newspaper bigness [etc., see previous letter]

Thus, after paying the debt to the citizenry’s grief, I indulged myself in subjective melancholy: Ah! Far away up on Tibetan plateaus    Lives my friend. Here alone languish I in anguish and woes.     It’s dark all round. And only at times in the fog of dreams     I see that which,

1887 I could see without any difficulty     A hundred years ago. Having weakened, I’ll die from anguish and woe     In a reproach to fate. Or find a path to the plateaus of Tibet    Through Kuku-Nor.36

And here are some others, the fruits of a sleepless night. These lines are of little interest on reading, but very good sung on evening walks in solitude. My poor dear! The path has exhausted you, And your tired legs are hurting. Come in to my place to rest, Dear girl, the sunset’s darkening. Poor dear! I won’t ask you, Where you’ve been and where you’re coming from. I’ll only press you to my heart lovingly, In this heart you’ll find peace. Time and Death rule on earth, But don’t call them sovereign. Everything vanishes, spinning in the haze. Only the sun of love is immovable.37

Dear Misha, I’d just dispatched best wishes to the Caucasus on the seventeenth and on the twenty-third, when I received notification from Nadia they’ll be in Moscow on the nineteenth. So, please inform them I wrote twice before the seventeenth and the twenty-third, as well as to Vera along with Liuba. Kisses and greetings. Til soon we meet. Yours Vlad. To Fr. P. Pierling Moscow, Prechistenka, 4 (16) Oct. [18]87

PVSS, 3:157

Reverend Father! Simultaneously with this letter I’m sending (by parcel post) the first thirty sheets of my French work, for which I settled on the simple title: “La Russie et l’Église universelle.”

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Meanwhile, I’m sending less than I thought: double correspondence delays the business a little, but I’m still hoping that everything will be fully ready this year. I’m very glad you approve my intention with respect to polemical booklets. I’ll take them up as soon as I finish with the French work. However, I’ve already prepared all the material for these booklets, as well as for the second volume of “Theocracy.” Imagine, the fate of my innocent first volume still isn’t resolved up to this time. All this time it was being reviewed by the secular censorship, which in the end acknowledged its incompetency and conveyed it to the religious censor; I don’t expect anything good. However, prohibition will be inconvenient for me only in a material respect: the first volume in and of itself has little significance apart from the following ones. The sad state of my health worries me more, but I hope with God’s help not to collapse altogether before the completion of works begun. Incidentally: could you assist in a remedy with a bit of information? My greatest suffering consists in my inability to sleep at the smallest noise. Several years ago I heard that some Englishman invented a means against this: two simple little filtering devices are placed into the ears, completely protecting them from any noisy effects. It would be a favor and benefit to me, and for all my poverty I’m even ready to pay up to 100 r. for such a device. But they’ve heard nothing of such an invention in Moscow and Petersburg stores. Do you know about this or about any means whatsoever of becoming deaf? Don’t laugh at me: even now I’m writing you after two completely sleepless nights. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To F. B. Gets 10 November 1887, Moscow, Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg.

PVSS, 2:153

My dear Faivel Bentsilovich! I very much regret and am indignant that up to this time you have to busy yourself with vocabulary pursuant to the deprivation of Judaism’s civil rights. But as you have probably been persuaded by now, my indignation must be concealed in the depths of my heart, since even Mr. Notovich finds its printed expression inconvenient. Up to now I haven’t been able to procure (by contraband) a sufficient quantity of copies of my prohibited book in order to send one, as I promised, for Sakketti and for the Jewish Literary Society—best regards to Sakketti, and I’m grateful for the good postscript to one of your letters.38

1887

Renan’s new book is familiar to me, but I don’t share the opinion of your friend by far. First, this History of Israel is both unhistorical and, if it’s possible to express it thus, un-Israeli. Is it possible to write about Saul and David in such a feuilleton-ish tone, precisely as if it were about Battenberg or Coburg? I don’t understand as well how a true Jew could sympathize with a historian for whom Abraham and Moses are myths and David—a lucky imposter? Jews who throw themselves into the embrace of the Renans and the Strausses out of enmity to Christianity remind me of those Japanese who slice open their stomachs in order to avenge themselves properly against the enemy. And have you read the first volume of Ranke, Weltgeschichte? That’s how a real scholar has spoken about Israel according to the Bible!39 Be well, my dear friend, and don’t be too dejected; I firmly hope that we’ll see better times. Sincerely yours     Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. P. Pierling [tr. from French and Russian] 6/18 November 1887, Moscow, Prechistenka

PVSS, 3:158–59

Reverend Father! The conclusion of the first part is ready; I’m making a second copy and will send it to you in the coming days. Meanwhile here are the concluding theses, which summarize this first part. [Fr.] (1) One has no reason to believe in a grand future for the people of Russia in the domain of purely human culture (social institutions, science, philosophy, arts and letters); (2) True orthodoxy of the Russian people possesses nothing special and will not separate us from the West; (3) one does not find any positive element determining the religious future of Russia either in the official Church or among dissidents; (4) Russian caesaropapism is a principle of foreign origin, and essentially anti-Christian; (5) it is absolutely impossible to find or to believe that there is a center of unity and a guarantee of liberty for the Church in the East. I’m grateful to you for the advice on sleeplessness. I’ll make use of it if it gets bad again. I’m feeling better now. The continuous cheerfulness being aroused in me by the daily nonsense on the part of the prevailing obscurantism in our country is conducive to this. Recently, at an exhibition of paintings ascribed to Raphael, a drawing depicting Christ handing the keys to Ap. Peter was removed. And here’s an authentic passage for you out of a church sermon enunciated by an archpriest at funeral repasts for Katkov: “The societal service of the praiseworthy deceased can justifiably be called divine service, for he served the Tsar, who is the anointed of God.”

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

All this is cheerful, for the beginning of the end is being sensed. Be well. Sincerely yours     Vlad. Soloviev To N. N. Strakhov 5 Dec. [18]87

PVSS, 1:43–44

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! First, I’m sending you cordial compliments on the occasion of your name day and wish you all that’s achievable on earth, such as less illness, having to see less of G. and F. N. B. (not mentioning M. for reason of the feast day), a bit more tranquillity of soul and leisure time. Second, I’m informing you that A. A. [Fet] isn’t angry with you at all and wants to write you tomorrow. Of course, I didn’t say anything to him about your proposal (a review of his poems). Thanks for the notice you sent about Russia and Europe. I say essentially the same thing you do about the significance of Danilevsky with respect to the first Slavophiles. My first article (there will be three or four) is ready and being sent tomorrow. If the censorship’s terror, or the subtle politics of S. don’t forbid it, you’ll receive the proofs in the coming days. And what’s the situation of the third edition? My letter, the one given to Tsertelev, was of ephemeral content. Don’t worry about it. But I’m a little worried about N., afraid lest he be instigated in a “comprehensive plan.” I’m sincerely sorry for him but definitely can’t imagine what could calm him. I won’t say anything bad to you about myself. I’ve gotten healthy, sleep better, and look at the world unmercifully with a gentle gaze. I know that “everything that was excellent” will go to the devil (as serfdom already has— this first basis of all beauty), and such certainty fills my soul with almost heavenly serenity. Petty current events—for example, the closing of the ­university— serve as food to my mood. Incidentally I’ll report some details to you. After a trustee tried to pacify the students thrice by force of eloquent oratory alone, calling them bandits and rams, they turned to the rector (Ivanov) with a complaint against this eloquent trustee-ish oratory. That one began to convince the students to be indulgent: “You know, he is a count, so he was probably speaking with you in count-ish. I am a person who is not privy to secular life and do not know which words are properly used in this circle. But out of Roman history I recall that people of high birth sometimes did not shy from expressions. So, Scipio Africanus—who, however, had the merit that he took Carthage …”

1887

But here the speech was interrupted by general laughter, and the students would probably have been placated if a bloody battle had not occurred on that very same day, with killed and wounded. Now, according to a reliable piece of information, around two hundred people were dispatched as prisoners to new places of residence (for dissemination of good intentions in the province), and several persons disappeared without a trace. During the very thick of the riot, the very same rector stood motionless amid the awful noise and uproar, having slightly bent his head and glancing from time to time at the trustee, pronounced in a calm and grieving voice: “A total violation of discipline! An evident nonobservance of all rules!” However, I’ve chattered on too much and almost forgot to inform you of important news: I reconciled fully with L. N. Tolstoy; he came to me to explain certain aspects of his strange conduct, and after that I spent a whole evening at his place with great pleasure; and if he is always like that, then I’ll be visiting him. Until we meet again (in writing), dear Nikolai Nikolaevich. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 18/6 December 1887, Moscow, Prechistenka

MMSp, 5:339

Mr. Mikhail Matveevich: I’m sending you the first article on Russia and Europe. As you will see, I took into account censorial conditions and excluded everything personal and political, as well as all that might be subject to the religious censor. If the article is published in Messenger of Europe, I humbly ask you to arrange for the first proofs (in galleys) to be sent to N. N. Strakhov (in Petersburg) at the Torgovy Bridge, Sterligov’s bldg., apt. 19, and the second (in pages) to me in Moscow (only if this does not constitute any difficulties). In the event of the article’s placement in M. E., make me a promise—send me the manuscript. Everything here is fine. The university is closed, and 120 students have been sent off with gendarmes into the heartland. The two conservative organs of Russia have apparently decided to make themselves the two wolves that gnawed at themselves so much that only tails remained. The thriving of state finances comforts me in the disarray of my own. All’s well that ends well. With sincere respect, your humble servant Vlad. Sol.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

P.S. When you see Mr. Khomikhovsky, would you be so kind as to tell him that it is necessary to send me mail from the office to the following address: Moscow, Her Ex-cy Poliksena Vladimirovna Solovieva, Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg. To N. N. Strakhov PVSS, 1:48–49 [1887] My address from 25 Dec. to 15 Jan.: Sergiev Posad, Voznesensky Sq., apart. of A. F. Aksakova. Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! Last Sunday L. N. Tolstoy dropped by to see me a second time and spoke with delight about your article against Darwinism. With respect to the conclusions drawn by him from it (that Darwinism is such nonsense that it’s not worth refuting, that enthusiasm for this theory was involuntary insanity, and the like) je reserve mon opinion [Fr.], but I’ll read your article, of course, with no less delight than he. If there’s a spare reprint, please send it, otherwise I’ll get the Russian Messenger from Afanasy Afanasievich [Fet], who will probably return from Petersburg in the coming days. This indefatigable champion of landlord truth against the peasantry’s evil deeds probably surprised you very much by his appearance. God grant only that this trip not affect his health. Poor Maria Petrovna goes through the cold frost each day to Iverskaya to pray that Afanasy Afanasievich not be covered by snowdrifts and that Petersburg bureaucrats not drive him insane. However, besides snowdrifts and Petersburg bureaucracy there still exists F. N. B., who has already managed “through misunderstanding” to inflict upon our old friend material loss to the extent of 50 rubles. And I still haven’t received any news about my article, sent on the seventh of December. This surprises me a little, what with the habitual punctuality and courtesy of Stasiulevich. They’re probably surmising: what does this dream mean, and whether there’ll be any further antiliberal snags. If they send you the proofs—please, mark all that’s unpleasant for you: indeed, I’m not at all disposed to offend even my enemies, much less my friends, without higher necessity. But leave my joke against marketplace patriotism (not having anything in common either with the poetic nationalism of the previous Slavophiles, or with the pseudoscientific nationalism of Danilevsky)—it seems that it’s amusing

1887

and does not relate to anyone personally. Be well. My greetings and a happy New Year to E. L. Radlov, D. I. Stakheev, and all mutual friends. Sincerely yours      Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 11–12 30 Dec. [18]87, Sergiev Posad (Mosc. Prov.), Voznesensky Sq., Ch. house, apart. A. F. Aksakova. Hello, my dear Misha! Happy New Year—and new happiness. By happiness I mean in the given case: (1) good health to you and yours, (2) possibly more money, and (3) any uncommon occurrence such as would save you from the duties of a teacher. Our Saturday banquet passed rather boringly, notwithstanding the conscientious efforts of dear Trubetskoy, who was the real soul of the society.40 Only the brothers Lopatin [Lev and Mikhail] got drunk. I drank more than them, but I preserved sobriety of sight and balance of movement thanks partly to strength of spirit, and partly to salted toasted almonds. On the way home I slept well in the wagon and arrived at Anna Fedorovna’s fresh, hale, and hearty. It’s very comfortable for me here, but owing to fits of love pangs I sleep little and poorly, and my face looks like an apparition. Today I was at Father Barnabus’s, who announced to me that he loves me like a son, then advised me to get married without fail, but in such strange expressions that it was impossible at all to understand whether he’s speaking about a real wife, or about the Holy Virgin, or about the Church.41 Notwithstanding my emaciated condition, I’m in great form to write and expressing things of genius in the equivocal French language (perhaps “the air is dry as a nail”).42 In conclusion I have an urgent request of you: send the enclosed letter registered as soon as possible to the same address (i.e., M. Pierling, 26, Ave. Hoche, Paris) send it by any means you know (I think simply with Russian assignation 15 francs (8 rub.). I’ll explain why it’s so necessary when we meet. Besides the five copies of Theocracy delivered by Tsertelev, Pr. Volkonsky should have gotten me another five. When you’re at our place, find out and get control. Is there news about receipt of the book and money in Zagreb? Be well, regards and kisses. Yours Vlad.

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1888–1890 To M. M. Stasiulevich 12 January 1888, Yaroslavl

MMSp, 5:340

Mr. Mikhail Matveevich: After receiving your letter on the eve of my departure from Sergiev Posad for Yaroslav, I immediately arranged the page proofs to be sent straightaway from Moscow to me here. I waited for them today. If I don’t receive them by tomorrow, I’ll probably find them in Moscow, where I’m going the day after tomorrow, 14 January. The loss of your first letter proves to me that doubt relative to the post is not bereft of foundation, and that it’s better to dispatch letters registered. I’m at fault in that I didn’t explain to you how to follow through with my wish. The entire matter here is exclusively in personal relations. I only wanted to allow Strakhov to soften expressions offensive to the memory of Danilevsky (if he found any), whom he venerates. I do not share this sentiment but wouldn’t want to offend him too much for the sake of my old friendship with Strakhov. However, it seems that nothing personally offensive to Danilevsky is found in my article. Perhaps I’ll soften some things myself, and I’ll tell Strakhov that as a rule Messenger of Europe is ill at ease in granting page proofs to an outside person. I’m very glad that you like my article. In the sphere of the problems of Russian political and social life I feel myself (these last years) most in solidarity with the direction of Messenger of Europe and don’t see why a difference of ideas, which belong to the suprahuman sphere, should interfere with working together, in the presence of an identity of most proximate goals. Experience has convinced me to the contrary: that such work is not made easier in the least by metaphysical like-mindedness, when people do not want one and the same thing. I hope to talk with you in Petersburg in a little while about subjects of our common desires. With perfect respect I remain yours truly, Vlad. S. To Fr. P. Pierling 15/27 Jan. 1888, Moscow, Prechistenka

PVSS, 3:162

Reverend Father! My French book is finished and being subjected to first typing, followed by correcting and improvement of style and then a second, final typing. All this

1888–1890

will take another several weeks. I’ll probably send you this part 2 in two drafts as well. Of course, it will be necessary to review the entire book again before publication. For this, I suppose the best thing would be for me to come to Paris. For a parcel of proofs from Paris to Moscow and back would not only be a delay but, with my suspiciousness, a great torment as well. So then, if any unforeseen obstacles are not encountered, I’m thinking of presenting myself personally to you and to Fr. Martynov at the beginning of spring. I’ve just now read and sent out the proofs of my article “Russia and Europe,” which is being published in Messenger of Europe. The content of this article coincides in part with the start of the French book (criticism of our societal, scholarly, philosophical, and literary state). The editor of Messenger of Europe is very satisfied with this article and is even calling it “a good thing.” I don’t know whether it will appear as a good thing to our censorship. Be well. Sincerely yours,       Vlad. Soloviev To N. N. Strakhov 30 Jan. [18]88, Moscow

PVSS, 1:50–51

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich, First, congratulations to you, or—better to say—myself, on the happy resurrection of the most honorable Dmitri I. Stakheev, whom I mourned with sincere regret, having been led into error by identical name and place. This is a sign of long life for him. Second, I should inform you (pardon, I was a little late with this—­however, the matter’s unimportant) that Stasiulevich displayed editorial conceit, refusing to allow a third person between author and editor. Evidently, he looks at this literary bond much more strictly than other men do on the bond of marriage, to which the law of an excluded third isn’t always applied. So then, I read the proofs of my article myself but in other respects tried to produce upon myself the “mental suggestion” of your person. Incidentally, my friend Lopatin studies hypnotism intensively, thinking to prove by this path the existence of God and the immortality of the soul. But I’m proving to him this is nothing other than the worst form of sodomy. Grot, another philosopher, was at my place the other day and with a great fit of passion conveyed that a certain Mr. Lesevich noted down all the recent Russian philosophical writers in Russian Thought.1 He placed me at the head, according to the words of Grot, then came you, which seemed peculiar to him—to Grot.

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I was glad this news, which so disturbed my friend, left me absolutely dispassionate, so that I wasn’t even curious to see this article. However, my brief words on Russian philosophy will appear in Messenger of Europe in the coming days—of course, certainly much more radical than all Mr. Lesevich could ­conjure. Time goes by uncharitably quickly. The Fets are already talking about Vorobievka, and I’m going to go abroad for the printing of the French book and the second vol. of “Theocracy.” On my way I’ll be passing through Petersburg without fail. Otherwise, there’s a fantastic element in my trip abroad, but it seems to me that I’ll go anyway. Be well. I’m writing to Kutuzov. Vlad. Soloviev To Fr. P. Pierling 7/19 Apr. 1888, Moscow

PVSS, 3:165–66

Reverend Father! I finally found a free minute to write you after returning from Petersburg. Starting with the very highest circle of Petersburg society and ending with the “intellectual proletariat,” I was received variously with such empressement [Fr. enthusiasm] (in part thanks to my frightful article) that I stayed there an entire month instead of the ten days contemplated, and did not see how time was passing. What you write concerning this article of mine surprised me a little. The fact that the pseudopatriotic clique, which I called “the howling and grunting embodiment of the national idea,” responded to this compliment with corresponding abuse—was quite natural, and foreseen by me. However, as you will see from the enclosed slip of paper, not all the pseudopatriotic organs related to me as New Times or my friend V. V. Stasov did.2 As for the nonchauvinistic organs, they all responded more or less sympathetically to my article (e.g., The News in Petersburg, Russian Gazette in Moscow, The Kievan, and so forth). In the end, New Times, notwithstanding its special offense, had to soften its tone. (If you receive this newspaper in Paris, look at the issue from the twenty-seventh of March O.S., lead article under the title “The Idea of the Nation,” where they’re now slandering and cursing me not as confidently as at first.) I can’t but attach significance to the fact that over the course of two months a small journal article serves as the subject of lively talk in society and the press. Since you are interested in my personal impression, I must tell you that I’m unconditionally satisfied by the effect of my article and am definitely continuing in this direction. A second, more extensive article has already come out in the April issue of Messenger of Europe; and further ones treating the “historical

1888–1890

sins of Russia,” even if they represent more difficulties from the censorship’s point of view, may with a certain art of exposition be published anyway, as people with experience assure me. Sympathy of the best part of Russian society is ensured, and relative to the worst I can only cite my motto, already known to you: Nobody can harm one whom God helps. I’m now armed with a passport and, in view of a threatened further fall in the market’s exchange rate, with French banknotes. I’m thinking of leaving in a week and, after stopping at Karlsruhe for a couple of days, to present myself to you. If you would write me the address of a Parisian hotel that you recommend at Karlsruhe poste restante [Fr. to be called for], I would be very grateful to you. I need an inexpensive hotel, and mainly quiet. But here’s another difficulty: I’m a long-standing (though not pedantic) vegetarian and therefore a pension with compulsory table d’hôte won’t do. But I’m hoping that it will be possible somehow to arrange it. Pardon me for boring you with these details. Til soon we meet.   Yours truly, Vlad. Soloviev To P. V. Solovieva 25 Apr./7 May 1888

PVSS, 2:59

Christ is Risen! My dear Mama! I’m writing to you from Baden-Baden, where I observed Easter. Imagine, not only was I in a Russian church, but for the first time in my life I even heard the entire Paschal service—midnight, dawn, mass, and later, evening. I broke fast with the prince and princess of Baden (Maria Maximilianovna and her husband), there was a most abundant breakfast, but I ate only blessed bread and salad and drank champagne.3 I passed several hours of the day with these amiable hosts. Today I’m going for a walk in the vicinity of Baden, and tomorrow I’ll be in Paris. Write to me immediately thus: Hôtel de la Couronne. Rue St. Roch. 3. Paris. Be well. Affectionate kisses for everyone. I wrote to Misha from Warsaw. Convey my Parisian address to him. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 11 August 1888, 3 Rue St. Roch Paris

MMSp, 5:342

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, Forgive me for the long silence. Did you receive my “Idée russe” [Paris, 1888]? Before literary discussion in Messenger of Europe, the question of the

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

“Sins of Russia” is taking an unexpected turn for me. Menacing warnings are arriving from Petersburg. In any event I have, for my part, made the decision to return to Russia, but it seems not to Petersburg and not to Moscow, but somewhere else farther off. I don’t wish to exaggerate and attach a tragic turn to the subject without necessity. But it seems I can’t avoid an honor guard this time. From here I’m going to Zagreb, then to Kraków, and there—’neath the shelter of autocracy. I’m not writing details: you’ll find out in good time. Be well. Sincerely yours, Vladimir Soloviev To A. A. Fet To Vorobievka. 21 Aug./6 Sept. 1888. Viroflay [Fr.].

PVSS, 3:117–18

Dear Afanasy Afanasievich! I truly rejoiced at the tidings from you. And though you’re dissatisfied with life, I’m satisfied that you’re alive, and if you aren’t living better than before, at least it’s not worse. I’ve very often called to mind both you and Maria Petrovna in the Parisian bustle and in my present solitude, and continue to do so. Since the end of August (locally, i.e., since the middle of Russian August [O.S.]), I’m staying in the little town of Viroflay [Fr.] near Versailles, at the dacha Bonrepos [Fr.], which belongs to my friend Leroy-Beaulieu, who left with his family for his aunt’s in the countryside and left at my disposal a pavilion with a garden. This very beautiful garden and its contiguity to the great forest of Saint-Clu make my residence a heaven on earth—before the creation of Eve, since I find myself in complete solitude. However, one can speak about a heaven here only in comparison with a Parisian hotel, filled with noisy and inconsiderate Americans. But for a real heaven, my Bonrepos lacks much besides an Eve, for example, the rivers: Pison, Gihon, Hiddekel, and Euphrates.4 Joking aside, nature loses half its charm without water. And, in comparison with last summer, I’m especially short of Vorobievka’s charming society. Complete solitude is an excellent thing, and I’m enjoying it after the Parisian bustle—just not for long, and I probably couldn’t stay a half-year as pleasantly as I did in Vorobievka. I settled my affairs in Paris as well as I could. The book is ready for publication and will come out, I hope, before the beginning of winter. Many articles praising my booklet “L’idée russe” [Fr.] appeared in various French and Belgian journals and revues [Fr.] (the greater part religious). It’s being praised, by the way, for its purity of French language, which I have recently really perfected. I’ll stay here in Viroflay [Fr.] until the twenty-second (i.e., Russian: til the tenth of September), and if this letter of mine reaches you in good time and

1888–1890

with your habitually punctual courtesy you want to reply to me at once, you can address it here. After stopping for three or four days in Paris, I’m traveling from here through Lyon, Lausanne, Vienna, Zagreb, and Kraków—to Moscow. Warnings received by me recently from Russia force me to contemplate that I won’t be staying in Moscow for long, and these warnings will accompany me much longer, so that you are unlikely to see me Wednesdays and Sundays at your place this year. The less reasonable such apprehensions, the more probable. How just it is that wisdom differs from reason in all languages! While acknowledging the right of reason in theory, present wisdom consists in trusting in it as little as possible. But out of this contradiction it follows that unconditional significance does not belong to the intellectual sphere but to the moral one, in which there is no contradiction, for the rules don’t practice cannibalism or don’t steal more than you should are identically good both in theory and in practice. Incidentally, concerning wisdom: someone wrote to me from Petersburg that N. N. Strakhov expressed great indignation and irritation against me, but nevertheless inquired about my address. Please write to him that his indignation surprises me and, for my part, I invariably continue to maintain only good feelings toward him and to consider him the wisest of all earthly creations. And what is his idol [L. N. Tolstoy] doing?5 I heard from the Frenchman Vogüé that he [Tolstoy] is writing a novel about the harm of love.6 Evidently, this is brought about by N’s marriage for love. What a pity that I don’t have literary talent. Recently, the lady manager of the hotel overcharged me. This would be an excellent occasion to write an epic poem about the harm of hotels. However, we hope that the impression from N’s marriage will soon be replaced by some other displeasure and so forth, and that these subjectively-utilitarian novels will devour one another before their appearance in the world. However, I’ve gone on chattering in the old custom of Vorobievka! Be well, my truly anti-­ utilitarian poet! My cordial regards to dear Maria Petrovna. Greetings to Ekaterina Vladimirovna and all Vorobievka. To M. M. Stasiulevich 25 August 1888, 3 Rue St. Roch Paris

MMSp, 5:342–43

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, Thank you for the quick report. Here’s the conclusion of my clerical-­ liberal article. I’d like to discuss some things concerning it, but I’m hurrying to dispatch the letter today. I’ll confine myself to an allusion. Katkov repeated

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a ­thousand times that the basic advantage and vital essence of Russia consists in the absence of independent religious authority, by which the absolute monarchy of the state is secured. De facto, he was right, but wouldn’t it be useful to show from a Christian point of view this state monarchy is usurpation de jure? It’s a question of religious conviction for me, but I think this could be practically useful for all as well. Vivid hatred for Catholicism on the part of our clerics should, it seems to me, inspire contrary feelings in our liberals (to which I also adjoin myself on practical grounds). I am in like manner not in agreement both with those who see in the papacy the goal of humanity ( Jesuits) and with those who do not want to see an essential means in it. However, my allusion is crossing into argument. Thanks again for remembering. Please convey my respects to Liubov Isakovna. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Sol. There isn’t any news about the fate of the 50 cop. of “Idée russe.” To Eugène Tavernier [tr. from the French] September 1888, Viroflay

VSP, 185

My dear friend! I regret very much that the Kraków article was printed in l’Univers [here and below, Fr.] without warning me. I do not know the author or his intention, but I find some incredible errors in the article, and an animosity against Russia that l’Univers, in my opinion, should not have encouraged. But since the thing is done, I am sending you a refutation with the request to print it in the same typeface, and also in the same place as the Polish article, that is to say the front page.*7 I wrote in haste and I ask you to correct my style. As for the content, there’s nothing to change. If I’ve taken several hours off from the pressing work now occupying me in order to refute an article that doesn’t attack me personally, this proves to you my interest in l’Univers and desire that its readers be well informed. I’m going to Paris Friday and will come by the journal. Au revoir, then, see you soon. Yours truly, Vlad. Sol.

* Vladimir Soloviev published several articles in L’Univers, on “Saint Vladimir et l’État chrétien” (4, 11, 19 August; 22 September). This letter is reporting on the latter. Ed. note.

1888–1890

To N. N. Strakhov 2 Oct. [18]88, Viroflay (Seine-et-Oise) [Fr.]

PVSS, 1:53

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! V. P. Bezobrazov informed me that he performed my errand with respect to you. And meanwhile I repented of my inconsiderateness.8 If it’s unpleasant to distribute my booklet to mutual acquaintances, then forward it to M. M. Stasiulevich (Galernaya, 20). It’s now the second month that I’m living in complete solitude in a dacha near Versailles, occupying myself with the final polishing of the last chapters of my book “La Russie et l’Église universelle.” As soon as I finish it completely and hand it over to press, I’ll proceed home through Austria, just not to Moscow, as I wrote you last time, but directly to Petersburg. In the final analysis I’m satisfied with my journey. I’m not grumbling even at the present moment, although I find myself in an extremely pitiful situation, becoming exhausted from an abundant outflow of blood and a scarce inflow of money. In fact, it’s now the sixth day of a hemorrhoidal attack of unprecedented proportions, and there’s no consolation: the French are lavish only with printed compliments. Nevertheless “a cockroach doesn’t grumble.” He won’t be grumbling even when Nikifor, the most ho-o-n’rable old man, arrives and dunks him into the Viatka or Nakhichevan [rivers]. Just let it not be in Solovki.9 I’m not expanding upon this in view of our probable meeting. I very much want to embrace you and laugh wholeheartedly together. Be well, greetings to all mutual friends and believe in the steadfast friendship of Yours sincerely, Vlad. Soloviev To Eugène Tavernier [tr. from the French] 4/16 Oct. [18]88

VSP, 185–86

My dear friend! Hurrah! I’ve found the satisfactory frame to finish my book. Everything I had to say at the end was arranged in a most unexpected manner. Yesterday (Monday) I didn’t have any dinner at all, I didn’t take anything more than black coffee and some sugar water, and it served me well. I wrote from noon until eleven at night. The work to be done—reducing the superfluous, accenting the essential in what I read to you, giving everything more literary form— is more tedious than difficult. I’m hoping this won’t take me more than eight days. So suspend your judgment on my book and tell no one I was dissatisfied

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

with my work: it could be used against me. The material question is not going so well … Menard* spoke to me about other offers, but in each case I could arrange leaving France with little care and calculation, at least honorably if not at ease. You’ve taken my booklet and le Contemporain to Princesse Wittgenstein, isn’t that so? Thank you very much. If you see Menard, please (1) speak to him about my book, not according to your last impression but according to your confidence in me. I give you my word, like Floquet! that which I have done will be done well.10 (2) Please speak to him openly on … X …: I’m almost certain he’s thrust himself into my business. Menard considers him a dullard more than anything. Maybe I’m searching too carefully; however, the apostate abbé’s booklet, where I’m accused of favoring nihilists and regicides and of insulting the Tzar (crime of lese majesty, capital punishment) is not suspicion but fact. Farewell, write me, I’ll write you again. All yours affectionately, V. S. To N. N. Strakhov Zagreb, 12/24 Nov. [18]88

PVSS, 1:54

Priceless Nikolai Nikolaevich! You can’t conceal an awl in a sack, and how carefully you hid your belated campaign (forgive this Polonism [vytechku—wycieczku]) against me, but I found out about it anyway. Although I’m arranging to be in Petersburg in about two weeks, knowing through multiple experiences that two weeks unnoticeably grow into four and five, I would very much wish not to postpone getting acquainted with your strategic trick. So then, would you, in your kindness, send it to me here: Zagreb (Agram). Austro-Hungary. Agram (Autriche-Hongrie). M-r le Chanoine Dr. Rački. 13, Kaptol, Zagreb. But if you don’t want to acknowledge your military slyness, at least write something. Here I’m already sending you a third letter from abroad, but I’ve only secondhand news of you. Please give my best regards to our mutual friends, and in particular to Ct. Kutuzov, Radlov, and Stakheev. Happily, I’m finally done with my foreign business,

* Joseph Menard, a deputy (now deceased) from Paris, introduced Soloviev to the publisher Savine for publication of the book La Russie et l’Église Universelle. Ed. note.

1888–1890

i.e., found myself a suitable publisher for my French book “La Russie et l’Église universelle,” which is now being printed and will come out in the ­middle of winter. This French book will replace for the time being a continuation of “Theocracy,” with which I won’t be hurrying. I don’t see any particular use in the publication of Russian books inevitably prohibited in Russia. However, I’m hoping censorship conditions will soon change. Be well and, until we meet again. Yours truly, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 12/24 November 1888, Zagreb

MMSp, 5:344–45

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, I finally got out of France, after having arranged my affairs successfully, i.e., sold the manuscript of my French book to an appropriate publisher, commissioned proofs to appropriate French friends. Fr. Pierling, the French Jesuit, announced to me orally and in writing that he couldn’t take any part in the publication of my book owing to the difference of our views, from which you could conclude how baseless is The Citizen’s piece of information about my intention to be a general in the Jesuit order. Here in Zagreb I found two things of interest to me: first, a German book under the title Russisches Christenthum, dargestellt nach russischen Angaben von Victor Frank (pseudonym). There are three sections in this book: I. Pjotr J. Tschaadajew. II. Wladimir S. Solowjow. III. W. Ikonnikow. The section under my name consists mainly of a conscientious translation of several of my articles in Slav. Trans. If you’ve heard of the book, do you know its author? Second, I found a piece of information in a journal about Strakhov’s reply to my “Russia and Europe.” This very much interests me, and in part concerns you as well, for because of the impossibility of writing directly on Russia’s sins, I could have written on Strakhov’s sins, which in essence are the same, since in Strakhov I see a miniature of contemporary Russia. I suppose I’ll remain in Zagreb about ten days, but you know my trait of inertia, and therefore if you come across Russian Messenger—guessing my wily-sage friend is proceeding with combat in this journal—can you extract his product out of there, if it’s not large, and send it to me here? Agram D-r Rački 13, Kaptol. From Zagreb I’m going through Kraków to Petersburg. So then, until we meet. Please convey my respects to Liubov Isakovna. Yours truly, Vlad. Sol.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To M. M. Stasiulevich 7/19 December 1888, Zagreb

MMSp, 5:345

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, Yesterday I was very much in a hurry to dispatch the conclusion to the article, and didn’t even reread it as it should have been.* If you find some personal usage to be too crude or some joke ponderous—please cross it out. But in the meantime it seems to me that it’s impossible to leave the skillful literary … [deleted] … of my old friend without reply. And to postpone the reply for a better workup would be inconvenient for two reasons: first, it’s already late, and second, this kind of polemic is so unpleasant for me that I couldn’t bear to muck around with it for a long time. I’m leaving here tomorrow and suppose I’ll be in Petersburg by (Russian) Christmas. Over this time that I’ve been in Zagreb, I’ve been inhaling the “smoke of the fatherland” daily, since my host receives New Times. A propos [Fr.]: do you think that the appearance of even a completely innocent article with my signature in Messenger of Europe won’t encounter any obstacles? In the event of necessity it could be left without signature, after changing the corresponding places from first to third person. It’s possible I found myself a defender against Strakhov: V. P. Bezobrazov defended me in The Observer. However, I’m hoping that it will go as is. It seems Strakhov’s article didn’t draw any special attention to itself, otherwise someone would have informed me about it earlier. Nevertheless I know that Strakhov recently began to almost enjoy authority in certain circles, and in my opinion exposing his Eastern sins, though very boring, is not useless. This is the first, and I’m hoping the last, article of this kind written by me, and yesterday I felt a great relief after delivering the last sheets to the post office. So then, until we meet soon. My earnest regards to Liubov Isakovna and gratefulness for the kind reminder.           With respect, yours truly Vlad. S. To N. N. Strakhov 8/20 Dec. [18]88, Zagreb

PVSS, 1:55–56

Priceless and most revered Nikolai Nikolaevich! It appears from your letter you’re not only counting on the public’s stupidity but on mine as well. Yet I’m taking away from this something even ­commendable for you, and namely, that your article is written sincerely in at least one place: I mean where you indicate my “extraordinary naïveté”; this * On Sins and Illnesses,” in [M.E.], no. 1 (1889). Ed. note.

1888–1890

opinion of yours is not only sincere but also in part just, however not to the extent you think. But if I’m not so naïve as to take your evasions and advances, your silences and contrivances, for a real refutation of my arguments, which you didn’t even properly touch—on the other hand, I’m much more magnanimous than you imagine. You ask: on what basis will we reconcile? Well, not on any ­basis—I don’t acknowledge that we’ve fallen out at all. Printed quarreling doesn’t count. We parted as friends after both my articles. Since then I’ve done nothing to insult you, and if you’ve insulted me, I magnanimously forgive you and send you my blessing, forever inviolable. I was speaking to the French in Paris, to their great pleasure, about the new German emperor: il est pieux pour être désagréable à sa mère [He is pious in order to be rude to his mother]. In a similar manner I want to console you as well so that the burden of my magnanimity not crush you completely. Know that one of the motives (I say one of—for it isn’t necessary to exaggerate anything) for my peaceable disposition is an unwillingness to deliver a triumph to my brother Vsevolod, who had a bet with me that I’d fall out with you. Tomorrow I’m leaving Zagreb and hope to see you face to face around Christmas. I’ve not written to V. P. Bezobrazov lately, since I consider him a knight-errant wandering across Russia. I was even supposed to send something to Kutuzov but wasn’t sure of the reliability of his address, and now it isn’t worth it. Cordial regards to him and to all mutual friends. Be well. Believe me, it’s much easier to separate literature from friendship than matter from spirit. Besides, you even believe (or pretend you believe) the pitiful nonsensical stuff of Descartes and Leibniz. Til soon we meet. Truly fond of you Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev 16/28 Dec. [18]88, Vienna.

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 15–17

My dear Mishenka, I didn’t write to Russia (because of that, to you) over the course of two months for very valid and special reasons, about which I’ll inform you at a convenient opportunity. I’m not going to Moscow any time soon because I have other urgent matters. But in general I’m not disposed to stay in Moscow for a multitude of reasons. I’m inordinately sensitive in other respects, perhaps because I have much too thin skin, like a premature child. Remember the awkward incident with N. F. Fedorov? I hope you won’t suspect me of bad feelings toward this God’s fool “for resurrection’s sake.” But by its unexpectedness his nonsensical

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

conduct overturned all my concrete notions about the man and made former relations practically impossible. Something similar took place with Iv. Plat., and the whole thing’s precisely in its unexpectedness. For example, Strakhov, whom I’m fond of but always considered a substantial swine, did not perplex me at all with his last mazurka, and though I abused him in print as the worst scoundrel, this didn’t at all change our close friendly, even tender, relations. Of course, the epigraphs will be otherwise; back then I replaced them with the following: “I am ashamed for our society” (N. Strakhov). “Many illnesses eat away the limitless body of Russia” (idem). An article titled simply: “On Sins and Illnesses” (with full title of Strakhov’s article in quotes). In accordance with Stasiulevich’s telegram I sent him the first half of the article: 3 Dec. (O.S.) and the second—7 Dec. If there won’t be any extraneous obstacles, everything should appear together in the January issue.11 I’m writing to you immediately upon my arrival in Vienna, but I was at Strossmeyer’s in Djakovo (–vare) over these days. I spent their Bozhich [Christmas] with him. All the Djakovar children, dividing into several groups, came to present “Bethelehem,” and sang very dear and ingenuous Croatian songs. Strossmeyer himself is unwell; he’s grieved and has aged. He was inordinately amiable with me as always. He sent “L’Idée russe” to the pope. The pope said: “Bella idea! ma fuori’un miracolo é cosa impossibile” [Ital.] I’m very glad I went down to see Strossmeyer; maybe we won’t get to see each other anymore. On the occasion of the holidays this trip cost me rather dearly. Please send something in the way of 100 r. as soon as possible to the following address here in Vienna: Wien, Prater, Hôtel Goldenes Lamm (Continental). I’ll leave as soon as I receive it. Give my best regards to those friends who “stood up for me like a mountain,” as well as to those who stood up for me like a little hill, or even a mound.12 Concerning virtue: what’s with Iv. Iv? If they failed him at the academy, it’s good: now he’ll understand Christianity is unconditionally incompatible with a state church. Be well, my friend. Kisses and regards. Yours Vlad. To M. M. Stasiulevich Vienna, 25 December 1888/6 January

MMSp, 5:346

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, Happy New Year to you and Liubov Isakovna. I thought of welcoming it in Petersburg but got bogged down here for the sake of several essential books

1888–1890

that I didn’t manage to work on in Paris and which aren’t in the Petersburg Library. I hope to make it for Epiphany’s frosts. If the article I sent can appear in January, please leave a little space for its conclusion in February; it’s not large but corresponds more to the title. Anyway, I want to say something under cover of the Strakhov polemic. If it turn outs to be druckfahig [Ger: printable], then I have in mind yet another article—fully passed by the censor: on the disintegration of Slavophilism. In my view the old Slavophilism was a mixture of various elements, mainly three: Byzantinism, liberalism, and feverish patriotism. In today’s quasi-Slavophilism each of these elements has separated and walks about on its own, like Mayor Kovalev’s nose.13 The Byzantine element has found itself preachers in T. Filippov, K. Leontiev, the liberal element in O. Miller and especially in Prof. [V. I.] Lamansky, with whom only the name of Slavophilism remains;14 finally, feverish patriotism, liberated from any ideological admixture, has spilled out widely over all our lowlands, and among individual writers my friend Strakhkov has appeared as its representative; his head belongs entirely to the “rotting West,” and he only lays his stomach at the altar of the fatherland. Be well, and I’m hoping now to see you soon. With respect, yours truly Vlad. S. To Nikolai Ya. Grot PVSS, 1:62 28 Apr. [18]89, Spassk, Tambov Prov., at Pr. D. N. Tsertelev’s, vill. Lipyagi Dear Nikolai Yakovlevich! Here’s the Anhang [Ger. appendix]; you don’t need to check—there are no lapses. As for the salutations of the Italian committee,* I interpreted your silence on this in the last note in a sense favorable for myself, i.e., that you’re removing this commission from me.15 If I’ve erred beyond expectations in this, here’s the motivation for my refusal: the conditional sympathy I may have for this matter belongs to me alone (among the members of the Psychological Soc.), for some sympathize not at all (for example, Tsertelev), and others (the majority) sympathize unconditionally and don’t share at all my reservations with respect to the anti-Vatican direction of the Bruno campaign. In view of this it would be very strange for me to appear as a representative of the Society in this matter.

* On the occasion of raising a monument to Giordano Bruno in the Campo dei fiori in Rome. Ed. note.

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I’m very satisfied that I’ve taken cover under shelter of the currents; here it’s possible to do more in two weeks than in Moscow in two months, to say nothing about Petersburg. My host instructs me to send greetings. He wanted to drop by your place back then, but on the basis of your note I told him you would not be home. Until we meet—probably in Moscow again. My respects to Natalia Nikolaevna. Sincerely yours V. Soloviev To P. V. Solovieva 26 June 1889, Petersburg

PVSS, 2:64

My dear Mama! When I was leaving Moscow, you had not yet decided on your summer, and I learned only recently while passing through Moscow that you’re in the Caucasus. Therefore I haven’t written to you up to this time and couldn’t even send best wishes to Nadia on her birthday. You knew my address (at Tsertelev’s), and you (i.e., you or Nadia or Sena) could have chanced by before your departure for the Caucasus. I spent around a month at Tsertelev’s, visiting him at his village in the Syzran countryside, and from there up along the Volga to Samara, Kazan, and Nizhny. I was only in Moscow for a day: I saw the Popovs and the Dedovs. I found Nil in previous form, but Vera very much dejected.16 Everything’s well in Dedovo. Misha has recovered and eats for three. And imagine!—I went to Botkin’s in Finland, so that he could explain to me why I vomit every day. After an attentive examination he found no illness proper, just “enervation,” against which, as a radical means, he advised me to get married, or, in his expression, “to thrive” and to live in tranquillity.17 But because of the impracticability of this advice, he prescribed pills. He not only permitted drinking but recommended it, of course—“without excess.” He approved a meatless diet. I’m leaving here in the coming days, first for Moscow and its vicinity, and later—I don’t know. You can write through Misha. The present letter will probably arrive around your birthday, on which I cordially send you best wishes. Affectionate kisses for all of you. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To A. A. Fet [20 July 1889]

PVSS, 3:121

Dear Afanasy Afanasievich! I sincerely regret that I won’t be able to be in Vorobievka this summer, for reasons that I explain in the letter to Maria ­Petrovna.18

1888–1890

However, it’s already not long til autumn, and I hope to embrace you in Moscow soon. What are you doing? Don’t forget that in autumn we have to prepare a new issue of Evening Fires [poems]. As for me, I’m working in solitude more avidly than usual, notwithstanding my lack of health. Since we saw each other, my translation of Kant has come out, I’ll give it to you when next we meet; and in Paris—I hear the French book has already appeared in a second edition. But I still haven’t received a single copy and have no news, besides my Jesuit friends severely criticizing me for freethinking, daydreaming, and mysticism. Please the people! However, I long ago gave up caring not only about pleasing people but even persuading them. It’s sufficient for me to testify as I know about the truth that I believe and about the deceit that I see. And then it’s whatever God grants. At present I’m riding, so to speak, in a troika: I have a total of seven years of labor, which I’ve only just finished in rough draft, and have begun a clean copy; for the side horses, a subversion of Slavophilism for the autumn issues of Messenger of Europe, on the one hand, and, on the other, a deliberation “on beauty” for the first issue of Grot’s journal.19 I’m defining beauty from the negative limit as pure uselessness, and from the positive as spiritual corporeality.20 The latter will be clear only from the article itself, which, I hope, will merit your approval. Be well, my dear Afanasy Afanasievich, and bear no ill will against one who is steadfastly fond of you. To T. I. Filippov PVSS, 2:328–29 Vill. Rozhdestvino, Serpukhov, at Pr. Sollogub’s, 30 July 1889 Dear Tertii Ivanovich, Your Excellency, I wanted to congratulate you by telegram but then thought about it for a while: congratulations like this would only be a matter of simple courtesy; and since this, your happy event, occasioned a special, very vivid joy for me, I can enlarge upon it all the more, since it is less personally motivated. Even though your good disposition has long favored me, it would hardly be possible for you to help me personally in my present need: namely, to remove or ease the fetters of the religious censorship weighing upon me, thanks to which my literary activity had to take on a completely inappropriate character, inconvenient and unwelcome to me. I do not think anyone could help me in this respect at the present time. But your accession to the first rank of State dignitaries seems to me an undoubtable omen of a certain general change of government views in this sphere. Although this sphere is not encompassed by your new designation, your mode of thought and merits with respect to it are too well known not to be taken into consideration even in the present case. And the change of views to which I am alluding is important

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and essential not for me but for all Russia, and not only for it but for the universal Church as well. I can tie my own personal expectations to this hope as well, without any selfishness and self-interest. The ukase of the twenty-sixth of June, finding me in intellectual labor, physical ailment, heartfelt sorrows, as well as religious captivity, acted upon me as a joyful and bracing portent of future liberation. Albanians guard me, I’m in chains … but in the window Oranges are blossoming— A good sign: Spring is near.21

Everywhere, and in everything, the major concern is freedom: intellectual conviction, thoughts, and theory only clear away and illuminate the paths leading to a goal that is not set by theoretical but by practical reason. It is not so much like-mindedness as a single will that ties me to you. You want religious liberation deeply and passionately, the strengthening and revival of the Russian church and through it also the universal church. I want this as well. We have one and the same goal: ignem fovere in gremio sponsae Christi.22 And as for paths, only honest experience can show which of them is true and which is mistaken. I am always ready to reject directly and decisively any opinion of mine as soon as its falsehood is disclosed in actual fact. Prohibition is not disclosing, and force is not evidence of truth. I consider myself as having the right to expect from the state-supported activity of the author of “Contemporary Church Problems” new practical conditions for resolution of these problems on the basis of honest struggle of ideas and principles—in real disclosure or in real justification of convictions dear to me. In any event, I expect from you a movement of water in our stagnant church baptismal basin. In hopes that you do not lament my open expressions, I have the honor of being truly and respectfully Your Excellency’s humble servant Vladimir Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 18–19 2 November [18]89, Petersburg. Hôt. Europe (Mikhail. St.) Dear Misha, After my letter, I’d already begun to ascribe your silence to unwellness, and was going to telegraph, but conclude from Mama’s letter and the words of M. N. Lopatin—who came here—that you’re well. I’m going to Moscow around the

1888–1890

fifteenth of this month. But first of all I have to pay some debts here and am thus asking you at least to reply to this letter immediately with the dispatch of any sum at all. If nothing or very little’s coming to me on account for May–August (due to deduction of the 200 r. borrowed from you), then surely something’s accumulated for September and October … [words deleted] … Since you’re not replying to my noble letters (i.e., without mention of money), I’m reluctant to write you à la Dostoevsky. Yesterday I got drunk on the occasion of the censorship’s easing, but since my fellow diners drank ten times more, I was sober and the result of all this—a bill of 85 r. Please forgive the completely exceptional occasion, but for maintenance of prestige I shouldn’t put off repayment very long, and therefore send it soon, I think, as a transfer in my name. Imagine, my friend, not only did the article in Mess. of Eur. pass unobstructed, but the Tolstoy parable about the eagle and the hen in Vengerov’s dictionary as well. The censor stated he doesn’t understand what this means—and let it pass! I’ve only private tidings about the French book, through Abaza, to whom Vogüé very much praised its language: ou ce coquin de Solovief a-t-il pris son français? [Where did this rascal Soloviev get his French?] and he said only one out of a hundred contemporary French writers could write as well. But it seems I won’t get printed praises from these gentlemen, and definitely don’t wish to turn to anyone with requests.23 Misha, I want to see you very much, and if you also share this desire, then send a ticket quickly. And we’ll talk about everything else in Moscow. Kisses for Olga and Serezha and regards to everyone. Yours Vlad. To New Times No. 4934, 22 November 1889

PVSS, 3:174–75

Dear Gentlemen! The following note was published in New Times, no. 4934 (18 November): The first issue of the new philosophical journal Problems of Philosophy and Psychology came out in Moscow, and in it were articles by Messrs A. Kozlov, Vlad. Soloviev, Nikolai Grot, Lesevich, and Pr. S. Trubetskoy. Avidly extolling French and German philosophy and commenting on Russia’s with scorn, our philosophers nevertheless reference their own, evidently Russian, philosophical works at every step, and Pr. Trubetskoy even writes in a foot-

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically note: compare our work, which will be coming out in print, Metaphysics in Ancient Greece. In what way and with the help of what philosophy can the reader compare a work that has not come out in print, but only forthcoming?

This note is based on imprecise information, which I consider necessary to correct. (1) There are no scornful comments about “Russian philosophy” made by any of the named and unnamed authors of the articles in the first issue of the philosophical journal, and neither could there be, for the reason that will be elucidated below. (2) Neither Prof. Grot, nor Mr. Lesevich, nor Mr. Shishkin, nor Mr. Lange, nor I have a single reference to our own philosophical works.24 There are several such references in Prof. Kozlov’s worthy work. I have an informative one to a French work of religious-historical content (La Russie et l’Église universelle). As for Pr. Trubetskoy, the author of the chronicle items would save himself and the reader from bewilderment, and from turning for help to any philosophy whatsoever, if he would only introduce his affected reference, since it is in reality printed on p. 95 (of the philosophical journal), and namely: “comp. our work, which should come out from the printer’s in the coming days: Metaphysics in Ancient Greece (Mosc 1888), pp. 161, 254, 353, 453, and others.” The words: “in the coming days” and an exact indication of pages leave no doubt as to the fact that it was about a work already printed, and ready to come out into the world. (3) If the editorial staff and contributors to the philosophical journal only merit censure without proof, then they evidently are not considered communicants of the Russian philosophy for which a special respect is here required. So then, there exists some other Russian philosophy completely unknown to us. It would be interesting to know at least one of its representatives, at least one R ­ ussian thinker who has created an independent philosophical teaching, worthy to stand side by side with the philosophical systems of ­Germany and France. If the point is only about expectations for the future, then it is in any event much less strange to cite a book that is without fail coming out in days than to require respect for a philosophy that perhaps will be appearing in an indefinite future. In place of these demands of impossible respect to nonexistent subjects, would it not be better to refer, if not respectfully then at least

1888–1890

impartially, to real ­manifestations of Russian thought, at least, for example, to Pr. Trubetskoy’s talented article. Vladimir Soloviev To Fr. Francisco Rački 9/21 Dec. 1889, Petersburg, Hôtel de l’Europe

PVSS, 1:179

My dear friend! Sincere wishes to you and your dear cloister for Bozhich [Christmas] and a happy New Year. I can briefly say about myself: I’m persevering in my labors and ailments. But I’m not dejected while I can work. My French book is disapproved by both sides: liberals for its clericalism, and clerics for its liberalism. The Jesuit fathers have altogether shaken their hands at me, trying to “hush” me up. But on the other hand I received news (indirectly) about publishing approval on the part of the bishop, and this very much consoled me. Little by little I’m preparing the second volume of “Theocracy” for press, and at the same time writing much and publishing philosophy and social commentary. I’m making use of the memory of your energy and diligence for maintenance of these qualities in myself. May God grant you many years to prosper. Sincerely and respectfully yours Vladimir Soloviev I’m writing to the bishop, and also to Voinovich. Regards to all friends in Zagreb. To Alexei A. Lugovoy [late 1880s]

PVSS, 2:299

Dear Alexei Alexeevich! I didn’t forget my promise but did forget my manuscript. Now I’ve got it. Here’s the phrase you ask about: Toute l’histoire universelle n’est que la réalization successive d’utopies, ou plûtot d’une seule et unique utopie judéo-chrétienne—la règne de justice et de la vérité ou le Royaume de Dieu.*25      Respectfully, your humble servant, Vlad. Soloviev * A response to my inquiry about the original text of an article or lecture that was given by Vl. Serg. in Paris in Pr. Wittgenstein’s salon. For my short story “Al´miror” I took the following epigraph from newspaper accounts of it: “let’s not forget that universal history is the realization of utopia.” My acquaintance with Vl. Serg. began with this letter. Al. L.’s note.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To New Times No. 5016, 15 February 1890

PVSS, 3:176–77

I hurry to correct an unpleasant mistake in D. F. Samarin’s article “Champion of Universal Truth” (New. T., no. 5015).26 Mr. Samarin addresses me: It’s you who says, as though in Kireevsky’s words, this power* issues from those who are praying or, in your original words, that those praying were mesmerized by the icon. You added these words yourself; in Kireevsky’s short story (according to Herzen’s ed.) not only do these words not exist, but they are impossible even to deduce without a distortion of Kireevsky’s thought, since he ends his short story with the words: “the icon became a living organ, a place of meeting between Creator and people.” According to your interpretation, these words turn out completely superfluous, not having any significance; you omit them, whereas Kireevsky’s thought is contained precisely in them. You’ll agree that distorting any thought by means of such devices, i.e., the insertion of words of your own and by exclusion of expressions unsuitable for you, is not very clever.

Meanwhile, as anyone can easily be persuaded, the words emphasized by Mr. Samarin, allegedly omitted by me, in fact are published in full (Mess. Eur., June, p. 739), and I did not insert a single word of mine into the adduced (in quotes) short story of Herzen. The “words” that Mr. Samarin speaks of belong to me, and I did not ascribe them either to Kireevsky or to anyone else. Mr. ­Samarin can dispute my understanding of Kireevsky’s views, but this now is another question. Without reckoning Mr. Samarin as capable of appearing in the press knowingly with false evidence, I limit myself to the factual indication of his incomprehensible mistake. The main objection, or better to say accusation, which is put forward against me by a respected defender of ancient Slavophilism, falls on its own. For further reply (if it turns out necessary and possible) I’ll await the conclusion to Mr. Samarin’s article. Vladimir Soloviev

* The subject is the miraculous power of an icon. Ed. note.

1888–1890

To New Times No. 5026, 25 February 1890

PVSS, 3:178

I was surprised to learn from newspapers that the docent of the local Religious Academy, the monastic abbot Antonii, is giving public lectures on the following theme: “On the superiority of orthodox Christianity in comparison with the papist teaching of Vladimir Soloviev” (or, according to another edition, “On the superiority of the teaching of the orthodox church in comparison with Vladimir Soloviev’s papist passion for exaggeration”). As a result, I consider it essential to state the following. (1) I never changed my confession of faith, and Fr. Antonii hardly has the right to excommunicate me from the church. (2) I am always ready to justify my beliefs and show in public debate why I am convinced of my full agreement with orthodox teaching, based on the word of God, on the definitions of the seven ecumenical councils, and on the testimony of the holy fathers and teachers of the church. (3) I decline any responsibility for thoughts and words that are being ascribed to me on the basis of arbitrary conclusions and references to individual places from works that are not able to be appealed to amid the Russian public and on subjects not open to discussion. Vladimir Soloviev To F. B. Gets May 1890

PVSS, 2:159

My dear friend! Your messenger caught me preparing to go to Muromtsev’s. I’m grateful for the cards. I’ll see some of the ones from your list myself; it’s impossible to even speak with others (for example Kliuchevsky). This is the New Times historian. If you want to obtain a dozen new signatures immediately, come for them on Sunday morning, for on Saturday I’m counting on a great harvest.* However, besides that I’ll be glad to see you on Friday (tomorrow) as well.27 Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev * The signatures spoken of relate to the collective protest against the antisemitic movement in the press, which keenly interested V. S. Soloviev. With this aim, Vl. S. turned first of all to Count L. N. Tolstoy with the proposal to compose a text of the aforesaid protest; and he received from him the reply below, a passage from which L. N. granted me permission to publish in my booklet: “Word of the defendant.” F. G. note.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To N. N. Strakhov Krasny Rog, 23 Aug. [18]90

PVSS, 1:59–60

Dear Nikolai Nikolaevich! I wanted to tell you about my polemical article but didn’t manage before your departure; it should appear in the coming days (or has already) in Russian Thought, if only the censor hasn’t meddled. Although it happens that I approve much of what you have and praise it ardently for certain things, in general, of course, you will be unsatisfied. What can be done? In this argument about ­Russia and Europe the final word in any event must be left to me—thus it is written in the stars. Don’t be angry, Nikolai Nikolaevich, dear fellow, and read the following explanation attentively. Danilevsky’s book was always ungeniessbar [Ger: inedible] for me, and in any event its celebration by you and Bestuzhev seems to me inordinate and intended exaggeration. But this certainly is no reason for me to attack it, and you will perhaps recall that formerly, out of friendship to you, I even praised this book in passing—of course, only with general and indefinite expressions. But here’s this innocent book, previously constituting only a subject of Nikolai N. Strakhov’s incomprehensible weakness, and because of that, dear to me to a certain degree as well—and suddenly, it’s becoming a peculiar Koran for all the scoundrels and blockheads who want to ruin Russia and prepare the way for the approaching Antichrist. When an enemy has ensconced himself in a forest, the question is not whether the woods are good or bad but how best to set fire to them. You can be surprised at the erroneousness of my view, but you can’t convince me of it because the point of view from which I’m judging in this case is itself perfectly alien to you. You look at history as a Chinese Buddhist, and my Judeo-Christian question has no meaning for you: is the given intellectual phenomenon useful or harmful for the divinely human concern on earth at the given historical minute? And incidentally, how does one explain, according to Danilevsky’s theory, that our mutual purely Russian (for it is priestly) national culture does not interfere with you being Chinese and me—a Jew?    The passage from L. N. Tolstoy’s letter to Vl. S. S. states: “I know in advance that if you, Vladimir Sergeevich, express what you think about this subject, then you will also express my thoughts and feelings, because our aversion to the measures of oppression of the Jewish nationality is one and the same: consciousness of the fraternal tie with all nations and all the more with the Jews, amid whom Christ was born, and who have suffered so much and continue to suffer from the pagan ignorance of so-called Christians. Affectionately yours, L. Tolstoy.” After receiving this letter, Vl. S. S. himself composed the text of the protest … F. G. note.

1888–1890

If this explanation doesn’t satisfy you either, then I hope you will take me at my word, that it’s an obligation for me to maintain my position in this ­argument. I’m going to Fet’s in the coming days, and beyond that, I don’t know. I’m thinking of being in Petersburg at the beginning of winter, and maybe even earlier. Be well and don’t be angry at sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To T. I. Filippov 27 September 1890, Moscow, Prechistenka

PVSS, 3:16–17

Esteemed Tertii Ivanovich! Notwithstanding the castration and the change of title with the insertion of the noncorresponding adjective “literary,” the enclosed note was not allowed by the censor. I am conveying it to the full disposal of Your Excellency, since you are capable of judging better than I whether it is possible to extract some use from it.28 The copy being sent is the only one in my possession. If you find the note useless (which it now even seems to me as well), then I’m asking you most humbly to destroy it. If you do not find it excessive to show to anyone, then would it not be better if you order a copy made for this purpose, excluding my signature; for it is not my personal opinion, which I am not, however, expressing directly, but the very circumstances indicated by me that might be important here. Be that as it may, I am relying on you fully in this case, as in other more important ones, if any have turned out to be such. No doubt you have turned your attention to the new Petersburg Church Bells. Where is it from? Is it from … [word/s deleted] … of the belfry? I still have not arrived at a final conclusion about the character of this phenomenon but was unpleasantly struck by several strange excesses—for example, Sharapov’s foreword to the testament of Father Makarii. I recently had the satisfaction to meet up with K. N. Leontiev after a fouryear separation and was gladdened by his comparative physical health and mental courage. He confessed that he once tore up my photograph out of malice toward me; in other respects he continues to lead me into the temptation of pride with an exaggerated notion about my capacities, and with regret in the fact that I do not find literary opponents of equal strength for uncovering my errors. I continue to grieve about the absence of conditions in our country for elucidating the errors of anyone at all in the religious and clerical sphere but also continue to think that a change in these conditions is your calling, dear Tertii Ivanovich, and that your elevation has its bases not only in the past, in your

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

works and services, but also in the future—in the great matter of the l­ iberation of the church, which you will fulfill when the time comes. Wishing you good health and every success, I remain with perfect respect and devotion Your Excellency’s humble servant Vladimir Soloviev To N. Ya. Grot 29 Oct. [18]90, Petersburg

PVSS, 1:67–68

Dear Nikolai Yakovlevich! I’m replying to your telegram by letter not out of economy, but because I can’t give a brief and categorical reply to your question. Of course, I trust you fully in all respects, but the question is whether it is worth publishing the note in castrated form. It would be another matter if this were a large and pithy article; but in such a small sortie—the violation of tone and style, the exclusion of two or three vivid phrases, can take away any meaning. So then: (1) if you can vouch that compromise with the censorship won’t compromise the character and meaning of the note, act according to discretion; (2) if you have doubts concerning this, inform me of any intended changes: in such an event and if you’ve reasons to hurry with the issue’s appearance, the note will have to be laid aside for the future; (3) finally, if you yourself find that it’s essential to tone it down for the possibility of the note’s publication, then let’s not publish at all. But I don’t know how to write on this subject in another tone and style. N.B. If you find some phrases too explicitly ironic, especially with respect to the person of Lesevich, you can freely change it favorably; but leave the reproach on the bad relation to like-minded associates in all force. Why insult them as well with unspoken praise of Lesevich alone? And what about the page-printed “Art”? I’m awaiting it without fail. You know the statement altered by me with respect to style, which was too formal at first editing. It has now come out incomparably better. Since these changes concern only form exclusively, I don’t consider it necessary to disturb all the signatories again. But if you want, I can send you a new edition, in which case I’d ask you to show it to the others as well. Korolenko sent his signature with a most sympathetic letter.29 It seems all the prominent literary names, with two or three exclusions, will be in the collection, with the mega-lion [Lev Tolstoy] at the head. Someone was chattering about a counterprotest: but for this it’s first of all necessary to create a counter-Tolstoy. And I think that even the counter-Grots and counter-Solovievs will prefer silence. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev

1888–1890

P.S. The reply to Strakhov is published in the November issue of Messenger of Europe. P.S. [sic] I confess that I didn’t manage to reread the note, written directly onto a blank sheet; I ask you please to look at it closely from this aspect. To F. B. Gets PVSS, 1:160–61 [Composed by Vl. S. Soloviev in May 1890 (published in edited form December 1890)] Text of the Protest against the Antisemitic Movement in the Press.30 The movement against the Jews, spread by the Russian press, represents an unprecedented violation of the most fundamental principles of justice and humanity. We consider it necessary to remind the Russian public of these elementary principles, the candid acceptance of which is the only solution of the so-called Jewish question. The existence, in fact, of such a question is simply the result of these principles having been forgotten. (1) As worthless and pernicious individuals exist among all races without necessarily contaminating and involving the entire race, which, if such were the case, would abolish the individual moral responsibility of its members, every appearance of hostility or action against the Jews as a body, or merely because they are Jews, represents the reckless infatuation of blind national egoism or narrow self-interest and can in no case be justified. (2) It is unjust to hold the Jewish people responsible for events in their life induced by a thousand years of persecution and the abnormal conditions in which they have been compelled to live. If for centuries they have been forcibly obliged to engage in money business because they are debarred from all other occupations, the undesirable consequences of such an exclusive turn given to Jewish energy cannot be removed by further persecution, which only tends to perpetuate the abnormal course. (3) Membership in the Semitic race and practice of the laws of Moses, implying nothing blameable per se, cannot serve as a basis for the separate legal situation of Jews in comparison with Russian subjects of other races and creeds. As the Russian Jews bear the burdens and fulfill their obligations equally with all other representatives of the classes to which they belong, they ought in justice to have the same rights as those enjoyed by them as well.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

The recognition and application of these elementary truths are important and necessary first of all for us ourselves. The intense incitement of racial and religious enmity, so opposed to the spirit of Christianity, and crushing the feelings of justice and humanity, corrupts society at the core, and may lead to moral abandon, especially in view of the present noticeable decline of humanitarian ideas and the feebleness of the juridical principle in our life. Therefore it is out of the feeling of national self-preservation alone that the antisemitic movement ought to be emphatically condemned, not only as immoral in essence but also as extremely dangerous for the future of Russia.

1891 To A. N. Aksakov [1 Feb. 1891]

PVSS, 2:293

Received: 300 (three hundred) rubles from Alexander Nikolaevich Aksakov on account as honorarium for translation of the book “The phantasms of the living” [Eng.] Vladimir Soloviev To F. B. Gets [28 March 1891,] Petersburg, Hôt. Europe

PVSS, 2:173

My dear friend! Your booklet is fully printed, but it’s probably only ministers who’ll be reading it; and in order to reach these readers, you should take measures—namely, send a petition about the delivery of the book to the Committee of Ministers (after having been signed only by the candidate in eastern languages).1 If you recall, I far from shared your and N—ch’s confidence in a happy outcome. I hope, however, that you won’t fall into dejection as quickly as you felt yourself happy at the new place; “And where’s happiness?”—asks my friend Fet justly: Not here, amidst the wretched squalor— It’s gone, like smoke before your eye … There! On the aerial path, there’s more— And into eternity we fly.*2 * See Fet’s Lyrical Poems (St. Petersburg, 1894), 1:260, “A May Night.” Fet’s third line reads: “After it! On the aerial path, after it!” Ed. note.

1891

I very nearly flew away into eternity, having injured my head (at the very crown) on the sharp end of a hanging lamp. Due to this, I had to stay in Moscow a few extra days. Now it seems there’s no danger. Be well, my friend. Details concerning the booklet will be reported to you. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To N. Ya. Grot 23 Apr. [18]91, Petersburg

PVSS, 1:69

Christ is risen, dear Nikolai Yakovlevich! Thank you for the issue. I don’t have anything against restoring the previous ending to my article. But there’s one misprint that changes the meaning; it was corrected by me, but your proofreader overcompensated. Would it be possible to correct it on a separate strip of paper glued into the issue? Incidentally, the others are then less important. I’m enclosing it on a slip. N.B. But here’s a more urgent request. Though the article on counterfeits does not completely cover my November advance, I beg you to please, please send me 100 r. for reason of the holidays, and in September it will probably be completely quits.3 With cabs and tips alone these three days already cost me 70 r. I had to fall into various small debts (not talking now about the big ones) that are essential to repay. So then, please, send me 100 rubles as soon as possible, in my name (Petersburg, Hôtel de l’Europe). I don’t know when it will be possible to come to Moscow. There’s a very important matter that it’s uncomfortable to write about briefly and still too early to write about extensively. Anyway I hope to see you before your departure from Moscow. Warm greetings to Natalia Nikolaevna and to our friends. I saw your family here twice. Be well. Sincerely yours, Vladimir Soloviev On Good Friday Feoktistov inflicted a visit upon me. C’est du nouveau [Fr. That’s new]. P.S. I’m now writing an article for the sixth and seventh issues of The News.* To Konstantin N. Leontiev Petersburg Hotel, 7 May [18]91 [Eastertide]

VSP, 176–77

He is Risen indeed, dear Konstantin Nikolaevich! I definitely did not want to do anything with your manuscript besides what you asked me in the letter accompanying it, and namely, to write my contrary * I.e., the sixth and seventh issues of Problems of Philosophy and Psychology. Ed. note.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

remarks or responses for your own use, since you wrote to me that the manuscript will not be published. Evidently you now have changed your intention, but I only found out about this here, while the manuscript remained in Moscow. My household left, it seems, for the Caucasus; there’s nobody at the apartment, and consequently you’ll have to wait until my arrival in Petersburg, which will probably be in three—or four—weeks. At the present moment I find myself in the most difficult circumstances (personal). The least of my unpleasantries is the fact that owing to an account that has grown over a half-year at the hotel, they wanted to evict me.* More worrisome to me is the serious illness of Sophia Petrovna and her youngest son, her break with Countess Tolstoy, and the complete disarray of their affairs. Nevertheless and rebus in arduis [Lat. when things are troublesome], I must give way to literature; the article about you will appear without fail, maybe not in The News, but in R.T. or M.E.4 Be well and believe in the sincere affection of yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev [May 1891]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 20–21

Dear Misha, I’m losing hope of disentangling myself from Petersburg. I arranged to leave altogether on Thursday, when suddenly there occurred an unforeseen vileness that changed everything. Lately, a significant part of my existence consists of an empirical commentary on Lermontov’s line: “For the revenge of enemies and the slander of friends.”5 If you hear anything filthy about me, know in advance that it’s friends slandering. I approve of your trip abroad in principle, but regret that you don’t write where and for what. I’m still thinking of being in Moscow before the end of August. My plans for increasing your income are now clearly being postponed until your return, and one more proximate is even being altogether vacated. As for me, I’ve already been announced as editor of the philosophical section for the encyclopedic dictionary. In any event these are reliable and sufficient earnings (two to three thousand), since “idols and ideals” will not be issued more than four times a year and provide no more than 700–800 r.6 Vsevolod’s splendid plan is synthetic a priori nonsense. It’s possible, my dear Misha, that I’ll still leave for Moscow by the end of this week; this means we’d see each other in Dedovo. * Upon leaving Petersburg, Soloviev left his suitcase with books in the hotel room; he had to pay for the room for the entire time of his extended absence. Ed. note.

1891

Be well, my archangel. Don’t think I’m not going because it’s good for me here. Incidentally: I was at Balaam and saw the quintessence of really strict ­monasticism …7 Yours Vlad. To M. S. Soloviev 21 June [18]91, Petersburg, Vozn. Prosp. 16

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 21–22

My dear Misha, Thanks for io.8 In the near future there are more or less pleasant prospects for me, some of which could also extend to you. But at present there’s nothing besides debts. Therefore your question: “Should I send it?” sounded like irony to me. Send it, archangel, and as soon as possible: I need a banknote, need it very much. Even if my Ideal’s safe to touch, Can one pay debts with pure idealism? That’s a poor rhyme with capitalism. I won’t twist my soul, though I don’t fear hell, But I need money bad! Can’t you tell?9

Send it straightaway in my landlord’s name, Vladimir Dmitrievich Kuzmin-­ Karaev. At this moment I have four whole prospects, of which two or even three depend mainly on me myself. I’m too shy to write what’s at issue for several reasons. I’ll come maybe in ten days, but I think surely by the end of July. And meanwhile, like Charles XII, I’m in my quarters, pale, motionless and quietly absorbed in thought. I didn’t altogether understand your verses, you’ll elucidate when next we meet. Be well, my archangel. Yours, Vlad. S. To F. B. Gets PVSS, 2:177 21 July 1891, Petersburg At the Blue Bridge, Voznesensky Prospect, no. 16, apartment of Kuzmin-­ Karavaev My dear friend! In one of your letters you offered to send me 50 r. that you consider your debt. I count the debt sooner on myself than on you, but since at present I find

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myself with absolutely nothing to live on (which I’m asking you determinedly not to write about to anyone in Petersburg: I’m already in debt and obliged to everyone), if you can spare the money mentioned I’m asking you as a favor to send it to me directly in the name of my current landlord.10 You wrote about the editorship of the Encyclopedic Dictionary. If your good disposition toward me were shared by the rest of humanity, I would certainly not only edit the Encyclopedic Dictionary but also rule the Holy Roman Empire. S. A. Vengerov told me there can be no talk of me as main editor, but editing one of the sections is possible, and there’s nothing definite to say yet. I haven’t yet had a reply from N. I. Bakst,* who is especially good to me and wanted to speak on my behalf. K. K. Arseniev, who was appointed the main editor, left to go abroad.11 Although you didn’t write about it, I heard that you’re displeased with me concerning the question of emigration. You know I consider the single just resolution to be full equal rights. This is what I declare to everyone even now. But since justice will perhaps only exist tomorrow—counting the days according to God’s reckoning, i.e., in a thousand years—this does not remove the necessity of at least temporary and palliative relief for the part of Judaism, which suffers most. Well, you yourself understand, having nearly resettled to England. And some good results have now already come out of this matter, which I’ll tell you about when next we meet. Anyway, I hope to come see you at least by the end of the summer. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 27 July 1891, Petersburg, Vozn. Prosp.

MMSp, 5:353

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, I bow before your wisdom in the name of justice, but do this without particular displeasure by virtue of friendship. I noted that you related to my appearance at the public house known by the name of The News without ardent approval—and oh! How right you were. Look what a foul thing they did to me there. The owner of the indicated … [deleted] … made one of my namesakes, Evg. Soloviev, write an article on a philosophical subject, quoting me and praising me, then made him sign this article with the Latin letter S, which the other never had previously signed himself, but with which one of my previous articles was * N. I. Bakst—the famous physiologist who died in 1904. F. G.’s note.

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signed in the very same News. And finally, he let out the rumor that I’m the author of this new article, i.e., that I was praising myself. The good result of this foul trick consists in that fact that I gave up this literary … [deleted] … with the same resolve and swiftness that I once had run out of a real Turkish … [deleted] …, where I had landed instead of a restaurant through a misunderstanding. I realized one of the proposed trips—to Balaam [Monastery]. I convinced the monks of their error, and I’ll tell you about my impression when we meet. I’m sitting at home and writing with three hands. A continuation of “Idols” is already being written and, consequently, will make it for the beginning of the October issue. The second edition of Nat. Quest. (a fair book came out in t­wenty-two sheets) is in the belly of the whale; I’m thinking it will be spewed out alive.* Less than a month now remains until your return. Best regards to Liubov Isakovna. Ask her to inform Baron G. [Ginsburg] about my history with The News, but with details softened, in order not to subject Notovich [publisher of The News] to an overly strong reprimand because of me: I’ve enough enemies in the other camp. And may the sea gods protect you. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Sol. To F. B. Gets 22 Aug. [18]91, vill. Dedovo

PVSS, 2:178

I believed not in the cruel Typhus foe — Believed not—and I was so right: Cruel Typhus was but a myth and so, My friend Faivel is well tonight. Ah! With the Talmud too was I right, Yet did not dare to try and debate. Here my “rab”* raced in with a light, But I got stuck in mire, ‘twas too late.12

Your reprimand, my dear friend, is perfectly just, and I myself have felt, that r. Jehuda is citing here another authoritative rabbi and speaking his words, as is very usual for the Talmud (which I could sniff out, if only slightly, and, having a rather long literary nose, I sense its style); and “rab” as a shortening of the noun isn’t unknown to me. But what’s to be done? The happy occasion * I.e., in the censorship committee. Ed. note. *Not you, but the one from Petersburg. V. S.

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presented itself. I ask that you please not write about this to N. I., whom I wouldn’t wish to distress with such a trifle. If it will be possible for me to publish my articles and notes concerning Judaism in a corrected and supplemented form, I’ll correct this mistake as well; in any event I’m grateful to you for pointing it out. I’m grateful as well for the booklets. I’m sending you my two books via the young officer Kuzmin-Karavaev (brother of the one at whose place I was living). He’s setting out for Wilno on military service. I recommend him to your kind attention. I finally left Petersburg. Now I’m at my younger brother’s mother-in-law’s place for a short time. Then I’ll be in Moscow several days, later in Kaluga Province, then in Kiev, and in Petersburg (to which the Encyclopedic Dictionary is calling me) on the return trip. I’ll maybe stop by Wilno. I seriously want to, though I cannot promise definitely. Be well. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To Sophia M. Martynova13 4 September 1891

VSP, 153–54

My dear friend, In general you have justly considered me an idiot, but in other instances you are mistaken. For example, you found my escorting K. I. as foolish, but this turned out to be a remarkably intelligent act. Imagine, I acquired two photographs of you from her that she previously had not shown me. Lensky and I kissed one another in such joy.14 I arrived at Skhodnia too early, and waited more than an hour.15 I found Nikolai Lopatin in the train car; I was doubly glad to see him—as a friend of my childhood and as a reminder about an evening at the Sollogubs, when together with him I saw you. When my daydream at the edge of previous days Finds you somewhere back there in a foggy haze, I’ll sweetly cry, just like the first Jew At the brink of the Promised Land.16

At the end of the line I entertained Lopatin without forgetting myself, so that the entire escort anecdote passed under a foggy haze. But the photographs are in my desk, and this now isn’t fog.

1891

I’ll write you again on Tuesday, and here’s my “Burning Bush” for you; I remembered it. But first about business: I found nine letters and three packages at home, one page proof of Telepathy and one telegram.17 Among the letters, two have decided my fate for the time being. Replying to my letter of condolence, the heir of a dead friend, and my debtor, gave notice to me not to turn to him for monies, offering to let me take books from his father’s library in exchange. Another gentleman is obliged to commit 100 rub. in advance from a publisher to me for a tale; I spent a part of this on domestic needs, but even 100 rub. would have been too much to spare for a trip. So then, I’m deprived of mobility until 15 October et Vous êtes condamnée a subir encore ma proximité. A propos, sans susceptibilité et arrière, pensée aucune. [Fr. You are condemned to suffer again my proximity. Apropos which, with susceptibility and in arrears, no thoughts]. You, my dear friend, have fallen into a certain natural mistake with respect to my visit to Znamensky [Monastery]. True, we met often in August—out of thirty-one days eleven were brightened for me by the rays of your actual presence—but you forgot, my friend, that half of this transpired in other places: in Moscow, in Nagorny, at train stations and on the road. But I was at Znamensky in August all of three times: (1) two days partially, from the evening of the fifth to midday on the seventh (with Princess Mimi); (2) days from the evening of the fifteenth until the evening of the sixteenth (at Mrs. M. Bartholemey’s); and (3) several hours of the twenty-fifth (on the eve of your departure to Mikh.)—and though my September visit with Kat. Iv. and the rest was long, it seems irreproachable. Ah, my dear friend! [the poem “Burning Bush” enclosed] Vl. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev [Summer 1891]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 24

My dear Misha, If nothing unexpected occurs on Tuesday, then I’ll arrive on Tuesday the eighth in Dedovo and will bring you the money—80 r. and change. I’m well, but suffering through heartfelt grief and no small anguish. I mention this in order that you not conclude wrongfully from my easy conversations about the character of my life’s relations. Just imagine, I have to deal with such a disposition, compared to which S. P. is simplicity and ease themselves, and the outward circumstances are also not the same. Incidentally; I stole two decent

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

photographs of my Kit-Kitych from a lady, and I’ll bring them to show you and Olga as a sign of fraternal love.18 Til then, my friend. Regards to all. Yours, Vlad. To M. M. Stasiulevich 20 September 1891, Moscow, Prechistenka

MMSp, 5:360–61

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, If I correctly understood your telegram, the article on the famine was not late for the October issue, but only too late to forward the proofs for corrections. In that case send me one copy anyway for personal use. Although I participate in various publications, I consider myself predominantly an employee of Messenger of Europe and therefore will inform you as boss that in view of my friend Pr. Tsertelev’s new and completely special circumstances, I found it impossible to refuse him nominal support and gave him three little translated pages from Virgil over the course of the whole year. The presence of my name equals nothing in itself, but my final and unconditional disappearance would harm him. In conscience, I can’t be for him (like a journalist) a positive quantity, but I don’t want to be made a negative quantity precisely now for reasons that I’ll explain to you when we meet, and which I hope you’ll find satisfactory. I’ll explain as well—this is, however, out of another opera—why for the time being it was necessary to postpone “Idols and Ideals” (probably until the November issue). It’s impossible for me to return to Petersburg later than the end of October. I don’t know how I’ll manage to fit all that needs to be done in this short time, but in any case I can’t avoid Petersburg in a month. At present I’m weakening under the gravity of effort to figure out at least a tiny microscopic kernel of a way out of our chaos—or simply mire—for the future of the societal organism. Evidently, this is significantly more difficult than inviting the Varangians [Vikings] or baptizing the Rus. And besides Peter the Great’s genius, for him the thing was also significantly eased by the possibility of timely and expedient utilization of a club. But voluntary agreement for the good is—rejected for our fellow citizens as something like the squaring of a circle. However, I’m not falling into the mortal sin of despondency, especially in view of manifest signs that the heavenly administration has lost patience and wants to get to work on us seriously. Be well. Warm regards to Liubov Isakovna and to mutual friends. Sincerely yours Vlad. Sol.

1891

So Russian literature’s penultimate chorus leader [Ivan A. Goncharov, 1812– 1891] is no more. Only Tolstoy remains, and that one’s poor of intellect. “Now here’s how it’s set up in our city: if an intelligent man’s either a hard drinker or makes drunken faces like so, get the saintly icons out of there quick.”19 To Konstantin K. Arseniev [September 1891]

PVSS, 2:68

Yesterday I sent Mikhail Matveevich an article about the national disaster and public assistance, where I intrude into your sphere. But this article is connected to certain circumstances that I’ll report on when we meet. I’m going to Petersburg around 20 October, and until then I’m going to Kiev for a brief time. Public lectures are being arranged among us here for the benefit of the starving. Won’t you come with Vladimir Danilovich?20 Of course, you can also arrange the same in Petersburg, but the one does not interfere with the other. I’m writing this to you in the name of the fully formed committee, and if this would seem possible to you, inform me. Until we meet. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev P.S. N.B. Why is the nonapplicable title of professor conferred upon me in the advert about the dictionary? I’m asking you to please inform whomever, so that it won’t be in the future. To Liubov Ya. Gurevich* 10 October 1891, Moscow, Prechistenka

PVSS, 3:130

Dear Liubov Yakovlevna! My note**21 has been noted, and consequently has achieved its proximate aim. I am preparing another more extensive one for the November issue (for the second section as well). I ask you in advance to hold back my entire honorarium for the benefit of the starving until suppression of the famine (so, beginning with Oct.), which you will also state in the Nov. issue. I could (under normal conditions) manage without such a statement, but once you published a list of donors, the absence of my name among them could be interpreted as * The letters to L. Ya. Gurevich were published in Dobroe Slovo, No. 1, 1909. Ed. note. ** “Our Sin and Our Obligation,” published in the Oct. 1891 issue of Northern Messenger. L.G.

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harming me and my undertaking, and in view of the systematic hunt carried out against me by rabid dogs I must be especially cautious. A collision of two gospel commandments comes out: concerning the right and the left hand, on the one hand, and not leading the least of these into temptation, on the other.22 I am giving preference to the latter, as relating not only to personal but to public ­morality as well. Until we meet, the final days of this month. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev It’s still necessary to speak about where to address donations: it’s not as easy as it seems. To K. K. Arseniev 15 October 1891, Moscow, Prechistenka

PVSS, 2:80

Dear Konstantin Konstantinovich! Tomorrow or the day after I’m sending you the articles (sent by you) corrected by me and a list of words under V [Cyrillic В], and in a few days I’ll dispatch my original articles [for the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary]. I’m probably taking Vedanta (writing with a ѣ), and I want to take Vedat´, if you don’t have a specialist in Sanskrit. But why not find one—this is better. The lectures I wrote you about can hardly be organized, for it’s been decided in principle not to allow any undertaking for the benefit of the starving. How I conceive of the practical realization I wrote about in Messenger of Europe—we’ll speak about it when we meet. It’s essential for me to be in Petersburg by 1 November, both for the Dictionary and for other matters. Has your influenza passed? Everyone around me here is afflicted in a very stubborn way. The devil knows, some kind of apocalyptic illness! Until we meet. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To the Moscow Gazette No. 292, Letter to the Editors

PVSS, 3:196

22 October 1891 After reading the articles (no. 291 of the Moscow Gazette) by Messrs. Yu. Nikolaev and Afanasiev dedicated to a paper of mine delivered at the ­Psychological Society, I consider it necessary to state that my thoughts are

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conveyed completely incorrectly in these articles, which it will be easy to be convinced of when the aforesaid paper appears in print. Vladimir Soloviev To L. Ya. Gurevich 26 October 1891

PVSS, 3:131

Dear Liubov Yakovlevna! Important changes have taken place since the time of my appeal, and even since my last telegram. First, I learned that it’s been decided for certain: under no circumstances is public assistance allowed for the starving, and second, the not-yet-prepared issue of the philosophical journal has been arrested at the printer, not only because of me, but also because of two innocent articles by Grot and Tolstoy about the famine. In these circumstances, what I have to say directly can in no way be published, and indirect conversations that could be published would inevitably turn out weaker and dimmer than the first appeal. Therefore, in the interests of the undertaking (including the Northern Messenger’s interest here as well) it is essential to keep silent for the time being. If it will not be possible to speak in the December issue as well, I promise you some sort of article of abstract content. You’d agree that it’s better to speak about completely extraneous subjects than to let out vague sounds through hushed lips concerning a scandalous disaster. For whom and for what can such an exercise be useful? I was calling for public organization in assistance to the people; now, it’s finally become clear that for enactment of this call (as I, however, foresaw) it’s essential to pass on to a different opera, one not disposed to official theaters. Be well. Until soon we meet.          Yours truly, Vlad. Soloviev To the Moscow Gazette 26 October 1891, no. 296, Letter to the Editors

PVSS, 3:197–99

In addition to my brief statement (no. 292 of the Moscow Gazette) please publish the following. (1) The words “swindling and deceit” (not “swindlers and deceivers”), used by me in the closed discussions after [reading] the paper, did not have and, according to the course of the conversation, could not have any relation either to Christian hermits and ascetics or the like. Rather, they related exclusively to the laymen of a wretched life, who hypocritically

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stand for an ideal of personal saintliness and piety in order to save themselves under this pretext from any labor for the common benefit. (2) I never said and could not say that Christianity produced only the inquisition. (3) There was neither “continuous” nor fragmented “mockery of the Christian Church.” (4) The church in its essence (from the aspect of divinity or grace) was not at all the subject of my arguments, which were limited only to the historical fortunes of Christian humanity. (5) I did not have an “ironic perception of the first Christians”; I said, on the contrary, that they, like the apostles after Pentecost as well, were really reborn with the Spirit of Christ, having, according to the words of the Acts of the Apostles, one heart and one soul.23 (6) Just as there was no attack on the Christian Church in my lecture, so too there was no defense of it in the disputations after it. (7) If my paper, given with large abridgments, is published, only then will it be in finished form, with more thorough factual arguments but sans the slightest change in thoughts and views.    To these seven points relating to accusations opined by Messrs Nikolaev and Afanasiev, I can add a reply to the three questions proposed to me by V. A. Gringmut (no. 293, Moscow Gazette).24 (8) According to the teaching of the Holy Church, the effect of Christ’s grace is not limited to church sacraments alone but has various forms. Consequently, my comparison of an unbelieving priest to an unbelieving historical actor has the following meaning: as grace of one form (church-sacramental) also has its power in the unbelieving performer of the sacrament, so too grace of another form (moral-practical) can have its power in an unbelieving public actor. In both cases, grace does not act through faith: in the first it acts through the apostolic station of a holy servant for the spiritual good of people; and in the second through the historical vocation of a societal actor for the practical good of the same people. However, it is possible to express my argument more directly and more forcefully by taking for an example the sacrament of holy baptism in place of the sacrament of holy offering. In actual fact, if a simple layman, or even a pagan, can perform the sacrament of holy baptism according to need, then he can serve Christ all the more in the performance of His historical concern. The subject wasn’t about an ideal norm but precisely about the fact that this happens according to need.

1891

(9) V. A. Gringmut’s second question is based on a misunderstanding, or even two. First, it does not follow in any way from the fact that I contrast real Christians to nominal or pretend Christians that there exist, in my opinion, only these two categories. On the contrary, I even mentioned that a multitude of nuances are found between these extreme limits of more or less deep and of more or less superficial Christianity. And second, it goes without saying that in a moral evaluation of active Christianity, not only the extent but also the quality of activity is important. I am completely in agreement with V. A. Gringmut that women who do not occupy themselves with any broad societal problems can also act in the spirit of true Christianity in their sphere. I was not accusing women in their private concerns but public people evading societal and state business under the pretext of individual-transcendental flights of mind. (10) V. A. Gringmut’s third question is tied to a historically incorrect assumption. After the reformation, religious persecutions and executions not only increased in the Catholic church, but also appeared in communities that had separated (the burning of Michael Servetius by Calvin, the bloody persecutions of “papists” in England under Elizabeth, and so forth). That is why it is not completely clear to me: in what sense is V. A. Gringmut advising me to imitate the example of [Martin] Luther, and if this is irony, then in what is its force? Luther, as is known, separated from his Catholic church and produced a schism in it. I cannot act thus relative to Roman Catholicism for the reason that I do not belong to it. And to imitate Luther in the given conditions, that is, to separate from our Greco-Russian Church and produce a schism in it— this, of course, V. A. Gringmut will not advise from his point of view. And from my own point of view it is necessary to struggle not against some faith confession or church but solely against anti-Christian spirit, wherever and in whatever it would express itself. Vladimir Soloviev To the Moscow Gazette 30 October 1891, no. 300

PVSS, 3:200–203

In no. 296 of the Moscow Gazette several new, incorrect reports have been added to the previous ones about my lecture on 19 October. In a note to the editorial it is said: “Christians of the first three centuries are called the first Christians, whom Mr. Soloviev also accused of unilateral egoism.” Although I have always

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called and will continue to call the Christians of the original apostolic churches in Jerusalem and Antioch “the first Christians,” that’s not the point. Rather, it’s the fact that I never accused the Christians of the following epoch either—the epoch of martyrs and apologists—of unilateral egoism. Here is what is said about them in my paper: “The possibility of martyrdom always and everywhere hung over Christians and gave a purifying, tragic character to their life. The important advantage of those centuries over subsequent ones consisted in the fact that Christians could be and were persecuted, but in no way could they be persecutors. In general, to belong to a new religion was much more dangerous than advantageous, and therefore the best people usually turned to it, with sincere conviction and vitality. Even if the life of the Church of that time was not permeated entirely by the spirit of Christ, in any event higher religious-moral motives predominated in it. Amid the pagan world, there was a real Christian society, far from perfected but anyway governed by another better principle of life.” In this same editorial the public is shown as if awarding me applause for bold words, incidentally—about the attitudes of Metropolitan Philaret to the liberation of Christians. But I did not say a word in my paper about either Metropolitan Philaret or any other Russian hierarch, and there was no applauding public in the closed discussions. In a feuilleton signed by Yu. Nikolaev (in the same issue of Moscow Gazette) one point deserves attention; it even showed itself curious to the author himself. The persons who had been in closed session after [my reading of] the paper will recall that I made two historical points in a dispute with one member-­competitor over the question of religious persecutions; I indicated the well-known fact that the principle of the inquisition as an institution was laid out by emperor Theodosius in Constantinople; and second, I recalled the massacre of the Paulicians (heretic-dualists in Asia Minor) under empress Theodora as a graphic example of religious persecution in the Byzantine empire.25 These two facts, removed from one another by more than five centuries, and apparently known to my opponent as well, were being confused in his memory. And a search in an unfamiliar textbook transformed them into a third fact, about which there was not and cannot be any question, since it does not at all relate to the matter. As a result, such a muddle is obtained that readers not having been at the closed session of the Psychological Society would not, of course, be able to sort it out. From Mr. Yu. Nikolaev’s pen, Theodosius—he who founded the ­inquisition—and Theodora—she who massacred the Paulicians—appear in the form of Theodosius who massacred … the Solunians!26 And then a history of this massacre is copied out of the textbook in order to prove (as if anyone

1891

doubted this) that it did not have any relation to religious persecutions. But why then did Mr. Yu. Nikolaev not copy a short story about the battle on the fields of Catalonia or about the Borodino engagement from some textbook? Indeed, there were massacres here too, not having any relation to the inquisition either. And why then, on the other hand, did he not inquire about facts that I referenced: on the massacre of the Paulicians by Theodora and on the institution of the inquisition by Theodosius the Great? He is probably in need of even more points, which I am ready to give him with pleasure. The mass executions of the Paulicians (with and even without inquisition process) were carried out in 848. Byzantine writers report on them: Theofan’s continuator and others; the number of executed determined ­variously—not less than ten thousand and not more than a hundred. This fact is set forth in more or less detail in any decent textbook on church or Byzantine history.* As for legal institution of the inquisition in Byzantium, I will not perplex my opponent with references to Byzantine codes of laws. Copies of Brokhaus or Meyer [encyclopedias] are probably at the editorial office of the Moscow Gazette. In the article “Inquisition” contained in the latter (Meyers Conversations lexicon, 4 Aufl. VIII. B., S. 970) Mr. Yu. Nikolaev can read the following brief but, at first stroke, sufficient information: “Already under the emperors Theodosius and Justinian special courts were instituted for investigating those who did not belong to the orthodox faith, e.g. Manichaeans, and those investigated were usually subjected to clerical as well as to civil punishments.” If Mr. Yu. Nikolaev, unsatisfied by this, turns to legislative acts he will see these punishments against heretics—even against schismatics such as the Donatists—­extended to the death penalty.27 Against me, in that same issue of the Moscow Gazette, V. A. Gringmut makes reference to an epistle of the Greek patriarchs, asserting that holy baptism can be completed only by one who is orthodox and, moreover, one who comprehends the importance of the sacrament. Such a reference is not at all convincing. When the subject is the original teaching of the church, it is * I guess that for substitution of heretical Paulicians by the inhabitants of Salonika, who were innocent of any kind of heresy, Mr. Yu. Nikolaev found superfluous the fact that St. Ambrose of ­Milan protested against the massacre of the Solunians, but I mentioned this great saint in my paper. Yet I mention him not because of Solunians (about which there was no reason for me to speak either in my paper or in the discussions), but because of the fact that he protested along with St. Martin of Tours principally against the execution of heretics (when leaders of the pricillian heresy were executed in Trier by the emperor-usurper Maxim). V. S.

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necessary to make ­reference to evidence that has universal, inerrant authority, and not to the opinion of later hierarchs having no such authority. Apart from its inconsistency with the Nicene and Carthaginian decrees, the assertion of the Greek patriarchs directly contradicts the long and well-known practice of our Russian church. Examples of Protestants or Catholics who join our church without repetition of baptism are probably known to Mr. Gringmut. Consequently, their previous baptism, though performed by nonorthodox, was acknowledged as real. As for the baptism of dying infants by simple [lay] men or women, evidently there is no possibility to carry out an investigation in such circumstances, as to how much a midwife (perhaps a Jewish woman or a woman of complete unbelief) comprehends the importance of the sacrament. Thus, V. A. Gringmut’s reference proves too much and therefore proves nothing. And V. A. Gringmut here asks: “Does Vl. S. Soloviev seriously think that the entire concern is in the rite alone, and not in who performs this rite?” I can only reply to this question with another: What, finally, am I being accusing of? Of an insult to all that is holy or of respecting a rite? Of contempt for rationalism or in blind ritualism? Of liberalism or of papism? Of an attack on historical Christianity or of a defense of Catholicism? I don’t know how my opponents harmonize such accusations, but I guess that the real reason for these attacks is my understanding of Christianity as the universal living spirit of Christ, unconstrained by anything. Vladimir Soloviev To the Moscow Gazette No. 304, 3 November 1891

PVSS, 3:204–8

Dear Gentlemen! I have found the request expressed in the editorial of no. 300 of the Moscow Gazette to be just (in the given circumstances) and have the honor to inform you that, besides the widely distributed publication of my paper in a polished literary form, it will be reproduced as well in the form in which it was given on 19 October, without any changes, gaps, or supplements (in the official report of the Psychological Society’s session). And then the original of the manuscript from which I read will be submitted by me to the office chiefs.* * There was not one expression that I would wish to take back in my lecture; I did not have the physical possibility to give the paper fully in the form of a finally polished treatise, due to conditions of place and time. V. S.

1891

The words “if” or “when it will be published” related exclusively to the censorial consequences of the newspaper campaign undertaken against me, and I can only be glad if I erred in this case and if the attacks of the Moscow Gazette will not have the practical effect that I was afraid of. But until the matter is elucidated through publication of the paper in both its forms, I think that clearing up some things with V. A. Gringmut is essential, as well as a refutation of the inconsistencies with truth in the statements of the last article, signed: Yu. Nikolaev (no. 300). First of all, I will gladly give a clear and categorical reply to Mr. Gringmut’s “main and core question.” Yes. I consider my understanding of Christianity to be in perfect agreement with the Holy Orthodox Church’s teaching, found in Holy Scripture, in the faith definitions of the seven ecumenical councils, and in the works of the holy fathers, beginning with the apostles and concluding with Saints Maximus the Confessor, John of Damascus, Theodore the Studite, and Taras and Ignatius of Constantinople.28 And thereupon I do not at all doubt that clear questions and definite replies are the indispensable condition of serious scholarly argumentation. But from the form of the practical attacks to which I was subjected in the Moscow Gazette’s editorials, could it really be surmised that this is about a scholarly dispute in the interests of theoretical truth? Even if these attacks had any relation to some field of learning, then it’s really only to the field of criminal law, in which I am altogether not competent. The questions themselves proposed by V. A. Gringmut, though they did not even include a direct accusation of crimes, did not, however, altogether upset the general impression produced about me by this polemic. The content of my paper—whether good or bad—in any event relates to a certain field of learning, called the philosophy of history. But to what field of learning does a question such as the following, for example, relate: “Why isn’t he, Vladimir Soloviev, imitating the example of [Martin] Luther?” If, in fact, Mr. Gringmut has in view a theoretical dispute about such important and interesting questions as various forms of grace, or the relation of subjective and objective elements in sacraments, and the like—although these are not altogether suitable for a political newspaper—and if the Moscow Gazette is agreeable to opening its columns to free discussion of these subjects, then, notwithstanding the lack of any parallel for such a phenomenon, of course I will make use of so favorable a circumstance for me, and with the greatest pleasure. V. A. Gringmut twice assures us that at the basis of my views and actions lies the attempt to sit between two chairs. If so, then I do not altogether understand the intensified attacks on me now. One wise Talmudic adage says: “Don’t jostle a

189

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

drunk, he’ll fall on his own.” It’s even more useless, it seems, to jostle one who sits between two chairs. Moving on to the “Imaginary Inquisition,” I should state that very many members of the Psychological Society, having been at the closed session of 19 October, are ready to testify to the fact of my reference to the massacre of Paulicians, and not Solunians. The author of the named article did not consider how implausible his assertion was. If only he had said that for lack of good arguments, I am able to launch ones that are not worth anything, then, certainly, the majority of readers of the Moscow Gazette would willingly believe him. But nobody will believe that—while knowing facts directly suitable to my thesis—I would begin instead to reference other, completely unsuitable facts, not at all relating to the matter. But it is precisely this that the author of “Imaginary Inquisition” imputes to me. He himself also acknowledges (at least now) the existence of real religious persecutions in the East; he also does not deny that they are known to me, and he does well, for they are repeatedly mentioned in my published works (for example, in the article “The Great Debate and Christian Politics” as well as in the book La Russie et l’Église universelle). Having thus full capability to reference facts on the religious massacre of heretics, I did not have any cause to mention the political massacre of Orthodox Solunians. Precisely likewise, why should I reference the Borodino engagement (as Mr. Nikolaev parodies my joke) on the question of inquisition in Russia, when I can directly reference the indisputable fact of an inquisition tribunal’s existence in Moscow not further back than the end of the seventeenth century. It was resolved under Tsar Fyodor Alexeevich to convert the existing Zakonospassky Monastery religious training school into an institution of higher theological education and, at the same time, clerical practice. Incidentally, the formal privilege of an inquisitorial court for the investigation, judgment, and sentencing to burning at the stake, as well as other punishments for those accused of various religious crimes, was imparted to this institution. After conveying the details of this “privilege” in his History of Russia, S. M. Soloviev concludes the following: As for the project of Tsar Fyodor, the Moscow Academy—this citadel that the Orthodox Church wanted to set up for itself for its inevitable clash with a West that believed differently—was not only a training school, it was a terrifying inquisitorial tribunal: guards along with teachers pronounced the words “guilty of nonorthodoxy”—and the woodpile would begin to blaze

1891 for the criminal (S. Soloviev, History of Russia since Ancient Times, 2nd ed., M[oscow,] 1870, 13:314).

In an academic respect, transformation of the academy was realized only incompletely, but the inquisitorial tribunal in Moscow became a fact and took to its affairs with such inordinate zeal that it defended with fire not only our own Orthodoxy but also Lutheran orthodoxy. So, in 1689 the first philosopher appearing in Russia—the mystic Quirinus Kuhlmann—was convicted (upon denunciation by a pastor) and burned in Moscow.29 I now return to Byzantium. For the instruction of Mr. Nikolaev, who had not heard about the eastern inquisition, I copied a brief piece of information from Meyer’s dictionary (the article “Inquisition”) on special Byzantine courts against heretics. Instead of being grateful to me for this slight, but in any case not superfluous, help to him, he accuses me of a false quotation! Again, incautiously and implausibly. Anyone can turn to Meyer’s dictionary, and anyone will see that the information adduced by me is actually found in the indicated article, that it constitutes a separate phrase, and that there is nothing else relating to the disputed question in the article, and there is nothing more for me to copy from it there. Consequently, there cannot be any talk of even a shortened quotation (as Moscow Gazette’s editorial more cautiously expresses it), much less of a false one. Mr. Nikolaev justifies his improbable accusation only by the fact that I did not copy other information from that article, which speaks … about the Roman inquisition. And was there indeed some dispute about this? These are the very same Solunians, this is the very same battle of Borodino! If Mr. Nikolaev were denying the Roman inquisition, I would also copy out something about it for him, but since he was only denying the Byzantine, I limited myself as well only to what was related to it. But he probably thinks that the proper manner of quotation consists not in copying what relates to the matter, but also everything else that stands in proximity. Well, in good conscience, what does one call such excess? Since the author of “Imaginary Inquisition” mentions words of others about the 382 decree itself, but, as is apparent from his remarks, not only does not know the text of the law but also the title to which it relates, I will inform him that this is law (V) Theodosii M quarta in haereticos Constitutio published in Cod. Theod. l. b. XVI, titulas V de haereticis, c. 9. and that in it are found, incidentally, the words “Sublimitus itaque tua det Inquisiteres, aperiet forum, indices denunciatoresque sine invidia delationis accipiat nemo praescriptione communi exordium accusationis hujus infringat.” Under this title alone are found sixty-six punitive laws against heretics.

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Mr. Nikolaev insists, with underlining and emphasis, on the fact that the opinion on the Byzantine origin of the inquisition and its existence generally in the East is my individual opinion: “In scientific knowledge (sic),” says he, “if one excludes brief and voluminous papist pamphlets against the Eastern Church— such an opinion never existed” (his cursive). Of course, when it’s a matter of scientific knowledge, there’s no one more authoritative than the author of “Imaginary Inquisition.” Nevertheless, even this authority must prefer clear and evident truth. The well-known scholar Professor Cheltsov of the Petersburg Religious Academy has never been suspected of papism. Here is what he says about our question in his speech, given at an annual solemn meeting of the Religious Academy and published in Christian Readings: “Ladies and gentlemen, it was not the papist church that invented the inquisition; it was in this respect only a worthy pupil of Byzantine church politics” (Christian Readings, 1877, nos. 3 and 4, p. 508).30 I am not accusing Mr. Yu Nikolaev of ignorance. Of course, better acquaintance with Russian religious literature would become him, but there is no moral obligation in this. And I am not even blaming him for the fact that he speaks about what he does not know: it is difficult for an inveterate journalist to avoid this sin. But to speak publicly on completely unfamiliar subjects with resolute, categorical, and emphatic assertions, contrary to truth, and adding to them invectives against more competent people—this is now altogether shameful. Vladimir Soloviev To Yakov N. Kolubovsky [1891]

PVSS, 2:333

Dear Yakov Nikolaevich, you did not altogether understand me on two points: (1) for me daytime means 3–4 PM, not 11 o’clock. (2) I suggest not publishing the large synopsis at all (i.e., nothing from it for the journal’s first section), because I want to circulate and redo it. Consequently, it’s now necessary to sort out what’s composed with another typesetting having abridged the introduction* to the proportions I said: I have done this now for you on the galley proofs that I have and which I’m forwarding

* This is about the essay read by Vl. S. Soloviev at the Moscow Psychological Society “On the Reasons for the Decline of the Medieval World View” [19 October 1891]. Ed. note.

1891

to typeset the rest according to my original manuscript, which I’m also forwarding and asking you to take care of, since I’ll stand in need of it.31 The compilation of a detailed official report without my participation (while it’s physically possible) is awkward. It would be another matter if I died or lay in delirium. So then, either send objections or, if you’re unafraid, come on your own: disinfecting precautions will be taken among us here.32 In that case, come between eight and ten in the evening. The proofs are absolutely necessary for me. Yours truly, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich MMSp, 5:362 8 November 1891, Moscow, Prechistenka. Everything’s disinfected Dear Mikhail Matveevich, I’m sending you this poetic idol from my sickbed—though thoroughly disinfected—due to the impossibility to send a prosaic one under these circumstances. If censorial difficulties were to be encountered, there exists good precedent: a Khomiakov poem on the very same theme, just as incisive in content, though weaker (vive la modestie! [Fr. here’s to modesty]) in form. I’ve preserved the couleur locale [Fr. local color] and there aren’t too many exact allusions, since Khomiakov blames Nebuchadnezzar for the persecution of the press, which, as far as we know, did not even exist at all in those times.33 My diphtheria is benign, and I’m getting healthy, but still haven’t firmed up and am not capable of intense work. However, I’m sending K. K. Arseniev an article on Valentinian the gnostic for the dictionary. I’ve weakened. Until we meet. Warm regards to Liubov Isakovna, the baron, and to all the community. Vlad. Sol. P.S. Pay special attention to today’s falsely reporting lead article in Moscow Gazette (9 Nov.). It partly concerns you. But fear not: this respected organ has lied so much no one believes it besides its extollers. To A. A. Fet [November 1891]

PVSS, 3:126

My hearty congratulations to you, dear Afanasy Afanasievich! I’m able to go out now, after having spent a week at the Slavic Bazaar [hotel] and “cleansed and shown myself to the priests.”34 Moreover I’m constantly using means of disinfection in great quantity—for example, wine—but I’m nevertheless ­avoiding

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

coming to see you today, for although you yourself and Maria Petrovna, as much as I remember, are free of microbial-phobic superstitions, your guests today may be very susceptible to them. In any event, until we meet. My mother and all mine warmly send their best wishes. Cordial regards to Maria Petrovna. To K. N. Leontiev 35 [prior to 12 November]

PVSS, 3:55

I am very glad, dear Konstantin Nikolaevich, that [V. V.] Rozanov is writing about you: inasmuch as I am able to judge by a booklet of his I read, he is a thoughtful and capable person. If various matters tied to the national famine allow, I will finish an article of interest to you by 15 November, so the patched correction slips are very likely late. But they are not essential. Be well. Sincerely fond of you, Vlad. Soloviev To A. N. Aksakov [21 December 1891]

PVSS, 2:295

439 r. 50 k. from the publisher Alexander Nikolaevich Aksakov for translation of the book Telepaticheskiia iavleniia [Telepathic phenomena: i.e., “Phantasms of the Living”] and with the previously received 500 r.—939 rubles and 50 k. received in full, and all accounts on the subject of this book are concluded ­between us. Vladimir Soloviev

1892–1893 To M. S. Soloviev PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 23–24 [From Moscow to Rome, December 1891/January 1892] Ah Misha, dear Misha! Are you so quick-witted that you ascribe my silence to a single trait alone, and not to psychology?*1 It’s awfully unpleasant to write a couple of words about * However, in the opinion of a Caucasian prince psychology is the science of dogs. V. S.

1892–1893

the weather to a close friend in such a distant country, when what’s wanted is to write him a lot about something else. But so it is, and here’s a letter for you. Happy New Year. The rest is silence [Eng.].2 The so-called (by you) “article” disappeared, was lost “and you won’t find it.” Poor Nil Alexandrovich died; I was late by a day for the funeral owing to a mysterious adventure. At the time of the diphtheria I took communion and am very glad of it. Countess Tolstoy (Alexei) is dangerously ill in Paris. S. P. came to Petersburg for two weeks and I was there. Here I’m writing so incoherently, even with my flexible dialectical mind (in Prof. Pavlov’s opinion). Ah, Misha, I wrote what is, in its own way, an excellent biblical poem, and I can’t even send it. Horrible, horrible, horrible [Eng.].3 Passing over to swinish greed now. Judging by your letter to Mama, I incorrectly understood your previous designs. It seemed to me you said that you’ll be receiving both my share and yours from Petersburg by winter, and I can take the Moscow income. There’s little of it, but still; I had no trace of any other income over the three months of autumn, for I dedicated a part of my honoraria to the starving, and a part was taken as an advance back in the summer. However don’t worry. Zhenishek says that it’s possible to wait limitlessly, and beginning 1 December I’m not taking anything.4 … [words deleted] … On the trip to Petersburg I mysteriously received what turned out to be “my” money from Markonet, from who knows where, and after that I’ll be living predominantly by means of the encyclopedic dictionary—not very profitable but apparently stable.5 In order not to end the letter with swinish greed, I’ll say that the diphtheria worked to my benefit, that I didn’t vomit even once in Petersburg, and that I’ve a capital composition taking shape that won’t give me a kopeck but will crown me with unfading glory. On the whole, at least I remember (the first) half of the saying: God helps those who help themselves. Affectionate kisses for you and yours.6 Yours, Vlad. The address of de Gubernatis (he’s a count) is Roma (and not Firenze, as Pavel mistakenly thought) San Martino al Maccao, 11 [Ital.]. N.B. I hope to arrange your Lammenais better than for Pavlenkov, who for some reason is afraid. However, I won’t give a final reply.7 To Semeon A. Vengerov [1892]

PVSS, 2:320

Dear Semeon Afanasievich! I’ve been here since Tuesday with the influenza, but without a kopeck. This has its inconveniences. Would it be possible for me to receive 150 r. in

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

advance? This will only be about half the sum for material already given by me for the next half-volume. If the publisher’s absent, and there aren’t monies in the till, [send] something at least. It would be better than anything if you yourself would bring something from the dictionary on the way; we would even be able to have some dinner together, if your wife isn’t too strict. If you can’t drop by, detain my messenger and convey the money to him. Forgive this errand as being from an ill person. Yours truly, Vlad. Soloviev To L. Ya. Gurevich Grand Hôtel A. Delpech, Kharkov, 19 May 1892

PVSS, 3:133

Dear Liubov Yakovlevna! In three or four days I’ll send you the note “Enemy from the East,” which it would be desirable not to postpone. If you receive it the twenty-sixth or twentyseventh, would it still be possible to place it in the second section of the June issue? I’ll try to send it earlier. The enemy from the East isn’t the Chinese, but the desert—my note relates to Ermolov’s book, about which I spoke to you.8 As you see, this year I didn’t resist my nomadic nature and suddenly came to be in Kharkov in a rather fantastic manner. I arrived here in the morning but am leaving this evening for Kursk Province, from which I’ll also send you the note. I hope my psychopathological protégé [Fr.] did not overpower you too oppressively. “Bear ye one another’s burdens” [Galatians 6:2]: it’ll soon be a year that he’s overburdening me. Be well. Cordial regards to Akim Lvovich. Yours truly, Vlad. Soloviev P.S. The note will be nearly a full printed sheet—maybe a little more. To M. M. Stasiulevich 2 June 1892, Moscow, Prechistenka

MMSp, 5:366–67

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, I don’t know whether this dispatch will find you in Petersburg or be forwarded to you abroad. Indeed, I will get myself to Petersburg only in the middle of the summer. Today I’m moving to a dacha along the Nikolaevskaia railrd. (Skhodnia penins., where ordinary letters and telegrams can be addressed). My dacha (four rooms) costs 80 rub. for the whole summer, which I’m very proud of. I’ll be living there completely alone. I have completely simplified my meals;

1892–1893

once a day I eat buckwheat kasha with sunflower seed oil and green beans without any butter, drink this down with rye beer at 12 kop. a bottle. I think that such a regimen is as useful for the health as it is for the pocket. I’ve received an errand for you from abroad. The deceased Countess Tolstoy wanted to be buried at Krasny Rog, in the place prepared for her next to Alexei Konstantinovich. The conveyance of the coffin from Lisbon costs no less than 1,500 rubl, even by sea. The niece of the deceased, S. P. Khitrovo, wrote to me, requesting if possible to advance her this amount against the future sale of Al. Tolstoy’s works, the rights to which (full or partial—I don’t know) are conveyed to her. It’s unknown to me how the sale of these books is going now. If it’s as good as about ten years ago or a little worse, then I’m certain you won’t be troubled if you fulfill the request of my friend without any intercession on my part. In any event please inform me about this. Ordinary letters and telegrams (I just mention the latter, in the unforeseen event) can be addressed to me at Skhodnia penins, Nikolaevskaia railrd., and registered letters—to the Moscow address. What can I tell you about myself! So unbearable the city became     That my travel sack I took, To a village pretty, quiet-tame,     To hide in a pine-tree nook. From a peasant, Sysoy by name,     I rented a hut, a shack. Dreaming here a rest to claim,     Forget struggles, the attack. Ah! But fate to me will not restore     A Paradise that’s lost. Another fate, another door,     Another fight, another cost. Entire throngs do now arise—     In constant state of war. Favorites of Tolstoy’s* devise     Bedbugs on rug and floor. It’s not in vain I have with me     A gift from heaven fine,

* See the article “A First Step” in the Phil. Journ. Note of Vlad Sol.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically First-rate, pure and dreamy    Gallic cleaner—turpentine. For Romans you did serve     Another purpose I surmise.** Now help me give ‘em what’s deserved—     These foul Tolstoy allies. ‘Twas not for nothing I you trusted:     The bout to instantly decide, All formations broken, busted,    Tolstoy’s regime—insecticide. O mighty thing so favorite,     Of Roman ladies eminent! I’ll give you what’s exactly fit,     Tolstoy’s best novel for a scent. Just to banish ugly dreams     Their evil and their force, To leave a precious gift it seems—     Cherished rest, I mean, of course.9

Besides my landlord’s bedbugs, I also have to grapple with the red bedbugs anonymously emitting their odors in the journal Russian Thought. It isn’t worth relating the details in a letter. Incidentally, as for serious works, I’m preparing an outline for Messenger of Europe about the imperial cult in ancient Rome. This will be in the form of an introduction to a future Byzantine étude. Be well. Cordial regards to Liubov Isakovna. Yours truly, Vlad. Sol. To Ernest L. Radlov 5 June 1892

PVSS, 1:246

Did you, dear friend, receive my letter from Kharkov? I’ve already long since returned from the south, but I don’t know when I’m going to Petersburg. If, ** According to the testimony of ancient writers, Roman dandies very much loved turpentine and took it internally to add to the smell of violets …, which in and of themselves do not have this smell. See also Heine, “Deutschland”:    Birch-Pfeiffer säuffte Terpentin     Wie einst die Röm’schen Damen:     Man sagt dass sie dadurch den Urin    Besonders wohlriechend bekamen. Note V. S.

1892–1893

as I suppose, you visit there from time to time, can you find out for me from anybody whether M. N. Kapustin, the trustee of the school district, is in Petersburg? If not, inform me where he’ll be (for a regular letter—Skhodnia, Nikolaevskaia railrd.—for registered: Moscow, Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg.). I need to know this for my brother, who’s distressed. How are you getting along, dear friend, I’m not getting along at all—for I died, to which an epitaph carved (poor thing!) on my tombstone attested ­indisputably: Vladimir Soloviev lies in this place; A philosopher first, now a skeleton’s face. ‘Twas many that held him truly dear, For others an enemy he was to fear; But too passionate and lost in love, He cast himself from high above. A soul too lean, body no fatter: Devil took the former, dogs ate the latter. Passerby! Learn well from this instance, Love’s ruinous—faith, good in persistence.*10

I would very much like to come to Petersburg now, but I don’t have freedom of movement for the time being. Cordial regards to Vera Alexandrovna and to the children. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To L. Ya. Gurevich Vill. Morshchikha, 12 June 189211

PVSS, 3:134–35

Dear Liubov Yakovlevna! The article is almost ready,* and I could forward it on Monday, 15 June, in accordance with the telegram, but in no way can I be in Moscow on this day, and they don’t accept registered letters at the local post office; I’m hesitating to send it regular mail, not having another copy. So then, I’ll send it the sixteenth or the seventeenth, and meanwhile here are two poems for you, which are necessary to publish t o g e t h e r without fail, since the contrast of their motifs takes away * This poem was published in New Times. Ed. note. *Article: “Enemy from the East,” published in Northern Messenger, July 1892. L. G.

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from both the too personal and, so to speak, autobiographical character, which is also undesirable.**12 And what about the translations of Heine—by Fet? He was interested. The lateness of my article for the June issue turned out beneficial for it, since thanks to this I managed to make use of Prof. Dokuchaev’s book, which is very suitable for me.13 I’m going to Petersburg at the beginning of July. Be well. Please convey my regards to Akim Lvovich and to our mutual friends, if you see anyone.       Yours respectfully and truly, Vlad. Soloviev (In a second comment to this sixth letter of V. Soloviev L. Ya. Gurevich mentioned a poem, not entering into any edition of his Poems, therefore we publish it here.) Is it because the heart has To live alone, loving one thing, Is it because there’s no joy, Not having given oneself away?    Is that why our paths    Have converged by fate,    And with you, with you alone    Could I find happiness?— Is that why … Is it because— But it’s in you, in you alone That my reason, heart, and life Have been irrevocably overwhelmed. Vlad. Soloviev. [North. Messenger ( July 1892), p. 218]14

To S. A. Vengerov Moscow, 12 July 1892

PVSS, 2:321

Here are a couple of words about a couple of words for you, dear Semeon ­Afanasievich. Modesty prevented me from supplementing one of them with the observation that the terms “all-unity” and “positive and negative all-unity” were introduced into the Russian philosophical language by me, the ­undersigned (if I’m not mistaken). I can’t give a direct reply to your question about how I’m getting along, for I’m not getting along at all. I died, to which indisputably attests the following ** The poems that begin with the words: “Is it because the heart has to live alone, loving one thing …” and “A wind from a western land blows tears.” L. G.

1892–1893

epitaph, carved (contrary to the law sparing the female gender [epitafiia] physical punishment) on my sepulchral stone:      Vladimir Soloviev lies in this place … etc. [See above.] But, learning of my death, won’t you perhaps send a check for 22 r.? Now, I hasten to stop joking and inform you that though I’m in a tight squeeze, I’m not offended; at least I don’t offend swinish drunks, only my poor village neighbors, amid whom I’ve acquired more than a little popularity. Send the check, and send it as soon as possible, for I’ll travel on these 22 r. to see you in Pbg for various journalistic-printing matters. I definitely don’t and can’t have anything against Vorontsov; if you noticed irritability in my “letter,” it was evoked by circumstances unknown to you, marking a small swinish act by Russ. Thought.15 Til soon we meet. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To L. Ya. Gurevich 20 August 1892, Moscow, Prechistenka, Likhutin’s bldg.

PVSS, 3:137

Dear Liubov Yakovlevna! I haven’t yet seen Russian Thought and The Week, but will probably see them today or tomorrow. I think that it would be useful to continue elucidation of the question of how it’s possible and how we ought actually to help people.16 I intend to avoid direct polemic and will probably be able to, but what’s to be done with the censorship? Here’s the real trouble. Even in the last article, something enigmatically semiofficial came out thanks to the exclusion of several essential words. I’m ready to be subjected to inevitable surgeries once again out of friendship to you. I’ll probably tell you something more definite by the time you arrive. But a note or even an article for the October issue is a decided matter in principle. Til soon we meet. Yours truly, V. Soloviev In order to surprise you with accuracy, I’m enclosing a receipt for money received. To M. M. Stasiulevich 12 Sept. 1892, Moscow, Prechistenka Dear Mikhail Matveevich! I do not fear the cholera germ, All measures have been taken,

MMSP, 5:369

201

202

Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically From this germ that makes infirm, This zone’s defended, life’s unshaken. But categorically I’m doomed to suffer, From Love’s ills, for there’s no buffer.* I see no sign of a “skilled regime” Against malicious passion’s dream. My microbe’s much too great a size, Though I’m not so simple up to rise, The knees weaken all the more it Makes me fade, fade, fade before it, There’s no doubt of diagnosis, There’s no comfort in prognosis: Awaiting me as sad as night Unavoidable—my exit flight.**17

Nevertheless, per Trubetskoy’s instruction, please send him the proofs of his article (if possible in galleys, otherwise in pgs) to the following address: Moscow, Znamenka, Bouturlin’s bldg., E. S. to Prince Petr Nikolaevich Trubetskoy, for delivery to Pr. Serg. N. Trubetskoy. If I can manage, I’ll send you a long review of Lopatin’s book Positive Tasks of Philosophy by the twentieth of this month for the October issue of Literary Review; if it doesn’t make it into the Oct. issue—for the following one. I’m preparing something else more significant (on Byzantine things) for November or December for sure. If delivery of issues won’t make it difficult on you, I’ll be very glad to receive them (beginning with July); I only looked at them for a moment at others’ homes. Until we meet again—in Oct. of this year, 1892 (A.D.). Sincerely yours, the deceased                 Vlad. Soloviev P.S. Since Burenin severely criticized me for my verses, here’s a poem for you that I think can still make it into the October issue, in order to show how little we fear him.18

* En tout bien tout honneur, honi soit qui mal y pense [Fr. In all honor, evil be to him who evil thinks]. V. Sol. ** From the Greek “ληϑος” or from the Russian letat´. V. Sol.

1892–1893

To S. M. Martynova [undated]

VSP, 157–58

Madame, voici encore une piece de vers que je viens de composer ce matin, en me levant: [Fr. Madame, here’s a bit of verse I composed this morning upon rising]. No! I did not love thus: tortured and ardent She was, the love of my song. But she did not call the soul into a world of quivering accords, Into transparent, silver dreams. The long road was difficult. At least she delighted at the look Of the time of nature’s wonderful abundance, But inaccessible mountains moved, And the tired breast could barely breathe. And suddenly roses spattered with evening twilight, The soul sensing two light wings, And Love’s enchantress transported me Into a new country of inexhaustible daydreams. _________________ Clear field silvered by the moon, Orderly trees standing immobile, A tender swarm of elves invisibly swirls, And pale fairies glide along pensively.               Vl. S. __________________ Strange whisper of exotic words, Aroma of Japanese roses— Fantastic and misty Echo of prophetic daydreams.19

To S. M. Martynova [undated]

VSP, 158

Dear Sophia Mikhailovna! I’m here for a very short time, but want to visit Znamensky [Monastery] anyway without fail. If for some reason some days this week are not c­ onvenient

203

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for you, inform me soon: Prechistenka, Likhutin’s former building. Don’t worry about my means of transportation, since I’ll arrive from Kriukov.20 I have passed this summer rather foully in Petersburg, even in cholera. Lying in convulsions, I composed a poem, enclosed as a sign of remembrance. In general, I’m flourishing and in good spirits. I’m settling forever amid the cliffs and forests of Finland—for work, for economy, and for health. Til soon we meet. Vlad. Sol. To M. S. Soloviev [ca. 21 November 1892]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 24–25

Dear Misha, A little misunderstanding has occurred. The name day of the deceased A. A. [Fet] is today, Monday, and M. I. demands that I have dinner at her place. I guess it’s all the same to you if I’m at your place on Tuesday, but if otherwise, any day besides Wednesday and Sunday. I have something surprising and deplorable (as a Christian) to report to you relative to V. Be well and don’t give yourself a headache. It turns out that I have: (1) Gastroptosis; (2) Phymosis [Lat.]21 … Til we meet. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To V. V. Rozanov* 28 November 1892, Prechistenka

PVSS, 3:43–44

Dear Vasily Vasilevich! I am making use of the first free minute in order to reply to your kind letter. Of course, I do not have anything against your publishing the late K. N. Leontiev’s letters about me. I will perhaps track down several of his very interesting letters to me and send them for your disposal. From your remarks with respect to the question of faith-confession I see that my actual point of view on this subject has remained unknown to you. I do not find it possible to set this forth in a letter. If it pleases God for us to see each other sometime, it will be possible to do this both easier and quicker in * The letters to V. V. Rozanov were published in part in Problems of Life [Voprosy zhizni] and in part in The Golden Fleece [Zolotoe runo]. Ed. note.

1892–1893

conversation. But in the meantime I will allude to the essence of the matter in a few words. On account of the papo-phobia that prevails in our country, in part feigned and in part foolish nonsense, but in any event unchristian, I have considered and do consider it necessary to indicate the positive significance of the Rock of the Church laid by Christ himself, but I never took it as the Church itself—I have not taken the foundation for the whole edifice. I am as far from Latin restriction as I am from Byzantine, Augsburg, or Genevan. The religion of the Holy Spirit confessed by me is broader and at the same time richer in content than all separate religions: it is neither a sum of them nor an extract from them, just as the whole human being is neither sum nor extract of its separate organs. This allusion, though murky, will at least convince you that your remarks, whether they are just or not in and of themselves, in any event do not have any relation to my manner of thought. In hope of the possibility for more ample explanation in the future, I remain with complete respect Your humble servant Vlad. Soloviev To N. Ya. Grot [ January 1893]

PVSS, 1:72

Nikolai Yakovlevich, dear friend! What about Kant? Write to me about him, about yourself, and also about Miliukov. Peace be upon Astafiev! Now, this kind of philosophy has only two representatives: Strakhov and Rozanov—peace be upon them as well!22 Returning to the living Kant—why have the proofs been delayed? Not one page is ready—really? Write to the following address: Petersburg, at the Blue Bridge, Voznesensky Prospect, no. 16, apart. 3, To Colonel Kuzmin-Karavaev. I haven’t yet turned to a neuropathologist, but will probably do so. But maybe I’m simply beginning to turn from a solid into a liquid state, only to later turn into something like a gas. Incidentally, I already saw two printed pages of Du Prel’s Philosophy of Mysticism.23 My “Telepathy” will go to the censor at the end of the week. I’m proposing that the Psychological Society entrust me with translation of Kant’s “Träume eines Geistersehers” [Dreams of a spirit-seer] and an

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a­ ttachment of Schopenhauer’s treatise from “Parerga” on the same subject. A respectable book could come out under the title: “Kant and Schopenhauer on Psychurgic Phenomena.”24 Doves are knocking at the window. Be well. Cordial regards to your home and our mutual friends. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich [ January] 1893

MMSp, 5:370–72

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, The letter sent by me yesterday requires some explanation. I ought to say that the author of the book [L. M. Lopatin] being discussed, along with his elder brother, were my first friends of childhood, adolescence, and youth. Of these ages, the middle one firmly bound us with dangers and diversions in common. We studied separately but passed summertime together near Moscow in the village of Pokrovskoe-Glebov-Streshnev, where our parents had dachas for many years. The goal of our activity over this time consisted in bringing terror to Pokrovskoe inhabitants, the female sex in particular. So, for example, when the residents bathed in the little Khimka River we would run up to the bathhouses and shout in an affected voice: “Fire! Fire! Pokrovskoe’s burning!” They would spring out in whatever happened to be there, and hiding in the bushes we enjoyed our triumph. Or else we would invent and skillfully spread rumors about ghosts, and then took their role upon ourselves. The elder Lopatin (not-the-professor), who was distinguished among us with physical strength and dexterity, and was also a great master in the production of wildly disturbing sounds, would put me on his shoulders, the other brother draping us both in a white sheet; and then this figure of unusual visual aspect and stature would suddenly appear from a graveyard adjacent to the park where the public, especially the ladies, would walk on a moonlit night; it first slowly passed by in the distance, then rushed at a gallop at the very midst of those walking, emitting inhuman screams. Arrival of the Antichrist was arranged for other classes of the population. As a consequence, muzhiks hauled us by the collar to our parents more than once; and the Pokrovskoe priest, no stranger to literature, gave us the nickname “brothers-brigand,” which stayed with us; and the three actresses who lived in Pokrovskoe—Mmes Sobeshchanskaia, Voronova, and Shubert— having been the special subject of my persecutions, arranged to whip me, but to my great regret this intention was for some reason not carried out. We were so earnestly interested in observing the history of amphibians that we stocked

1892–1893

a specially built pool with a multitude of tadpoles, which, however, soon died from the incommodiousness of the premises, not having achieved higher stages of development. Moreover, we thought to build our zoological station right under the windows of my father’s office. He announced that we ourselves constituted a subject of zoological observation, but that he had no time for this. Then we crossed over to the practical study of geography, and my specialty was researching the flow of streams and rivulets and the depth of ponds and marshes, for which the active role of my comrades consisted mainly in turning to someone else for help in order to extract me from dangerous situations. However, I’m being carried away by memories; time to cross over from the distant to the near at hand. The author of the tract on freedom of the will is one of the former brothers-brigand, today a professor of philosophy in Moscow, a man truly gifted and thoughtful, but as is natural for all authors, he greatly exaggerates the significance of his works (something similar even happened with the author of heaven and earth, who, after creating the universal enormity, announced it tob-meod—very good [Genesis 1:31], whereas a dispassionate survey can only acknowledge average merit for it). Whatever the case, Lopatin is distressed by the press’s inattention to his work, and for the sake of old friendship I resolved to console him in this as possible. But I would not wish to sacrifice the interests of a friend of my adulthood—i.e., Messenger of Europe—to the friend of my childhood; thus if you find the subject too dry, abstract, and uninteresting for nonspecialists, I won’t consider it an insult if you return the article, which, I will in such case convey to Problems of Philosophy and Psychology and will strive to prepare an article for the March issue on the theme of my observations on the main conditions of progress. I’ll be awaiting your notification. But you did not reply to my question about whether I ought, in your opinion, to undertake anything against the impudent abuse of my name on the part of Russian Review?25 I’m intending to come to Petersburg at the end of February of this year, 1893. I’m very glad for the good news concerning those who are sick. Please convey my respects to Liubov Isakovna. Best regards to mutual friends. Yours truly, Vlad. Soloviev To V. L. Velichko 31 March 1893, Moscow

PVSS, 1:204

Dear and limitlessly kind Vasily Lvovich, of course you’ll guess why I didn’t reply to your dear letter for so long: I was all set to leave for Petersburg. I finally

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d­ ecided to go tomorrow, on Thursday, but the Moscow River, all-a-churning, blew such a grippe onto me that I’m thinking of waiting it out a while. Your letter, of course, would incline me once more to make excessive use of your friendly kindness, if I hadn’t previously given my word to V. D. Kuzmin-­Karavaev to stay at his place for the marriage of his belle-soeur [Fr.]. Please don’t be offended, Vasily Lvovich, my dear fellow, and don’t make me strain over the dilemma: which of two friends to offend?26 It was the worldly wheel holding me in Moscow, and not a dryad at all. A dryad’s myth: if you don’t believe my word, consult an actual dictionary or any mythology guide. And if you aren’t convinced by this, there’s the following intimate prosein-verse as evidence of the truth of my words (and my cordial friendship with you): Once just a block of cold sculptor’s stone; ‘Twas now for me tempting conception; But my chisel broke when your marble alone Gave my effort the hardest reception. To love you tout de même [Fr.]? A strange device! When did anybody love stuff that’s unfit? Radiant divinity I dreamt for you twice, Radiant divinity for the passion I’d lit. Now for your solace. Pygmalions are rare, But there’s a stone cutter I have in mind: He’ll make a bench of marble with great care ‘Neath an arbor, far from workdays unkind.27

Confident of seeing you soon, I’m not writing more. Kisses for Maria Georgievna’s hands, best wishes to her on the holiday. Cordial regards to Ferdinand Georgievich and all yours.28       Sincerely and affectionately yours, Vladimir Soloviev To Lev P. Nikiforov [Spring 1893]

Vestnik Evropy (Nov. 1913): 144–45

Dear Lev Pavlovich! I thank you for your good letter, even though it’s full of misunderstandings. I hope the main ones will soon be clarified in print, and therefore I’m

1892–1893

only ­asking you: where have you seen the liberals about whom you’re writing? I haven’t met any of them, and it seems to me this is a fanciful dream. But now Mikhail Matveevich Stasiulevich—here’s a real representative of this liberalism for you, and one with whom I do business. Apart from his literary merits, I know his unconditionally unselfish activity for the benefit of the populace in Petersburg (he contributes something else in addition to labor and time, without receiving a kopeck). Thanks to him, in recent years several hundred elementary schools have been opened; also thanks to him, a municipal filter has been constructed, in consequence of which mortality from infectious diseases has decreased by half (mainly in the lower class of the population, for the uppermost doesn’t drink the water). I don’t know a person in Russia who would merit greater respect than this “liberal.” In general, these labels don’t correspond to anything real, at least not in Russia. Even if one accepts your very insufficient criteria, then here’s Stasiulevich the “liberal” for you: it’s now been more than thirty years that he’s taken nothing from the people but gives very much to them, and on the other hand the populist K. and others like him very quietly do their official service and receive a salary, but whether they give anything to the people is unknown. Incidentally, I must disappoint you with respect to myself: you haven’t understood me quite accurately; I said that it’s now been twelve years since I received any salary, for I don’t make any in service; but when I was young and a docent at the university, and later a member of the Scholarly Committee, I was receiving my thousand rubles a year and didn’t feel, moreover, any racking of conscience. Maybe this came out of my immorality, and maybe out of my familiarity with the government rolls of income and expenditures, from an examination of which it was apparent that not only my 1,000 rub. but all those two or three million that go for sustaining learning in Russia don’t represent any importance. On the other hand, even the Turks and Chinese can’t quite do without any learning. I can’t report to you anything about my French books. Their fate interests me little. Although there’s nothing in them contrary to objective truth, the subjective frame of mind and those sentiments and expectations with which I wrote them have now been outlived by me. Tomorrow I’m going to Petersburg for about two or three weeks; if it happens you’re in Moscow at the end of April or start of May, please inquire—I’d be very glad to meet with you. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev

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To K. K. Arseniev [1893]

PVSS, 2:87

I’m not at all turning down the assigned words, dear Konstantin Konstantinovich, but have simply forgotten about them. I’m sending the first three. The rest with Gorgias. I’m turning down the Gregorys for the following reasons. In the article on Gregory of Nazianzus (the Theologian) I wouldn’t be able to circumvent his view on the development of dogmas, his opinion that one ought to take the Divinity of the Holy Spirit as a mystery, since the general consciousness isn’t yet prepared for this truth, and, finally, his view on the council of bishops (in particular, the second ecumenical council) as the greatest evil for Christianity. In the article on Gregory of Nyssa I wouldn’t be able to keep silent about his negation of the eternity of hellish torments [universal redemption], and also about his confirmation that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son as well. Signed by me, all this would attract the attention of the censor and would give P—v the wished-for reason to remove me from the Dictionary, as I’ve already been removed from scholarly societies. I would only have a couple of words to say about the third Gregory (the Neocaesarist, or Miracle Worker), but inconvenient as well; namely, all his works have been lost, probably not accidentally, but because he, as a faithful student of Origen and according to a very recent point of view a heretic, still had huge fame among Christian people as a miracle worker. Until we meet again—in Moscow or Petersburg? Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev Pay attention not to mix Homousios and Homoiusios in typesetting—it almost always happens.29 To D. N. Tsertelev Petersburg, 20 July [18]93

PVSS, 2:267–68

Dmitri, my dear friend! I’m hurrying, first to console you somewhat regarding the state of affairs. There can be no talk about publishing [A. K.] Tolstoy’s letters, but it’s been proposed to use only a part of them for a book about Tolstoy (akin to Aksakov’s biography of Tiutchev). Sophia P. really hurried along with this business, but now it’s been postponed, partly at my suggestion. There’s no argument that letters of the dead should not be published against their will—but since, on the other hand, even you yourself don’t affirm

1892–1893

Tolstoy’s will amounted to an unconditional prohibition to publish anything whatsoever of his Nachlass [Ger. estate] in the given case, this means the entire question is in selection. With respect to the letters written to Sophia A., the choice was her business, and she executed it to a significant degree. How many times did I myself have to be the instrument of execution—dragging bundles of letters to the fireplace, and there the countess would set aside others and cut pieces out of them with scissors, saying it’s necessary to publish these letters, but excising certain personal names. I can’t consider such letters—with names cut out—as preserved by chance: evidently, they were predesignated directly for publication by the countess herself. And I suppose that S. P. and you were both sufficiently close to the deceased in order to take upon yourselves finishing this business in the desired sense without violating their will. As for Moscow Gazette and the K° connection to the publication being proposed, I don’t share your apprehensions. From the political aspect Tolstoy was a just and rational conservative; of course, it would be more pleasant to this company if he had been an irrational and unjust conservative, but anyway I don’t see what kind of advantage they would be able to find in posthumous attacks on a writer with such an unarguably respectable reputation as Tolstoy. Again, everything depends on the selection of letters, and it seems to me you shouldn’t withdraw from this business unconditionally. I’m laying aside further talk about it until we meet, or until another letter, so as not to delay the present one. You’ll receive it when ocean waves will already be rocking me. I’m going through Sweden to Scotland and Bretagne. I undertook this sea voyage on the advice of a medical specialist, to whom I turned for the neurasthenia that had overcome me since the end of this winter. In telegraphing you about meeting in the autumn, I meant late autumn, but now this too is not far off. If I’m lost to the depths of the sea, bear me no ill will. I’ve prepared for any event: I reconciled with my brother Vsevolod, renewed friendly relations with N., and shook Strakhov’s hand at a funeral, as well as Pobedonostsev’s at a wedding. Notwithstanding all this, however, it’s more probable we’ll see each other again. Be well. My best regards to Pr. Varvara Semenovna and Ekaterina ­Fedorovna. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. S. Soloviev 30 July/11 Aug. 1893

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 25–26

My dear Misha, not only was I late for the Moscow morning train, but for the express too, so I left on the night train. I wanted to write to you from Peters-

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burg, but reasoned it will be more interesting for you from Sweden. The passage here was magnificent. Finland’s much more beautiful than Italy. Especially the entrance to Abo (read Obo). I even think this name is French and was originally written Oh beau [Fr.]! I’ve a more scholarly etymology however. In Hebrew Ob means sorcery, magic. The ancient Chaldeans, who, as you know, were fraternally kindred to the Finns, loaned use of this word to the Jews (without interest): both the one and the other were famous for sorcery, and therefore it’s no wonder that the ancient Finnish capital got its name from magic, which is fully confirmed by the magical impression it produces. A fellow traveler, a Franco-fied Swede, offers a more prosaic etymology: Abo “est ainsi appelée parce que c’est au bout de la Finlande” [Fr. Abo is called this because it is at the bottom (au bout) of Finland]. But the real etymology is even more prosaic. Abo is the Swedish name and means something like “shore,” and in Finnish this city is called Richki, which means trading, or market. Returning to poetry—I sat on deck the first night until sunrise, in honor of which I wrote verses, and the second night even slept on deck under the everlasting stars, in honor of which I caught a respectable cold that I hope won’t be everlasting. Here are the verses: See: how the scythe of the moon has paled, And Aphrodite’s star has paled as well, A new reflection on the dabble of wave … Wait with me for the sun, the sun!    See, how blood flowing in streams    Engulfs the entire dark force!    The old battle ignites anew …    Once again the sun, the sun has won.30

I don’t know how these verses are, but I vouch for the incident’s truth. I still haven’t seen anything here. I’m sending this letter so as to quickly give news about myself. I’ll send you the promised article from Messenger of Europe tomorrow or the day after. I found out just before departure from Russia that it produced an impression both in one direction and the other. I met up with K. P. P. [Pobedonostsev] at [A. D.] Obolensky’s wedding; he greeted me like an old friend. I renewed friendly relations with Kutuzov, broken off four years ago.31 I saw reconciliation with Strakhov—but only in a dream. When I see it for real, I’ll be thinking the hour of my death has arrived. But in the mean-

1892–1893

time I’m boldly setting out across the ocean depths. An embrace, a kiss, and regards. Write to me at: France, Dinard, villa Vollombreuse, Prince Troubetzkoy [Fr.]. Yours, Vlad. Sol. To M. S. Soloviev 1/13 Aug. 1893

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 26–27

My dear Mishenka, On the third day I sent you a letter with verses and a pun, but the foreign official whom I instructed to send it registered indulged himself in unauthorized thinking and dispatched it as ordinary mail, and meanwhile “registered” is written on it in Russian; therefore it may not arrive. I wrote you in the most rainbow-like of moods, which has darkened since that time for two reasons. First, my overnight on the train did not pass gratis. I caught a bad cold and did not go out yesterday. And second—electricity. You want to call the servant, and suddenly the room is instead illuminated with blinding white light amid the white of day; and the reverse—at night you want to get some light with your own hand, and instead several servants are running into a dark room and banging their heads into one another. This electricity has so afflicted me that I decided in my turn to afflict it, at least within my limits. For this I entered into a liaison with the chambermaid—an extremely good-looking brunette of indeterminate age with unusually white teeth and a pleasant voice. She doesn’t know any language besides Swedish, in which she speaks more or less long monologues to me at every meeting. By meetings I mean not amorous but the kind that are limited par les vicissitudes du lavabo, etc. [Fr.] … In one of these (due to sufficient consultation with a German-Swedish dictionary) I turned monologue into dialogue. First of all, I asked in a firm and steady voice “hvad är ert namen?”—and found out with pleasure they call her Hilda. I continued in the same voice. “Kära och alskavärd Hilda! Jag behöfver stearinljus tu Elektriskljus är för myket stark för min Ögen.” “Jo, ohjo!” she replied, and in three minutes the electricity disappeared from my room, so radically that when I later wanted to restore it for a minute to no purpose, it turned out to be impossible. Until we meet, dear friend. I’m going to the islands, tomorrow to Upsaala; after tomorrow through the lakes to Gotenburg; the next day from there to Scotland. Write: France, Dinard, Villa Vallombreuse, Prince Troubetzkoy. An embrace, a kiss, and regards. Yours, Vlad.

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To Alexander N. Pypin 8 Oct. 1893, Dinard

PVSS, 1:148

Be magnanimous in forgiving the tardiness of this epistle, dear Alexander Nikolaevich. My laziness in general, but the epistolary kind in particular, has surely not concealed itself from your penetrating observation. But then, I’m reading diligently. I even read your wiliness with respect to Aksakov, who deserved the spurring of a certain individual (“even efficiently”).32 This approval, together with the fatherly reprimand to Yu. Samarin for unwavering nationalism, significantly lowers Slavophile stilts. Passing over from the earthly Jupiter to the heavenly one, I allow myself to ask Your Excellency: in what way can astronomical reports about the planet Jupiter made in September refute my report about the planet Venus, seen by me in the month of July before sunrise, somehow also bearing likeness to it—it’s not for nothing that it’s called Lucifer, or Son of the Morning [i.e., Morning Star]?33 But if you absolutely want to refute poetry with science, then here’s a little subject for you [in French] as an exercise:         La Russie Russia, misty soul wandering upon an avalanche: Thus you were drawn to a white vision Of your fields of everlasting ice, So that you come to forget the harsh division of breath And melt the frost of your snowy shoulder At the fire of our hearts fraternal. Run! Our stallions espouse your mares, And our growing oaks upon rival forests (? [sic]) Interlace with your pines.34

Everlasting mares are on everlasting ice, without stallions, feeding on pine bark, in expectation of French stallions come to court them. Such is poetry! In the next few days I’m sending M. M. [Stasiulevich] something that can be published in the second part of Messenger of Europe. Be well. Cordial regards to Yulia Petrovna and to all yours. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To N. Ya. Grot 16/28 Oct. [18]93, Dinard

PVSS, 1:79

Hello, Nikolai Yakovlevich, dear friend! Absolutely! Absolutely wait for the end of my “Love” for the November issue; it won’t do, it won’t do to put it off to next

1892–1893

year, though I don’t perceive a moral obligation to readers here; I feel more of a material obligation to the editorial board for the advance, but this will soon, very soon, be covered—and more requested.35 Since the Sept. issue came out on the fifteenth, then Nov. can also come out on the fifteenth, and new dates with the New Year. You’ll receive my article ultimo [Lat.] 5 Nov., but more likely earlier. Absolutely wait for it, absolutely. Wherever did you get the idea that Trubetskoy and I are living fast and carefree? Why we’ve even gone mad over books—and drinking?—we’re drinking only apple kvass, and he’s even had some milk as well. Your unwellness saddens me. I can advise one thing: get excited more calmly! My physique has also gone downhill. I’m returning to Petersburg in Dec., but to Moscow—still don’t know when. Anyway, be well, dear friend. Cordial regards to Natalia Nikolaevna and to all yours. Kisses for Levon, Petrovsky, Preobrazhensky, and all mutual friends. Until 1 Nov.—Hôtel des Bains (Ille-et-Vilaine), and later—Hôtel Vouillemont, 15, rue Boissy D’Anglas, Paris. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To N. Ya. Grot [1893] Not secret

PVSS, 1:80–81

My dear friend Nikolai Yakovlevich (who’s cursing me)! Upon departure of the Trubetskoys 17 Oct., I immediately and conscientiously sat down for the conclusion of “Love” and had written nearly forty pages by Sunday, 31 Oct., but when I reread them—ye gads!—as the late Afanasy Afanasievich would have said, what a weak brew it is that came out, what vile gruel, what a nasty little thing! And I wanted to write to the best of my abilities. Why curse me? You need to pity me, that’s what! But then, should everything—both my honor and the reputation of your journal, as well as the honor of mystical philosophy in Russia, and finally, the good name of sexual love—should all this be brought in sacrifice to accuracy alone? No! A thousand times no!—I said to myself, and after having dedicated Monday to melancholy, I telegraphed you on Tuesday. Now about the future. A month and a half is quite sufficient for me for construction of a new article on the ruins of the old. So, I advise you to glue a colored strip to the November issue with the following content: “The fifth and final article of ‘The Meaning of Love,’ delayed owing to illness of V. S. Soloviev, will be published in January, the journal’s next issue,” which will be accomplished without fail, if only I don’t die meanwhile from softening of the brain. In such an event, in place of the article and in the form of an apologetic document, you can publish the following outpouring from my final hour:

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically Soon, dear friend, soon I’ll be In circulation, yet not quite free I won’t be taking baggage splendid To the grave when all has ended. I had lots of rubbish scarcely worth Attaching to bare soul on earth With great neglect I let things pass Both good and bad, unfirm, alas. I did totally offend in fact God’s likeness in myself intact— Into society so false, obtuse I did not fall with such abuse. And ‘tho I loved so very much Debauch? Not one did I e’er touch, By God, and more—I e’er did not Kill any man, nor breed a tot. And that’s all my merits past, All even up to the last, To all my friends I bid farewell! In refuge now, with saints to dwell!36

I’m going to Paris in the coming days. I sent a long letter to Trubetskoy last week but, it seems, forgot to write my exact Parisian address. Here’s that address for you and for him: Hôtel Vouillemont, 15, rue Boissy D’Anglas, Paris. Be well, my dear friend; cordial regards to Natalia Nikolaevna and to all my friends. Call upon Maria Petrovna Shenshin; tell her that I mislead even you, but that I miss her. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich PVSS, 1:111–13 26 Oct. (7 November) [18]93. Tuesday, Eve of the Octave of All Saints. Day of presence.37 Dinard, Hôtel des Bains. Dear Mikhail Matveevich, you could already note from the letter accompanying the article that I myself doubted its suitability at the last minute; and therefore, if you don’t meet either objections or expressions of displeasure on

1892–1893

my part now, ascribe this not so much to my reserve as much as to my sincere approval of your decision. It’s only disappointing to me, as it is to you, that it didn’t make it into the November issue. What about December’s? I’m at a loss as to how to do it. The article (or articles) being prepared by me: for its solidity, “Two World Views” (continuation of “historical sphinx”—on religious tolerance) requires several Russian books, which I won’t get here, and in any event it won’t make it for December in an appropriate form. “Mahomet,” which I have with me here already written, requires reshaping, and I won’t be publishing it without approval of the specialist Baron [B. P.] Rosen.38 If present experience has shown us that it’s even impossible to write in haste about what’s occurring on the street right now, a secure shorthand in discussing times long past would be all the more pernicious! One thing remains: to write you from Paris on the subject (the FrancoRussian alliance) but in another form, without any masking; there, my political impressions won’t be determined by newspapers alone. If it won’t make it the second time for some reason, I won’t be angry even with a secondary publication, but take it as a sign that the need being sensed by me to say something about this subject deceives me, and it’s better for me to keep silent about it, as in the following dialogue in one of Kozma Prutkov’s comedies:39 General Razorvaki’s wife: And I had a dream, as if at the very middle … Milovidov (interrupting her): Feeling proper respect for you now for some time, I beg you, in the name of all society, keep silent about this dream.

General Razorvaki’s wife submitted to this demand, and I’ll act the same way too, if you ask me once again to keep silent about the Franco-Russian dream. I can’t say anything good about my crumbling existence (which will soon become scattered seed, for the north wind’s blowing). Mirror and comb give ominous evidence: Color the face—hemorrhoidal,40 Gray hair’s falling out, It’s Fate—I can’t avoid, all Tragedy and threats, so I shout: I agree, Destiny, to all these things. Just don’t bestow a bald spot. How Awful! Bare skull aging brings,

217

218

Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically Whatever you may say there now. Saintly fathers, many hairless Lived once among us, so they say; But my road’s been more careless: In holy matters, I’m just—okay. I’m no showoff here, strutting False advantage, what a shame, To bring a sinful skull, abutting Heads anointed with such fame.    Correction. Ah! among them I’d forgot To add Boborykin’s head just now! For on his head a hair grew not: Udderly naked as a cow.     Yet I’m hopeful—all is fine,     Reassured by fact so true     For if I’m not a saint Divine,     Is not Pierre le Bobo too?41

Since these verses, notwithstanding the apt comparison: “udderly naked,” can’t be published in Messenger of Europe, I’m enclosing others that have two merits: (1) brevity, (2) and the fact that they’re the last of this series from abroad; there probably won’t be time for further verses, provided they don’t grow silent altogether.42 I wrote that I’m staying here until 3 Nov., and not until 30 Oct., as it seemed to you; in reality I’m staying until the seventh. Be well. Cordial regards to Liubov Isakovna and to all my friends. Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich Hôtel des Bains, Dinard, 27 Oct. [18]93

PVSS, 1:114–15

I had just dispatched yesterday’s long letter to you, dear Mikhail Matveevich, when suddenly inspiration struck from above (even without that, it was already wafting in from below and from the sides). I’ve prepared a booklet for publication: “The Foundation of Aesthetics.” One of its chapters (of course, unpublished anywhere, either as a whole or in parts) seems to me very much able to be easily converted into a separate article. It’s very suitable to tie it in with recent aesthetic understandings (Volkonsky, Boborykin, and the like); in addi-

1892–1893

tion, there’s something in it especially pleasant for our friend A. Pypin, namely an intercession for Chernyshevsky against Boborykin, who recently bobo-ribbed the deceased in our Moscow philos. journal.43 Of course, I’ll only have to speak incidentally about this later discord, but anyway I would like to review Chernyshevsky’s treatises. Inde praeces [Lat. from the previous]: please instruct Khomiakovsky to send me here, as registered (without fail) printed matter (on our account with him), the volume of Chernyshevsky’s works that came out not so long ago, where one finds the dissertation: “On the Aesthetic Relations of Art to Reality.”44 I’m leaving here on 7 Nov., and consequently, if you manage the mail with your usual Suvorov-like speed, I’ll receive the book here on the fifth or the sixth (but in any event it will be forwarded to me). The review of Chernyshevsky won’t require more than twenty-four hours, and thus I’ll send you my article on the eighth or the ninth from Paris; it will just make it for the end of the first section of the Dec. issue. And the letter on politics, if it turns out to have raison d’être [Fr.], will be on its own. Another small request. There was a report of a new English book on aesthetics (a review or history of theories) in the Aug. or, more likely, the Sept. issue of Messenger of Europe. Please inquire as to the name of the author and the exact title of the book from L. Z. Slominsky, and I’ll be much obliged if you communicate it to me in the next letter. Please convey to Khomiakovsky that I’ll send out the original of my book for the printer from Paris or Berlin, in his name with corresponding instructions. Please convey my cordial regards to Liubov Isakovna and all the Monday crowd, for which, according to my calculation, this letter will arrive on time. All yours Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich Paris, le 25 Nov. (6 Dec.) [18]93

PVSS, 1:116

Trés cher et vénéré patron [Fr. Very dear and respected patron], since the last letter you’ve surely been scolding me repeatedly and multifariously for inaccuracy and lateness. In order to prove to you that even I am not always late, I send you a poem for the New Year. Did my little article about Chernyshevsky and aesthetics make it into the Dec. chronicle? I fear it didn’t. In that case send me the galley proofs (two copies)—it can be embellished. I have certain intentions here in Paris that I won’t write about in advance, out of superstition—so as not to spoil it. Yesterday I was at the Sorbonne for a lecture by Brunetière on Bossuet. I’m setting out for parliament in the coming days. I’ve become acquainted with a deputy of a new kind—the socialist-abbot, Lemire.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

Vodovozov (V. I. Semevsky’s stepson) came by to see me and brought an article about catholic socialism, which, I think, won’t be superfluous for Messenger of Europe.45 He writes soundly—I had read some things published by him before in Russian Thought; in general a practical and likable young man. N.B. I’ve just now been brought your letter, in which my apprehensions were verified. Now there’s no reason to publish the article in the chronicle—even in its present form it could go into the first section. And maybe I will even manage to circulate it. In any event send the galleys. Many times have I recalled the words you spoke in Bologna about the French: children, perfect children! I repeat this when in a good mood, but in a bad one I utter Fon-Vizin’s words: a Frenchman has no reason, and he would consider it a misfortune for himself to have it.46 Be well, both you and Liubov Isakovna. Truly, Vlad. Soloviev To K. K. Arseniev 25 November 1893 Paris. Hotel Vouillemont, 15, Boissy-d’Anglas

PVSS, 2:90

I just now received your second letter, dear Konstantin Konstantinovich, as I was preparing to reply to the first. You write nothing about Radlov. I hope his illness isn’t serious. I don’t know his present address, but if he’s sick, that means he is not going to the library; therefore, be so good as to forward to him the little letter enclosed. Here you’ll find Vodovozov, who’s well known to you, and whom I directed to the bosom of “catholic socialism” or “social catholicism” when he was leaving Petersburg; he made use of this and wrote an extensive article about this movement.47 He would like to publish it in Messenger of Europe, but for some reason thinks that he’ll meet resistance among certain members of the editorial board (not you). I wrote to Mikhail Matveevich about the article (which I’ll bring with me). Vodovozov’s apprehensions are probably erroneous or exaggerated, but I’m counting on your support in any event. The article won’t fit into one, very likely even into two issues. I will propose Vodovozov my cooperation for shortening it and for a general literary touch up; I hope he’s not possessed by authorial megalomania. Incidentally, I didn’t notice any issues with Duns Scotus—meaning you undoubtedly only deleted the superfluous. Do the same with Deistvitel´nost´ [Reality]. Upon reading through my article I’m pleasantly in agreement with

1892–1893

your palette. It seems that Mikhail Matveevich’s taken a liking to it, and I’m hoping Alexander Nikolaevich too, but it’s possible to supplement and improve it by January. Cordial regards to Evgeniia Ivanovna, Mary, and all yours. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev I’ve not gotten anything from the Dictionary, probably will tomorrow. P.S. I’ll write on “soul of the world” for the supplement, if it’s not required too soon. To M. M. Stasiulevich 2/14 Dec. [18]93, Paris

PVSS, 1:117

In fulfillment of your request, dear Mikhail Matveevich, here are a couple of words for you; that is to say I was not at court on Saturday, but my acquaintance with Abbot Lemire can continue for the time being, since he’s not dead but only wounded, although rather seriously, maybe even dangerously. Besides the criminal himself, the others got away with trifles, while he got it on the bridge of the nose and, moreover, has in prospect amputation of his head. However, the newspapers have been and will continue reporting about all this.48 I take note of the little published piece sent by you, even if it’s not worth making a frame for, what with my wandering life. I continue to be confident of my return by the fifteenth of Dec. of this 1893rd year A.D. Cordial greetings to you, Liubov Isakovna and everyone. All yours Vlad. Soloviev To E. L. Radlov 24 Dec. 1893

PVSS, 1:251

My dear friend! After arriving in Petersburg, I caught a bad case of the grippe—so as not to say influenza—and am therefore deprived of full freedom of movement: I had to hire a carriage for myself the other day out of necessity—the first time in my life! Therefore I’m greeting you and yours in absentia. But I hope to come see you in Tsarskoe Selo at the start of January. I have to give you something that belongs to you. I’ve heard that you’re recovering. But anyway you need to arrange Karlsbad by summer. This is not so difficult or expensive. Until soon we meet. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev.

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Cordial regards and kisses. My godson and I will probably not recognize one another.

1894–1895 To N. Ya. Grot PVSS, 1:82–83 Petersburg, Hôt. England [i.e., d’Angleterre, or “Angliia”], 3/15 Jan. [18]94 My dear friend Nikolai Yakovlevich, yesterday I dispatched the last six sheets of the article by express train. As my influenza eased, I began to feel myself in a writer’s mood, but alas! I couldn’t make use of this as I ought in order not to be late. Using all my might, I had to abridge and didn’t even manage to reread it. If any kind of absurdity’s come out, correct it along with Levon and Trubetskoy; besides, know it was “beneath heresy, beneath any cunning that I would dare, whether through some accident, forgetfulness, grief, or excessively imbibing wine that plunged me into writing so.”1 In any event I urge a thorough proofreading, and please send me a copy (not for return, for this will delay) here (Hotel England) and inform me about your health, as well as about the health and life of the two above-indicated persons with their families, and of other friends too. I’ll report briefly about myself. I remain generally very satisfied with my trip abroad. In Paris I had occasion to proclaim several important, but bitter, truths to the French, for which they not only didn’t pelt me with stones at first but even very much welcomed me. Yet later, after having considered it, they got vengeance in a special way: in part they were silent, and in part—even worse—they replaced newspaper accounts of my speech with some toned down nonsense, with all kinds of compliments; but this isn’t a misfortune, for the speech will be published in its original form anyway. I repeated it literally and completely here in a secular circle in the presence of two ministers. It was a pleasantly unexpected surprise to receive a clean profit from my previous French pamphlet (“L’Idée russe), and it seems it will be possible to publish the book (“L’Église universelle”) in a new, revised edition. I made several pleasant acquaintances. I’m only sorry these Parisian delays prevented my stopping in Berlin. However, I hope to go to Sweden and Germany again in the spring. I’m going to Moscow in February. Be well. Cordial regards to Natalia Nikolaevna and all

1894–1895

friends. I want to write separately to Trubetskoy, but when I’m ready to go, so inform him of this letter, as well as Levon and anyone else among our friends. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev Unpublished poem (N.B. communicate this to our friends as well.) In the Vicinity of Åbo [Finland] I will not forget you, Beauteous land at midnight’s edge, Where, fond of pale sky, A wave blanches blue; Where the boundless winter night Conceals magical charms, Only to suddenly raise Amidst white darkness, A bright radiance of elemental fires. There I wandered silently, There I prayed to the God of truth, That the flood tide of ferocity Break upon Finnish rocks.2

To M. M. Stasiulevich April 1894

MMSp, 5:379

I’m very grieved, dear Mikhail Matveevich, by news of your prolonged illness; I take comfort only in the fact that guts are more important than voice, and you write they have improved. The end of my article is almost ready, and you will receive it not the ninth but the first of May. Along with my cordial regards, I ask you to convey to Liubov Isakovna the following fact. On Thursday of Passion Week, during dinner at your place at eight o’clock in the evening, I felt a mortal anguish without apparent reason, which I communicated to you both, expressing my certainty that some misfortune occurred at this time to somebody close to me. Imagine, at the same time on Maundy Thursday, a childhood friend, Lopatin (brother of the professor-philosopher) suffered seizures, after which doctors declared that he has progressive brain paralysis. I still have a healthy brain, but abdominal nodes are turning my insides inside-out daily. I saw Zhemchuzhnikov; he’s hale and hearty and sending you a poem. Trubetskoy read me his new article on Slavophilism; I very much liked it, but he hesitates to publish, fearing to aggrieve his Slavophile kin a second

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

time; I hope to persuade him yet. Publishing Tolstoy’s article on Toulon would be premature.3 Art is raging in Moscow. I haven’t seen Spasovich, although we did exchange visits. Beginning tomorrow the reasons for my stay in Moscow are vanishing and will finally vanish by 25 May, when I too will vanish from here, in order to appear in the vicinity of “Isaac-the-Giant,” as one poet expresses himself.4 Get well soon.       Sincerely, Vlad. Sol. To V. L. Velichko Moscow, Prechistenka, the former Likhutin bldg. 9 May 1894

PVSS, 1:212

God of Ekron, my dear Beelzebub!*5 For your many high qualities (of which height is the lowest) you have one important shortcoming—a perfect inability to expediently avail yourself of the excellent Russian expression “to hell with it!” After this equivocation I’m crossing over to “skills.” Upon receiving your letter, I set out with it to Pr. Sumbatov, who said he’ll make an appropriate announcement to the Society of Dramatic Writers but doesn’t advise publishing your letter.6 This opinion (coincident with mine) of a person so experienced in these matters and undoubtedly well disposed toward you must, it seems to me, be definitive for you. In the contrary case, having washed my hands, I can of course set out to see Sobolevsky. I conveyed the letter on religion (I found it necessary to cross out only two lines) to Sumbatov, asking him to impart it to Khakhanov after reading it.7 But he said, How’s this, when I’m leaving Moscow day after tomorrow? To this I said, Do as you see fit. He was very courteous to me, but I’d caught him studying something with a young lady or maid and so hurried to leave. Even so, I hope there was nothing in their lessons contrary to the true rules of good conduct. As to what’s appropriate for me, I reckon on being in Petersburg around the twentieth of this May and will be very glad if I still find you there. Be well. Convey my cordial greetings to Maria Georgievna and to all yours. Sincerely, Vlad. Soloviev

* “Beelzebub,” meaning “lord of the flies,” enjoyed a special cult in the city of Ekron. V. S. (Ed. note: V. L. Velichko—author of the comedy The Fly.)

1894–1895

To Lev N. Tolstoy Petersburg, 5 July 1894

PVSS, 3:37

Dear Lev Nikolaevich! After we parted, I was very ill—hemorrhaging blood so badly I frightened the doctor, who prescribed a multitude of medicines, but I bought them only out of politeness and abstained from utilizing them and have since gotten healthy in good time. This illness, along with several other circumstances, has delayed up to now two things promised by me: (1) setting forth the main point of difference in opinion between you and me, and (2) [producing] a systematic reader of your religious-moral works. Now I’m making use of Mr. Krauskopf ’s trip to see you in order to assure you that both of these intentions have by no means been given up by me.8 This month I hope to fulfill the first, for which only three–four days of full freedom and concentration are required, but the second, more complex in a formal respect, will of course require more leisure time. I’m thinking of titling the reader “A Critique of Pseudo-Christianity, from the Works of Lev Tolstoy.” As for the material, I’m only lacking your last work, “Christianity and Patriotism.” Would you be able to arrange that it be sent (as registered printed matter) to the following address? Petersburg, editorial office of “Messenger of Europe,” Galernaya 20, to so and so. A friend who just arrived from Paris informs me that your booklet (independently of its principal content) appeared very incidentally as a coup de grâce [Fr.] to the Franco-Russian deception.9 Be well, dear Lev Nikolaevich. Until we meet—I’m certain we will, but when and where I don’t know, for, in all probability, cholera or not, I’m remaining here an indefinite time. Cordial regards to the countess and to all yours. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To Lev N. Tolstoy 28 July–2 Aug. 1894, Petersburg*

PVSS, 3:38–42

Dear Lev Nikolaevich! Since my last letter, forwarded through Mr. Krauskopf, I was seriously ill twice and don’t want to put off any further the important discussion I owe you. * This letter was published in no. 79 of Problems of Philosophy, 1905. Ed. note.

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All our discord can be condensed into one concrete point—the resurrection of Christ. I think in your own world view (if I correctly understand your recent works) there’s nothing that would interfere with acknowledging the truth of resurrection, and there’s even something that forces an acknowledgment of it. First I’ll speak about the idea of resurrection in general, and then about the resurrection of Christ. (1) You admit that our world is being modified progressively, proceeding from lower forms and degrees of existence to higher or more perfect ones; (2) you acknowledge the reciprocation between intrinsic spiritual life and extrinsic physical life, and (3) on the grounds of this reciprocation you acknowledge that the perfection of a spiritual being is expressed in its personal spiritual life subordinating its physical life to itself, taking possession of it. I think that, from these three points, arriving at the truth of resurrection is unavoidable. The point is that spiritual power relative to material existence isn’t a constant quantity but an increasing one. In the animal world, it’s generally found only in a concealed, potential state: in humanity it emancipates itself and becomes explicit. But this emancipation is accomplished at first only ideally in the form of rational consciousness: I distinguish myself from my animal nature, am conscious of my intrinsic independence from it and superiority before it. But can this consciousness proceed to action? Not only can it proceed, but it even does, in part. Just as we find certain rudiments or flashes of rational life in the animal world, so too rudiments of a higher perfected state undoubtedly exist in humanity; in these rudiments the spirit in fact actually overcomes material life. The spirit struggles with the dark strivings of material nature and subjects them to itself (and not just distinguishing itself from them). A greater or lesser fullness of this victory depends on the degree of intrinsic spiritual perfection. The extreme triumph of the hostile material principle is death—i.e., emancipation of chaotic life’s material parts by the destruction of their rational, expedient connection. Death is the manifest victory of meaninglessness over meaning, chaos over the cosmos. This is especially clear relative to living beings of the higher order. The death of a human being is the destruction of a perfect organism—i.e., of an expedient form and an instrument of higher rational life. Such a victory of the lower over the higher, such disarmament of the spiritual principle, evidently shows the insufficiency of its power. But this power is increasing. Immortality is the same thing for a human being as reason is for an animal; the ultimate point of the animal kingdom is the rational animal—i.e., the human being. The ultimate point of humanity is the immortal human being— i.e., Christ. As the animal world gravitates toward reason, so humanity gravitates toward immortality. If the struggle with chaos and death is the essence of the

1894–1895

world process—in which connection the lucid spiritual aspect overcomes, even if slowly and gradually—then resurrection, the actual and final victory of the living essence over death, is the essential moment of this process that in principle also ends with this.10 All further progress, strictly speaking, has only an extensive character—­consists in the universal adaptation of this individual victory or in the propagation of its consequences to all humanity and to all the world. If one understands by a miracle a fact that contradicts the general course of things and is therefore impossible, then resurrection is in direct contrast to miracle—this is a fact that is unconditionally unavoidable in the general course of things; if one understands by miracle a fact that occurs for the first time, is unprecedented, then resurrection of “the first begotten of the dead” is, of course, a miracle—absolutely the same kind as the appearance of the first organic cell amid the inorganic world or the appearance of the animal amid primordial vegetation or the first human being amid orangutans.11 Natural history is not to be doubted in these miracles, and likewise the miracle of resurrection is undoubtable for the history of humanity as well. Of course, from the point of view of mechanical materialism all this is nul et non avenu [Lat. null and void]. But I would be very surprised if I heard any principled objection from your point of view. I’m certain that the idea of resurrection and “the first begotten of the dead” is just as natural for you as it is for me. But, people ask, was it realized in the historical person whose resurrection is recounted in the gospels? Here are the foundations on which I support my certainty in the actual resurrection of this person, Jesus Christ, as firstborn from the dead. (1) Victory over death is the unavoidable natural consequence of intrinsic spiritual perfection; a person in whom the spiritual principle has taken away the power of everything lower finally and decisively cannot be subdued by death; spiritual power, having achieved the fullness of its ­perfection, inevitably overflows, so to speak, over the edge of subjective-­psychic life and seizes corporeal life as well, transforms it, and then finally inspirits it, indissolubly tying it to itself. But it’s precisely the image of full spiritual perfection that I find in the Gospel of Christ; I can’t consider this image as simply made up for a multitude of reasons, which there is no need to introduce, since you don’t consider the gospel of Christ as myth either. If this spiritually perfect human being really existed, then he was thereby firstborn from the dead and it’s no use to await another. (2) Let me elucidate the second foundation of my faith with a comparison from another sphere. When the astronomer Le Verrier became

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

convinced, by means of well-known calculations, that yet another planet should be found beyond the orbit of Uranus, then saw it through a telescope precisely as it should have been according to his calculations, he hardly had any rational cause then to think that this planet was not the one which he calculated, that it wasn’t real, and that maybe the real one will be discovered later.12 We find similarities in the general sense of the world and historical process and the consistency of its stages. After the manifestation of the spiritual principle in ideal form—in the philosophy and art of the Hellenes, on the one hand, and in the ethical-­ religious ideal of the Hebrew prophets (concept of the Kingdom of God) on the other—a further, higher moment of this revelation had to produce a phenomenon of the same spiritual principle as personal and real. It had to produce its embodiment in a living person, who had to show the power and the victory of spirit over the hostile, ugly principle with its extreme expression—death—not only in thought and artistic models but in practice. That is, it had to actually resurrect his material body into a spiritual one—and, at the same time, we find the description of precisely such a human being among eyewitnesses, illiterate Jews without any concept of a world process, its stages and moments—a human being personally and actually embodying the spiritual principle in himself.13 Moreover, they recount with amazement—as an unexpected and improbable event for them—that this human being was resurrected, i.e., was present purely empirically, as a consistency of facts. Seeing such a coincidence, one which has an intrinsically logical connection for us, we resolutely have no right to accuse these witnesses of making up a fact, the entire significance of which for them was unclear. This is almost the same as if we assumed that the workers who built the telescope of the Paris Observatory, though they didn’t know anything about Le Verrier’s calculations, deliberately arranged it in such a way that he saw the phantom of a nonexistent Neptune in this telescope. (3) I’ll only mention a couple of words about the third basis of my faith in Christ’s resurrection, since it is very well known, which does not lessen its power. The point is that without the fact of resurrection the unusual enthusiasm of the apostolic community would not have had a sufficient foundation, and in general all the initial history of Christianity would represent a series of impossibilities; indeed, only acknowledging (as others have done) that there was no first century at all in Christian history, and it began directly in the second or even the third century.

1894–1895

Personally, from the point in time that I acknowledge that the history of the world and of humanity has meaning, I haven’t the slightest doubt in the resurrection of Christ, and all objections against this truth only confirm my faith by their weakness. The single original and serious objection known to me comes from you. In recent discussion with me you said that if one acknowledges the resurrection and, consequently, the particular supernatural significance of Christ, this will force Christians to rely more for their salvation on the mystical power of this supernatural being than on their own personal moral work. But such abuse of truth is, in the final analysis, only convicting the abusers. In fact, since Christ, though resurrected, can do nothing final for us without us ourselves, then there can be no danger of quietism here for sincere and conscientious Christians.14 They might still be in danger if the resurrected Christ had visible reality—but only hypocrites or scoundrels can cite grace to the detriment of moral obligation in the present circumstances, when a real, personal connection with him can only be spiritual, which assumes the personal moral work of human beings. In addition, the God-man is not the all-absorbing absolute of Eastern mystics, and union with him cannot be unilaterally passive. He is “the first begotten of the dead,” the indicator of the path, the leader and banner for an active life, struggle and perfection, and not submergence into Nirvana. In any event, whatever the practical consequences of Christ’s resurrection, the question of its truth is not resolved by them. It would be interesting to the highest degree for me to know what in essence you will say about this. If you have no desire or time to write, I’ll wait til we meet. Be well, cordial regards to all yours. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev In any event, here’s the address: Petersburg, at the Blue Bridge, Voznesensky Prosp., no. 16, apart. 3 (barracks, apartment of the military examining magistrate Kuzmin-Karavaev). To M. S. Soloviev [Autumn 1894]



PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 28–29

My dear Misha, I’m well and leaving today for Finland. Be so kind as to pay Liuba 10 rubles at my expense. I promised to send it to her, but after taking the city of Paris by storm, the region of my philanthropy unexpectedly widened; I had to send 100 francs for a debt, after which I ran dry.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

I’m going to Finland today just to have a look, finally moving on Wed. or Thurs. The entire pension will cost me no more than 50 rubles a month (while in Petersburg one room’s 90 rubles) and then—zero cabbies. I would never have thought up anything more intelligent. Sophia Petrovna has not yet returned and will only in October … [words deleted] … And it seems that’s all. Write about yourself to the editor, Mess. Eur. Kisses for you and for everyone. Yours, Vlad.         Don’t forget Liuba’s account. To N. Ya. Grot 1 October 1894, [Finland]    Editors and friends!     I intend to curse you. Radlov, whom you know, said to me That Grot, you’re inclined to novelty, And even that you thought you can Speed up Saturn—you insolent man! But even both of you working together Can’t make November October (never!). _________________ By this paper I do swear As well as by its very ink: You won’t by edits bold or clear Confuse my soul or how I think. So, if inspired by Dame Minerva, I shall have the article to show When the frosty season’s fervor Covers Finland with its snow. A sled shall I then take for travel Over lake and over river, So you may read and judge by gavel, The piece that I to you deliver. ____________________ “On the shores of waters” wild The Finnish muse appeared, so nice:

PVSS, 1:93–94

1894–1895 I was but courteous—and mild, The villainess replicated thrice. No other sins are now here known, Passions none at all found stirring, Quiet sinless dreams swarm blown By lucid dusk somehow alluring. I’m living now with strange concern, With neither effort nor fatigue, I feel— Nourished only by some milk I learn, Like Dom Pedro’s “Lion of Castille.”*15 _____________________ Whether fitting or unfitting— Who’ll decide it now for me? Saimaa’s water is abounding, But only speaks reflexively. Dogs around me, lambs and rats— No judges can I find, my word, The Finns are all albinos—drat, And all their Russian verse’s slurred. I write. As pines through windows gaze, On paths of silver, frost so slight … Getting bored with verse these days, Moving on to prose tonight.16

How’s it going with you? How are things, Levushka? What about Kolya? The other day I even saw Mikhail Nikolaevich in a dream—very sad. Please write; I’m completely removed from the world and don’t even read newspapers. I’m living on Lake Saimaa, near the village (farm) of Tiurinniami, in an area called Kaisararanta—i.e., Emperor’s Shore. But you have to write and telegraph thus: Imatra, Rauha, Pension Alm, V. S. S.17 Til we meet, dear friends—probably January. I love you even at a distance. Regards to your families, also to Trubetskoy and all mutual friends, to whom you can show these messages.              Vlad. Soloviev * [Not] Enclosed [here], the poems “Monrepo,” marked 26 September, Vyborg; “Sorcerer. Stone [Koldun. Kamen´],” marked 27 September, Vyborg; and “Saimaa,” marked 3 October, Saimaa. See Soloviev’s Poems. Ed. note.

231

232

Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To N. Ya. Grot Saimaa, [Finland,] 26 Dec. [18]94

PVSS, 1:85–86

O Grot, supertemporal cave of contemplation! You’ve not freed us from the flight of time.* As of old, it’s a theme of grief and expectation, It runs untiring, and pulls us without rhyme.

Apart from time, however, fondness draws me to you still; you made the sending of my article conditional upon it. Perfectly fond of you, I’m sending an article, Grot, But in it there isn’t … [deleted]— By God, don’t I know it.     I corrected all I could;     Added a paragraph quite new.     Print it! God’s with us! Good!     Send the sheet when ready too. Under shelter of a stream again Alone I’ve settled, here to make Again … [words deleted] … But I’m still in love with the lake

To which the following verse attests: Wrapped in winter’s coat, you Lie in quiet placid dream; clean, But howling air, sans death, too Lucid white and silence lean.     ‘Twas not in vain I searched for you,     With inner peaceful eye profound.     Image precise, o faerie queen who     Rules the pines and cliffs unbound. (What rhythm!)

* This does not signify a reprimand. I approve of your article about time, and of the third, just as the second. I’ll communicate private objections when we meet. V. S.

1894–1895 Immaculate as distant snow, You ponder as a winter’s night … Like polar fires arrayed to go In dark chaos, daughter of light!**18

_________ Proceeding on to prose—I think, my dear friend, I’ll manage to read through the proofs of the corrected article. Send it sooner here (N.B. registered): Finland, Imatra—Rauha, Pension Alm, V. S. S.—two copies, one to return, and a second to keep. If you’re in a big hurry, check both, especially for new insertions; in any event send me a corrected copy soon for my own use. Cordial greetings to all yours, to Levon and to all our friends. I’m sending Trubetskoy a very long letter simultaneously with this—a belated reply to his four. I hope he’s not angry with me either for this silence or for my extreme disapproval of his satirical experience. My Kant’s finished safely. In the literature I mention Levon and your “Time.”19 Be well. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To V. L. Velichko PVSS, 1:215 [On the stamp of the envelope: “Imatra, 12 (new style), I/1895”] Maria Grigorievna and Vasily Lvovich, I wish you a happy New Year in 1895 A.D., from the bottom of my heart and in the memory of the saints; I and our father, universal teacher and prelate Vasily [Basil] the Great, archbishop of Caesarea Cappadocia, wish that you become like him, not according to character, for yours is better in certain respects, but according to the spirit’s imperturbability rebus in arduis [Lat. in difficult times], in constancy and the success of your labors. On the day of your departure I wrote another poem (see the reverse), and I corrected “Christmas Night” at the place indicated thus: The light was born into the world, and the light was rejected by darkness, But light is cast amid the darkness, at the boundary of good and evil.20 Thus it disappeared entre chien et loup [Fr. in the twilight]. ** See Poems of V. Soloviev, 3rd ed. p. 86. Ed. note.

233

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

Since you like this poem, allow me to dedicate it to you in the new edition of my poetry being prepared (possibly with Stasiulevich—he’s an opponent of dedications). Fairness would require dedicating the entire collection to you, but this would come out too symmetrical and probably call forth ill-disposed remarks. Be well, dear fellow, and with courage of spirit (“Watch!)21 Yours Vlad. Soloviev Appended, the poem—Twilight. Distant noise of a waterfall, (etc., Poems, 3rd ed. p. 87).22 To E. L. Radlov [1895]

PVSS, 1:253

Gruss aus Köln [Ger. Greetings from Cologne]. My dear friend! I’ve become very bored without news from you, and though I’m coming to Petersburg I’m sending a few words in advance anyway. Only news of death has arrived from Russia: another five or six personal friends, besides the two known to you. And such a multitude of little adventures has occurred during the journey that you can’t describe them in any letter. Here’s a perfectly familiar depiction:* Light skiff, storm, A protégé of the planet, Escapes—the old dragon-worm, He’s rowing nicely in it.23

Most cordial regards to Vera Alexandrovna and to all yours. Til soon we meet. Yours Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 20 January 1895

PVSS, 1:123–24

Dear Mikhail Matveevich! Here’s the note Radlov read to you for the second section of the Feb. issue. I have corrected it in accordance with your remarks. I hope it’s all right [Eng.] * In the letter, a drawing depicting V. Soloviev floating in a canoe across a river. Ed. note.

1894–1895

with my manuscript. When you placed your fateful question in my telegram, the last pages were arriving at Vyborg in the pocket of my friend Kotliarevsky, who vowed to deliver them himself in the flesh (and not symbolically) to the printer next morning (Tues.).24 If he disappointed you, all the worse for us. But I wouldn’t be very grieved if the article has to be postponed til March: it needs something added and something removed. The latter, however, you can even do successfully yourself. A propos [Fr.]: you know your censorial and editorial corrections have all my sympathies. I consider myself all the more in the right to turn your enlightened attention to the following occurrence, occurring by chance (I’ll show you the actually occurring example when we meet).25 Sometimes a correction, excellent in itself, doesn’t accord with something preceding or following: it’s not visible when the correction is made, since all concern is concentrated on a definitive word or phrase; and later upon reading the final proofs the incongruity also slips away, since attention is turned more to misprints than to now familiar content. Only the fresh eye of a reader, or the suspicious eye of an author, discovers the misfortune when it’s already too late. But sometimes the bad luck derives from pride. So it occurred, for example, with the change of title in one of the little poems. The author placed “Twilight,” but the editor, under the influence of pride, thought: “Phooey! he doesn’t even know how to title his own verses as they should be!” and appended: “on Imatra.” And meanwhile it was at an extremely great distance, and besides from another waterfall; how else could it have been possible to say: “distant noise of a waterfall”? If this had been on Imatra, the noise would’ve been quite close—right in the ears even. I’m hurrying to note, however, that today it’s: –26 on the thermometer, and so, perhaps I simply froze while reproaching you in pride. And here’s yet another perfect trifle, but necessary to correct. It’s a small misprint with respect to the symbolists. I noted in place of chef d’oeuvre, they write schef-d’oeuvre; but the printer now redoubled their mistake on his own, forcing them to write cschef-d’oeuvre. Though the difference isn’t great, they can anyway find fault and complain that I ascribe imaginary mistakes to them. It’s possible this is only a misprint on their part too, but in any event it’s uncomfortable to be inaccurate in indicating inaccuracies. Therefore, is it possible to print the enclosed correction somewhere in an empty place at the end of the February issue?

235

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

Til soon we meet. The date of my departure has not changed. Cordial regards to Liubov Isakovna and mutual friends. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev Correction. In the January issue of Messenger of Europe, in the bibliographic note on page 424, lines 14 and 15 from the top, cshefs-’doeuvres (?!) is printed; it should be: schfs-d’oeuvres (?!). [sic] To N. Ya. Grot Rauha on Saimaa [Finland], 24 Jan. [18]95

PVSS, 1:91–92

My dear friend Nikolai Yakovlevich! I’m very sorry you couldn’t come to see me, and I’m also a little disappointed in you that you forgot to carry through with my request (which I wouldn’t have troubled you with, if I had known [V. N.] Ivanovsky’s address)—about the quickest mailing of my article to me in final form (by separate sheet or in the issue of the journal—it’s all the same). It’s very necessary to me for publication of the entire book. I’m going to Petersburg for ten or twelve days tomorrow, and thus, if the article or the issue of Problems still has not been sent out to me here, please arrange quickly so that either they or it be forwarded to me in Petersburg, Hotel England. And moreover: if your finances have not been altogether ruined by the ill-timed appearance and distribution of issues (the truth and nothing but the truth!), please arrange that the honorarium for the last article be forwarded to me in Petersburg, with the appropriate deductions (I recall that I was given 20 r. extra, round figures, in September on account; with deductions, and for “Skovoroda” about 50 or 55 rubles will remain, I think), only not in my name, but in the name of Colonel Kuzmin-Karavaev (see address below).26 I’m thriving here for the time being, and without the wind the intense cold has not harmed me at all, but last night, when it was [–]30° with such a strong wind that the glass panes in the windows howled, it seems I thoroughly exposed my hemorrhoids to the cold, a primitive local custom. I hope to make a complete recovery in a hot tub. How are things in Moscow? I saw Levon once again in a dream. A kiss for him and all our friends. Cordial regards to Natalia Nikolaevna. Since you approve my “sourious” [surioznye] verses, then here’s the last of locals for you. I’m going to Moscow in March. Yours Vlad. Soloviev

1894–1895           Blink of an Eye Once more, tedious shadows, once more— Faces forgotten by the heart and daydreams endured … Knees bend before the unseen, And streams of tears flow to the irrecoverable. The tears are not about them, oh no, they’ll return— Bitter is the instant’s sorrow that’s vanished forever, It cannot be resurrected, and difficult years Slowly twist at a crawl—in the blink of Eternity’s eye. Or is this thought a deception, and only in the past have shadows Of faces forgotten by the heart and of daydreams endured? Knees bend before the unseen. And streams of tears flow to the irrecoverable.*27

To E. L. Radlov 1895

PVSS, 1:254

My dear friend Ernest Lvovich! Today is the day of my birth [O.S. Jan. 16], which I can’t spend in Petersburg without you. And therefore come for dinner at seven. And if this is too late for you, at least come after dinner, but not otherwise than between seven and nine, for I’ll probably be at home only for these two hours. I greeted myself today with the following artifice-less and truthful quatrain: In the forest there’s a fen, It’s also mossy cloaked. Somebody was born and then, He just up and croaked.28

Til we meet, my friend.       Yours, Vlad. Soloviev

* We cite this poem in full, in view of the fact that certain variants, even if insignificant, are encountered in it when compared with the text published in V. Soloviev’s Poems. Ed. note.

237

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To Sergei N. Syromiatnikov [February 1895]*

PVSS, 2:208

Dear Sergei Nikolaevich! After arriving in Petersburg from Finland the other day, I found the excellent little book you so kindly sent me. It was all the more pleasant for me that long ago I had already noted your fairy tales, very sympathetic in both direction and talent. I read your book in a single shot one night but don’t want to write you about it, for I wish to get acquainted personally. Maybe you are a worldly young man, but I am neither worldly nor young, and therefore suggest you arrange a meeting by the most expedient means without a preliminary exchange of visits. The point is that I have come here for a brief time and am extraordinarily occupied. The only way I could speak with you at leisure is if you will be so kind to come to my place (Hot. England, opposite Isaac’s, no. 49)—to have dinner on Friday or Sunday around six o’clock. If neither of these days is convenient for you, designate any day next week except Saturday. Once more thanks to you for the nice booklet, and I’m hoping we meet soon. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To A. A. Lugovoy [1895]

PVSS, 2:300–301

Dear Alexei Alexeevich! Thanks to you for your volume of interesting tales, which I read with true pleasure. In slicing through the book and seeing an abundance of excerpts from Schopenhauer at the end of “Pollice verso” [Lat.] I thought that you too were carried away by this fashionable demi- philosopher, but reading through, I found with pleasure to the contrary, a very faithful dead-on criticism of his sophisms.29 * I became acquainted with Soloviev on 13 February 1895 and saw him for the last time in May 1900, before my departure for the Persian Gulf, where I learned of his demise. During this period, with the exception of the two years I spent in the Far East, I met with him rather often. He was my “governor of conscience” and helped me with his counsels in the most difficult circumstances of my moral life. His correspondence with me in frequent meetings could not have a literary or philosophical character but testifies to his good heart and to his disposition toward me. I am not certain I succeeded in gathering all the letters of Vl. Soloviev, since constant journeys are difficult to combine with orderly papers. S. N. S. Note.

1894–1895

I’m grateful to you for attention to my articles. These are fragments from a great systematic work on moral philosophy, which is now being published, and I’m hoping to deliver it to you yet this spring.* Preliminary publication in fragments has its conveniences, but great inconveniences as well, since it calls forth misunderstanding in readers. What you object to with respect to shame is based precisely on such a misunderstanding, the blame for which I willingly take upon myself. By shame I mean the reaction of our spiritual nature against the usurpations of animal nature, known through intrinsic experience. It’s self-evident that animals can’t have such a reaction. My position, being a direct supplement to the logical law of identity (A=A) to directly reliable facts of intrinsic experience, does not require further evidence, but you (owing to the fragmentary character of the article) took various illustrative comments and examples as evidence. The possibility of such misunderstanding will be eliminated in the book. A fear of onus, which you indicate, can, of course, in one case or another be joined to the feeling of shame (in man); but it does not have any intrinsic relation to it. Science differentiates, for example, the chemical composition of water (H2O) from various organic and inorganic admixtures encountered in one or another specific mass of water (for example, in the Neva River or in any mineral spring). In a similar manner philosophy differentiates the ethical composition of a certain feeling, for example, shame, from one or another psychological admixture, which can be important in some respects, just not in a philosophical regard. However, this conversation will be more convenient to conclude, if you wish, orally and after my book. Now I’m only here for several days, but perhaps will get to meet with you at the next visit, if not this one. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To V. L. Velichko [on the envelope, 20 April 1895]

PVSS, 1:223–24

Dear Vasily Lvovich! I’m hoping your silence after my letter has incidental reasons and doesn’t signify you’re unwell or angry with me; therefore, without guessing by post, I’m writing a second time, since I have on my conscience our unfinished conversation concerning a mountain in Phrygia (and on the island of Crete too).30 Here are some considerations that came to mind after we parted. * Articles published in Problems of Philosophy and Psychology that I wrote to Soloviev about. Al. L.’s note.

239

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

In the first place, it’s clear to me that the question about Orthodoxy and its truth in preference to Protestantism doesn’t directly relate to the matter. I’ll elucidate this with a parable. In a certain city there were two schools. One of them was noted for an excellent program of education and training—this program left nothing to be desired in the sense of justness and comprehensiveness, so that, judging by the program alone, anyone would have to say: what a truly marvelous school! However, for all this, the authorities and teachers of this model school, in part, did nothing for instruction and cultivation of the youth and, in part, committed themselves to Sodomite sin and corrupted the pupils entrusted to them. The second school had a program, basically just, but poor and not very comprehensive; however, the teachers in it, generally speaking, conscientiously fulfilled their obligations and abstained from sodomy and other anomalies. Is there reason to take a little child out of this second school and place him in the first for the sake of the magnificence of its program? Furthermore, while your belonging to the Greco-Russian synagogue is only an extrinsic fact that didn’t occur by your volition, you don’t answer for anything; but when of your own volition you consciously, intentionally, and without any compulsion tie a juvenile, and hence not-responsible being, to the named institution, you triumphantly declare your solidarity with this institution, and all its sins revert to you: now you’re personally to blame both for the burning of Archpriest Avvakum [leader of the seventeenth-century Old Believer schism] and for the slaughter of Polish peasants, as well as for the prohibition of prayer meetings for Stundists and for thousands of other facts of this same flavor. Finally, your personal position would still change in another respect. Just now, for example, I spent several weeks of Lent at your place, and we didn’t observe the rules of Lent and didn’t go to church and there was nothing bad in this, since we’re not competent to judge here, and everyone understands this; but when you yourself solemnly declare yourself a zealot of the mother church, it won’t be possible to say that you’re not competent to judge its rules and regulations, and it’s one of two things: either you’ll have to radically change your life (not only with respect to Lent and going to church but also in other, more essential respects); or you’ll find yourself in a position so false that I not only wouldn’t wish this on my friend but even on my enemy.31 Dixi [Lat. I said], as General Kireev would say. Convey my cordial regards to the honorable Maria Georgievna and to all yours. Be well and don’t forget Sincerely and fondly yours, Vlad. Soloviev

1894–1895

To V. L. Velichko Imatra, 1895, 23 April (7 May)

PVSS, 1:225–26

Dear (to both heart and mind) Vasily Lvovich! Your verses on Shevchenko are beautiful. My scant familiarity with this poet does not permit me to decide whether the Christian element in him is sufficiently strong so that the final line doesn’t have the air of a certain unexpectedness. But in any event this isn’t a misfortune. My Finnish muse [Chukhonka] gave birth to twins in the span of a week. I’m sending them. The second (“Only the Shadow of the Living”) seems to me not bad. But I have misgivings with respect to the first (“To the Resurrected One”): was there some kind of coincidence? Something sounds very familiar. It would be awful if the brothers Tuzov secured a reason to confirm my dependence on some Apollo—not on Apollo Musagetes and not even Maikov’s Apollo, but on the Corinthians’ Apollo, or another just as orthographic a representative of “new poetry.”32 If it seems so to you, write me according to conscience, and won’t you help me find the real father of this foundling? Even so, I don’t like it, and, imagining myself as [V. P.] Burenin, I wrote the following parody: Regiments of tongue-tied verses Vlad sends us on the quiet, Such painful trauma (curses! curses!) To live on words: Oh, what a diet! Can’t live on poems, not e’en a lick, At least be fertile, more like a pig Or, wretched man, sell boots (sic!) Don’t dream of being a poet “big” Winter, summer—we don’t care, It’s gray-haired shame you’re bringing: Expect no old age blossoms here, No voice? Don’t go on singing!33

In actual fact, it comes to mind: am I acting philosophically, offering the public my poetical beads, when there exist in them diamonds of Pushkin, pearls of Tiutchev, emeralds and rubies of Fet, amethysts and garnets of A. Tolstoy, marble of Maikov, turquoises of Golenishchev-Kutuzov, corals, jasper and malachites of Velichko?34

241

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

Am I not becoming in my poetic exercises like unto poor Akhsharumov, who will come or send for his notebooks.35 Please search for them in my trash and give them back—if he doesn’t come alone, take an inventory from the express courier. Until soon we meet, dear Vasily Lvovich. A fair measure to the honorable Maria Georgievna and greetings to everyone. I’m hoping that what happened to poor Illo won’t happen to Martyn: Illo up and went missing without any news.*36 Vlad. Soloviev Keep 39 rubles in reserve for personal use, to be called for, don’t undertake any bad financial operations. It’s necessary to put off any action until the final possible moment. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.37 To M. S. Soloviev [Finland, ca. Easter 1895]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 31–32

He is risen indeed! My dear Misha, congratulations on this completely credible, though up to now fruitless, fact—but that’s nothing—to have everything at once is impossible! Congratulations to you as well on your thirty-third year. Excellent years, enviable years! As for me, I’m trying to replace the insufficiency of youth with promptness. My Ethics [Law and Morality] is approaching its conclusion. In my last visit to Petersburg I presented myself for evening sacrifice, slain on the altar of philanthropy. About four thousand was collected through me for poor, sick children. Nikolai the miracle worker provides me with daily bread for this. I didn’t sell my rights to the sacred history to ­Karbasnikov, but he bought an edition for 330 rub., about which Zhukovsky so finely expressed himself: “Of sorrows don’t say that—there’s none, But thankfully that—there were!”38 And I sold the second edition of my poems to Mr. Lederle, it seems under advantageous conditions; but for the time being I’ve received only part of the money, about which Zhukovsky said the same, with no less success!39 The rest I hope to receive in July, predesignated for a trip to northern Finland. I’ll tell you when we meet—between 10 and 15 May. ___ * Martyn—the name of a dog belonging to V. L. Velichko. Ed. note.

1894–1895

I’m sitting here surrounded by melting snow. The picture: one of winter still, but there are no means of conveyance. “I take air” on the balcony. However, I walked the snowy plains of Lake Saimaa yet a third day with Mme Auer, whom I wooed nineteen years ago on Vesuvius: what symbolism!—Now she has a nineteen-year-old daughter, Zoe, who reminds me of … [word/s deleted] … Katya Vladimirovna some twenty years ago. I say to her (in my thoughts [in German]): I’m now two and forty years And you’re barely nineteen O, Zoe! I behold you, and dares Awaken the ancient dream.40

But I converse more with the mother, who’s not yet going under the portico to press juice from almandine.41 Til we meet in a month, Misha—you shaggy German! Kisses for Olga and Serezha. Yours, Vlad. To V. L. Velichko [Stamp on the envelope: “Imatra 25 April 1895”]

PVSS, 1:227

Dear Vasily Lvovich! Both your letters left me with a certain uneasiness of mind. At the beginning of the first you express the intention to vent your grief to my friendly ear, but then you don’t say a word about this grief, and in the second you m ­ ention—evidently in connection with that same grief—a desire for death, but again I don’t know what the matter is. Although I resolutely deny in advance a fatal character to your distress, I’d like to have at least some hint anyway as to what it consists of. Thank you very much for sending The Week. I shared your nice poem with Mme Auer and her daughter at once but didn’t read Zhemchuzhnikov’s verses out of respect for the old man; they are very weak. My health and work—thank God. But my Finnish muse has gone away somewhere—“not a word, dear friend, not a sound.” As to the question about your lively little muse, I perceive from your objections I haven’t succeeded with sufficient clarity in setting forth what I wanted to say—maybe it will turn out better in oral conversation, if you wish to return to this subject. They don’t get newspapers here. Be so kind as to write whether the conclusion of an alliance between Japan and China has been confirmed; it’s very important.42 Be well and don’t hurry death to no purpose; it will come in good

243

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

time—about forty years. Cordial regards to the honorable Maria Georgievna and to all yours. A handshake for Martyn’s paw. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To L. P. Nikiforov [May 1895]

Vestnik Evropy (November 1913): 146

Dear Lev Pavlovich! I’m just now finishing [Henry] Drummond’s book The Ascent of Man [1894, Eng.] this night. I think it merits translation, but abridged. As before, I consider Natural Law [in the Spiritual World, 1887, Eng.] more convenient for origins, more in the way of principles. I’m not rejecting the foreword but can’t at the moment write it properly;43 and for the editors of Russian Conversation my appearance is more convenient in autumn than in the summer, although their calculation in favor of my participation in the journal doesn’t do honor to their practical sense. If you have any special reasons to busy yourself with this matter, write them to me Pbg—Galernaya 20, eds. Mess. Eur. I’m leaving Finland tomorrow and will return at the end of May. I received a long letter from Ark. in Kiev. I was glad for the fact of a letter, but the content is bittersweet and partly absurd. By the way, he sees an example of moral perfection in Abraham, who was intent on stabbing his son—but the reason and conscience are similar to the “ass that was necessary to leave at the foot of God’s mountain” [Genesis 22:3–5]. The Lord God’s lot would be sad indeed if only beings without reason and conscience could approach him. I’ll be replying to A. quickly. I received another letter from Lukianov without signature (whence you also wrote the last time) concerning my “Principle of Punishment.” The letter is very long, the handwriting is like yours and the form of thought as well, but an unsteady point of view that I wouldn’t expect even from you. Lead me out of my misunderstanding. Otherwise I was thinking of replying in print when I get a chance. Be well. Truly fond of you Vlad. Soloviev To K. K. Arseniev [1895]

PVSS, 2:94

Dear Konstantin Konstantinovich! I just now received your letter and am hurrying to reply that, as I firmly recall, Lange was long ago reserved by me quite completely at your direction.

1894–1895

Your comment with respect to Comte is in part just, but at fault are those—in particular our friend S. A. Vengerov—who at the beginning of the [Dictionary] business insisted (against me) that a critical evaluation of philosophers (even living ones!) occupy a visible place. It’s impossible to find any biases toward an absolute and general refutation of Comte in my article. But with a rationalized evaluation of those ideas of his with which I don’t agree, it happens that they refuted themselves. As for my preference for the second Comte system, it depends fully on a general point of view and is expressed only in passing; I wouldn’t argue with you if you simply crossed it out. I continue to sit here ailing in Petersburg. The grippe’s been replaced by serious bleeding, which I had to stop with ice, but this again evoked exacerbation of the grippe, against which quinine is being used, but with its expeditious action producing bleeding again, etc.—a perfect perpetuum mobile or Trishkin kaftan.44 Meanwhile, I have an extreme need to travel to Finland for a few days. Lightning flashed here yesterday amid warm humidity, but today there’s a winter chill. Til we soon meet. Best regards to Evgeniia Ivanovna and Maria Konstantinovna. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To V. L. Velichko [On the envelope’s stamp: “12 June 1895”]

PVSS, 1:228

My dear friend! I’m at the barracks and can only get out of the city to places nearby on Wed. the fourteenth. Haven’t I told you many times I’m not so nonsensical as to adopt a decision in everyday matters, especially long-term, and any promises in this area only express my wishes and intentions? If it had been possible for me to leave for Finland at the end of May, as I assumed, I could have been at your place in the second half of June. But now all this has been frustrated. Even so I wish and intend to celebrate your birth with you. I was ill recently, but mainly depressed by accumulation of urgent work. Today’s the first comparatively free day. As to illness, the doctor my friends brought found, apart from much else, enlargement of the liver and irritation of the heart’s internal membrane, prescribing by the way abstinence from wine and liquor (according to the printer’s proofreader),* including beer and even coffee.45 I’m monitoring success of this prescription. So you won’t * An allusion to the expression “Do not drink wine nor strong drink” (Leviticus 10:9). Ed. note.

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­ orry, I’ll add that this same doctor, though he found I have arteriosclerosis w of ­second-degree vessels, at the same time “ascertained” the aorta’s as elastic as in a seventeen-year-old, on the basis of which he forecast a long life for me, which I also wish wholeheartedly for you, dear friends, remaining steadfastly fond of you Vlad. Soloviev To Mikhail S. Soloviev [Autumn 1895]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 29–31

My dear Archangel, First, best wishes, and second I say: courage! In a moment of disappointment I depicted the situation of affairs concerning you in a darker form than how the thing itself actually is. Know that, similar to Robert the Bruce or the science from which he took example, I will be spreading the spider’s web until the time that I catch the fly of satisfaction. In order to show you that these aren’t just phrases, I’ll report a fact insignificant in itself and not having any direct relation to the matter, but significant in the sense of “progress” and “symptom.” On 23 September this year (on Mama’s name day) I, the undersigned, sat at the Academy of Sciences in the capacity of commission member and placed black and white balls for various literati, and on 20 October a man having the appearance of an express messenger delivered a letter, in which “he had the pleasure” to inform me that a gold medal is being prepared at the mint for me. They say that this medal’s easily sold for 150 r. While this is not important, “progress” and “symptom” are. Don’t be dejected, my archangel, as one doctor said to his female patient: j’espère pouvoir bientot vous être utile, et en attendant loucherai de vous être agréable [Fr. I hope to be able to be useful to you presently, and meanwhile, I’m crossing my eyes just to please you]. Here’s a fairly amusing anecdote from Muscovite philosophy, about which you have a vague but insufficient notion; it consists of the following (this is semisecret). The editorial office of the philosophical journal has in its charge a store of philosophical books given to it on commission. The composition of the editorship is as follows: first editor, second editor, third editor, the secretary of the editorial committee, a revision commission. The first editor and the secretary (à propos [Fr.], you know who this retard is and whom he cut to pieces? [sek + retar´ = secretary])—are on salary, the others serve for the honor of it. Excellent. The issues of the journal are coming later and later and subscriptions diminish; however, everything’s going along happily.

1894–1895

But then the month of May arrives, and the elements of this complex organization all at once experience the effect of centrifugal force. The first editor leaves for Riazan and Kharkov, the second with him at the same time to Kursk and then Finland, the third goes abroad, and other members to a variety of places. At first, the lonely secretary revolves around Moscow, but then he too sets out in search of respite, which he finds with the Army of the Don. Meanwhile nature, not tolerating a vacuum, holds onto an employee in the editorial office—a man of the common people. The Russian people are poor but religious. Surrounded by “problems of philosophy and psychology” this man of the common people poses a question as well, but on the grounds of religion: “Wouldn’t it be a sin to spurn such favorable circumstances? Isn’t this tempting Providence with pride?” Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom—and here the god-fearing man of the common people contrives to rob the bookstore of 6,000 rubles. Leaves wither, summer passes, and after returning home, the scattered members of Moscow philosophy rub their eyes: the Abomination of Desolation in place of a bookstore!46 “Feverish activity” begins. Grot is figuring, seemingly in neuropathological fits, Levon hissing cunningly and maliciously over him. Trubetskoy is boiling over with an abundance of force, and so forth. The result: to cover the loss, the cashbox of the psychological society is being drained, and it’s proposed to carry on with the journal economically: instead of 64 r. per leaf, I will receive only 40 r in advance. L’incident est clos [Fr. The case is closed]. Without leaving the Moscow city limits, I’ll inform you that the population of this capital will soon increase by one female resident: Veta Khitrovo is getting married to Mukhanov, a young officer of the Sumsky dragoon (ci-devant [Fr. hitherto] hussars) regiment, which always remains in Moscow, where she will be settling down after the wedding. I’m not getting married but will also soon come to Moscow; I even wanted to tomorrow, but it didn’t work out. And meanwhile I’ve settled into Tsarkoe Selo, at the corner of Tserkovnaya and Moskovskaya, Merder’s bldg. Just as inexpensive as Finland but more convenient for business matters. Read the enclosed letter and convey it to destination. Write me Sena’s exact address; she was at my place, but I forgot. See you soon. Kisses for Olga and Serezha.         Yours, Vlad. S. To N. Ya. Grot [1895]

PVSS, 1:87

My dear friend Nikolai Yakovlevich, after receiving and correcting the proofs today (Fri.) at seven in the evening, I’ll forward them to you tomorrow (Sat.)

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morning as soon as I get up. If you want, it’s possible to title the article’s second half (for January’s issue) separately, for example, “The Historical Incarnation of the Unconditional Ideal,” or something of the kind—as you’ll surmise, it will be about Christ (against Kant). It may be that many won’t like this, but what’s to be done! I don’t wish that Christ disavow me at the final judgment—which, moreover, is not far off. Please send the page proofs, if not for return, at least for serenity concerning certain misprints. Everywhere I have the words “of that one” the typesetter put “of God,” in consequence of which not only absurdities come out but blasphemies too. I want to come to Moscow in Dec. without fail, but for the time being cordial greetings to everyone. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev In hoarfrost immobile, Lay a white glade, Lines dampened a while By a milky-foggy shade, A lily grows, of course, In a sole and lonely heart And the fruits of force Struggle with vice apart. Drop in amid the twilight sad, To pale Valentina’s to play? But what’s her number? … Gads! Forgot my head today!47

All this is falsehood. There is no Valentina but only the Indian nymph Poraspati [Russ. wordplay: “Time-to-sleep”], for soon it’s morning. To V. V. Rozanov Tsarskoe Selo, 17 November 1895

PVSS, 3:51–52

Dear Vasily Vasilievich! Due to extraordinary absentmindedness in everyday matters I forgot your street name and house number, and the bit of paper on which Shperk wrote them of course got lost even earlier.48 I wanted to inquire about this at the Office before my escape to Tsarskoe Selo but didn’t manage. Now I’m making use of a free minute in order to reach you through the Office.

1894–1895

Besides a desire to continue acquaintance, I have another small matter. The order of the Dictionary arrived at Leontiev. Personally, I would, with the greatest pleasure, propose you write about him. But I’m certain this wouldn’t be acceptable either to you or the Dictionary’s chief editors. A certain impatience of the latter was brought to light concerning Descartes. I proposed two persons, undoubtedly the most competent in Russia: Strakhov and Liubimov, but both were turned down.49 Strakhov, of course, would have declined on his own. I think in the present case you too would not undertake writing an article on Leontiev suitable for the Dictionary, for this more or less westernizing Dictionary. It would be a shame to deliver our dear, late Leontiev to be torn to pieces by biased people who didn’t know him. So then, I have to write it myself. But I’m in need of your help in other respects; first, for establishment of exact biographical frames; second, for review of his books, which I don’t have with me; and third, for the literature. So then, would you be so kind as to write me on which of two evenings it’s better for me to come to your place next week: Thursday (the twenty-third) or Saturday (the twenty-fifth)? Address: Tsarskoe Selo, Tserkovnaia St. (corner of Moscow St.), Merder’s bldg. Send it registered. Disdain for the institution of registered letters is incompatible either with Providential humility or with respect to state authority. If Providence has repeatedly manifested examples of postal faultiness for us, evidently it’s so that we take precautionary measures accessible to us, not troubling higher powers with a demand for supernatural help. On the other hand, if government wisdom has established and supports the institute of registered letters, this means it’s essential, and since cases of its application are not indicated in the law, this means we must consider it essential in all cases. In general the difference that exists between humble and proud people is that the first dispatch registered letters, and the second dispatch letters not arriving to destination. Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev To V. V. Rozanov [undated]

PVSS, 3:53

Thanks, dear Vasily Vasilievich, for the good letter, or, more accurately, letters. A multitude of writings for publication interfered with me replying to the foregoing letter and to thank you for the appended material on Leontiev—and even now I can write only a few words. I sincerely wish you and your family all the best in the New Year.

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I’m very sorry, even fairly terrified, for Strakhov. Could you find it possible to suggest to him—since he doesn’t have anything against you—the thought of “a Christian conclusion to life”—for which, by the way, sincere reconciliation is required with everyone hated by him; among them first am I.50 My direct appeal to him prior to this would be inexpedient, even dangerous. The article on Leontiev should be ready on 7 January. After notifying you by telegram, I’ll drop by your place around this time in order to read through it. Then we’ll speak about Ukhtomsky as well.51 Sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev

1896–1897 To Lev M. Lopatin VSP, 179–80 Telegram, 1/2/1896 Inform me about Nikolai. Tsarskoe Selo, Tserkovnaya St., Merder bldg. I’m sending the article. (On a separate sheet): Leading Israel on its wondrous path, The Lord did two things at once: He opened the lips of a tongueless ass And made the prophet dumb as a dunce.1     A distant future was concealed     In these wonders of days gone by,     Alas, Moab’s punishment’s revealed     On my poor nation—the tears I cry! O Russia, oppressed by merciless fate, Like Balaam sans faith long ago: Your prophets’ lips don’t speak or prate, Yet asses talk freely—for all they know.     I repent before you, poor ass of old,     For offending you wrongly and boldly,     Among our asses, the truth be told,     Meshchersky speaks rather coldly. Orations makes he, so artless and crass That we quickly away start to rush,

1896–1897 And in Sheol the shadow of Balaam’s ass, Has—alas!—nought to do but to blush.2

To N. Ya. Grot [ January/February 1896]

PVSS, 1:96

My dear friend Nikolai Yakovlevich! I’m sending you a pithy and scholarly article about kabbalistic philosophy. Its author is Baron David Ginsburg (son of the famous banker)—a favorite student of the academic Baron Rosen, who vouches for him as a solid orientalist and an expert on these things. I think this article is very desirable for a special section of Problems [of Philosophy and Psychology]—as far as I recall, up to now you’ve had nothing on Jewish philosophy. Please inform me soon about your decision on this score. Regarding the Russian language of the article—if you have no time—I take it upon myself to smooth it out in proofs. You’ll very much oblige me by publishing this article as soon as possible; I’ll send mine by the beginning of March. I’m up to my eyeballs with all kinds of matters. If you see Trubetskoy, thank him from me for the Greek letter and tell him I’ll reply at the first spare moment. Cordial regards to yours, a kiss for Levon and everyone. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 14 Feb. 1896

PVSS, 1:130–31

Dear (and fondly venerated) Mikhail Matveevich! Although I didn’t even think about running away and hiding from you, but (or more precisely: therefore) your persecution of me sincerely gladdens me as a sign of your fatherly solicitude. I have to add a little bit to the information about me gathered by you. After arriving in Moscow, I immediately became ill with influenza, from which I haven’t altogether recovered even now, although I’ve been going out. This illness has had two main consequences: (1) I’m detained in Moscow to the end of this week, and (2) I didn’t manage to finish the large and awful article begun by me for the March issue, which I therefore have to lay aside until April (but I’m hoping not in the capacity of poisson d’avril [Fr. April Fool]). I’ll write a brief mention about my enemy-friend [Strakhov] for March without fail, it’s already thought out—just a matter of several hours to lay it down on

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paper; since the necrology can be placed after the societal chronicle, I’m not even hurrying: I’ll deliver it to you personally.3 I won’t have spare time soon for a large article about the deceased, and besides, it would be inevitable in such an article both to speak about the negative aspects of his literary activity and to return to old polemic, which I definitely don’t desire, and it would be boring to your readers. On Saturday I sent a telegram of fifty-nine words to A. M. Zhemchuzhnikov, but in prose—under the influenza, I’m uninterested in verse. A propos [Fr.]: some two weeks before my departure, I delivered into your hands two poems to the excellent editorial society, in front of the two usual witnesses, who resemble criminals: one poem by a common man on the street, Mr. Lebedev, a translation of Clement Marot, which you liked very much; and the other by Mr. Kakhovsky, a lieutenant of the guards, which, after correction by us of one expression, was approved by you as well; and both of them were set with the relevant endorsement into a special place for publication in the February issue, which I announced to the exultant authors.4 But, alas! February showed this exultation to be premature. I hope, however, that these slips of papers didn’t get lost but were only postponed until March. In any event, I’m reminding you about them. Maybe you read the declaration of your namesake in today’s issue of New Times.5 It’s connected with certain circumstances, further development of which could be of interest for Messenger of Europe, a conversation that I’m putting off until we meet. What will you say about the intrusion of a carnival into religion and politics? I found more than a little amusement in newspaper reports on the Bulgarian vaudeville. Since I had never visited any café-chantons, this cancan with the participation of the Bulgarian exarch and Mlle Judic had for me the special charm of novelty.6 Be well, dear Mikhail Matveevich. I’m much aggrieved that Liubov Isakovna has been unwell all this time. Please convey my most cordial regards. Til we meet, I hope this Saturday. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To N. Ya. Grot [April 1896]

PVSS, 1:97

I ask you, Nikolai Yakovlevich dear friend, to deliver this at once to typesetting and send me the first proofs (galleys) in two copies as soon as possible. This is essential for me in order to not delay publication of the book. Til soon we meet. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev

1896–1897

N.B. Place Kabbala in the May issue without fail, otherwise do not count on my contributing. Ultimatum [Lat.]. To Mikhail S. Soloviev [undated]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 33–34

Archangel! Don’t think that I just said to hell with it—an illusion of the pen—thank you for what’s done! Speaking in general—love one another. Much is incomprehensible to us. There is no greater foolishness in this mixed-up world than to apply the wooden yardstick of your reason everywhere. I approve gaiety as an element, but I don’t assume the substance of existence in it. Allowing for tragedy, you’ll find repose in sadness. Incidentally, I read the following in the New Times advertisements: girl seeks place to be alone. I wish her success. Anyway, I’ll perhaps arrive 3 April and leave the evening of the fourth. Til we meet, dear fellow. Greetings to all. A list for books: I. Tikhonravov, Guerrier, Buslaev, E. F. Korsh, M. N. Lopatin, Sergievsky, L. Polivanov, Yuriev, Sokolov, Ketcher, Stankevich, Yanzhul, Muromtsev, and many others. To M. S. Soloviev [undated]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 34–35

Hello, dear Misha, I finally decided to turn to a doctor, who’ll be at my place tomorrow (the specialist on brains, Rosenbach).7 Please send me an “inventory” of the remaining copies of Hist. Russ. It seems Stasiulevich’s bookstore is inclined to buy a thousand for seven to eight. And send the statistics of sales for recent years. Since it could be that you’ve already repaid my 75 r. debt to Karbasnikov’s store for me, I’m not sending it to him until receiving news about it from you. Write soon. I’m still at [Hotel] England. Be well. Kisses for everyone.    Yours, Vlad. To M. S. Soloviev [undated]

PVSSkb, 1/1 (1916): 35

Dear Misha, I did not think to ask, maybe you need money for your own use too. In that case, please take it. It’s such a rare case (that you can borrow from me) that it’s

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a sin not to make use of this eighth wonder of the world. Tomorrow I’ll drop by to see you before or after dinner. Yours, Vlad. To A. A. Lugovoy [ca. Spring 1896]

PVSS, 2:302

Dear Alexei Alexeevich! I’m ill for the third day, so that I even turned to a doctor, who found various awful things within me. I’m going out and can work, but with great effort; nevertheless, the end of war* will be ready tomorrow evening, but it’s not possible earlier at all.8 And what a disaster: worst comes to worst, you’ll carry over the third sheet to a fourth or a fifth. To talk about dinner with me is just as expedient as talking about a rope with a hanged man. Until tomorrow. All yours Vlad. Soloviev To Eugène Tavernier [from the French] Tsarskoe Selo, May–June [18]96

VSP: 196–200

Dimidium animae meae [Lat. half of my soul], the dearest and most excellent of all the Eugenes! Your letter was truly a great joy for me; it transported me into a world of agreeable memories, blended with some more agreeable presentiments. I suffer from a cosmopolitan nostalgia. Patriotism is not stopped or embarrassed by any frontiers … It’s nevertheless necessary that I explain to you my tardiness to respond, as well as the insufficiency of my letter. Outside of preoccupations that are not made for postal communication and of any casual literary works, I have two works that are absorbing me daily, more than perhaps necessary. (1) I am publishing a large volume on moral philosophy that will be followed by two similar ones on metaphysics and aesthetics, half of which are at press and the final chapters are in statu nascendi [Lat. in the state of being born]. * The article “The Meaning of War” was published in Niva when I was the editor of that journal. Al. L.’s note.

1896–1897

(2) I am editing the philosophical and in part the theological section of an enormous Russian encyclopedia (A–L) in thirty-five volumes, two thousand print sheets, thirty-two thousand pages; most articles of my section are written by me myself, and the letter M, at which we have arrived, is infernal: matter, materialism, Manicheism, metaphysics, mystique, moral, monism, monotheism, monophysite, monotheletism, mandeans, Maimonides, Malebranche, a thousand and one Russian terms that I spare you.9 I am now enjoying two or three days a little freer between Malebranche and matter in order to respond to you in a very incomplete manner. I already knew something about the Anglo-Roman movement through La Quinzaine, which is sometimes sent to me. I find this movement not only very desirable in itself but also very tempestuous at the moment when a certain party of Right Reverends [Eng.] begins to cast a long look at the northeast coast; such platonically adulterous glances cannot result in anything more than embittering the good and encouraging the bad, but thanks to the Anglo-Roman movement, this sad effect will be quasi-missed. You know that according to my opinion while eastern Christianity is in the state it is, any external success for it cannot be more than a misfortune for the cause of universal Christianity and consequently for the true interests of all Christian countries, Russia and France included. On the other hand in the actual state of things any success for western Christianity in the sense of its unification is a benefit for all the world. As for the request of yours to furnish data for an article concerning my very lean person, I must, for reasons that maybe you will guess, limit myself to a short exposition of my religious principles. If the remarks that follow are useless for the article in question, accept them all the same as a friendly reflection. And in order to begin, I begin at the end. Respice finem [The end]. On this subject there are but three things attested certainly by the word of God. (1) The Gospel will be preached over all the earth, that is to say that the Truth will be proposed to all humanity or to all the nations. (2) The Son of Man will find no more than a little faith on earth, that is to say that true believers will at the end form but an insignificant numerical minority and that the largest part of humanity will follow the Antichrist.

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(3) Yet after a short and bitter struggle, the party of evil will be vanquished and the minority of true believers will triumph completely. From these three truths, as simple for all believers as they are incontestable, I deduce the entire plan of Christian politics. And first, the preaching of the Gospel over all the earth, in order to have the eschatological importance that earned it special mention on the part of Our Lord himself, cannot be limited to an external act to spread the Bible or some books of prayers and sermons among Africans and Papuans. This is but a means to the true goal, to place before humanity a dilemma: to accept or reject truth knowingly, that is to say truth elaborated well and understood well. For it is evident that a truth accepted or rejected by misunderstanding cannot determine the fortune of a rational being. The question is thus to dispel not only the material ignorance of past revelation but also the formal ignorance concerning eternal truths, that is to say to dispel all the intellectual errors that prevent people at present from understanding revealed truth well. It’s necessary that the question of being or not being a true believer no longer depend on secondary circumstances and accidental conditions, but that it be reduced to such definitive and unconditional terms that it can be decided by a purely volitional act or by a determination completely on one’s own, absolutely moral, or absolutely immoral. Now you will agree without a doubt that Christian doctrine at present has not attained the desired state and that it can still be rejected by some people of good faith on account of real theoretical misunderstandings. Hence, the questions: (1) Of a general establishment of a Christian philosophy, without which the preaching of the Gospel cannot be effected. (2) If it is certain that the truth cannot be definitively accepted other than by a minority more or less persecuted, it is necessary once and for all to abandon the idea of power and the grand exterior of a theocracy as a direct and immediate goal of Christian politics. The goal is justice, and glory is but a consequence that will come of itself. (3) Finally, certitude of the definitive triumph for the minority of true believers must not lead us into passive waiting. This triumph cannot be miracle pure and simple, an absolute act of the almighty power of Jesus Christ, because if it was thus, all the history of Christianity would be superfluous. It is evident that Jesus Christ has need of our collaboration in order to triumph justly and reasonably over the Antichrist; and

1896–1897

since true believers are and will be but a minority, they must all the more satisfy the conditions of their qualitative and intrinsic strength; the first of these conditions is a moral and religious unity that cannot be arbitrarily established but must have a legitimate and traditional base; this is an obligation imposed by piety. And, as there is in the Christian world but a single center of legitimate and traditional unity, it follows that true believers must rally around it, the more proper in that it has no external compulsive power, consequently everyone can rally in the measure indicated by conscience. I know that there are some priests and some monks who think otherwise and who demand that one abandon oneself to ecclesiastical authority without reserve, as to God. This is an error that will be seen as heresy when neatly formulated. We can expect that ninety-nine of a hundred priests and monks will declare for the Antichrist. That is their right and their business. Speak of the devil and he appears.10 I am interrupting this letter here in order to receive another one from a Galician monk who wants to impose dogma at any price … at pain of death. It seems this is the most important point of his “Christian doctrine.” Though he belongs to Austrian Galicia and not to the one in Spain, his letter did not fail to remind me that there are some Spanish who say they are Spanish but who are not truly Spanish. Back to our own business, in what sense must one act for truly Christian concentration? I believe that first of all it is necessary to be penetrated by the Spirit of Christ to a sufficient degree in order to be able to say in good conscience that this or that action or enterprise is a positive collaboration with Jesus Christ. This is the definitive criterion. As for the practical and purely human aspect of the action, its elaboration (as far as Russia is at issue) is not fit for given conditions, either for the mail or for the public. We will speak of it in Paris. When! I am beginning truly to believe that the number five is fateful for my visits to France and that I will come in 1898. Ah! How many things we’ll have to tell each other. And meanwhile, why have you not given me any details of your private life? Is your father-in-law in good health? Please convey my most cordial regards to Madame Tavernier. If there are any friends in Paris who remember me (this would be proof of a very good memory and a generous heart regarding my absolute silence), kiss them for me, and I kiss you a thousand times, my friend without equal.            All yours, Vladimir Soloviev

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To S. N. Syromiatnikov 2 November 1896

PVSS, 2:214

Young, but shameless, Anacharsis!11 More than a week ago, after inviting you to my place for a midday repast, and trusting in your silence as agreement, I not only awaited you unavailingly on the appointed day but after that did not find any signs of your continuing to be alive and was uninformed by the city’s clock chimes about it being cut short in an untimely manner. All this I impute to whimsy, which I trust has limits, and thus tomorrow, Sunday, the third of this November, I’m establishing a repast for you at 1 PM a second time, having in addition something to tell you as well, not having found a more convenient time. However, I am abiding in unchanging benevolence toward you. Vlad. Soloviev To N. Ya. Grot Vyborg, 12 November 1896

PVSS, 3:213–14

A Finnish Neuron,* suffering from neuritis here, Sends greetings to a Moscow neuron all alone! Earthly existence is—whatever one lies about there— Flung into the river (of time)—not the Rhône!12 Πάντα ῥε [Panta Rhei] … Each new year, and increasing its pace Time’s river rushes quicker, they say, And, feeling so far from both freedom and sea, I still calmly state: panta rhei! panta rhei! But Levon-the-Intrepid’s now threatening me— A clumsy sack of substance dynamic, To convey to the river a mass I can’t see, * Both this term and the following poetic appeal to L. M. Lopatin find explanation in the issue of Problems of Philosophy and Psychology that was coming out at the time (no. 3–4, September– October 1896). Incidentally, Sukhanov’s article “Knowledge about Neurons, in Supplement to the Explanation of Some Psychic Phenomena,” and the discussion of Lopatin’s paper, “Concept of the Soul, according to a Given Inner Experience”—both on substances—were also published there (in P. Ph. and P., no. 2, 1896). N. Ya. Grot’s note.

1896–1897 To dam up Heraclitus’ current right quick. Levon, Levon! Give up this tricky caprice, With water and fire, play now must end … There are no substances! Or in Hegel-ese, They’re sacked—but we’ll heal without them!13

And as for the article, a significant piece of it is now ready and will be forwarded to Moscow in the coming days, after that the rest; and with respect to what belongs to me, the issue can come out without impediment, if not on the first then in the first few days of December. I think, and not without foundation, that lateness is in part only good for me, and the real delayers are sitting in Moscow.14 This, however, isn’t a reproach: I know by personal experience that in these—pardon me Lord—metropolises, it’s not only writing … that, for all the hustle and bustle, you won’t be managing to do. Respectable people, especially if they’re courtiers or flirtatious ladies, catch nephritis directly, and those to whom doctors speak only about neuritis, as they do to me (oh, don’t lie!) [Russ: nevrite (o, ne vrite!)], they must be grateful to God and nothing more.15 What can I say with respect to a lecture in March? Except, instead of a lecture in March, I myself can turn out to be a Martha, about whom they’ll sing: Marta! Marta! Where have you vanished?16 For God alone is free, in life just as in death. The day after tomorrow I’ll be in Petersburg and will send the manuscript from there. Be well. I embrace you and all my friends. Cordial regards to Natalia Nikolaevna. I’m enclosing today’s product of the muse, who visited me during a morning ramble along Vyborg streets and boulevards: All these Finnish chicks I see Blond on blond to infinity! What if one would try … in jest, To settle their hens in real earnest? From me they would, for what it’s worth, To rabbits gray no doubt give birth. Since I eat no meat, to them I’d be An exemplary papa-daddy. Nonsense! I sojourn in bright light, Sans any Finnish birdies white, And if you might want a rabbit gray— The market’s got ‘em on a winter’s day!17

        Vlad. Soloviev

259

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To Nestor A. Kotliarevsky [undated]

PVSS, 1:243

Since you, my dear sir, disdain accepting what’s owed to you from my own—­ Father Parfenson’s—hands, I’m dispatching it in an envelope. Moreover, in pledge of mutual friendly benevolence, I agree to accept one champagne from you as a gift, but my debt for the other two is indisputable; and from the point of view of comradely drinking, first, Vera Vasileevna is a lady; second, she wasn’t at Moscow University; and third, she took part in the drinking mentioned without being worthy of instructional consideration. I’m herewith enclosing a sheet that slipped out from Gogol. Til tomorrow, with pleasure. Sincerely yours, Parfenson*18 To E. L. Radlov [1896]

PVSS, 1:261

My dear friend! The most elementary fairness requires that I take part in today’s dinner not only receptively but also remuneratively; so I, being neither pedant nor precise economist, agree to limit participation only to supplying champagne, three bottles of which I’m dispatching herewith. See you soon. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To Bishop Strossmayer Tsarskoe Selo. 25 December 1896

PVSS, 1:193

Monseigneur Strossmayer. Felicitations, souhaits, prières. Souvenir de coeur, travaux, maladies, espoir en Dieu [Fr. Felicitations, greetings, prayers. Heart’s memory, toils, illnesses, hope in God]. Vladimir Soloviev To A. A. Lugovoy [1896]

PVSS, 2:307

My thanks to you, dear Alexei Alexeevich, especially for the lovely photograph. From the bottom of my heart I wish you and Liubov Andreevna a * The reader will find this name explained on p. 143 of V. Velichko’s book on Soloviev. Ed. note.

1896–1897

good year, and many more. They deceived you at the hotel. I didn’t reserve the room, since, thanks to Niva, there was no accumulation of bills.* I’m remaining here for a time in order to finish a booklet on the philosophy of capital punishment in addition to my big book, which for my part was completely ready by Christmas, and now the time of its appearance depends exclusively on the measure of the typographical proletariat’s hard-drinking enticements. I’m thinking that it will in any event appear by the twentieth of January—censor’s delays not being foreseen. If you haven’t yet given Pr. S. M. Volkonsky’s (the American’s) book to anyone to write a review, submit it to me—I’ve already promised him (conditionally).19 Be well. Once again, thanks. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To D. N. Tsertelev Vyborg, 3 January 1897

PVSS, 2:269–70

My dear friend! I’m writing you at Lipyagi, for better or worse. On New Year’s Eve I composed verses, which, according to content, should be dedicated to you, if they deserve keeping. By the way, this year is the twenty-fifth anniversary of our friendship. I myself am not able to decide whether this poem is only just so-so—I liked it at the moment of production. I’m leaving the decision to you. I’ll take silence as sign of agreement. In the opposite case write or telegraph: Vyborg, Belvedere, or Petersburg, Hotel England. Cordial regards to your princess daughters, and I wish them and you a happy year. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To the Friend of My Youth [to Pr. D. N. Tsertelev.]* Enemy am I to these Loud and clever conversations And fruitlessly noisy,

* At times not having the possibility to pay his hotel account, Vlad. Serg. reserved a room in Petersburg, while leaving to work in Vyborg. Ed. note. * These verses are published in collected poems (4th ed., p. 138[–39; also 5th ed.]). Variants are present in the third strophe. Ed. note.

261

262

Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically Endless disputes. …     Do you remember, when—     On those now distant nights—     The dawn met us     From the East with silence. Allusions falling, Revealing life’s profundities And fateful mystery Gazing silently.     That which at the time     We did not express,    Eternity recorded    Onto obscure tablets.

To K. F. Golovin Hôtel d’Angleterre, 12 March 1897

PVSS, 3:9–10

Dear and respected Konstantin Fedorovich! I was going to come see you on Monday, but a small misfortune befell me; it’s called rectal prolapse—a malady that saved me from military service but also obstructs visitation of company.20 I felt better yesterday and was out and about, which I’m now repenting, since today it’s altogether bad; I’m sitting here immobile and will probably continue [to do so] for several days. If, contrary to expectation, I get better by Friday, I’ll be at your place, but don’t expect me. Did you get to see Fofanov’s incredible poem at Maikov’s grave? I perceived something in it even providential: retribution or atonement for Maikov, who once composed the eulogistic hymn “At the Tomb of [Ivan] the Terrible.”21 I expressed this thought in the poem below: Concerning Maikov’s Verses “At the Tomb of [Ivan] the Terrible” and Fofanov’s Verse at Maikov’s Grave When you praised the evil power With cunning words Did you imagine, Maikov, that Among us an avenger was arising!     And he arrived at your grave,     And a primitive howl suddenly let loose,

1896–1897     And it became loathsome to hellish power,     And the heavenly circle shook. But there in the Archangels’ council— Some kind of strange drone passed by And, chiming in with ineffable rhymes, The Terrible himself cried out: “Guards!”22

Please convey my cordial regards and apologies to dear Maria Fedorovna. I didn’t write to her, as I was self-conscious of my malady’s designation, without which my explanation would be stripped of its requisite concreteness and worthiness of consideration. I’m awaiting relief in order to go to Finland or Moscow, but in any event between getting healthy and departing I’ll seize a free minute to visit you. Meanwhile I’m sending my new booklet, constituting an enlargement and supplement of two chapters of my larger ethics.* Until we meet. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 16 April 1897

MMSp, 5:400.

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, You probably think I’m hiding in Petersburg in a mean-spirited way, but in the meantime I not only spent several days (from Thursday to Sunday) on the hilly shores of the wild Tosna but also found myself on the less hilly shores of the less than wild Moscow River.23 Here’s how sometimes mistaken conclusions even come from the most incisive and experienced men! I’ll stay here until the beginning of next week (Thomas Week) and consequently, to my regret, will participate in Saturday’s meeting with spiritual presence alone, but on Wednesday morning I’m hoping to appear in carne, if not in corpore [Lat. in the flesh, in the body]. But for the time being I’m sending in my place verses that are not bereft of an autobiographical element. They were composed by me this morning, when I rode by a railway station near Moscow, where five years ago for the last time in my life I broke the seventh commandment with a Muscovite lady. After this I cooled off on a sea voyage abroad (poetic traces have remained in Messenger of Europe) and then, after having resolutely returned to virtue, wrote moral philosophy, after which it’s unbecoming to break any commandment whatsoever. If * Concerning the book Law and Morality. Ed. note.

263

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

you don’t like these verses, cast them away without any ceremony. But if they’re suitable, then perhaps they may still land on some empty page of the May issue. Be well and, as always, brave in spirit. Please convey my cordial regards to dear Liubov Isakovna, as well as to all Saturday dinner and after-dinner ­attendees. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To the Editors of New Times No. 7618, 14 May 1897

PVSS, 3:183–84

Dear Gentlemen! In view of the essential imprecision of the honorable Gen. A. A. Kireev’s words regarding me (at the last session of the Slavic Beneficent Society), I consider it once again necessary to repeat that which has been stated by me repeatedly since 1883. (1) I never proposed any outward official union with Rome (in A. Kireev’s meaning), first, because I consider it impossible; second, because I find it undesirable; third, because I never had any plenary power for negotiations on it from authoritative powers of one side or the other. (2) The plenary power that belongs to every Christian, which the Ap. John the Divine speaks about (“Ye have an unction from the Holy One and ye know all things”), prompts me to judge about interchurch relations only in this sense: are they in agreement with the spirit of Christ?24 As manifestly alien to this spirit, they cannot be acknowledged as normal. (3) A whole millennium of such anti-Christian relations has inevitably given rise to a cloud of all kinds of misunderstandings and preconceived thoughts; a first practical step to set the ecclesiastical matter on truly Christian soil is open, all-sided, fearless discussion of all religious and church questions. And for this, first of all, total freedom of theological and ecclesiastic-historical inquiry is necessary in our country; without this a sound inward movement of religious thought and feeling is impossible. Without such movement, the spiritual life of society weakens, and what can an outward, formal union of the churches give in a spiritual sleep, besides needless nightmare? In this, as in any other matter as well, an outward result does not depend on us, yet it would not in itself have any importance. But that which is important and by which the matter can be resolved is in our power: tireless search for truth with a sincere desire for peace. Vladimir Soloviev

1896–1897

To V. L. Velichko PVSS, 1:232 3 June 1897 [To Tiflis, the editorship of the newspaper Caucasus] I have seriously missed you, my dear friend, as well as your house. I’m sending verses—what’s written. A little weak, but in any event better than those I used to send to the Caucusus five years ago. But I’m placing my hopes on you, that you’ll publish them without errors that at once strip the meaning and meter. Well, what else, dear fellow? That’s all I can say at such a distance of time and place. And to speak about all that’s taken place after our parting—better not even try. Nothing outstanding, but: There’s disorder, The dream’s now wrong, Something’s at hand, Someone’s coming.25

You’ll guess that by “someone” I mean Antichrist himself. The approaching end of the world is howling in my face, some kind of elusive, though distinct waft— like a traveler who’s nearing the sea feels the sea air before he sees the sea. Mais c’est une mer à boire [Fr. But this is a sea to drink]. Cordial regards to Maria Georgievna and to all yours, including Martyn-the-wanderer. I’m writing to you from Pustynka, where I’m renting a dacha from Riurik. His elder brother is a sailor getting married to his third cousin, Princess G. Their sister Veta had a son, Mikhail Yurievich—a new and, I hope, corrected, edition of Lermontov.26 An affectionate embrace and a wish for news. Write: Sablino, Nikolaevskaia railrd.—and if you want it registered, address it to Messenger of Europe—I suppose it’s reliable. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev N.B. Please send Caucusus to S. P.—at Sablino. To M. M. Stasiulevich Spb., 28 Aug. 1897     To Mikhail Matveevich Stasiulevich     on the day of his birth Others find danger in counting the years While their number just makes you merry: Fruitful toils, even exploits clearly Don’t exhaust, but just make you cheery.

MMSp, 5:401

265

266

Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically A serious mind, and a carefree jest, And vigor a-churn—in all calmness … I’d envy you, I have to confess, Even if I loved you any less.27

Vladimir Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 5 Oct. [18]97, Moscow

PVSS, 1:140–41

Dear—but steadfast in your errors—Mikhail Matveevich! “Now how many times has the world been told,” in the person of its most worthy representative Mikhail Matveevich, that the kind permission received by one of Messenger of Europe’s contributors to give the address of the editorial office instead of his own by no means has the aim of burdening the respected editor with forwarding letters being received but, on the contrary, the relief of the addressee from the repeated receipt of such.28 In vain! From Danube, Tiber, and Thames Messages flying somewhere in the wake Of those men bereft of both balance and name— And of greasy ladies who madness make.

Of course, I’m exaggerating, but it’s disappointing to me to cause you even a little anxiety. What can I tell you about myself? I’m neither ill nor all that sad, Tho in Moscow the climate’s unhealthy, Too continental, it’s really quite bad No river Neva or Galernaya [St.] wealthy. Complacent Chicherin from up in the gentry Vexed me, true, when I gave him entry— He inflated it all, the old mare on sentry, A Tambov-ian eunuch, so elementary. I finished the felon last night in the city. He stole a month, and one so hard-earned. For this they do kill! And without any pity— Bam! Bam!—his head in a pit to be burned.29

1896–1897

Since the concluding words, if read by anyone before you, can be taken as acknowledgment of the commission of a crime, and expose me to the charge of murdering the retired state councilor [Boris] Chicherin—but guilty with extenuating circumstances in the heat of passion and temper—I hurry to explain that this is nothing other than a literary fight. I met with some disarray in Moscow. The philosophical journal turned out a child with a family of nannies but lacking eyes. In spite of a quite sufficient and constantly increasing subscription, and in consequence of the most awkward housekeeping, it was found to be in debt unpayable at the printer’s. The proximate result for me—decline in honorarium and promise to make an effort about subsidies at the homes of Moscow’s Maecenases.30 Speaking without hypocrisy, neither one supplies me with the slightest pleasure. Even worse—a sharpened enmity and rivalry of two departmental philosophers who constantly come to complain against one another, while a “rejoicing Tertius” (not Filippov, but in the Latin saying: duobus certantibus tertius gaudet [two struggle, a third rejoices]) can only be joyful, doesn’t help the matter.31 I’m now awaiting the arrival of a business person from abroad, and then immediately to Petersburg, for here even with dry weather it’s muddy slush. In order not to disappoint—I’ll be at your place on Wed. the fifteenth, or the latest on Sat. the eighteenth. Surely, Liubov Isakovna’s arrived? My most cordial regards to her and to all friends. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To N. P. Bakhmeteva [Vyborg, end of 1897]

PVSS, 1:162

Dear Nina Petrovna! Thank you for the little letter with the horseshoe. I wish you all the best for the New Year with all my heart. Please convey best wishes of the season from me to everyone on Sergievskaya St. How glad I was to see that the short story of the bee was published in New Times. I am correcting the first half of Maeterlinck, but forgot the second in a bundle on the table. Keep it until my arrival—the fifth of January.32 I hope you have snow again in Petersburg. It’s good here. I go to the countryside and walk the city. I’ve already been at five cemeteries. Once in the evening an amusing anecdote befell me. The hall of the hotel was occupied by a masquerade ball for philistine Vyborg society. I’m sitting in my room. Suddenly a young man

267

268

Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

runs in (without a mask—the ball had not yet begun)—not drunk but extraordinarily sanguine—he throws a large bundle at me on the bed, shakes my hand like an old friend, laughs, and exclaims: “Well, thank goodness! Hardly tracked you down. Why, you dressed up too! Completely unrecognizable.” And with these words he begins to undress. At this point, Nikolai, the valet assigned to me, runs in and starts to drag him out of the room. Completely dumbfounded, the other one points at me with horror: “And who then is this? But I thought, that it’s you, Nikolai Alexandrovich, dressed up as a bedouin!” It should be noted this Nikolai’s a light-reddish blond, and doesn’t at all look like me, but the young man evidently took my face for a mask depicting a bedouin, the more so that instead of a robe, I wear an old black McFarlane. See you soon, dear Nina Petrovna.                     Sincerely yours,                  Vlad. Soloviev

1898–1900 To Eugène Tavernier [tr. from the French] January 1898—Petersburg

VSP, 201–5

Here at last—o beloved brother of my soul—is the letter from Moscow that I promised you now forty days ago. I don’t excuse this lateness, because it doesn’t pertain either to my epistolary laziness or to absorbing occupations that are so easy to defer for two to three hours. But in writing to the best among the French, I can’t keep silent about a very distressing matter concerning public affairs, and I didn’t want to speak about it at the moment of your domestic heartache, which you have communicated to me in a way that truly affected me to the bottom of my heart, making tears come to my eyes. But it was finally necessary to decide. You guess that by distressing affair I mean especially the effervescence of antisemitism embodied in the Dreyfus scandal. I don’t want to enter into the details of facts that would have little importance in themselves, per se—even if they were absolutely certain. But here’s what is of importance. I read the words of your minister of foreign affairs proclaiming that it’s better to allow twenty innocents to perish than to undermine a national institution. The personal opinion of M. Hanotaux wouldn’t be of consequence, yet it’s evident that he didn’t speak on his own authority but as “being the high priest that year,” and it seems that the great majority of the French public confirmed his words.*1

1898–1900

Now, any institution, national or otherwise, that requires even a single innocent to be found guilty in order to be defended or maintained doesn’t deserve to last a single day and must necessarily perish, if there is Providence in the world. I’m very far from identifying France with any given moment’s majority, and I’m sure that your country will emerge without harm from this moral crisis, but it seems impossible to me that it takes place peacefully without great catastrophes. And although my reason proves to me that all that happens must happen for the greater good, that doesn’t stop me from being troubled. I won’t insist on the sad side of my foreboding. Behold: the bright side. It has been remarked that when France, always at the head of humanity, enters upon a wrong path, it walks longer than all the other nations, arrives first at the absurd in the given direction, and abandons this direction definitively before anyone. The false route in question now is the pseudopatriotism that puts the country in place of God (while true patriotism, in order to be able to love the country, wants first to reunite it to God). I believe that the culminating point has been reached among you and that M. Hanotaux has said the last word of false patriotism, which will find its ruin in France, as already happened with false monarchy, which you never had to reverse after taking it down from its height. It must be desired, and indeed must be hoped, that this time the cost of the desired result will be less dear. But the sky is not calm, and from here I see a nave senza nochhiero in gran tempesta [Ital: a ship without a helmsman in a mighty storm].2 I wanted to talk with you yet about antisemitism and demonic cunning, but I defer these complicated subjects to the moments of our contemplated meeting in Paris: December 1898. Apropos of a demon, you asked me what I think about Mr. P—v’s [Pobedonostsev’s] book. I could tell you that I don’t think of it at all, as the gentleman of your anecdote (you remember, at the Hotel Vouillement?) was not thinking of adultery because his interest only began with incest. My interest in M. P—v only begins with more or less infernal facts outside of literature. All the same * The words attributed here to M. Hanotaux and about which Vladimir Soloviev was arguing are one of innumerable absolutely inexact formulas which were circulated everywhere during the Dreyfus affair, and again afterward. Vladimir Soloviev, as all other eminent personages, had been misinformed.    I recently wished to verify the incriminating text and did not find a trace of it. Then I addressed myself directly to the former minister of foreign affairs of the French Republic. It turned out that M. Hanotaux had never pronounced this phrase, neither did he say anything that could lend itself to such an interpretation of his thought. E. T.’s note.

269

270

Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

I have looked through the book and here’s the summation of my impressions. The work can be divided into three unequal parts: (1) the better one contains some acknowledged and unacknowledged translations of English, American, and French authors, and even of a German Jew (Max Nordau, an unacknowledged source); (2) in order to hide the plagiarism, in one place in the book long pages excerpted from old Russian Slavophiles are treated with disdain; (3) the least recommendable part contains some personal reflections of the author humbly sighing about the “Buddhism” of old people, whose faith is feeble and livers are diseased, and who tirelessly complain that everyone’s turning to evil, that the price of coffee is rising and rent falling, that children don’t obey their parents, etc.3 The Russian of the book is correct and elegant and isn’t lacking in a certain luster in the passages copied from Ivan Aksakov. Let’s talk of something else. You’re perhaps surprised that I haven’t sent you my book on moral philosophy. This is because I’m preparing a new, revised, and augmented edition that will be more worthy of being presented to you, and in expectation that while your knowledge of the Russian language is already very remarkable, it will make new progress that will permit you to read me without the least effort, and consequently without ennui. I wouldn’t at all want to see you among the number of persons for whom I’ve caused trouble and embarrassment. I have published the first chapter of my metaphysics in a revue and I hope to finish the book in fifteen months. I am, moreover, very occupied with Plato, of which I have undertaken a complete translation. After having finished metaphysics, Plato, aesthetics (half finished), a book on Russian poetry (three-quarters finished) and a history of philosophy (for which I will put to advantage my articles in the Encyclopedia) I will concentrate entirely on the Bible from Genesis to Revelation and an admirable frame for all that can thereafter interest me. I don’t yet know if my work will definitively take the form of a new translation with long commentary, or that of a system of historical philosophy based on the facts and the spirit of the Bible. Here is what I intend to do. With God’s help, in the future; my frankness with you has no bounds, my excellent friend, and so I’ll tell you my conviction that the reunion of the churches, between them at first and then with the synagogue, and the advent of Antichrist must be preceded by publication of my work. So, despite approaching old age (next Friday I’ll be forty-five) and all kinds of difficulties and infirmities, I’m quite tranquil in my spirit, the more so that possible error only affects my personal role, without changing anything in my religious sentiments.

1898–1900

Now I am far from Antichrist! In order to return, I want to inform you of a little project for the end of this year. If events among you there permit, I have the intention of publishing two little books in Paris: a résumé of my moral philosophy and a study of Plato, “Plato’s Drama” (I mean the drama of his life).4 What do you think? But I ask you to not say anything about me and above all don’t say anything to the excellent X, who, with all his qualities, doesn’t inspire me with great confidence. Ah! How I’d like to see you. I’ve thought of you and of Madame all the time; deliver to her my sentiments of true sympathy and affectionate regards. If you see any friends in Paris who remember me, please greet them cordially for me. Write me always at Vestnik Evropy, Galernaya 20, Petersburg. I embrace you in my soul where, my dear brother, you always dwell! Vladimir Soloviev To E. L. Radlov 31 Jan. 1898

PVSS, 1:266

Dear Ernest Lvovich! Due to inexperience in dramaturgy, I didn’t reckon thoroughly on the dimensions of my platonic drama,* and something Hindu, not Hellenic, came out, for which a full reading would require a whole session, and to read half means to present a piece of something unknown—X divided by two. I very much apologize before the Society and the public. Would you be so kind as to set my Plato for the next meeting, even if next Saturday? In addition, today I’m sensing a bad cold. I’m very sorry that I won’t hear Alexander Ivanovich Vvedensky’s interesting talk.5 Once again, I apologize and hope to earn forgiveness. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich Cairo, 14 (26) Apr. [18]98

PVSS, 1:144–45

Christ is risen! Here We are in Odessa, where We say farewell to land! * Here Soloviev is referring to “Plato’s Life-Drama,” read in public session of the Philosophical Society at the Imperial St. Petersburg University. Ed. note.

271

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically Fresh wind, now rising, Zero cold, surprising Seagulls too at hand! A great wave’s end There’s Ernest my friend, Staring right at the sea, Davy Jones’ spell Foggy, like hell Nearing us, Turkey Thermometer high Worries now fly O’er the Bosporus straits … Look, there are toys: Guns & barracks for boys— Our path’s cut off at the gates!6

This is not for publication; its subject is aimed at a special newspaper.* I’ll add in prose that, after completing all that was intended at Constantinople (Uspensky sends regards to Alexander Nikolaevich), we set out further. And fortunately, after surviving a crash** at the outlet from Piraeus and being a day late, we arrived at the island of Crete, where a “fatherland squadron” in the person of Admiral Skrydlov, a most kind and intelligent person, received us with special honors.7 After corroboration from official persons that a certain unofficial candidacy is firmly grounded, we set out further to Alexandria and Cairo; considerations as much political as economic (prudent science united these two orders of ideas into one term “political economy”) prompted me to decline a trip to Palestine, which is a kingdom of hierocracy, whose true principle is not only protopoporum, poporum, diaconorum, diatchkorum ponomariorumque, but also laikorum—oblupatio et obdiratio [Lat.].8 In Egypt we found grace: winter fields of crops, ready to harvest (as we have at the end of July), and a spring sowing—magnificently greening. Ahead of us an intensely scorching heat was beginning, but we brought a northern wind and pleasant cooling. Thanks to the English, Egypt is like a well-planned vineyard. Even the trains * It was published in Messenger of Europe, July 1898 (I. The Shadow of Troy. II. The Nile Delta). M. M. Stasiulevich’s note. ** The steamer at the outlet from Piraeus harbor ran aground and had to be pulled out; this procedure went on for twelve hours. Ed. note.

1898–1900

run on schedule, and not arbitrarily as it was at my first arrival—twenty-two years ago!!! Passing an hour and a half in a magnificent bathtub and three hours in an even more magnificent museum of Egyptian antiquities, I feel I’ve become a younger and sprightly Melchizedek. A Chinese gong brandished by a blackskinned Ethiope calls us to lunch [Eng.]. I’ll look after two neighbors at my table: Misses-Ippi and Miss-Uri. Until we meet at the beginning of May. Cordial regards to Liubov Isakovna and to all friends. I’m blaming my friend Ludwig for carelessly allowing a war [Spanish-American].*** Yours sincerely, Vlad. Soloviev To Fyodor D. Batiushkov [1898, Original in English, reproduced precisely]

PVSS, 3:11

Dear Sir, I send you a gentleman who was corrector in Saratof and in Sebastopol. I gave him twice for his daily needs, but now he asks 10 rbls to go to Moscow. If you find him trustworthy (that is, if you can think that he will really go to Moscow and not to the nearest tavern), perhaps you will be so kind to take in advance 10 rbls from my fee for the article about Comte and give him. In this moment I live only upon credit. I am afraid that this individual will produce on you the same doubtful impression as on me. In this case you can change the ten in one and send him away. Excuse me, please, for this disturbance and for my english Yours truly Vlad. Soloviev N.B. A propos of my article. I believe it will be better not to divide it. I hope to be able to condense it into sixteen pages. To F. D. Batiushkov [1898]

PVSS, 3:13

Dear Fyodor Dmitrievich! I’m sending the conclusion of the article simultaneously with this. I must hereby notify you about the important change in my lot. Je suis entré dans les ordres, et mon nom religieux est dorénavant Père Plexe. Après le premier moment *** L. Z. Slonimsky, compiler of the foreign review in Mess. of Europe. Ed. note.

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de surprise vous devinerez peut être que je ne suis ni moine, ni fou, mais seulement calembouriste sans pudeur. Quant à ma perplexité elle est réelle [Fr. I have entered Orders, and from now on my religious name is Father (Père) Plexe. After the first moment of surprise you will perhaps guess that I am neither a monk nor crazy, but only a punster without shame. As to my perplexity, it is real]. The point is I have found neither form nor time for radical alteration of the article. Further, in the half already published, the form of the actual talk delivered at the Philosophical Society has remained.9 It would be difficult to preserve the same form for its conclusion as well, and it’s perhaps not plausible to write other than what I said in actual fact. Now, what’s left is the Novgorod icon, although I mitigated it slightly for the censor. I’m hoping for a happy outcome. You can point out the following to the censor: (1) my piety for images, for which I’m subject to excommunication from the active Russian intelligentsia; (2) my patriotism, expressed in the statement that illiterate Novgorodians of the eleventh century were at least twice as intelligent as Au. Comte; (3) the minimal degree of danger Cosmopolis* represents as an instrument of religious propaganda. I hope to get to Petersburg in time to take part, if required, in your negotiations. If you haven’t sent your Philosoph. Society lecture anywhere, keep in mind the Moscow philosoph. journal, where, it seems, they would very much like to have it. I have still not spoken with everyone, but hope this evening to see the entire synod together and will communicate with you as soon as I arrive in Petersburg. Until we soon meet.         Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich 1898 (7 November)

PVSS, 1:143

You won’t be laughing at my staying here in Moscow, dear Mikhail Matveevich, when you learn: (1) I found my favorite brother Misha with typhoid, from which he began to seriously recover only today; and (2) I myself am not leaving the house this week owing to acute liver pain. However, I’m hoping to be * Cosmopolis: journal published in St. Pbg in 1898 under F. D. Batiushkov’s editorship. Vl. Soloviev’s talk on Comte at the St. Pbg Philosoph. Society was published in it. Ed. note.

1898–1900

on Galernaya [St.] Monday. On the road here a small misfortune befell me: I lost two unfinished manuscripts, one for the dictionary, a little article on “­Pessimism,” the other for Messenger of Europe, with half the article on Herbert Spencer’s “Unknowability.” It’s now the second adventure with this one, but at least I have the book with annotations now; I’ll bring the newly written article to you on time; maybe it will gain from a second writing. And I read with pleasure your work published in New Times. Now even you have begun to contribute there! It used to be that when there occurred a need for this public establishment, I would always thoughtfully lean to your side—how, pray tell, will he look upon this. I see now that you’ve become a liberal even in this respect. Be well, dear Mikhail Matveevich, cordial regards to Liubov Isakovna and to everyone with you. Til soon we meet. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To Sergei M. Lukianov [March 1899]

PVSS, 1:150

I’m afflicted with influenza for a fourth day, dear Sergei Mikhailovich, and obliged to postpone my departure for Moscow. Although tomorrow, if there’s no rise in temperature, I’ll have to leave for my mother’s—she has to see me on business—I’ll hardly risk getting across the transcarpothian [sic] lands; therefore I’m sending in the meantime partem pro toto [Lat. a part for the whole].10 I think this part’s better than the whole, at least by virtue of the fact that it’s not subject to the flu. At this point a bell interrupted me with a note from your belle-soeur [Fr.], who’s informing me of Lydia Petrovna’s illlness, and requesting me to call on her tomorrow. If I’ll be out and about, I’ll fulfill her wish, all the more since her lycée’s across from my mother’s apartment. I hope that Lydia Petrovna’s illness is not serious. Cordial regards to her. If the messenger finds you, please write me a couple of words. Respectfully and sincerely yours Vlad. Soloviev I delivered the guest you entrusted to me completely whole and intact to destination but it seems, dissatisfied with my sepulchral silence. What is to be done! This property is inborn in a literal sense, inasmuch as I was premature at seven months and not able to cry at birth but could only open my mouth silently, like newborn sparrows.

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Letters of Vladimir S. Soloviev, Arranged Chronologically

To M. M. Stasiulevich [May] 1899

MMSp, 5:407–8

Here are the last six pages of the article sent yesterday, dear Mikhail Matveevich. Even now I’m hurrying to the post office, and therefore will be brief and businesslike (the latter, of course, you won’t take for a constant quality of mine). If the post office fulfills its obligations, the entire original can be at the printer’s on Friday, 14 May, so the article can appear in the June issue, which would be desirable according to its subject. The second and third conversations, inasmuch as it depends on me, will follow without fail.11 I think there are no censorial obstacles. If the first “conversation” turns out to be too conservative and well-intentioned for my namesake, and at discrepancy with the current moment, it’s possible to present it thus: all that’s dubious in the first dialogue will be refuted in the following two. Your inner censor may be required for individual expressions: it seems to me there’s only one—concerning Vladimir the Monk. Did you receive my telegram on Saturday? I didn’t telegraph an address, because I thought you would manage to reply by letter, but now this is beginning to become doubtful, and I’ll be very grateful to you if you telegraph me a couple of words about your health, Liubov Isakovna’s, the neighbors, and the Sabbatarians in genere [Lat. in general]. I hope your gravely ailing one is alive. And to telegraph me you need: Cannes, villa Marie-Mélanie [Fr.]. My journey here, lasting eight days instead of four, was full of comic occurrences; I’m postponing the story until we meet for the above-noted reason. Enclosed is something by way of a photograph— Here’s an ugly swollen mug in pale outline: Unflattering portrait, but resembling mine.12

The swelling, however, occurred from the fact that before the inexperienced photographer worked on my physiognomy, more experienced devotees—­ mosquitos—had already done so. Hence begins a most awful and efficient business. Since my advance of the previous summer, which wasn’t covered by verses and necrologies, will be covered by what is now being sent, this gives me the audacity to request another. But in view of the fact that the long cool weather has been replaced by heat, and my hosts are leaving in a week, the expedient satisfaction of this request is possible only by means of a telegraph transfer through a bank. There’s a bank in Cannes called Société Générale (the only one not closed in the summer), and in Nice there’s a permanent office of Crédit Lyonnais. So then, I’m entrusting

1898–1900

my fate to your experienced, friendly hands. If you like the manuscript and it inspires a desire for another, then out of business efficiency I’ll be impudent and ask you to throw in another 75 rubles or so, adding it to last year’s figure, and thus to provide me with 1,200 francs, which will secure me finally. I steadfastly hope to catch you yet in Petersburg. Most cordial regards to dear Liubov Isakovna and to all the neighbors. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To Leopold A. Sev*13 [1899]

PVSS, 1:160

Dear Leopold Alexandrovich! It would be very desirable to supplement the foreword. If possible, send me the page proofs: Cannes, Villa Marie-Mélanie, Chemin de Bénéfiat (Alpes maritimes, France). If there’s no time, please hunt down every misprint unsparingly. They’re fatal in such brief products, such as “Et moi aussi j’aime la nature. Jean de Kobéliatnikoff.”14 The following riddle, for example, can come out of this statement—quite definite, but truly of little content—with just a printing transformation: “Aime-moi.—Oh! si j’aime l’âne turc, gendarme bélier—Nicolas.” Little comfort even if in place of “gendarme” will be “Jeanne D’arc” and in place of “Nicolas”—“chocolat.” I’m willing to swear that the typesetter will put “unnoticed [nezamechennaia] book” where I have “indispensable [nezamennaia].” And I noticed another place too, but forgot. On the trip, I read “Aesthetics,”** which in general I like. I’ve several criticisms to make. What the author calls monarchism of the conscience is, of course, a fact; but there’s no positive property here, only limitation. The furthest degree of such limitation is called monoideism, and ever further—monomania. The difference between the aesthetic (in a broad sense) and the beautiful is presented insufficiently clearly and fully—we’ll speak about this when we meet, since now I’m afraid to be late for the Vienna train. I’ll read the Lange sheets on the way, and if I find something flagrant, I’ll be correcting by telegram, but I hope that it won’t come to this. Be well, cordial regards to your hosts. Yours Vlad. Soloviev * Translator of Jodl’s book History of Ethics. Ed. note. ** Groos, [Karl,1861–1946] “Introduction to Aesthetics,” trans. by L. S. Sev into Russian. Ed. note. [Einleitung in die aesthetik (Giessen: J. Ricker, 1892].

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To M. M. Stasiulevich 26 May 1899, Lausanne

MMSp, 5: 409–10

Dear Mikhail Matveevich, As soon as I read in your letter that you don’t approve of the name of my residence, I immediately gave it up, although reluctantly, because the residence didn’t leave me wishing for anything better, both for the artistry of its location, and for the abundance of flowers and fruits, as well as for the comfort of inner disposition. And with respect to its name—why has the name Melanie for you, a scholarly specialist on ancient history of Greece, suddenly united with the impression of a laundress melon seller, and not with the Greek word μελαίνη— black? Is everything black harmful to poetry? Color black, color of gloom, You are always dear to me.

Or: I look at the black shawl like a madman, Sorrow torments a gloomy soul.

Or if all this has gotten old, then here are some words by a certain somebody, from a famous composed romance: Petersburg white nights Through the gloom of wearisome days Reminded me of dark eyes And mysterious alley twilight.15

Nevertheless, friendly feelings toward you removed all my philosophizing and, having shed several tears of Lenten forgiveness at the base of hospitable palms, I set out for the city [Geneva] made famous by that son-of-a-bitch Rousseau and son-of-the-devil Calvin. On the road to Toulon, Marseilles, and Lyon, the population offered me the crown of France, apparently having taken me for someone else—Marchand, who had grown even more wild in Africa.16 At first I went for it and at the welcome of the mob I responded in Russian, for appearance sake: “All right, my little Frenchies! I won’t offend you: I’ll give you such a sergeant-in-Voltaires that you’ll just smack your lips.” At this, shouts rang out: Vive Marchand deux d’Autriche [Austria]! Why d’Autriche? No reason! Is there really no trick here? Shouldn’t I get all tangled up in some other story? Why,

1898–1900

here’s Boulanger—a military general he was, and not a retired collegiate adviser [like myself], but when he got mixed up with a little French girl in a churchyard, he got a bullet in the head.17 But the intelligent man Casimir Perier conjectured, like Gogol’s rat: he arrived, sniffed, and left—and he’s alive to this day. I thought about all this in the wagon-lit [Fr.], and at the next station I declined the French throne in favor of Fyodor Fyodorovich Marthens: now then, little Frenchies, he will pacify you.18 Meanwhile the misunderstanding soon spread. The whole affair had a political-economic substratum. Following Marchand from Africa to Paris was an American commercial traveler, bringing with him ten thousand ostrich eggs, which he decided to sell for a million dollars to be used as food with Provence butter, which promised great trade advantages to Provence, and that’s why the local population also arranged for this merchant ovations (which there were incidentally all the more of, because in their language, eggs are nearly as in Latin—ova). So instead of Marchand deux d’Autriche you had to interpret Marchand d’oeufs d’autruche: long live the merchant of ostrich eggs! In Geneva, I stayed at the Hôtel des Bergue, the view of which is described on these leaves. But after having pondered over the strictness of your requirements, I decided that this name is insufficiently poetic and tracked down in Lausanne, Ouchy, Hôtel Beau Rivage. If you find even this unpoetic, then I wash my hands (with eau de cologne, à l’iris). However, Lausanne itself is a city not so much poetic as pedagogic, which is clear now from its name, which, apparently, descends from the Russian word loza [branch, twig, rod]. The name Ouchy [ushi: ears] also has a pedagogic sense in the opinion of some, and culinary in the opinion of others, it being only a French pronunciation of the Russian exclamation ukhi [spread with manure]!—also confirmed by the lake, teeming with trout. However, in order not to give you reason for the hypothesis that, since the time of my letter, this vicinity has not acquired the name ukhi but chepukhi [nonsense], I’ll change the conversation. I have to stay here another several days, but anyway am hoping by 5 June to be in Petersburg, where I’m heading without visiting Moscow. When you’re reading this letter, I’ll probably be going to the railway in Basel. I understood from your letter that you prefer to postpone the second and third dialogues until the autumn. There’s both a pro and a contra, but in the final analysis it will come to, I think, postponing it, since it’s necessary without fail that these dialogues be in no way worse, but as much as possible better, than the first, and consequently they should, of course, mature properly. My most cordial regards to dear and good Liubov Isakovna and to all good friends. I’m once again grateful to the baron for his nice telegram. Sincerely yours, Vlad Soloviev

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To M. M. Stasiulevich ( June) 1899

MMSp, 5:411

Dear Liubov Isakovna, All of me swollen, in iodine steeped, With nose and eyes full of fire. For you to see such a monstrous creep, I haven’t a speck of desire. There are three departed I yet must Grace with three requiems solemn, And perhaps a fourth? … I’ll go to dust Indecently prone, not unlike them.19

Therefore I want to be careful today and not go out, which I’m informing you with sincere regret. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To D. N. Tsertelev [Stamp on the envelope: Moscow, 13 October 1899]

PVSS, 2:271

Thanks for the good letter, my dear friend Dmitri. As you see, I’m writing. Petersburg science sentenced me to blindness, but Moscow science refuted this and even gave me leave to engage immediately in enlightenment—however, with moderation, avoiding bloodshed as much as possible—bloodshed in a literal sense, since the incident with my eye occurred from a hemorrhoidal rupture of a little vessel in the vascular membrane of the eye, and the discharge of its contents into the translucid substance. As for S. P., she has been well now since the fifteenth of August but before that was at risk for several days from acute inflamation (gastro-enteritis [Eng.]). And is Katerina Fedorovna still ill? But I’m concluding from the fact that you’re in the countryside that it’s comparatively not serious. I would very much like to come for a visit to Lipyagi this winter and to see dear and venerable Varvara Semenovna and all of you. Be well, my dear friend. Warm regards. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev Address in Moscow: Assumption of the Virgin, Uspensky Lane, at Skorodumov’s. In Petersburg: Hotel England (I’ll probably be there toward the end of this month). Your friend N. is inviting me to visit her today. She wants to treat my eye. I’m hoping—without devilry.

1898–1900

To E. L. Radlov [1899]

PVSS, 1:269

Dear friend! I think it better to postpone my commemorative speech until December, but haven’t decided finally. Write me something on this score. Prof. Kriukov, the oculist here, inspired trust in me and prescribed returning to work little by little with both daytime and nighttime illumination. I didn’t inform him of my own diagnosis, but he proprio motu [Lat. on his own] made an identical one: a Protean hemorrhoid caused the whole misfortune. Since Kriukov in general belongs to doctors-pessimistic, his reassuring view on my casus [Lat. case] may be really encouraging.20 I have an errand from Prof. F. E. Korsh. Your editorial office has received, through V. K. Ernstedt, an article by a linguist (forgot the name) about a pedagogical book of some gentleman (forgot that name as well). There’s an addendum to the article by Korsh, and he requests you publish it in the form that it was sent to Ernstedt.21 And he also requests that you forgive his silence, which arises from the fact that he was until recently in the Caucasus. I’ll await a letter from you, my dear friend, but if you’ll be insisting on my participation at the annual meeting, then I’ll hurry to Petersburg for the twenty-second (maybe it’s been postponed?). Cordial regards to Vera Alexandrovna and Olga Alexandrovna and to all the Ernest-ides. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev Moscow, Assumption of the Virgin, Uspensky Lane: at Skorodumov’s. To the Editors of New Times No. 8530, 25 November 1899

PVSS, 3:185

Dear Gentlemen! In view of the just displeasure of various persons who are not receiving any reply from me to their questions, wishes, and aspirations, I am obliged to present the following explanation. Recently a disease of the eye forced me to take a two-month abstention from book and pen. After receiving this first warning, and not wishing to tempt it any further, I decided in advance to decline any future sidelines, such as reading manuscripts of others and editing others’ translations, writing reviews, notes and critical articles on current literature, and casual correspondence with strangers. This resolve is not the result of an ill-­natured character, and I will renounce it immediately, but only when

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I get through the large works begun by me, which seem to me my main and ­straightforward obligation. Among them belong (1) a translation of Plato with études, (2) theoretical philosophy, (3) aesthetics, (4) an aesthetic critique of Pushkin, (5) biblical philosophy with translation and interpretation of the Bible. If God and good people allow me to finish all this, I’ll also acquire, of course, the high degree of an old man’s expansiveness, along with leisure time, which will make me a most pleasant postal correspondent for all persons, of little or no acquaintance at all, who are writing to me about their affairs. 23 November 1899 Vladimir Soloviev To Vasily P. Preobrazhensky [1899]

PVSS, 1:241

My dear friend Vasily Petrovich! I arrived with three practical aims: (1) to be relieved of the burden of Plato’s first volume; (2) begin the second immediately; and (3) receive 2,000 rubles from Soldatenkov, by contract. A sentimental aim is connected to these practical ones: to see friends while we’re not yet all dead. But first, Soldatenkov, the wellspring of life, is preparing to die, and though this doesn’t, of course, prevent me receiving what’s due, it would be ignoble to lean on him now as he’s dying or on his legatees with such a paltry demand on their capital. Meanwhile, all my aims, practical as well as sentimental, require traveling, and consequently money, which I don’t have at all. If it’s not possible for you, either in the capacity of editor or in the capacity of a private person, to loan me the sum of 50 rubles for a brief time, then in the capacity of city secretary you can in any event indicate to me the exact address of a city institution that can issue this sum against the pledge of a gold watch and chain.* Seven rubles are necessary for me right now. I’m sending a messenger in place of myself, because I’m here looking over the final galleys of the foreword. I’m certain you’ll say non ignarus mali miseris succurrere disco** and will extend me a ready helping hand.22 The main thing is speed. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev * Though noncovetous in the full significance of this term, V. Soloviev ascribed a certain significance to this watch and chain, for the watch belonged to Count A. K. Tolstoy and the chain to A. A. Fet. Soloviev received these things in memory of the deceased poets. Ed. note. ** A line from the Aeneid (I, 630): “Non ignara mali miseris sucurrere disco,” Dido speaking to Aenaeus. Ed. note.

1898–1900

To the Editors, New Times No. 8596, 1 February 1900

PVSS, 3:186

Dear Gentlemen! An article was published in one of the first issues of The Citizen this year: “On Marriage,” signed V. Soloviev. Many have ascribed it to me, and I stated in The Week that I never wrote such an article and that its author is not known to me. Nevertheless, since a note by a “third-party reader” appeared in the last issue (8) of The Citizen, which, in accusing V. Soloviev of some mistake, apparently identifies this person with me, I consider it necessary to repeat my statement about my total lack of complicity in an article by a person with the same surname who is unknown to me. I am also asking other newspapers to publish this statement. 30 January            Vlad. Soloviev To Anna N. Schmidt [end of March or 1 April]

IRANS, 283–84

Dear Anna Nikolaevna! I have received the papers sent by you. I will keep them until called for without opening the envelopes. That is all I can promise on this subject for the time being. As for your report about events that occurred with you on 1 Jan. 1885, I am grateful for the trust, but recognizing the evident sincerity and veracity of your story, I must for the time being refrain from a final judgment about the fact itself. I will only turn your attention to the detail transmitted by you yourself: namely, that the phenomenon of the supposed person did not directly produce any movement of spiritual feelings in you, so that the impression was, so to speak, of the head and not the heart. This is a very important sign, long noted by church specialists in this area. I don’t see any possibility of finding a person corresponding to the initials J. R., and don’t consider myself worthy of receiving direct communications from above about this. I’m only able to serve you with my guess: J. R.— Judas the Repentant? But he’s registered at the address office under another last name and so even if my guess were warranted it would anyway remain useless. I read your remark concerning the lecture about Antichrist to the editor of The Week and it will probably be published with some editorial changes, if you have nothing against it. I do not know my future address exactly, but beginning

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with the month of April you can write: Ajacccio, ile de Corse, France, Mr. Soloviev, poste restante. God willing, we’ll meet when it’s necessary. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To A. N. Schmidt Sunday, 22 April, Petersburg

IRANS, 285–87

Dear Anna Nikolaevna! It doth not yet appear what we shall be.23 Meanwhile we truly sense what is great but fantasize unendurably, becoming confused in nonsense. Three characteristic bits of nonsense: (1) You continue to confuse me with my elder brother, Vsevolod Soloviev, who had some murky dealings with Mme Blavatsky and wrote some dull book about this, in which I do not take part either in body or in spirit. Never in my life did I see Mme Blavatsky, and I have not occupied myself either with her personally or with her “miracles” or her “tricks,” but only (and entirely moderately) the theosophical movement from the aspect of principle, on which I published two notes, without touching on the person and the “practice” of the deceased; (2) knowing how you value my poems, I wanted to show you the courtesy of sending poems that were unknown to you before the issuance of the booklet. I had neither the possibility of “tearing apart” the booklet, as you say, since it was not yet in my hands, nor the need, since I decided without fail to deliver it to you in full form as soon as it came out; (3) having noticed in one of your letters a better editing of one of my poems [Les Revenants], I made use of it with pleasure. But from this simplest of facts you draw some complicated conclusions. Enough about nonsense. Your confession arouses the greatest pity and mediates sorrowfully about you before the Almighty. It is good that you wrote this once, but please do not to return to this subject any more. Upon leaving today for Moscow, I will burn the factual confession in both the statements—not only for the sake of precaution, but also as a sign of the fact that all of this is ashes. And concerning what is under the ashes, I will tell you a dream of a long since deceased old lady [A. F. Aksakova]. She saw that they were giving her a letter from me, written in my usual hand, which she called pattes d’araignée [Fr. spidery]. Reading it with interest, she noticed that inside it was folded yet another letter on magnificent paper. After opening it, she saw words written in a beautiful hand and in gold ink, and at that moment heard my voice: “here’s my real letter, but wait to read it,” and she saw here that I was

1898–1900

entering, bending under the weight of a huge sack with bronze money. I took several coins out of it one after another and threw them onto the floor, saying: when all the bronze comes out, you will then attain the golden words. I am advising you, Anna Nikolaevna, to apply this dream to yourself as well. I am going to Moscow for a funeral. I cannot come to Nizhny now, but it is possible to come to Vladimir-on-Kliazma—for a few hours. N.B. If you are capable of discussion, and it is not difficult for you to come to Vladimir-on-Kliazma, write a brief letter to Moscow and tell me which of three days—Friday, Saturday, or Sunday—is more convenient for you, but do not in any case leave Nizhny until my telegram from Moscow. Because nothing is yet decided, and in my opinion, it is maybe better to postpone meeting until the end of the summer. Please, do not speak with anyone about me; it’s better to pray to God in all your free moments. Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To S. M. Lukianov [May 1900]

PVSS, 1:151

Dear Sergei Mikhailovich! As you’ll see, I hurry to apologize, though I’m not to blame for anything anyway. It was like this. Prior to my departure from the countryside, I found myself in rain so heavy that when I sat at the fireplace, steam came off me as off a tired horse. Even so, without changing clothes, I rushed into a carriage already occupied by the ample personage of a nice old lady. Rain was still falling, and the top of the droshky was raised. I don’t know whether the compression produced by me was being sensed by my fellow traveler; but, already impaled by my infirmity, I was now apparently subject to another, new form of execution—smothering by pillows—and I began to repeat in my heart my friend Radlov’s favorite expression: “But won’t this be multidimensional?” The question hadn’t managed to sink in sufficiently when the stallion of the steppe tore past the venerable little mare and the apocalyptic gelding making for the rail station. But it turns out the Ministry of Railways recognizes the schedule of trains, along with their composition, as movable—and the nine o’clock train for which we’d come had already left at 8h. 26 m., with the next one at midnight sharp. My fellow traveler howled like a beluga, and only German tidiness prevented her from sitting on the floor of the station room. I won’t describe the various complications of our misfortune. At 1 h. 10 m. after midnight our train arrived at Nikolaevsky Station, and at that time you probably

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uttered a variety of scathing words on account of me, which I hope you’ll take back now. I also hope Lydia Petrovna isn’t leaving Petersburg soon, and if I drop by your place early tomorrow evening, I’ll still manage to see her. On Saturday, when I was left alone together with my fantastic homeopath, he delivered a long and keen panegyric to you, as to a truly Russian man. See you soon.   Sincerely yours, Vlad. Soloviev To M. M. Stasiulevich

MMSp, 5:413–14

Geography: Pustynka, Petersburg, Moscow, Kaluga, Tambov—and back again. Topography at the moment: edit. office of Mess. of Eur. Chronology: Wed. 28 June (11 June) 1900. (History, Autobiography, Poetry, and Political Economy: see below). Meteorology—according to Demchinsky: frost and snowstorm at the equator, hot weather at the poles and 25,000 rub. in the pocket, the real temperature in SPB + 16 r. Dear and highly revered Mikhail Matveevich! Although I’m essentially in agreement with your political judgments laid out in the letter to L. Z., please allow me to supplement them with the following poetical impression:    The Dragon    (To Siegfried) From out of the invisible heavens The dragon showed its brow— And the approaching day followed With a fog of irrefutable miseries. Indeed, jubilations won’t cease Nor praises to eternal peace, Careless laughter and exclamation: “Life is good and there’s no evil in it!” Heir of the sword-bearing host! You are faithful to the banner of the cross, The fire of Christ is in your Damascus blade, And menacing words are—holy. God’s bosom is full of love, It calls us all alike … But before the dragon’s trap You conceived: the cross and sword—are one.24

1898–1900

I’m crossing over from historical poetry to political-economic autobiography: in order to get rid of the hotel, I took from Sliozberg a little more of a summer advance than previously, but our mutual acquaintance A. S. Pushkin will pay for this in full in the autumn. Be well, dear Mikhail Matveevich, I remember you daily, I wrote to Liubov Isakovna. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev P.S. I won’t be offended if you find my poem inconvenient to publish, since I am in doubt on this score myself. But please inform L. Z. (since I’m leaving for Kaluga and Poltava on Sunday) that in the event of your approval it could make it into August. I’m leaving a copy for him. To L. Z. Slonimsky 10 July 1900

PVSS, 2:344

Dear Ludwig Zinovievich! On balance, I decided not to hurry with a statement on Chinese affairs; as you justly noted, this should be tied to deliberations. Instead of a dragon, I offer for the August issue a purely lyrical poem, which I suppose there’s no need to send abroad. In all probability, I’ll return between the twentieth and the twenty-fifth of July, for it appears I will not go further than Kaluga Province. So then, until soon we meet. Yours, Vlad. Soloviev To E. L. Radlov PVSS, 1:270 Hôtel d’Angleterre, Petersburg [rec’d 23 December 1900, after the author’s death] Hello, my dear friend! I arrived today and am trying to get to you, but in the meantime, here’s a petition: please receive Arkady Germanovich Press, who wants to publish a small popular encyclopedia compiled by him on the history of philosophy. A possible publisher is already in mind, but a competent editor’s needed. If you can’t take this upon yourself, can the Philosoph. Society help here? In general, be so kind as to think on it and advise. Farewell. Yours Vlad. Soloviev

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Appendix 1 On the Deathbed Confession of V. S. Soloviev PVSS, 3:215–17 Moscow Gazette, no. 253, Wednesday, 3 (16) November 1910 In view of the rumors evoked by Nikolai Tolstoy’s well known letter of 21 August 1910, here is a letter from the priest N. Kolosov: Dear Gentlemen! In view of the published account of the former priest N. Tolstoy in Russkoe slovo about how he gave communion to the late Russian philosopher Vladimir Sergeevich Soloviev according to the Uniate rite, you will not refuse to publish the account of a Russian Orthodox priest about his hearing confession and giving communion to Vladimir Sergeevich before his death. This priest, S. A. Beliaev, now works at the Moscow Sokolnicheskaia Hospital but was priest in the village of Uskov, Moscow District, at the time of Vladimir Sergeevich’s mortal illness and his last hour at the estate of Prince P. N. Trubetskoy. Here is what he recounts: In the summer of the year 1900, Prince P. N. Trubetskoy was not living at Uskov, but his late brother was—Sergei Nikolaevich, a friend of Vlad. Serg. Soloviev, and afterwards rector of Moscow University. Vladimir Sergeevich, already ill, arrived here in July to stay with him. After leaving Moscow, Vlad. Serg. felt unwell on the far side of Kaluga and wanted to return to Moscow, but changed his mind and went to Uskov; after arriving there on that very day, he took to bed at the advice of a doctor and did not subsequently get up. And then sometime in the evening a man from the Trubetskoys came to me with a request from Sergei Nikolaevich to serve liturgy the next day, and after that to come and give the Sacrament of Communion with the mass to an ill gentleman who had arrived from Moscow. The next day, at the end of early

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mass, the nanny of the Trubetskoys arrived—with a request to give confession to the ill person before mass (with this, she also stated the name of the ill ­person—Vladimir but did not know who this was). After serving early mass, I set out for the home of the Trubetskoys. Prince Sergei Nikolaevich himself met me in the entrance hall and, after repeating the request of the ill person, asked me if I knew him. I replied that I did not. Right after this, the prince led me into an office where Vlad. Sergeevich lay on a couch, and I made his acquaintance (I recall, by the way, that Vlad. Serg. had his hair cut). Vlad. Serg. made confession with truly Christian humility (confession continued not less than a half hour) and by the way said that he had not been to confession for about three years, since, after having gone to confession the last time (in Moscow or Petersburg—I don’t remember), he had argued with the confessing priest over a dogmatic question (exactly which one Vlad. Serg. did not say) and was not allowed to take Holy Communion. “The priest was right,” added Vlad. Serg., “and I argued with him only out of passion and pride; after this we corresponded over this question, but I did not want to yield, although I acknowledged my wrong; now I fully acknowledge my error and sincerely repent of it.” When confession ended, I asked Vlad. Serg. whether he recalled any more sins. “I will think a while and try to recollect,” he replied; I suggested he think a while, and myself started off to go service liturgy, but he stopped me and asked me to read him the prayer of absolution, since he feared falling into unconsciousness. I read the prayer of absolution over him and went to church to serve mass. After serving mass, I came with the Holy Sacraments of mass to Vlad. Serg. again and asked him if he had recalled any more of his sins. “No, little father,” he replied. “I prayed to God about my sins, asking forgiveness for them, but recalled nothing new.” I then gave him communion with the Holy Sacraments. Prince Sergei Nikolaevich and his wife, Praskovia Vladimirovna, attended in connection with this. On that very day, Vlad. Serg. fell into unconsciousness and did not regain consciousness before the end. By the way, I recall that in a conversation with me Prince Sergei Nikolaevich energetically refuted the rumor that Vlad. Serg. was an alcoholic. I even remember that Vlad. Serg. himself said to me that he is considered a vegetarian—on the basis that he did not eat meat, and that though he in fact did not eat meat, it is by no means because he held to vegetarianism. When the remains of Vlad. Sergeevich were lowered into the coffin, and after saying farewell to Pr. S. N., I walked out of the gates of the monastery and

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took the first cab I happened upon. The cabby asked me who they were laying to rest. I replied that they were laying to rest a well-known Russian scholar and writer. “Not Vladimir Sergeevich Soloviev?” I replied that it was him, and in this connection asked the cabby how he knew him. The cabby replied that he always stands where Vlad. Serg. used to stay upon arrival to Moscow, i.e., his mother’s apartment. “And when I’d find out that Vlad. Serg. was arriving, I’d always simply wait for him at the train, and as soon as he came out, I’d ask: ‘Where to?’ And you didn’t talk about the price, because he himself always paid more than he should. The gentleman was good: there are few like him today. If he’d see a beggar, he’d stop you at once and get down to give him alms.”      N. Kolosov, Priest        25 October 1910

Appendix 2 Brief Biographical Information on Soloviev’s Correspondents Aksakov, Alexander N. (1832–1903): Appointed to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, he remained a Slavophile under the influence of Em. Swedenborg’s mysticism; fascinated with spiritualism, he wrote Psychische Studien: Monatliche Zeitschrift vorzüglich der Untersuchung der wenig gekannten Phänomene des Seelenlebens gewidmet (1874). Aksakov, Ivan S. (1823–1886): Cousin of Alexander N. Aksakov and, according to Soloviev, the “last” of the Slavophiles; he served in the Ministry of Internal Affairs and published Rus´ (1880–1886), a journal that early on published Soloviev’s academic work but then distanced itself from Soloviev for his (­alleged) “Catholicism.” Alexander III (Romanov, 1845–1894): Tsar of Russia after assassins killed his father, the reformer Alexander II (1 March 1881). Antonii, Archimandrite (Vadkovsky, 1846–1912): The inspector at St. Petersburg’s Religious Academy tasked with examining Soloviev’s writings prior to publication; he later became metropolitan of St. Petersburg. Arseniev, Konstantin K. (1837–1919): Social and political commentator as well as contributor to numerous journals, including Messenger of Europe, on whose editorial board he also served; he was appointed editor in chief of the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary. Bakhmeteva, Nina P. (n. d.): Kinswoman of Countess Sophia A. Tolstoy and Sophia Petrovna Khitrovo (both née Bakhmeteva). Baranov, Nikolai M., Lieutenant-General (1837–1901): On the advice of K. P. Pobedonostsev, he was appointed mayor of Petersburg (March–August 1881)

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by Alexander III to deal decisively with the terrorist group People’s Will after Alexander II’s assassination. Batiushkov, Fyodor D. (1857–1920): Scholar of French and Italian who wrote on the literature of the Middle Ages and edited the St. Petersburg journal ­Cosmopolis (1898). Bestuzhev-Riumin, Konstantin N. (1829–1897): St. Petersburg historian under whose tutelage Soloviev lectured on ancient philosophy at the Higher Women’s Courses in 1880–1881; he achieved some renown for his popular booklets on Russia’s baptism under Vladimir, the Tatar Yoke, and the growth of Muscovy; as well as an incomplete two volume history of Russia. Dostoevsky, Fyodor M. (1821–1881): The great writer of novels and short stories, he is perhaps best known for his classics Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov; for the latter he is widely considered to have drawn on Soloviev as a model for several of its characters. Fedorov, Nikolai F. (1829–1903): Philosopher/theologian known as Moscow’s Socrates, he would attack Soloviev as Catholic and “anti-Christian.” A representative of early “Cosmic” thought, he believed resurrection could be achieved only through a collaboration of science and religion, which may have constituted one of what Soloviev called his “strange ideas.” Others may have included the notion of earth as a kind of space train-car which the “sons of men” would be able, by means of solar energy, to free the planet from the bonds of gravity and journey through the cosmos. See N. F. Fedorov, “Astronomiia i Arkhitektura,” Vesy (February 1904): 20–24. Fedorov, Vasily P. (n. d.): Public school teacher, author of Project of the Society for Christian Apologetics in Russia (1892). Fet, Afanasy A. (a.k.a. Shenshin, 1820–1892): Foeth was the maiden name of this poet’s German mother, and the Orthodox Church considered the Lutheran marriage of his parents abroad to be illegitimate. Soloviev spent a good deal of time at Fet’s estate, Vorobievka; he often referred to Fet’s poetry in his work and collaborated with him on a translation of Virgil’s Aeneid. Filippov, Tertii I. (1825–1899): Government figure and Slavophile who wrote on church history, Balkan affairs, and the teaching of Church Slavonic in public

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schools. Soloviev hoped that his advancement to the upper echelons of Russian government might help improve the religious situation for minorities in particular. Gets, Faivel B. M. (1853–1931): Soloviev’s Hebrew teacher and long-time friend; lawyer and activist for Jewish rights in the Russian Empire. The Brokhauz-Efron Jewish Encyclopedia entry on Gets stresses the importance of his collaboration with Soloviev. Golovin, Konstantin F. (1843–1913): Diplomat and writer of stories and novels under the pseudonym Orlovsky, he later became a force behind the infamous Black Hundreds. Grot, Nikolai Ya. (1852–1899): Professor of philosophy at Moscow University, he was one of the founders of the Moscow Psychological Society and its journal Problems of Philosophy and Psychology. Gurevich, Liubov Ya. (1866–1940): Daughter of a well-known Petersburg educator, she published the Northern Messenger, which later became a leading Symbolist publication; she also translated (from the Latin) Letters of Spinoza (St. Petersburg, 1889). Kareev, Nikolai I. (1850–1931): One of Soloviev’s Moscow University colleagues whose writings included essays on the ancient Greek phonetic system, history of the French peasantry, and eighteenth-­century Polish reforms. See “Causes de la chute de la Pologne” (1893); he also served as head of the history section for the Brokhaus-Efron Dictionary. Kireev, Alexander A. (1833–1910): A leading Slavophile writer who focused on the Western Church in the 1880s, with special interest in the Roman papacy. Soloviev would polemicize with him regularly, but with cordial respect. Kireev participated in a failed attempt to proselytize Eastern Orthodoxy in the West under the guise of promoting so-called Old Catholicism. Kolubovsky, Yakov N. (1863–1929): A historian of philosophy, he taught logic and published various bibliographies; he also translated pieces from the German and served as assistant editor at the journal Problems of Philosophy and Psychology in 1891–1892.

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Kotliarevsky, Nestor A. (1863–1925): A literary historian and critic, he was known for his writings on Lermontov, Baratynsky, and Gogol, among others. Lapshin, Ivan O. (1825–1883): A specialist on the East and (along with his wife, Susanna D. Lapshina, n.d.) a fervent spiritualist. Soloviev partly dedicated his Religious Foundations of Life (1882–1884) to this friend. Leontiev, Konstantin N. (1831–1891): A leading Slavophile and conservative writer on social and political affairs, and the author of Byzantism and Slavdom. Soloviev wrote an extensive and sympathetic entry on Leontiev for the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary. Lopatin, Lev M. (1855–1920): Childhood friend of Soloviev and a spiritualist, he became a professor of philosophy (while retaining a “spiritualist” inclination) at Moscow University. Lugovoy, Alexei A. (pen name of Tikhonov, 1853–1914): Belletrist and in the late 1890s editor of the journal Niva, to which Soloviev contributed. Lugovoy was perhaps best known for his work Pollice verso: Parallelen (­Leipzig: 1894). Lukianov, Sergei M. (1855–1935): Physiologist who took up poetry and philosophy (Philosophy and the Positive Biology of A. Comte, 1898); he assisted E. L. Radlov in preparing Soloviev’s letters for publication and wrote a biographical sketch of Soloviev’s early years. Martynov, Fr. Ivan M. (1821–1894): Russian nobleman referred to in the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary as having “emigrated to France, converted to Catholicism, and entered the Jesuit Order.” An author and translator of works on Orthodoxy and Catholicism, as well as a founder of Bibliothèque slave, he was the main subject of Yu. F. Samarin in Jesuits and Their Relation to Russia: Letters to the Jesuit Martynov (1868). Along with his Jesuit brother Pavel I. Pierling (see below), Martynov proved of vital assistance to Soloviev in the editing and shaping of La Russie et L’Église universelle. Martynova, Sophia M. (n. d.): Widely believed to have been Soloviev’s last love interest, she became Soloviev’s muse in his later years, and a number of his poems were apparently written with her in mind. E. L. Radlov indirectly sug-

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gested something was wrong with her undated letters and recommended them only for the poetry they contained. Nikiforov, Lev P. (1848–1917): Populist translator of Maupassant and Mazzini among other writers. He discussed the possibility of Soloviev collaborating on forewords to several projects but is perhaps best known as the compiler of excerpts, stories, and poems of Russian writers in Na dobruiu pamiat´ iz Russkikh pisatelei: Kniga dlia semeinago chteniia (1894). Novikova, Olga A. (1840–1925): Russian journalist in residence in London and sister of A. A. Kireev, she often signed with the initials “O. K.” Working to shape English views of Russia, she vigorously defended not only Russian autocracy but its antisemitic and anti-Catholic policy as well. Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli referred to her as “The M. P. for Russia in England.” Pierling, Fr. Pavel I. (1840–1922): A Russian nobleman who emigrated to France and became a Jesuit priest, he wrote extensively on diplomatic relations between the Vatican and Moscow (Papes et tzars [1890]; La Russie et la SaintSiège, études diplomatiques [4 vols., 1896–1907]). Along with Fr. Martynov (see above), Pierling provided invaluable assistance to Soloviev in preparing La ­Russie et l’Église universelle for publication. Preobrazhensky, Vasily P. (1864–1900): The son of a priest and a Moscow University graduate in history and philosophy, he worked on the founding of the Moscow Psychological Society and its journal, becoming an editor in 1895. Pypin, Alexander N. (1833–1904): A well-known writer on the history of Russian literature, ethnography, and law and society, he was a regular contributor to Messenger of Europe. Rački, Fransisco, Fr. (1829–1894): Fr. Rački and Bishop Strossmayer were together responsible for the “cultural revival of the Croat nation,” accomplished through the gathering of national folk materials, the introduction of Serbo-­ Croatian into church liturgy, and the founding of the Croat national university in Agram (1874), along with an academy of sciences. Radlov, E. L. (1854–1929): Chief editor of Soloviev’s letters; he served as librarian of the philosophical department in the Imperial Public Library,

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c­ ontributing articles to various journals and authoring several monographs, including Etika Aristotelia (The Ethics of Aristotle [1884]). Rozanov, Vasily V. (1856–1919): A philosopher, critic, and anti-Western writer on politics and social issues, he covered a wide range of topics. Especially known for his work on Gogol and Dostoevsky, he also produced works on religion and culture, Christianity’s place in history, and education. ­Rozanov criticized Soloviev’s work on aesthetics (e.g., “Beauty in Nature”) in a monograph titled Krasota v prirode i ee smysl (Beauty in nature and its meaning [1894]). Schmidt, Anna N. (1851–1905): A self-professed mystical “seer,” she considered herself to be Soloviev’s predestined soul mate. His letters to her were first published in a 1916 book containing her “manuscripts”—largely consisting of opaque, incomprehensible rants. Selevina, Ekaterina V. (née Romanova, 1857–1928): Soloviev’s young fiancée and first cousin on his mother’s side; they remained friends after their engagement ended. Sev, Leopold A. (1867–1921): Trained first as a lawyer and then in Judaica, he became a leading figure in the publication of Jewish works/translations and translated German works in philosophy, some under the guidance of Soloviev. Slonimsky, Leonid-Ludwig Z. (1850–1918): Writer on social, political, and economic matters; compiler of the foreign review section in Messenger of Europe. He published critical articles on the theory of progress and politics in writers as diverse as Marx, Tolstoy, and Pobedonostsev. See, for example, his Ekonomicheskoe uchenie Karla Marksa (The economic teaching of Karl Marx [St. Petersburg, 1898]). Soloviev, Mikhail S. (“Misha,” 1862–1903): The younger brother and confidant of Vladimir Soloviev, who assisted his elder sibling with publishing, sometimes acting as his agent. Solovieva, Poliksena V. (n. d): Vladimir’s Sergeevich’s mother; granddaughter of the Ukrainian philosopher Hrihoriy Skovoroda. Soloviev, Sergei M. (1829–1879): Vladimir’s father, highly regarded historian and author of the twenty-nine volume History of Russia since Ancient Times, which came out in numerous editions.

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Stasiulevich, Mikhail M. (1826–1911): A leading liberal public figure, philanthropist, historian, and journalist, he founded the journal Messenger of Europe in 1865 and edited it for forty-two years. Strakhov, Nikolai N. (1828–1896): Becoming enamored of Slavophiles, he gave up teaching natural science and, writing under various pseudonyms, joined the attacks on the ideas of the 1860s (Darwin, Chernyshevsky, etc.). He managed the Juridical Department of the Imperial Public Library, also earning an income by translating German philosophy. Widely known for interpreting the importance of Tolstoy’s novel War and Peace as portraying the struggle with the West, he helped influence a new generation of anti-Western writers, including V. V. Rozanov. Strossmayer, Josip J., Archbishop (1815–1905): The Croatian bishop credited (along with F. Rački, see above) for the “cultural revival of the Croat nation.” Early on, Soloviev harbored hopes that this Western Slavic experience could serve as an example that Russian Slavophiles could emulate, possibly assisting in reuniting the Churches, East and West. Syromiatnikov, Sergei N. (1864–1933): Trained as a lawyer, he served as state councilor and worked as a journalist in the Far East, contributing articles to various newspapers, including The Washington Post. He used two noms de plume: Sigma Normansky and Sergius Normansky. Tavernier, Eugène (1854–1928): A journalist and editor of L’Univers in Paris, he was one of Soloviev’s best friends; writing on various topics, he provided a French translation (with introduction) of Soloviev’s Three Conversations on War, Progress, and the End of Universal History (Trois Entretiens sur la guerre, la Morale et la Religion [Paris, 1916]). Tolstoy, Lev N. (1828–1910): The great novelist and short story writer, perhaps best known for his classics War and Peace and Anna Karenina and for his heretical views on Christianity. Tolstoy, Countess Sophia A. (née Bakhmeteva, 1827–1895): An intellectual and a spiritualist, she was the widow of the poet and humorist Alexei N. Tolstoy and ostensibly the aunt (but actually the mother) of Sophia P. Khitrovo, the subject of Soloviev’s long-time affection. Many notables (e.g., Dostoevsky and Soloviev) attended her literary evenings and/or seances.

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Tsertelev, Dmitri N., Prince (1852–1911): Soloviev’s friend and colleague, who introduced him to his kinswomen Sophia A. Tolstoy and Sophia P. Khitrovo. A specialist on Schopenhauer’s philosophy (“Schopenhauer’s Erkenntniss-­ Theorie,” Leipzig, 1879), he also produced poetry and social commentary, parting ways with Soloviev on matters related to nationalism; for a while he also edited Russian Review (1890–1892). Velichko, Vasily L. (1860–1903): A writer and poet, he regularly contributed to journals, often under the pen name Voronetsky. Soloviev embraced his poetry, and they became friends. In 1897, he accepted a position as editor at the journal Caucasus (Tiflis) and moved in a hard-right direction, toward militant, intolerant nationalism and antisemitism. He also produced an uneven biographical portrait: Vladimir Solov´ev: Zhizn´ i tvoreniia (Life and works [1903]). Vengerov, Semeon A. (1855–1920): A critic and literary historian, he wrote highly erudite, well-received works on writers (e.g., Shakespeare, Pushkin, Turgenev); he also published reference works, including a Dictionary of Writers (to which Soloviev contributed), and was section editor of the history of literature for the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary. Yanzhul, Ivan I. (1846–1914): An economist and expert on financial law, he published widely on topics such as foreign trade, British political economy, and Russian factories, helping to reform labor law; he also contributed to the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary.

Editor-Translator’s Annotations INTRODUCTION   1. Soloviev’s name has been transliterated from the Cyrillic in various ways. Here and throughout I have taken the author’s cue from his French and English correspondence, in which he settled on the spelling “Vladimir Soloviev” (or at times “Vlad. Soloviev”). On aspects of Soloviev’s character and thought appearing in the three Karamazov brothers, see, for example, William J. Leatherbarrow, Dostoyevsky: The Brothers Karamazov (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 45–52; and Marina Kostalevsky, Dostoevsky and Soloviev: The Art of Integral Vision (New ­Haven: Yale University Press, 1997), 53–56, 66, 75, 120.   2. Soloviev’s posthumously collected works were not considered “complete” (Polnoe sobranie sochinenii) in part due to the complications of gathering under one cover the vast number of his essays and reviews, which appeared in various journals and newspapers. The first project appeared simply as “Collected Works” in the eight-volume Sobranie sochinenii Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva (hereafter, SsVSS) (St. Petersburg: Obshchestvennaia pol´za, 1901–1903), later ­issued in an expanded edition of ten volumes, ed. Sergei M. Solov´ev and Ernest L. Radlov (St. Petersburg: Prosveshchenie, 1911–1914). His letters appeared separately as Pis´ma Vladimir Sergeevicha Solov´eva (hereafter, PVSS), ed. E. L. Radlov, 3 vols. (St. Petersburg, 1908–1911), with a fourth volume added later and titled Vl. Solov´ev: Pis´ma (hereafter, VSP), ed. E. L. Radlov (Petrograd: Vremia, 1923).  3. A lengthy obituary added the titles of theologian, critic, and historian. See “Vladimir Sergeevich Soloviev,✝31 July 1900,” Vestnik Evropy, no. 9 (1900): 401–20.   4. From a Vatican Angelus message by John Paul II dated 30 July 2000, identifying him as a “twentieth-century” thinker (ZENIT International News Agency, Castel Gandolfo, 1 August 2000).   5. See the letter to M. M. Stasiulevich, dated 2 June 1892, in M. M. Stasiulevich i ego sovremenniki v ikh perepiske (hereafter, MMSp) (St. Petersburg, 1913) 5:366–67

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations (reprinted in VSP, 58–59); and Vasily I. Velichko, Vladimir Solov´ev: Zhizn´ i tvoreniia (St. Petersburg, 1903), 162.   6. Soloviev’s health problems included chronic hives and eczema, persistent insomnia, neurasthenia and neuralgia, poor nutrition, cyclical total incapacitation from hemorrhoids, rectal prolapse, ophthalmia threatening blindness, numerous rounds of influenza (including during the 1889–1890 Asiatic pandemic), diphtheria, typhus, enlargement of the liver, irritation of the internal membrane of the heart, hardening of second-degree arteries, nerve disorder/falling sickness, arterial sclerosis, cirrhosis of the liver, and uremia.  7. Perepiska L. N. Tolstogo s N. N. Strakhovym [1870–1894] (St. Petersburg, 1914), 56–57.   8. This “Epitaph,” dated 5 June 1892, appears in a letter to E. L. Radlov, PVSS, 1:246; also in letters to S. A. Vengerov, dated 12 July 1892, PVSS, 2:321; to V. L. Velichko, also dated 12 July 1892, PVSS, 1:198; and to M. M. Stasiulevich, dated 6 Sept. 1892, MMSp, 368. Text: Epitafiia: Vladimir Solov´ev lezhit na meste etom;/ Sperva byl filosof, a nyne stal shkeletom./ Inym liubezen byv, on mnogim byl i vrag;/ No, bez uma liubiv, sam vvergnulsia v ovrag./ On dushu poterial, ne govoria o tele:/ Ee diavol vzial, ego-zh sobaki s´eli./ Prokhozhii! nauchis´ iz etogo primera,/ Skol´ pagubna ­liubov´ i skol´ polezna vera.   9. Radlov cited the comment in Latin: “anima candida, pia ac vere sancta est” (PVSS, 1:iii). 10. See the entries dated 11 April [1884] and 19 March [1889] in L. N. Tolstoi, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, 90 vols. (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel´stvo khudozhestvennoi literatury, 1935–1958), 49:81 and 50:54. 11. “The eternal feminine”: from the last line in a section of Goethe’s Faust, I (12104– 111), “Das Ewig Weibliche … zieht uns [hin]an”: “the eternal feminine beckons us onward”; also the title of a rather long poem by Soloviev, dated 8–11 April 1898. See Stikhotvoreniia Vladimira Solov´eva, 5th ed. (Moscow: S. M. Solov´ev, 1910), 154–56. 12. Sophia Petrovna Khitrovo (née Bakhmeteva, 1848–1910): ostensibly the niece but actually the love child of Sophia A. (also née Bakhmeteva), born fifteen years before the latter wed the writer Count Alexei Tolstoy (1817–1875). Mikhail A. Khitrovo, Tolstoy’s good friend (and a cousin of the Sophias), married Sophia P. in 1868. Several years and children later, however, the two agreed to lead separate lives. Sophia Petrovna was believed to have been Soloviev’s “great love.” See Konstantin Mochulsky, Vladimir Solov´ev: Zhizn´ i uchenie (Paris, 1936), 77–78, 150–53, 180. 13. SsVSS, 2:130–32; also “La Question Sociale en Europe,” in Politics, Law, and ­Morality: Essays by V. S. Soloviev, ed. and trans. V. Wozniuk (New Haven: Yale ­University Press, 2000), 32–33. 14. See Vladimir Wozniuk, “V. S. Soloviev and the Politics of Human Rights,” Journal of Church and State 41 (Winter 1999): 33–34; “On Counterfeits,” in Freedom,

Annotations to Introduction Faith, and Dogma: Essays on Christianity and Judaism by V. S. Soloviev, ed. and trans. V. Wozniuk (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2009), 157. 15. “Mnimyia i deistvitel´nyia mery k pod˝emu narodnago blagosostoianiia,” in SvSS, 5:430–31. 16. See E. N. Trubetskoi, Mirosozertanie Vl. S. Solov´eva (Moscow, 1914), 2:1–12, esp. 8–9. 17. The National Farm School, founded by Krauskopf in 1896 near Doylestown, Pennsylvania, has survived to the present (as Delaware Valley University). See Joseph Krauskopf, My Visit to Tolstoy: Five Discourses (Philadelphia, 1911), 1–6, 21–22. 18. See “Pis´mo k V. S. Solov´evu,” 7 August 1894, in Tolstoi, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, 67: 185. 19. Krauskopf, My Visit to Tolstoy, 6–7. “Ethics of the Talmud” probably refers to Soloviev’s article “Talmud i noveishaia polemicheskaia literatura o nem v Avstrii i Germanii,” Russkoe obozrenie, no. 6 (1886); also SsVSS, 6:1–29; translated as “The Talmud and Recent Polemical Literature Concerning It in Austria and Germany,” in Wozniuk, Freedom, Faith, and Dogma, 121–46. 20. The poem first appeared, dated 24 June 1900, in Vestnik Evropy in September 1900. A long necrology by Soloviev’s friend S. N. Trubetskoy, “Smert´ V. S. Solov´eva, 31 iiulia 1900,” dated 12 August 1900, was included in the same issue. For both, see Vestnik Evropy, no. 9 (1900): 316, 412–20. The poem may also be found in Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed (1910), 184–85: Drakon (Zigfridu). Iz-za krugov nebes nezrimykh/ Drakon iavil svoe chelo,— / I mgloiu bed neotrazimykh/ Griadushchii den´ zavoloklo./ Uzhel´ ne smolknut likovan´ia/ I miru vechnomu khvala,/ Bespechnyi smekh i vosklitsan´ia: “Zhizn´ khorosha i net v nei zla!”/ Naslednik mechenosnoi rati!/ Ty veren znameni kresta,/ Khristov ogon´ v tvoem bulate,/ I rech´ grozashchaia—­ sviata./ Polno liubov´iu Bozh´e lono,/ Ono zovet nas vsekh ravno …/ No pered pastiu drakona/ Ty ponial: krest i mech—odno. 21. See 1 John 2:18 and 4:3; and 2 Thessalonians 2:3–12, depicting a “lawless man” who will come in the last days. The image may have been drawn from Nietzsche’s unspecified “Mensch der Zukunft,” the Redeemer-hero Antichrist, “who will ­deliver us” and “make the earth free once more and restore its purpose to it, and to man his hope” (Friedrich Nietzsche, “Zur Genealogie der Moral,” in Werke [­Munich: Carl Hanser Verlag, 1966], 2:836–37). 22. “Pan-Mongolism” (1899), in Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 184–85; translated in Wozniuk, Politics, Law, and Morality, 294. 23. See “The Talmud,” in Wozniuk, Freedom, Faith, and Dogma, 121–46. 24. See S. Trubetskoi, “Smert´ V. S. Solov´eva,” 413–15; also V. S. Solov´ev, “Kitai i Evropa,” SsVSS, 6:84–137, translated as “China and Europe,” in Enemies from the East? V. S. Soloviev on Paganism, Asian Civilizations, and Islam, ed. and trans. V. Wozniuk (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2007), 77–79. 25. Trubetskoi, “Smert´ V. S. Solov´eva.”

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations 26. See Radlov’s comments in PVSS, 1:v. 27. Ibid, 1:iv. 28. Radlov admitted to taking a few liberties with the handwritten originals here and there, completely omitting phrases in places (ibid, 1:v).

1871–1873   1. In his self-referential short story “At the Dawn of Nebulous Youth …,” Soloviev writes in terms similar to those found here and in a number of other letters to Katya. See his “Na zare tumannoi iunosti …,” Russkaia mysl´ (May 1892), reprinted in PVSS, 3:285–86. This rasskaz was published at the same time that he began working on the essays that constitute The Meaning of Love (Smysl liubvi), published serially, 1892–1894.   2. “About the ‘subjection’ of women,” o “podchinennosti” zhenshchin: perhaps a reference to John S. Mill’s well-known essay “The Subjection of Women” (1869). Soloviev also refers to the journey “from Moscow to Kharkov,” undertaken at the age of nineteen, and to the topic of women’s “emancipation” in his short story “Na zare tumannoi iunosti.” See PVSS, 3:283, 293.   3. “Faithful wife and virtuous mother,” vernaia supruga i dobrodetel´naia mat´: from Alexander Pushkin’s Evgenii Onegin, canto 31, “Tatiana’s Letter to Onegin.”  4. Priroda s krasotoi svoei/ Pokrova sniat´ ne pozvoliaet,/ I ty mashinami ne vynudish´ u nei,/ Chego tvoi dukh ne ugadaet.   5. Riots had broken out against the police in Kharkov. See N. D. Gradovskii, Otnosheniia k evreiam v drevnei i sovremennoi Rusi (St. Petersburg, 1891), 497; and John Klier, Russians, Jews, and the Pogroms of 1881–1882 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 75–76.   6. Yuri F. Samarin (1819–1876): Slavophile writer, best known for his harsh critique of Jesuits. See his Iezuity i ikh otnoshenie k Rossii: Pis´ma k iezuitu Martynovu, 2nd ed. (Moscow, 1868). Radlov’s footnote: an Alexander D. Schumakher (1855– 1917) later served in the State Duma.  7. Ludwig Büchner (1824–1899): physician/philosopher, whose works include Kraft und Stoff (Force and matter, 1855) and Nature and Spirit (1857); he argued for materialist utilitarianism. Karl Vogt (1817–1895): author of Kohlerglaube und Wissenschaft (translated as Blind Faith and Science [1854]). Vogt famously proclaimed “the brain secretes thought as the liver secretes bile.” See F. C. Copleston, A History of Philosophy: 18th- and 19th-Century German Philosophy (New York: Continuum, 1963/2003), 7:352–53.   8. This brief note seems to have been written hastily and with evident frustration regarding Katya’s waning attention.   9. “Words of Bacon,” slova Bekona: Francis Bacon (1561–1626): founder of the scientific method, from his essay “Of Atheism.” Precisely: “It is true, that a little

1874–1876 p­ hilosophy inclineth man’s mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men’s minds about to religion.” 10. See Acts 17:27–28. 11. See John 4:42. 12. “Papa”: Sergei Mikhailovich Soloviev (1820–1879), highly regarded historian and author of the twenty-nine-volume History of Russia since Ancient Times [Istoriia Rossii s drevneishikh vremen]. 13. “Neskuchnoe”: a garden park by the Moscow River. Concerning Dostoevsky’s impact on Soloviev’s thought at this time, see Kostalevsky, Dostoevsky and Soloviev, 49–52. 14. “Wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove,” mudr aki zmii, i ne zlobliv aki golub: partial paraphrase in Old Russian of Jesus’s words to his disciples in Matthew 10:16. 15. “I do not believe in the devil,” ia ne veriu v chorta: see Soloviev’s short story “Na zare tumannoi iunosti,” in PVSS, 3:293. 16. “For they know not what they do,” ne vedaiut bo, chto tvoriat: partial citation of Luke 23:34 in Old Church Slavonic. 17. “Go into the world,” idti v mir: from Jesus’s command to his disciples in Mark 16:15. 18. “Divine madness is more intelligent than human wisdom,” bezumnoe Bozhie umnee mudrosti chelovecheskoi: loose paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 1:25. 19. Za dniami dni obychnoi cheredoi/ Idut—a ia pis´ma ne poluchaiu,/ Drugim zhe pishesh´ ty … Chto sdelalos´ s toboi?/ I etogo sovsem, moi drug, ne ponimaiu. 20. “Stundist sect,” sekte shtundistov (from German Stunde): Christian sect gathering in prayer meetings, primarily in southern Russia. “Lamenters” (vozdykhaiushchikh): see Ezekiel 9:4. 21. “Trinity,” Troitsy: Trinity Monastery of St. Sergius, Troitse-Sergieva lavra. 22. “From which even if you gallop three years—you won’t get to any state,” Ot kotorogo khot´ tri goda skachi—ni do kakogo gosudarstva ne doskachesh´: N. Gogol, Inspector General [Revizor], Act I, scene 1. 23. Ivan Alexandrovich Khlestakov (of Petersburg): see Gogol’s Inspector General, Act I, scene 1. 24. The first came out as “Mifologicheskii protsess v drevnem iazichestve” (Pravoslavnoe obozrenie, November 1873); translated as “The Mythological Process in Ancient Paganism,” in Wozniuk, Enemies from the East?, 3–23. 25. F. M. Dostoevskii, Materialy i issledovaniia (St. Petersburg: Nauka, 1992), 10:202. Of the four surviving (brief) letters of Soloviev to Dostoevsky in Materialy, this one may be the most informative, suggesting a transition to a new phase in his life, especially since he had become acquainted with Dostoevsky personally only some months prior.

1874–1876   1. Christian Wolff (1679–1754): the rationalist philosopher whose systematized approach and terminology the idealist Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) followed.

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations   2. At issue are the overlapping time frames of the Dutch-born Jewish philosopher Baruch Spinoza (1632–1677) and the French philosopher and father of analytic geometry René Descartes (1596–1650), who lived in Holland for a time.   3. “The Unknowable,” nepoznavaemyi: Herbert Spencer (1820–1903)—­philosopher, sociologist, and liberal political theorist—maintained that the substance of phenomena, and thus reality itself, would forever remain “unknowable.” See Part I of his First Principles (London, 1870).   4. “Unknowability”: harking back to Herbert Spencer’s First Principles. See above.   5. Pamfil D. Yurkevich (1827–1874): influential professor at Moscow University, a philosophical idealist who considered Leibnitz, Swedenborg, and Boehme as ­philosophy’s last representatives.  6. I skuchno i grustno: from Mikhail I. Lermontov, who died in a duel (1840). Soloviev later wrote about Lermontov as a predecessor of Nietzsche; neither did love of Pushkin (who also died in a duel) prevent him criticizing that poet’s cult. See his “Lermontov” and “Sud´ba Pushkina,” in SsVSS, 8:26–53 and 387–404; translated in The Heart of Reality: Essays on Beauty, Love, and Ethics by V. S. Soloviev, ed. and trans. V. Wozniuk (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2003), 145–70 and 179–97.   7. “Das Ewig Weibliche … zieht uns [hin]an.” See my introduction.   8. “In the 7382nd summer since the creation of the world …,” V leto ot sotvoreniia mira 7382-e: language and syntax here seem reminiscent of an ancient or medieval text.   9. Matvei M. Troitsky (1835–1899): major force in founding the Moscow Psychological Society. 10. A. N. Aksakov, Psychische Studien: Monatliche Zeitschrift vorzüglich der Untersuchung der wenig gekannten Phänomene des Seelenlebens gewidmet (Leipzig: Muntze, 1874). 11. Eduard von Hartmann (1842–1906): author of Philosophy of the Unconscious, 3 vols. (1869). 12. Konstantin D. Kavelin (1818–1885): legal scholar who wrote on ethics and human rights. 13. Adam Mickiewicz (1798–1855): Soloviev later offered more on the Polish national poet, one of his favorites: see his “Na motiv iz Mitskievicha,” in Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 39; and a lecture, “Mitskievich” (1898), in SsVSS 8:302–9, translated in Wozniuk, Heart of Reality, 171–78. 14. Kol´ obmanulsia ty v liubvi—/Skorei opiat´ vliubis´,/ A luchshe—posokh svoi voz´mi/ I stranstvovat´ pustis´. Uvidish gory i moria/ I novyi byt´ liudskoi (liudei?),/ I shumnaia zaleet volna/ Ogon´ liubvi byloi (tvoei?). Orla uslyshis´ moshchnyi krik/ Vysoko v nebesakh/ I pozabudesh´ o svoikh—/O malen´kikh skorbiakh. 15. “Our Maiden’s [field],” nashe devich´e: historic walkabout in the heart of Moscow. Compare this positive assessment with Dostoevsky’s dark view of London thirteen years earlier, in his Winter Notes on Summer Impressions.

1874–1876 16. Maxim M. Kovalevsky (1851–1916): scion of Ukrainian nobility, legal scholar, and sociologist who taught at Moscow University. W. R. S. Ralston (1828–1889): cataloguer at the British Library and author/translator of a number of works on Russia, including Russian Folk-Tales (New York: R. Worthington, 1880). Mikhail N. Kapustin (1828–1899): scholar in public law and the theory of rights. Either Olga Novikova (a misprint) or her son Alexander Novikov. 17. Soloviev expanded on the “ideal” of the British Museum in his later autobiographical poem “Tri svidaniia” (Three meetings, 1898) concerning this period and his visions of Sophia/Wisdom: Ne sveta tsentr, Parizh, ne krai ispanskii,/ Ne iarkii blesk vostochnoi pestroty,—/ Moei mechtoiu byl Muzei Britanskii,/ I on ne obmanul moei mechty. See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 166. 18. John King’s fame in “float[ing] about all around and up to the ceiling” spread far beyond London. See “Spiritualism Exposed,” American Spiritual Magazine 3, no. 7 (1877): 212–13.    William Crookes (1832–1919): pioneering engineer of vacuum tubes, Fellow of the Royal Society (FRS, 1863), known better today for his “radiometer”; he suffered from poor eyesight. The scientific credentials of people like Crookes and A. R. Wallace (FRS, 1893) surely helped promote mediums such as D. D. Home and Kate Fox. (See below.) These mediums merited mention in “Tri svidaniia”: Zhal´, v svoi razmer ia vlozhit´ ne sumeiu/ Ikh imena, ne chuzhdyia molvy …/ Skazhu: dva-tri britanskikh chudodeia/ Da dva il´ tri dotsenta iz Moskvy. See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 167. 19. Probably Vladimir P. Meshchersky (1839–1914): a minor novelist, playwright, and social commentator who published (along with Dostoevsky) the archconservative, and then antisemitic, biweekly The Citizen, which would later regularly attack Soloviev, accusing him of various evils, including apostasy. For Dostoevsky’s praise of Meshchersky in 1873, see F. M. Dostoievsky, The Diary of a Writer, trans. Boris Brasol (Salt Lake City: Gibbs M. Smith, 1985), 1–2. Soloviev’s concern about this reply to Meshchersky was such that he mentioned it to his mother, checking on his father’s fulfillment of the request. See the letter to his mother dated 17/29 September 1875 in VSP, 141, not reproduced here. “The content of the museum … all alone in London,” soderzhimoe muzeia … pochti odin v Londone: remembered poetically in “Tri svidaniia”—Vse zh bol´she ia odin v chital´nom zale. See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 167. 20. Soloviev had eleven siblings, two of them brothers, the elder Vsevolod (1849– 1903: perhaps best known as a writer of historical novellas and essays) and the younger Mikhail (1862–1903). See my introduction. 21. Count Alexei K. Tolstoy: poet and prose writer who died suddenly on 10 October (28 September), heart failure indicated; but rumor had it as the result of a self-­ administered overdose of morphine. 22. Allan Kardec (1804–1869): author of Qu’est-ce que le Spiritisme? (1859), a “science” of the relationship between the world of the living and the world of the dead, reincarnation.

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations 23. Daniel D. Home (1833–1886): pronounced “Hume,” Soloviev transliterated it as “Ium˝.” A so-called “physical” medium, known for “conjuring” of sounds and images. See A. R. Wallace, “A Defence of Modern Spiritualism,” The Eclectic Magazine 20 (August 1874): 148–60 and (September 1874): 348–62 (reprint, Fortnightly Review), esp. 149–57. Home soon dedicated himself to “separat[ing] imposture and delusion from Spiritualism.” See “Mr. D. D. Home” (Letter), American Spiritual Magazine 3, no. 1 (1877): 27. 24. “Given up ‘the foggy shore of Albion’,” pokinul ‘bereg tumannyi Albiona’: slightly altered version of the first line from the 1814 poem by Konstantin N. Batiushkov (1787–1855). 25. Ivan M. Lex (1834–1883): diplomat assigned to Egypt 1868–1877 and 1878–1883.    General R. A. Fadeev (1824–1883): military consultant who took part in the Slavonic Benevolent Committee, whose members included Dostoevsky, M. N. Katkov, and N. I. Danilevsky. The “hotel” was identified in “Tri svidaniia”—Otel´ “Abbat,”—ego uzh net, uvy!—/ Uiutnyi, skromnyi, luchshyi v tselom mire … / Tam byli russkie, i dazhe iz Moskvy. See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 169. 26. The reason for “withdrawing” to the desert appears in “Tri svidaniia” as the nocturnal voice of Sophia/Wisdom: “V pustyne ia—idi tuda za mnoi.” See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 169. Interestingly, Soloviev did not again mention learning or reading ­Arabic; much later his historical sketch of Mohammed (1896) drew primarily from non-Arabic sources. 27. Soloviev frequently made reference to various of his siblings. See above. 28. “Nearly killed by Bedouins,” chut´ ne byl ubit beduanami: Several stanzas in “Tri svidaniia” are devoted to that encounter and his subsequent vision of Sophia/Wisdom, which he kept to himself (Ia fakty raskazal, videnie skryv). See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 170–72. 29. “Work of a mystical-theosophical- …,”nekotoroe proizvedenie mistiko-teosofo-­ filosofo teurgo-politicheskago soderzhaniia i dialogicheskoi formy: one of Soloviev’s biographers speculated that the original project did not survive in “dialogue form” but was split in two—Philosophical Foundations of Integral Knowledge and La Russie et l’Église universelle (Mochulsky, Vladimir Soloviev, 70–71). Neither meets all the criteria implied. Alternately, one could speculate that this passing reference was to an embryonic idea later shelved (he injured his hand in Sorrento, see below), then much later revived as the dialogue “Three Conversations on War, Progress, and the End of Universal History, with a Brief Tale about the Antichrist” (1900). 30. “I lay four days motionless …” The horseback misadventure is also recounted to D. N. Tsertelev in two brief notes, dated 20 and 27 April, not reproduced here. See PVSS, 2:231, 232. 31. “Priapus”: wealthy Romans at times displayed crude human-shaped garden carvings (from tree trunks) sporting a “huge phallus that could at need be used as a

1877–1881 cudgel against robbers.” See Priapeia, trans. Leonard C. Smithers and Sir Richard Burton (London, 1890). 32. Ernst Renan (1823–1892): French religious philosopher, best known for his Life of Jesus (New York: Carleton, 1864) and History of Israel, 5 vols. (Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1892).

1877–1881   1. Sergei A. Yuriev (1821–1888): literary scholar, especially of drama; he translated Shakespeare, taught German literature at the Higher Women’s Courses, and founded the journal Russkaia mysl´.   2. Hagia Sophia,” Tsar´gradskoi Sofii: Constantinople’s cathedral (Istanbul’s mosque/ museum).   3. Shpalernaya: a wide St. Petersburg boulevard where many famous people resided.   4 Krasny Rog: in the Briansk region, A. K. Tolstoy’s birthplace as well as family estate.   5. “Die göttlich Sophia,” divine Sophia or Wisdom: a biblical source may be found in Proverbs 8:1–9:18; here perhaps a double implication: Sophia Petrovna. See my introduction.   6. Regarding the “Eastern Question” and the brief Russo-Turkish War of 1877.   7. “Easter and a part of Thomas Week,” Sviatuiu i chast´ Fominoi: Octave Day in the West, feast day of St. Thomas according to the Orthodox calendar the week after Easter, also known as Antipaskha. “Slavic Bazaar,” Slavianskii bazar: a hotel/restaurant in Moscow.   8. As a student Soloviev began to write light-hearted verse, some of it in the tradition of Koz´ma Prutkov—a collective pen name of A. K. Tolstoy and the Zhemchuzhnikov brothers.   9. Mikhail N. Katkov (1818–1887): editor of Moscow Gazette, Russian Messenger, and the Journal of the Ministry of Public Education (1871–1883); after 1883, officer of the State Censorship Committee and a leading reactionary. 10. Johann Georg Gichtel (1638–1710): a German mystic known for visions, Gichtel adopted the theosophical teaching of Jacob Boehme. Gottfried Arnold (1666– 1714): author of Das Greheimniss der göttlichen Sophia (1700). John Pordage (1607–1681): English Boehmenist, mystic in theosophy and alchemy. 11. Paracelsus [Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus Von Hohenheimthe] (1492–1541): mystic, physician, and alchemist, also acknowledged as the first toxicologist. Jacob Boehme (1575–1624): mystic, author of the influential Aurora (ca. 1612–1620). Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772): author of The Doctrine of Faith of the New Jerusalem. 12. “Neither conjecture, nor the mind, but madness and luck can lead you to that country!,” Tut razschet nikakoi ne pomozhet—Ni dogadka, ni um, no bezume v tot

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations krai, no udacha privest tebia mozhet!: Slight variants from the second stanza of a poem by the countess’s late husband A. K. Tolstoy, “Temnota i tuman zastilaiut mne put´” (Darkness and fog cover my path [1870]). 13. “Nightingales … nightingales,” solov´ev … solov´i: wordplay on the author’s name. 14. “Gul rastet kak v spiashchem more/ Pered burei rakovoi—/ Vskore, vskore, v brannom spore/ Zakipit ves´ mir zemnoi …”: lines by A. S. Khomiakov (1804–1860) from the poem “Pomnish´ po steze nagornoi …” (Recall over the mountainous path [1859]). 15. “Galatz [Galaţi]”: large town on the Danube in the region of Moldova. The crossing took place on 14 June. 16. Kolebletsia volia liudei, chto volna,/ No est´ neizmennaia volia sviataia./ Prevyshe vremen i prostranstva—odna/ Krasoiu siiaet ideia zhivaia,/ I v vechnoi trevoge odin nedvizhim/ Dukh moshchnyi vse dvizhet pokoem svoim. 17. “To foolishness, laziness, and passions,” bezumstvu, leni, i strastiam: a line from a Pushkin poem of 1828, assumed to have beeen directed at Metropolitan Philaret. “Lamp of Epictetus,” lampadoiu Epikteta: see The Golden Sayings, Section 1: XI–XII. 18. Dmitry Tzerteleff, “Schopenhauer’s Erkenntniss-Theorie.” Inaugural-Dissertation zur Erlangung der philosoph. Doctorwurde der Philosoph. Facultat der Universitat Leipzig (1879). 19. In John 18:38, Pontius Pilate famously asked Jesus, “What is truth?” 20. “Rezignatsiia Mudrogo”: Ne govori: zachem tsvety uviali?/ Zachem tak v nebe sero i temno?/ Zachem gliadit´ ispolnennyi pechali/ Poblekshii sad k nam v tuskloe okno? Ne govori: zachem v doline griazno?/ Zachem tak skol´zko pod krutoi goroi?/ Zachem gudit i voet neotviazno/ Osennyi veter pozdneiu poroi? Ne govori: zachem pod lad prirody/ Tvoia podruga zlitsia i vorchit?/ Slova bezplodny: mudryi v chas nevzgody/ P´et s romom chai i s vazhnost´iu molchit. 21. “The inconstant general …,” Ne otlichilsia v zharkom dele/ Nepostoiannyi general: from an obscene eight-line Pushkin epigram (1817) about a General Orlov and a famed ballerina. 22. Mikhail I. Vladislavlev (1840–1890): professor of philosophy, translator of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason; author of the two-volume Psikhologiia (St. Petersburg, 1881). Henrykh E. Struve (1840–1912): professor of philosophy (logic) at Warsaw who wrote on Shakespeare’s Hamlet, as well as on Nietzsche and on spiritual phenomena. Fr. Petr A. Preobrazhensky (1828–1893): Orthodox priest, founder of the Orthodox Review. 23. A. A. Fet translated both parts of Goethe’s Faust (1882, 1888). 24. “Finnish Sodom,” Chukhonskii Sodom: the term Chukhonets (m.) referred to a nonurban Finn. The adjective chukhonskii acquired two distinct meanings: (1) ­referring to a “parrot,” and (2) used as a curse word. Neither fully explains Soloviev’s later partiality for his Finnish muse Chukhonka (f.)—alternatively, a “little country girl.” See Vladimir Dal´, Tolkovyi slovar´.

1882–1885 25. See P. E. Shchegelov, “Sobytye 1 marta 1881 i Vladimir Solov´ev: Novye dokumenty,” Byloe, nos. 10 and 11 (May 1918): 330–36. Reprinted in VSP, 142–43. 26. Ibid. Reprinted in VSP, 149–50. 27. Citing health problems, Soloviev apparently asked to be released from his duties at the ministry in early October. The request was granted in early November. 28. “‘Salary’ received … content of life,” poluchaemoe “soderzhanie” … soderzhaniia zhizni: obvious wordplay in Russian. 29. Alexander I. Georgievsky (1830–1911): leading voice for classical education, editor of the Journal of the Ministry of Public Education (1866–1881) and then chair of its council.

1882–1885   1. “The resurrection of the dead and the life of the age to come”: see the Nicene Creed. “God is everything in everyone,” Bog est´ vse vo vsekh: the biblical basis of Soloviev’s expression of vseedinstvo, “all-unity” or “unity-of-everything.” See 1 Corinthians 15:28; Ephesians 1:10, 4:6; and Colossians 3:11, 14.   2. Use of the term psikhokratiia or “psychocracy,” implies the quest for eupsychia— the good or ideal society.   3. “Darwin”: the British naturalist stood as a paragon for the young Soloviev prior to his turn to Christianity. Within two years after this letter, he began to see Charles Darwin in a different light. See “Liubov´ k narodu i russkii narodnyi ideal (Otkrytoe pis´mo k I. S. Aksakovu) 1884,” in Natsional´nyi vopros v Rossii (1), reprinted in SsVSS, 5:39. Soloviev would later praise and even embrace Darwin’s ideas, as in the essay “Krasota v prirode,” Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii, no. 1 (1889): 1–50; reprinted in SsVSS, 6:30–68 and translated as “Beauty in Nature,” in Wozniuk, Heart of Reality, 29–66.   4. “In which all the fullness of the Deity lives bodily,” v kotorom vsia polnota Bozhestva obitaet telesno: a slightly revised wording of Colossians 2:9.   5. See 1 John 4:8; and 1 Corinthians 13:1–13.   6. “Lectures on Godmanhood [or Divine Humanity]”: Chteniia o Bogochelovechestve, published serially in Pravoslavnoe obozrenie (1879–1881). “Idea [and] … the incarnate ideal of beauty”: Soloviev later developed the theme in the two essays “Beauty in Nature” (Krasota v prirode [1889]) and “The Universal Meaning of Art” (Obshchii smysl iskusstva [1890]), both translated in Wozniuk, Heart of ­Reality, 29–81.   7. Lazar B. Hellenbach (1827–1887): Austrian (Czech) psychologist with an estate in Croatia; he was sympathetic to both spiritualism and socialism. The work’s title: Der Individualismus im Lichte der Biologie und Philosophie der Gegenwart (Vienna: W. Braumuller, 1878). Two books appeared in Russian: Individualizm v svete biologii i sovremennoi filosofii (St. Petersburg: A. N. Aksakov, 1884); and Chelovek,

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations ego sushchnost´ i naznachenie s tochki zreniia individualizma (St. Petersburg: A. N. Aksakov, 1885).   8. E. P. Blavatsky: Soloviev later wrote a negative, if polite, review of all attempts to “Westernize” Eastern teachings, including Blavatsky’s. His brother Vsevolod considered Mme Blavatsky’s activities fraudulent. See Vsevolod S. Solovyoff, A Modern Priestess of Isis, trans. W. Leaf (London: Longmans, 1895).   9. See “Perepiska Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva s Ivanom Sergeevichom Aksakovym,” Russkaia mysl´, no. 12 (1913): 73–90. 10. “If somebody’s neck hurts, don’t rub their heels,” U kogo bolit zatylok, tem uzh piatki ne cheshi: from the fable “Piatki nekstati,” Sovremennik, no. 3 (1854): 36. 11. “Like a pagan or publican,” iako iazichnik i mytar´: Matthew 18:17 in Church Slavonic. 12. Alexander M. Ivantsov-Platonov (1835–1894): archpriest, professor of church history in Moscow, author of works on papal power, including Svetskaia vlast´ papy (1868). 13. See “Perepiska Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva s Ivanom Sergeevichom Aksakovym.” 14. Konstantin N. Pobedonostsev (1827–1907): ober-procurator (state-appointed secular supervisor) of the Holy Synod of the Russian Orthodox Church and a notable reactionary. 15. “Application … change,” primenenie … peremenit´sia: suggesting a pun. 16. See “Perepiska Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva s Ivanom Sergeevichom Aksakovym.” 17. “But denunciation does not ease, and enmity does not heal,” No oblichenie ne oblegchaet, i vrazhda ne vrachuet: alliterative wordplay. 18. “By their fruits you will recognize them,” po plodam ikh uznaete ikh: Matthew 7:16, 20. 19. This is with respect to the fourth article in the series “The Great Debate and Christian Politics” (Velikii spor i khristianskaia politika), published in Aksakov’s journal Rus´. See SsVSS, 4:44–56. 20. “Kutuzov”: perhaps Arseny A. Golenishchev-Kutuzov (1848–1900), poet and later figure in finance and banking. Soloviev did mention the lack of a review for Fet’s 1881 work to Strakhov later in April, just after Easter. See the letter to Strakhov, PVSS, 1:15, not reproduced here. 21. The first four lines derive from M. N. Lermontov’s poem “Valerik,” beginning at line 220 with “I thought: pitiable man./ What does he want …” (Ia dumal: zhalkii chelovek./ Chego on khochet …). The last line seems to be a variant or addition. 22. Ne zhdi menia, ne zhdi naprasno!: commonly sung lines. 23. Hellenbach, Individualismus: see above. For Soloviev’s long foreword, see “Na puti k istinnoi filosofii,” in SsVSS, 3 255–69. 24. “Your cousin … with his archpriest”: probably I. S. Aksakov and A. M. Ivantsov-­ Platonov.

1882–1885 25. Alexander M. Butlerov (1828–1886): physicist/chemist, leader of spiritism’s “fervent adherents” at St. Petersburg University in 1875. See N. Strakhov, O vechnykh istinnakh (moi spor o spiritizme) (St. Petersburg, 1887), esp. v–vii. 26. See “Perepiska Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva s Ivanom Sergeevichom Aksakovym.” 27. Boris N. Chicherin (1828–1904): highly regarded liberal secular writer on law, philosophy and contemporary affairs, a cordial opponent of Soloviev regarding mysticism and religion. 28. According to Soloviev’s nephew, this was Mikhail I. Khitrov, teacher at the Sixth Lycée and later priest, as well as domestic tutor of the philosopher’s younger brother Misha. 29. “Once bitten, twice shy,” Pugannaia vorona kusta boitsia: literally translated—“a frightened crow is scared of a bush.” 30. See “Perepiska Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva s Ivanom Sergeevichom Aksakovym.” 31. Punning on arkhimedik-Archimedes and Sergei P. Botkin (1832–1889) continues in the footnote. Botkin was a physician of some renown. See Dr. Frank Clemow, “Russia and the Cholera,” Anglo-Russian Literary Society: Proceedings (6 March 1894): 29. 32. See “Perepiska Vladimira Sergeevicha Solov´eva s Ivanom Sergeevichom Aksakovym.” 33. “Universal Primate … banner or symbol”: for Soloviev’s application of this idea nearly verbatim, see “A Brief Tale about the Antichrist” (Kratkaia povest´ ob antikhriste [1900]). 34. Dante Alighieri, De Monarchia. Tiutchev’s (anonymous) Slavophile perspective may be found in “La question romaine et la papauté,” Revue des deux mondes 1 (1850). 35. “Of our Old Catholics,” nashikh staro-katolikov: Kireev participated in the failed attempt to promote Orthodoxy in the West under this term. See “O tserkovnom voprose po povodu staro-katolikov [On the ecclesiastical question concerning the Old Catholics],” SsVSS, 4:111–19, translated in Wozniuk, Freedom, Faith, and Dogma, 33–41. “Infallibilitas … immaculata conceptio … filioque”: All in Latin script. Papal infallibility, long practiced in the West, was adopted by the Vatican Council in 1870, as was the Virgin Mary’s immaculate conception. Filioque refers to the addition of the phrase “and the son” to the creed by the Council of Toledo (589 AD), creating a dispute over the Holy Spirit’s source. 36. This culminated in the article “On Nationality and the National Affairs of R ­ ussia,” in Transactions of the Petersburg Slavic Society (“O narodnosti i narodnykh delakh Rossii,” Izvestiia Peterburgskago slavianskago obshchestva [February 1884]); ­appearing also in several editions of collected essays as The National Question in Russia (Natsional´nyi vopros v Rossii), 3rd ed. (St. Petersburg: M. M. Stasiulevich, 1891), 25–47.

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations 37. “Individualism”: see above. 38. “Evening Fires,” Vechernye ogni: A. A. Fet’s collection of poems. 39. Nikolai P. Vagner (or Wagner, 1829–1907): zoologist who became fascinated with seances and spiritism (ca. 1874); he also wrote fairy tales under the name “Kot Murlyk.” 40. Mikhail N. Ostrovsky (1827–1901), minister of state domains, active in financial reforms. Tertii Ivanovich Filippov (1825–1899): state controller, writer on Balkan affairs. S. A. Feoktistovaia: wife of E. M. Feoktistov (1829–1896), editor of the Journal of the Ministry of Public Education (1871–1883) who became chief administrator of the censorship. Pr. Elizaveta Volkonskaya (n. d): a Catholic sympathizer, later convert (1887). Dmitri I. Stakheev (1840–1918): friend to Strakhov, editor of various journals and author of numerous works, including the novel Nasledniki (The Heirs [1875]). 41. “A. G. Dostoevskaia … Basta!”: Soloviev’s estrangement from many of Dostoevsky’s ideas and positions—and the growing cult around him—became more apparent as he matured. 42. “Inter feces et urinas nascimur!” We are born among urine and feces: a saying sometimes attributed to St. Augustine. “Illic morari nefas,” it’s wrong to remain there. 43. “Medio tutissimus ibis”: the strange question appears to be for the pun of it, more apparent in Soloviev’s choice of words: Medium, o! bezopasneishii ibis. Strakhov was working on spiritism. But the phrase attributed to Horace is actually from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, to the effect that “the middle is the safest course” (Aristotle), re Daedalus: better for the bird (ibis) to walk the earth than to fly. The erroneous attribution to Horace was common, its likely source is Lord Byron, famous for his “carelessness” or “ignorance” in quoting. See Notes and Queries, 8:12 (London, 11 September 1897): 215; and Lord Byron, Don Juan, vi, 17. 44. “With the gilded inscription: collection of the unfinished (d’inachevé),” s pozolochennoi nadpis’iu: sbornik neokonchennago (d’inachevé). See Koz´ma Prutkov, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii Koz´my Prutkova s portretom, fac-simile i biograficheskimi svedeniiami (hereafter PssKP) (St. Petersburg, 1884), 26, 75. 45. A reference to the first of three addresses later published together as “Tri rechi v pamiat´ Dostoevskago,” SsVSS, 3:169–205, translated in Wozniuk, Heart of Reality, 1–28. 46. “A point of view and a little something,” vzgliad i nechto: from Alexander S. ­Griboedev, Woe from Wit (Gore ot uma [1824]), Act IV, scene 4—Repetilov to Chatsky concerning a prolific writer who “knows everything”: “Well, I’d have such people flogged,/ And keep repeating write, write, write!/ In journals you can, however, find/ An excerpt of his: A Point of View and a Little Something” (Vot etakikh liudei by sech´-to/I prigovarivat´ pisat´, pisat´, pisat´!/V zhurnalakh mozhesh´ ty, odnako, otyskat´/Ego otryvok: Vzgliad i Nechto).

1882–1885 47. Dmitri I. Mendeleev (1834–1907): professor of periodical table fame, drawn to spiritualism early on; later appointed as head of the Chemistry-Technology section for the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary. 48. Giovanni D. Mansi (1692–1769): Italian cleric and erudite theologian, later bishop of Lucca, credited with many annotated scholarly “folios.” 49. “Vorobievski-an and Pliushchikhinski-an,” Vorob´evskim i Pliushchikhinskim: both allusions to Afanasy A. Shenshin (Fet), the first being the place of his home and estate, the second being a region of Siberia, as well as another lesser known nom de plume of Fet. 50. F. A. Bredikhin (1831–1904): astronomer who made spectroscopic observations of the sun. 51. The poem “A. A. Fetu, 19 October 1884.” See Stikhotvoreniia, 37. 52. “Leviathan”: biblical beast from the ocean depths; see Job 41:1; Psalms 74:14; 104:26; and Isaiah 27:1. Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679) appropriated it as a title for his social contract, confirming the need for a king in society emerging from an originally chaotic State of Nature. “Melchizedek”: Abrahamic priest, king of Salem, mentioned in the New Testament as a priestly forerunner of Jesus. See Genesis 14:18; Psalms 110:4 (Russ: 109:4); and Hebrews 5:6–7:21. 53. Nikolai A. Nekrasov (1821–1877): Russian publisher and realist who voiced “the muse of vengeance and grief ”; he helped introduce Dostoevsky’s early work to the literary world. S. Vengerov believed he did more for “the apotheosis of women and mothers” than any other poet. “Poetu—Otstupniku (po prochtenii “Poslednykh Pesen” Nekrasova),” appearing untitled but dated “1884” in Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 35. 54. Yakov P. Polonsky (1820–1898): minor “Parnassian” poet who also served on the committee of foreign censorship; also a close friend of the poet A. A. Fet and Soloviev’s father. 55. Probably Johann Janssen (1829–1891): German Catholic priest, theologian, historian, known for his eight-volume work, Geschichte des deutschen Volks seit dem Mittelalter (1877–1894). 56. Perhaps Solomon Rubin (1823–1910): scholarly writer on Manicheanism and Gnosticism, among other topics; he held that Jewish culture influences other nations profoundly; authored the notable work Spinoza und Maiminodes (1869). Yosif Rabinovich (1837–1899): founder of a Jewish sect acknowledging Jesus as Messiah (Odessa, 1881, later Kishinev), and known as “New Israel.” See “Novozavetnyi Izrail´,” Rus´, nos. 24 and 25 (1885): also in SsVSS, 4:182–95; translated as “New Testament Israel” in Wozniuk, Freedom, Faith, and Dogma, 89–102. Perhaps Nikolai S. Leskov (1831–1895): a most “Russian” of writers, known for short ­stories. 57. Ernst Possart (1841–1921): famed German actor who appeared in Moscow and Petersburg; known for many roles, including Mephistopheles, Richard III, and

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations Hamlet. Sergei V. Flerov (1841–1901): journalist, contributor of musical reviews, feuilletons, and critical articles to Russian Messenger and Moscow Gazette. 58. I. Poetu—otstupniku. See above, letter of A. A. Fet dated 22 January 1885. The second poem appears to be an early variant of a poem included posthumously. See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 54. 59. Giliarovs: Alexei N. Giliarov (1855–1938), who studied philosophy at Moscow around the time that Soloviev did, was appointed to the faculty of Kiev University in 1887 and authored Znachenie filosofii (1888). Also his father Nikita P. ­Giliarov-Platonov (1824–1887), who studied theology, was affiliated with Slavophilism, and served on the Moscow Censorship Committee. 60. Protiazhenno—slozhennoe slovo/ I gnuslivo—kazennyi ukor/ Zamenili tiurmu i okovy,/ Dybu, srub i krovavyi topor./ No s priiatnym razlich´em v manere/ Sila ta zhe i tot zhe uspekh/ I v suguboi svershaetsia mere/ Nakazan´e za dvoistvennyi grekh. 61. Vladimir Ivanovich Lamansky (1833–1914): scholar of Slavic studies in St. ­Petersburg. 62. The poem of three quatrains appears in Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 57. 63. “On the fraternal-murderous war”: the brief Serbo-Bulgarian War of November 1885. 64. “‘Historical’ person—Nozdrev”: a serf owner known for deception in Gogol’s Dead Souls. 65. “Kº”: perhaps M. N. Katkov. 66. E. L. Radlov’s footnote directs the reader to Soloviev’s lengthy obituary of Francisco Rački (1829–1894), written soon after the Croatian priest died on 1/13 February 1894. 67. Djakovo: a Croatian town not far from the Serbian border. 68. “It is proper for us …”: Matthew 3:15 in Church Slavonic. 69. “I had many things to write …: 3 John 1:13–14 in Church Slavonic.

1886   1. From lines 27–28 of A. K. Tolstoy’s “Borevoi: Pomorskoe Skazanie” (1871), with a slight variation: No naprasny vse [ikh] usil´ia:/ Ot udarov tiazhkoi stali/ Pozolochenyia kryl´ia/ S shlema Svena uzh upali./ Pronzena v zhestokom spor´e/ Knuta krepkaia kol´chuga/ I brosaetsia on v mor´e/ S oprokinutago struga.   2. “None is like unto God,” nikto kak Bog: see especially Exodus 8:10, 15:11.   3. St. George Mivart (1827–1900): English biologist who critiqued Darwin and disagreed with his theory of natural selection. Soloviev’s lengthy combined review of Danilevsky’s Rossiia i Evropa and Darvinizm, along with N. N. Strakhov’s Bor´ba s zapadom v russkoi literature followed in 1888. See “Rossiia i Evropa,” Natsional´nyi vopros v Rossii (I), in SsVSS, 5:76–137.   4. “Darvaldaia,” or dar valdaia: Valdai, a regional city in Novgorod Province, famous from days of old for its production of little bells for wagon teams.

1886   5. Soloviev wrote the introduction to his younger brother’s Russian edition of “The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles,” which appeared in July 1886 as “Uchenie XII apostolov (vvedenie k russkomu izdaniiu Διδαχη των δωδεκα αποστολων,” SsVSS, 4:196–213. See the English translation in Wozniuk, Freedom, Faith, and Dogma, 103–19.   6. Ivan N. Kramskoy (1837–1887): famous as well for his portraitures. “Holy man … !,” Bozhin´ka, bozhin´ka!: a problematic term, perhaps from Belorussian.  7. “Preobramuzhskoe … Preobradetskoe” … Preobrazhenskoe: (man’s, child’s, ­woman’s).   8. “Courting me … New Times”: Soloviev agreed to write a series of letters for New Times from abroad, but only one was published, from Zagreb: it concerned the oppression of Catholic Slavs in Croatia, dated 27 June 1886, in PVSS, 3:168–71, not reproduced here.   9. “Law on military conscription”: an 1886 law fueled radical Finnish nationalism by stripping all independence from the Finnish military. See Boris Minzes, Russia’s Treatment of Finland: Its Bearing on Present World Politics, trans. M. Donner (New York: Finnish-American Pub., 1900), 11; especially conspicuous when compared with a law being considered at the time in the Caucasus, making it easier to be redeemed from obligatory military service. See J. S. Keltie and I. P. Renwick, eds., The Statesman’s Year Book: Statistical and Historical Annual of the World (New York: Macmillan, 1899), 937. 10. “Quem Deus vult perdere …”: omitting the remainder, “prius dementat,” usually translated in full as “Those whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad”; an anonymous Latin version of an ancient Greek saying, routinely attributed to Euripides and/or Sophocles. 11. “Talmud” manuscript: see above and my introduction. 12. Gamelits (Hameliz): Hebrew weekly newspaper. 13. Liveri Antonovich Sakketti (1852–1916): here and below, a composer and teacher of music. 14. “Got rid of evil,” izbavilsia ot zla: citing from Part IV of Lev N. Tolstoy’s “Kratkoe izlozhenie Evangeliia” (Brief Exposition of the Gospel [1881]). “Disavowed Ekaterina fivefold”: Nil Alexandrovich, Soloviev’s brother-in-law. “Licharda”: referring to Alexei, a trusted servant of the Soloviev household for many years, possibly also an allusion to Daniel G. Lichard (1812–1882), a Slovak nationalist. This theft of money is also mentioned in Soloviev’s letters from Vienna to his mother, PVSS, 2:42; to F. B. Gets, PVSS, 2:138; and to Countess S. A. Tolstoy, PVSS, 2:207. 15. “δυνάμεις ϰαὶ ἐζουσίαι του ϰόσμου τούτου,” powers and authorities in the world: an allusion to Romans 8:38–39; John 8:23, 12:31, 18:36; and Ephesians 1:21. 16. Fr. Ivan G. Naumovich (1826–1891): a Russophile Greek Catholic priest from Austrian Galicia (western Ukraine) who converted to Orthodoxy and moved to Kiev.

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25.

26.

Ragusa became Dubrovnik after 1918. “Talmud”: an article that came out later that year. See above and my introduction. “Ukrainian peasants,” khokhly: the term generally conveys a degree of contempt. “My dear Mama,” Draga moia mamitsa: Serbo-Croatian in Cyrillic Russian script. This might be understood tongue-in-cheek as “My drag-sledge of a mama.” Titled “V Al´pakh” and dated 1886. See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 58. Yuri Krizanič [Krizhanich] (1618–1683): Croat priest who envisioned reunification of the churches and took this mission to Russia; once referred to as “the founder of Slavic political philosophy.” See J. Lavrin, “Yury Krizhanich,” Russian Review 24, no. 4 (1966): 369–82. Petro Mohyla of Kiev (1596–1647): metropolitan of Kiev. Nikolai Ya. Grot (1852–1899) and the journal Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii, 1889. On the very same topic, see Soloviev’s letter about his piece in the Croatian press to the journal New Times dated 28 November 1886, in PVSS 3:172–73, not included here. “Nobody can harm one whom God helps”: polite rendering of an earthy saying, Bog ne vydast, svin´ia ne s´est, used by Soloviev many times; more literally “God will not distribute, a pig will not eat.” Another sense of this is “Don’t worry, God grants that everything will be all right.”

1887   1. “Iniquity—and celebration,” bezzakonie i prazdnovani: citing the Russian text of Isaiah 1:13. The King James and other English versions reflect variants of “iniquity and solemn assembly.”  2. Akh, daleko za snezhnym Gimalaem/ Zhivet moi drug,/ A ia odin i lish´ sobachnym laem/ Svoi teshu slukh,/ Da skvoz´ vekà monakhov izstuplennykh/ Zhestokii spor/ I zhitie moshennikov sviashchennykh / Sledit moi vzor./ No lish´ zasnu — k Tibetskim ploskogor´iam/ Dusha, deti!/ I vsem popam, Kirillam i Nestoram,/ Skazhi: prosti!/ Uvy! Blazhenstvo kratko v snoviden´ia!/ Ischezlo vdrug,/ I lish´ vopros o prèdopredelen´i/ Tomit moi dukh.   3. Ivan E. Vyshnegradsky (1832–1895): Russian minister of finance, 1887–1892.   4. Arseny A. Golenishchev-Kutuzov (1848–1900): poet and figure in finance and banking.   5. “Them that seek after my soul,” ishchushchie dushi moei: referring to Psalm 40:14 [39:15], ishchushchie pogibeli dushe moei, and/or 1 Kings 19:10, moei dushi ishchut.   6. A letter not reproduced here, dated 19 Jan. 1887 (see PVSS, 1:27–28), requesting help to procure a post for an unidentified thirty-two-year-old friend from Moscow University.   7. “Tolstoy’s new drama,” novuiu dramu Tolstogo: likely “The Power of Darkness” (Vlast´ t´my) written in 1886, prohibited due to its treatment of incest among the peasants.

1887   8. Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu (1842–1912): French commentator on social and political affairs who became engrossed in Russian history at about the time Soloviev was completing his doctoral work (1879–1880). The work cited: L’Empire des tsars et les russes (1882).   9. René François Guettée (1816–1892): Catholic priest accused of Jansenism and other heresies, tried to “disprove” papal authority. By 1860 Guettée turned to Orthodoxy, joining the Eastern Church in 1862 and taking the name “Vladimir.” See Drevo: Otkrytaia pravoslavnaia entsiklopediia (http://drevo-info.ru/articles/ 2171.html); also Wladimir Guettée, De la papauté: Textes choisis et présentés par Patric Ranson (Lausanne: Éditions l’Âge d’Homme, 1990), 17–28. 10. Henri Lorin (1857–1914): Parisian “social Catholic” activist who hosted Soloviev in 1883. 11. N. Strakhov, O vechnykh istinnakh (moi spor o spiritisme) (St. Petersburg, 1887). Feast of the Intercession, also called “Pokrov,” Church Slavonic for “protection,” or “shroud,” in the Eastern Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches, a rite of thanksgiving to the Virgin Mary. 12. In 1887 Soloviev was preparing a “defense” of Darwin in response to similar views held by N. Strakhov and L. Tolstoy. See also below the letter to M. M. Stasiulevich dated 17 September 1887, in MMSp, 5:337–38; and the letter to N. N. Strakhov [1887], PVSS, 1:48. By 1889, his embrace of Darwin became fully apparent in the essay “Beauty in Nature.” 13. Regarding the publication of a Jewish journal: see PVSS, 2:148 and 156, not included here. 14. “But the nightingales are coughing … don’t think it’s me that’s coughing,” no solov´i kashliaiut … ne podumaite, chto ia kashliaiu: Soloviev liked to pun on his name by referring to the word from which it derives: “nightingales” (solov´i). 15. Gorod glupyi, gorod griaznyi!/ Smes´ Katkova i kut´i,/ Tsarstvo spletni neotviaznoi,/ Skuki, sna, galimat´i./ Net prichin mne i nemnozhko/ Poliubit´ tebia, kogda/ Dazhe milaia mne nozhka/ Zdes´ melknula bez sleda. 16. Alexei S. Suvorin (1834–1912): conservative publisher of New Times. 17. “Sufficient unto the day,” Dovleet dnevi zloba ego: Matthew 6:34 in Church Slavonic. 18. Olga N. Smirnova: see letter to Fr. Martynov dated 31 January 1887, PVSS, 3:18, not included here. 19. Samarin, Iezuity i ikh otnoshenie k Rossii. See above. 20. “Which I read for the first time about eight years ago”: suggesting Soloviev’s “sympathies” with Catholicism ran counter to Dostoevsky’s antipathies while the two were friends. 21. M. G. [sic] Samarin, Les Jésuites et leurs rapports avec la Russie, trans. P. Boutourlin (Paris: Cherbulliez, 1867). 22. David F. Strauss, The Life of Jesus, Critically Examined, trans. Marian Evans (New York: Calvin Blanchard, 1860). “Be thankful for small favors”: a common

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations t­ ranslation of the saying S likhoi sobaki khot´ shersti klok, familiar from Pushkin’s Kapitanskaia doch´, chap. 9, last line. 23. “You-r Ex-cel-len-cy Lo-rd Chi-ef—Pro-cu-rat-or of the Ho-ly Sy-nod,” E-go Vy-soko-pre-vos-kho-di-tel´-stvo Go-spo-din O-ber—Pro-ku-ror svia-tei-sha-go Sy-no-da: K. Pobedonostsev, with whom Soloviev shared, according to his nephew S. M. Soloviev, “mutual malevolence.” 24. Soloviev’s views here reflect an inversion of Dostoevsky’s. See, for example, the latter’s Diary of a Writer [Dnevnik pisatelia], 728–29 (May–June 1877, III, 1). Aeneid 9:448– 49: rendering directly from Soloviev’s Russian translation: Dom Eneev poka Kapitolia kamen´ nedvizhnyi/ Obitaet i vlast´ za Rimskim Ottsem prebyvaet. 25. Containing Samarin’s Iezuity i ikh otnoshenie k Rossii. See above. 26. Abbé Villoy: perhaps a misrendering of Jean Anselme Tilloy. See below. 27. Archbishop [of Kherson and Odessa] Nikanor (1827–1890), who attacked L. N. Tolstoy. Andrei Muraviev (1806–1874): in his day, anti-Catholic vice procurator of the Holy Synod. “La Russie et l’Église universelle”: the earliest mention of the book’s published title. 28. Vladimir P. Meshchersky (1839–1914): a friend of P. I. Tchaikovsky, publisher of the archconservative, then antisemitic, biweekly The Citizen [Grazhdanin]. See above letter to S. M. Soloviev, dated 8/20 September, 1875, in PVSS, 2:11 and note no. 19 appended. Other similarly disparaging references can be found in various of Soloviev’s letters. For example, see below the telegram to Lev Lopatin, dated 1/2/1896, containing another innuendo. 29. “Foundations of Orthodoxy, autocracy, and nationality”: that is, the Russian Empire. 30. Sodoma kniaz´ i grazhdanin Gomorry/ Idet na Rus´ s gazetoiu bol´shoi./ O Bozhe! sud Svoi pravednyi i skoryi/ Iavi, kak vstar´, nad gnustnost´iu takoi! 31. “Punish, saints, the Captain of the Trench, etc.,” Nakazhi, sviatoi ugodnik,/ Kapitana borozdu,/ i. t. d.: the first two lines of an 1822 Pushkin epigram, the last two lines excised no doubt for the sake of modesty: Razliubil on, grekhovodnik,/ Nashu matushku pizdu. 32. Soloviev’s combined review of Danilevsky’s Rossiia i Evropa and Darvinism, along with Strakhov’s Bor´ba s zapadom v russkoi literature followed in 1888. See “Rossiia i Evropa,” SsVSS, 5:76–137. 33. “The Sollogubs”: Fyodor L. Sollogub (1848–1890) and his wife, Natalia. An artist, ­Sollogub contributed drawings for books and journals; he was Yu. F. Samarin’s nephew. 34. Probably Jean Anselme Tilloy (1824–1903): author of Les Églises orientales dissidentes, et L’Église romaine: Réponse aux neuf questions de M. Soloview (Paris, 1889). He went beyond the bounds of Leo XIII’s 1884 encyclical “Humanum genus” against Freemasonry and linked Masons to Jews in a global conspiracy. See J. A. Tilloy, Le peril judeo-maconnique (Paris, 1897). 35. Alexander L. Duvernois [Duvernoy] (1840–1886): known for his Bulgarian ­dictionary.

1888–1890 36. Akh! daleko v Tibetskom ploskogorii/ Zhivet moi drug./ A zdes´ odin tomlius´ v toske i goria/ Temno vokrug./ I lish´ poroi v tumane snovideniia/ Ia vizhu to,/ Chto videt mog bez vsiakikh zatrudnenii ia/ Tomu let sto./ Il´, oslabev, umru s toski i goria ia/ Sud´be v ukor./ Il´ put´ naidu v Tibeta ploskogoriia/ Chrez Kuku-Nor. 37. Bednyi drug! Istomil tebia put´,/ I ustalye nogi boliat./ Ty voidi zhe ko mne otdokhnut´,/ Dorogaia temneet zakat./ Bednyi drug! Ne sproshu u tebia,/ Gde byla i otkuda idesh´./ Tol´ko k serdtsu prizhmu ia, liubia,/ V etom serdtse pokoi ty naidesh´./ Smert´ i vremia tsariat na zemle,/ Ty vladikami ikh ne zovi./ Vse, kruzhas´, ischeszaet vo mgle./ Nepodvizhno lish´ solntse liubvi 38. Osip K. Notovich (1849–1914): son of a rabbi, he studied law and became a journalist and editor, working at New Times. 39. Ernst Renan (1832–1892): French religious philosopher. Alexander Joseph Battenberg (1857–1893): Bulgarian ruler from 1879 to 1886. Prince Ferdinand I of Coburg (Koburgsky, 1861–1948): Roman Catholic Austrian who became ruler of Bulgaria in 1887—against the wishes of Russia, which viewed his ascension to the throne as a betrayal. Leopold von Ranke (1795–1886): famed German historian, faulted for interpreting religion as a historical, race-based phenomenon. 40. Prince S. N. Trubetskoy (1862–1905): Soloviev’s friend and colleague, professor of religion and philosophy and first elected rector of Moscow University; referred to numerous times in the letters of Soloviev, who died at Trubetskoy’s family estate. See my introduction. 41. “Father Barnabas”: perhaps the Gethsemane skete elder, known for prophesying. 42. “The air is dry as a nail,” vozdukh sukh kak gvozd´: S. M. Soloviev gave the following explanation: “A man who thought that the first thoughts coming into his head upon awakening from sleep are especially deep once wrote on the wall after awakening quickly the first thing that came into his head. What was written turned out to be: ‘the air is dry as a nail.’”

1888–1890   1. Vladimir [Volodymyr] V. Lesevich (1837–1905): philosopher/journalist from Poltava who settled in Petersburg, contributing to various journals on a variety of subjects.   2. Vladimir V. Stasov (1824–1906): respected writer, scholar, and critic of the fine arts and of ancient Russian legends and tales (byliny).   3. “With the prince and princess of Baden,” U printsev Badenskikh: likely Princess Maria Maximillianova of Leuchtenberg (1841–1914) and Prince Wilhelm (1829–1897).   4. “With the Parisian hotel, filled with noisy and inconsiderate Americans,” s parizhskoi gostinnitsei, napolnennoi shumlivymi i beztseremonymi amerikantsami: here the participle napolnennoi suggests wordplay on “Napoleon.” “Pison,

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations Gihon, Hiddekel, and Euphrates,” Fisona, Gikhona, Khiddekelia i Evrata: Genesis 2:11–14 (King James). Modern versions replace Pison with Phison and Hiddekel with Tigris.   5. “Strakhov’s … idol”: recognizing Tolstoy’s appeal early on, Strakhov became his staunch defender against unnamed critics/opponents, which included Soloviev. See N. Strakhov, “Tolki ob L. N. Tolstom (1892),” in Vospominaniia i otryvki (St. Petersburg, 1892), esp. 151–62.   6. Eugène-Melchior, vicomte de Vogüé (1848–1910): French critic and prolific traveler who married a Russian; he became friends with Soloviev in Cairo in 1876 and followed the careers of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy with special ­attention.   7. See Vladimir Solov´ev, Vladimir Sviatoi i Khristianskoe gosudarstvo, i Otvet na korrespondentsiiu iz Krakova, trans. G. A. Rachinskii (Moscow,1913), 42–48.   8. Vladimir P. Bezobrazov (1823–1889): government official in finance and internal affairs, author of Voina i revoliutsiia: ocherki nashego vremeni (Moscow, 1873). His son, Pavel V. Bezobrazov (1859–1918), a historian of Byzantium, was married to Soloviev’s sister Maria.   9. “The cockroach doesn’t grumble …,” Tarakan ne ropshchet … bla-a-arodneishii starik … Nikafor: from a “poem” recited by Captain Lebedkin in Dostoevsky’s Possessed, V:3. “Nakhichevan”: referring perhaps to the river Nakhichevan-chai, in the Erevan region of Armenia, near Iran. 10. Charles Floquet (1828–1896): French parliamentary deputy involved in an 1888 duel. 11. “O grekhakh i bolezniakh” appeared in Vestnik Evropy, no. 1 (1889); see SsVSS, 5:243–61. 12. “Stood up for me like a mountain,” vstali za menia goroi: perhaps alluding to Ivan Shuisky’s comment, “Ia za tebia goroi stoiu,” to Boris Godunov in A. K. Tolstoy’s dramatic trilogy Smert´ Ioanna Groznago. See A. K. Tolstoi, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii (St. Petersburg, 1891), 3:59. 13. “Mayor Kovalev’s nose,” nos maiora Kovaleva: from Gogol’s short story “The Nose.” 14. Orest F. Miller (1833–1889): professor in the history of Russian literature; his collected lectures and articles appeared as Slavianstvo i Evropa (1877). 15. The Statue to Bruno was erected by Freemasons on 9 June 1889. In the October 1890 encyclical “Ab Apostollici,” Pope Leo XIII called Freemasons “anti-­Christian” and enemies. 16. Nil Alexandrovich Popov (1833–1891): professor of history in Moscow (RussoSerbian relations and the Orthodox Church abroad) who married (then divorced) Soloviev’s sister Vera. 17. “To thrive,” sporit´sia: wordplay on the verb sporit´—“to argue.” 18. Mainly for reasons of illness; see the note to Fet’s wife in PVSS, 3:120, not included here.

1888–1890 19. “Subversion … discussion,” razruzhenie … razsuzhdenie: obvious wordplay in Russian. The essay “Beauty in Nature” [Krasota v prirode] appeared in Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii, no. 1 (1889): 1–50. 20. “Spiritual corporeality,” dukhovnaia telesnost´: See “Obshchii smysl isskustva,” Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii, no. 5 (1890): 96; and SsVSS, 6:79. 21. Storozhat menia Albantsy,/ Ia v tsepiakh … no u okna/ Zatsvetaiut pomerantsy—/ Dobryi znak: blizka vesna. Soloviev quoted these lines from A. N. Maikov more than once: see “Probuzhdenie sovesti,” Rus´, 26 January 1897, reprinted in SsVSS, 8:79. 22. “Ignem fovere [fovebit] in gremio sponsae Christi,” fire in the bosom of the Bride of Christ (the Universal Church), appearing as part of a long prophecy in the German astrologer-priest J. Lichtenberger’s Prognosticatio (1528). Soloviev probably located this manuscript at the British Museum in 1876. 23. Perhaps Nikolai S. Abaza (1837–1901), government official, head of press affairs. 24. Possibly Ivan I. Shishkin (1832–1898), a respected Russian landscape painter. Friedrich A. Lange (1828–1875): philosopher and political economist in Bonn. Soloviev wrote a foreword to Lange’s History of Materialism (1865/1899); see SsVSS, 8:405–8. 25. “All universal history is nothing more than the successive realization of utopias, or rather one unique Judeo-Christian utopia—the reign of justice and of the truth of the Kingdom of God.” 26. Dmitri F. Samarin (✝1901): Yu. F. Samarin’s brother and publisher of his works. 27. Sergei A. Muromtsev (1850–1910): well-known legal expert and pro-rector of Moscow University 1880–1881; he wrote numerous works on Roman law and the idea of right. Vasily O. Kliuchevsky (1841–1911): succeeded Soloviev’s father as professor of Russian history at Moscow University, also taught at the Moscow Religious Academy. 28. Parts of this letter to T. I. Filippov and the following one to N. Ya. Grot suggest a kind of coded text begun earlier that spring, referring to what would eventually become the published protest against regime antisemitic policy, appearing not in Russia, but in London. See below. 29. Vladimir G. Korolenko (1853–1921): Ukrainian-born writer of popular Russian stories. 30. Published as “The Jews in Russia” in The Times (London), 10 December 1890, 3, with a dateline of Moscow, 3 December and attributed anonymously to “an ­occasional correspondent.” It was identified as the “expression of opinion by some 60 or more Russians connected with art and literature” and a “protest … headed by Count Leon Tolstoy.” I have adjusted here for variances in the English of the Times to more clearly reflect the original Russian, retaining numbers not appearing in that version (available in Wozniuk, Politics, Law, and Morality, 291–92).

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1891   1. The reference is to F. B. Gets, Word of the Defendant, with Unpublished Letters of Count L. N. Tolstoy, B. N. Chicherin, V. S. Soloviev, and V. G. Korolenko. See the letter to F. B. Gets dated 21 March in PVSS, 2:162, not included here. The book was confiscated and destroyed.   2. From the third quatrain of A. A. Fet’s poem “Maiskaia noch´” [A May night] (1870): A schast´e gde? Ne zdes´, v srede ubogoi,— / A von ono, kak dym …/ Tuda, tuda [Za nim, za nim] vozdushnoiu dorogoi,— / I v vechnost´ uletim.   3. The article: “O poddelkakh” [On counterfeits], Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii, no. 8 (1891): 149–63; also SsVSS, 6:297–308; translated in Wozniuk, Freedom, Faith and Dogma, 147–57.   4. “Rebus in arduis”: from Horace, Odes, II, 3, “aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem”—remember to keep an even mind in times of trouble. Horace then goes on to remind that danger lies in too much happiness, as all are destined to die.   5. “For the revenge of enemies and the slander of friends,” Za mest´ vragov i klevetu druzei: Mikhail Yu. Lermontov (1814–1841), from the poem “Blagodarnost´” [Gratitude]. The comment is likely to have been a response to a feuilleton signed with the initial “S.” that appeared in The News in May, implying the author was V. S. Soloviev. The matter ended up testing the friendship of Soloviev with F. B. Gets, reconciliation occurring by July. See below the letter to M. M. Stasiulevich, dated 27 July 1891, in MMSp, 5:353; and the fragment to Gets dated June 1891, in PVSS, 2:175–76, not included here.   6. “Idols and ideals”: the first of a planned series under the rubric Idoly i idealy appeared in the spring of 1891. See Vestnik Evropy, no. 26 (March–June 1891): 357–76; developed more fully later (1895) in “Narodnost´ s nravstvennoi tochki zreniia,” appearing in translation as “Nationality from a Moral Point of View,” in Wozniuk, Politics, Law, and Morality, 37–53.   7. “My archangel,” moi arkhangel: here and throughout, Soloviev’s endearing term for his brother, a key ally and sometime agent in his publishing enterprises. “Balaam”: Balaam Preobrazhensky Monastery, near Petersburg.  8. “io”: appearing emphasized precisely this way, ambiguity reigns. In Greek legend Io, a priestess of Hera, fell victim to Zeus’s amorous advances. But Soloviev often complained about his “debts,” so a translingual pun is not beyond the realm of possibility, to wit: “I owe.”  9. Bumazhku nado mne, eia mne nado ochen´/ Khotia moi ideal dostatochno uprochen,/ No nel´zia-l´ platit´ dolgi chisteishim idealom?/ On lish´ vo plokhikh stikhakh rifmuet s kapitalom./ Dushoi ne pokrivliu, khot´ ne strashusia ada,/ No den´gi mne nuzhny, mne ikh uzhasno nado! 10. “My current landlord”: Vladimir D. Kuzmin-Karavaev (1859–1928): colonel, examining magistrate, and scholar specializing in military law; also a member of London’s “Anglo-Russian Literary Society.”

1891 11. Nikolai I. Bakst (1842–1904): a physiologist, one of only a few Jews to attain the rank of professor at a Russian university during this time. Konstantin K. Arseniev (1837–1919): chief editor of the Brokhaus-Efron Dictionary. 12. Ne veril ia v zhestokii tif,—/ Ne veril—i byl prav:/ Zhestokii tif byl tol´ko mif,/ Drug Faivel zhiv i zdrav./ Akh! I s talmudom byl ia prav,/ No sporit´ ne derzal./ Potoropilsia tut moi “rav,”/ A ia v prosak popal. 13. Radlov provided a brief, enigmatic note suggesting something wrong with the undated letters to Sophia M. Martynova: “The letters to S. M. Martynova were received in faulty form; they are interesting mainly for the great number of serious and humorous poems” (VSP, 150). 14. Lensky: probably one of two well-known theatrical actors; Paul D. [Obolensky] or Alexander P. Lensky, the latter famed for comedic roles, Molière’s Don Juan and Shakespeare’s Petruchio. 15. Skhodnia: a town on the river of the same name in Moscow Oblast, northwest of the city Moscow, near Khimki. A railway station was constructed there circa 1874. 16. Kogda moia mechta na grani prezhnikh dnei/ Tebia naidet za dymkoiu tumannoi,/ Ia plachu sladostno, kak pervyi iudei/ Na rubezhe zemli obetovannoi. 17. “Burning Bush,” Neopalimaia Kupina: recalling the story of Moses in Exodus 3:1–3 as well as the Orthodox Unburnt Bush Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos (Mother of God), whose feast day is 4 September, the date appended to this 1891 poem (Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 73–74). “Telepathy,” Telepatii: the Russian translation of “Phantasms of the Living.” See below. 18. “Kit-kitych”: the nickname of a character in a two-act play by A. N. Ostrovsky (1823–1886) titled V chuzhom piru pokhmel´e (Hangover at someone else’s banquet [1856]). 19. “Now here’s how it’s set up …, Uzh tak u nas v gorode ustroeno: esli umnyi chelovek tak ili p´et zapoem ili rozhi takie korchit, chto sviatykh von nesi: In the event of drunkenness, icons were moved to another room, so they could not “see” disgraceful behavior. 20. Vladimir D. Spasovich (1829–1906): wrote on various aspects of rights and property, criminal law, and (with A. N. Pypin) Istoriia slavianskikh literatur (St. Petersburg, 1881). 21. “Our sin and our obligation,” Nash grekh i nasha obiazannost´: see SsVSS, 5:402–4. 22. Matthew 6:3, 25:40–45; Luke 7:28. 23. “One heart and one soul,” odno serdtse i odnu dushu: see Acts 4:32. 24. Vladimir A. Gringmut (1851–1907): one of M. N. Katkov’s successors as editor of Moscow Gazette; later considered founder of the Monarchist Party and theorist of the Black Hundreds. 25. Paulicians: a fifth-century Christian evangelical church in Asia Minor and Armenia, its name derived either from the Apostle Paul or Paul of Samosota. In B ­ ulgaria

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations they were called Bogomili. Later French Cathars and Albigensians (twelfth and thirteenth centuries) recall the Paulicians. 26. Solunians: Thessalonians, as were SS Cyril and Methodius. See Paul Barford, The Early Slavs: Culture and Society in Early Medieval Eastern Europe (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001), 312. 27. Donatists: fourth-century schismatics insisting on the direct relationship of priestly virtue to sacramental legitimacy, opposed by Augustine on this point. 28. Probably Maximus the Confessor, a seventh-century Byzantine monk. John of Damascus (675–749 AD): theologian/philosopher, defender of orthodox belief against heresy, influencing later Scholastics such as Thomas Aquinas. Theodore the Studite: eighth- to ninth-century Byzantine monk who opposed slavery. Taras and Ignatius of Constantinople: ninth-century Eastern bishops. 29. “Our own Orthodoxy … Lutheran orthodoxy,” nashe sobstvennoe pravoslavie … liuteranskuiu ortodoksiiu. Quirinus Kuhlmann (1651–1689): German poet and mystic, considered to be politically dangerous—executed in Moscow. 30. Grigory V. Chel´tsov (1840–ca. 1916): archpriest and writer of articles and books on Christian morality, including Teoriia Boklia i khristianskoe uchenie o promysle Bozhiem (St. Petersburg, 1884). 31. The talk was titled “O prichinakh upadka srednevekovago mirosozertsaniia,” first published as “Ob upadke srednevekovago mirosozertsaniia” in SsVSS, 6:347–58; translated as “On the Decline of the Medieval World View,” in Wozniuk, Freedom, Faith and Dogma, 159–70. 32. “Disinfecting precautions,” dezinfektsionnye predostorozhnosti: known to use turpentine as a disinfectant (and even to drink it), Soloviev was at the time likely to have been recovering from diphtheria. 33. “Kumir Nebukadnetsara” [Nebuchadnezzar’s Idol]: see Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 75–77. 34. “Cleansed and shown myself to the priests,” ochistilsia i pokazalsia sviashchennikam: see Mark 1:42–44; Matthew 8:3–4; and Luke 17:14. “Disinfection”: earlier, Soloviev had mentioned moving to the Slavic Bazaar “during a radical disinfection of the apartment,” probably with turpentine. See the letter to K. K. Arseniev, dated 1891, in PVSS, 2:71, not included here. 35. K. N. Leontiev died on 12 November 1891, soon after he had taken vows as a monk (under the name Kliment) at Sergiev Posad.

1892–1893  1. “Psychology is the science of dogs”: in the note, a pun on Russian for “dogs” (psy, nom. pl.).   2. “The rest is silence”: Hamlet’s final words. The quote in English might throw some light on a more complex bilingual pun in the opening sentence: “quick-witted”—

1892–1893 dogadliv—which makes more sense when read in tandem with the Russian pun in Soloviev’s “footnote.”   3. Prof. Pavlov: probably Ivan Pavlov, the famous physician-psychologist. “Horrible, horrible, horrible”: imprecise rendering of a line from Hamlet, Act I, scene 5.   4. Perhaps František Ženíšek (1849–1916): Czech painter and professor of art.   5. Alexander Fedorovich Markonet (1847–1896): a barrister, well known to ­Moscow society, and a close friend of Soloviev’s younger brother Misha.   6. “God helps those who help themselves,” Na Boga nadeisia, i [a] sam ne ploshai.  7. A likely reference to Pavel V. Bezobrazov, Soloviev’s brother-in-law. Count Angelo de Gubernatis (1840–1913): Italian scholar of literature and mythology. ­Félicité-Robert Lamennais (1782–1854): French priest and progressive writer. Florenty F. Pavlenkov (1839–1900): publisher of books, including several Soloviev works.   8. “Enemy from the East,” Vrag s vostoka: relating to the famine, see SsVSS, 5:410–22. Alexei S. Ermolov (1846–1917): state official serving in various capacities (financial, agricultural), at this time directing the Ministry of State Property.  9. Dushnyi gorod stal nesnosen./ Vziavshi sak-voiazh,/Skrylsia ia pod sen´iu sosen/ V sel´skii peisazh./ U krest´ianina Sosoia,/ Nanial ia izbu,/ Zdes´ mechtal vkusit´ pokoia,/ Pozabyt´ bor´bu./ Akh! Poteriannogo raia/ Ne vernet sud´ba./ Zhdet menia sud´ba drugaia,/ Novaia bor´ba./ Podnialis´ na boi otkrytyi/ Tselye tolpy.—/ L´va Tolstogo favority,/ Krasnye klopy./ No so mnoiu ne naprasno/ Neba luchshii dar,/ Ty, ochishchennyi, prekrasnyi/ Gall´skii skipidar./ Ty rimliankam dlia inogo/ Dela mog sluzhit´./ Mne zh soiuznikov Tolstogo/ Pomogi srazit´./ Ia nadeialsia nedarom: v mig reshilsia boi,/ Spasoval pred skipidarom/ Ves´ tolstovskii stroi./ O, liubimets vsemogushchii/Znatnykh rimskikh dam!/ Ia roman Tolstogo luchshii/ Za tebia otdam./ Ot romanov sny plokhie,/ Aromat zhe tvoi/ Progoniaet sily zlye/ I darit pokoi. 10. The epitaph also appears in letters to Vengerov (see below), Stasiulevich, and Velichko, not included here. See my introduction. 11. “Vill. Morshchikh,” Der. Morshchikha: near Skhodnia, Nikolaevsky railrd. 12. See Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 86. 13. Vasily V. Dokuchaev (1846–1903): geologist, professor of mineralogy, wrote on the Russian Empire’s black earth regions, Nashi stepi prezhde i teper´ (1892). 14. Potomu-l´, chto serdtsu nado/ Zhit´ odnim, odno liubia,/ Potomu-l´, chto net otrady,/ Ne otdavshemu sebia; Ottogo li, chto sud´boiu/ Nashi sblizilis´ puti,/ I s toboi, s toboi odnoiu/ Mog ia shchastie naiti,—Ottogo li, potomu li,—/ No v tebe, v tebe odnoi/ Bezvozvratno potonuli/ Serdtse, zhizn´ i razum moi. 15. Vasily P. Vorontsov (1847–1918): economist who compiled state data and annual reports. 16. See “Kto prozrel?” Russkaia mysl´, no. 6 (1892): 209–12; also SsVSS, 5:405–9. 17. See Dr. Frank Clemow, “Russia and the Cholera,” Anglo-Russian Literary Society: Proceedings (6 March 1894): 29–33. Ne boius´ ia kholery,/ Ibo priniaty vse mery,/

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations Chtob ot etogo neduga,/ Sbereglas´ siia okruga./ No bolezneiu liubovnoi/ Ia stradaiu bezuslovno,/ I ne vizhu “sil’noi vlasti”/Protiv sei zlovrednoi strasti./Moi mikrob— bol´shogo rosta,/I khot´ ia ne slishkom prost, a/Pered nim umom slabeiu/I lish´ mleiu, mleiu, mleiu,/V diagnoze net somnen´ia,/ Net v prognoze uteshen´ia:/ Neizhbeznnyi i pechal´nyi/ Zhdet menia iskhod letal´nyi. 18. Victor P. Burenin (1841–1926): affiliated with New Times, critic and writer of satirical prose and poetry who polemicized with Dostoevsky; authored Byloe: Sti­ khotvoreniia (St. Petersburg, 1880). 19. a. Net! Tak ia ne liubil: muchitel´noi i zhguchei/ Byla ona, liubov´ moei vesny./ No dushu ne zvala v mir trepetnykh sozvuchii,/ V prozrachnye, serebrianye sny./ Byl truden dolgii put´. Khot´ voskhishchala vzory/ Poroi prirody divnoi blagodat´,/ No nepristupnye krugom sdvigalis´ gory,/ I grud´ ustalaia edva mogla dyshat´./ I vdrug posypalis´ zarei vechernei rozy,/ Dusha pochuiala dva legkie kryla,/ I v novuiu stranu neistoshchimoi grezy/ Liubov´-volshebnitsa menia perenesla. b. Poliana chistaia lunoiu serebritsia,/ Derev´ia stroinye nedvizhimo stoiat,/ I el´fov nezhnyi roi nevidimo kruzhitsia,/ I fei blednye zadumchivo skol´ziat. c. Slov nezdeshnikh shopot strannyi,/ Aromat iaponskikh roz—/ Fantastichnyi i tumannyi/ Otgolosok veshchikh grez. 20. Kriukov: likely referring to either the area of the St. Petersburg Canal or an oculist by that name. 21. “Gastroptosis,” rastiazhenie zheludka: abnormal downward displacement of the stomach. “Phymosis”: a congenital narrowing of the penis foreskin’s orifice. 22. Pavel N. Miliukov (1859–1943): liberal historian for whom Soloviev wrote the Brokhaus-Efron entry. The indirect reference may be to Soloviev’s positive take on Miliukov’s lecture on the death of Slavophilism, “Zamechaniia na lektsiiu P. N. Miliukova,” which appeared in Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii (May 1893). See also SsVSS, 5:458–62 and the letter to N. Ya. Grot (dated 1893) in PVSS, 1:76, not included here. Petr E. Astafiev (1846–1893): formerly a teacher at a Yaroslavl lycée, he became a writer on philosophical themes and a Moscow censorship committee member, 1885. Both Nikolai N. Strakhov and Vasily V. Rozanov were alive and active at the time. 23. Soloviev wrote the foreword and oversaw the Russian translation: Carl Du Prel, Die Philosophie der Mystik (Leipzig: Ernst Gunthers Verlag, 1885). 24. Psychurgy: the art of mind building, a popular topic at the fin de siècle. 25. See the letter to M. M. Stasiulevich, dated 25 December 1892, in MMSp, 5:370 or PVSS, 1:109. 26. In his biography of Soloviev, Velichko cited the comment anonymously, also adding three exclamation points after the question mark (?!!!). See Velichko, Vladimir Solov´ev, 195. 27. Velichko attributed this poem to unrequited love for S. M. Martynova: Vy byli dlia menia, prelestnoe sozdan´e,/ Chto dlia skul´ptora mramora kusok;/ No sloman moi

1892–1893 rezets v usilennom staran´e,/ A glyby kamennoi on odolet´ ne mog./ Liubit´ Vas tout de même? Vot strannaia zateia!/ Kogda zhe kto liubil negodnyi mater´ial?/ O svetlom bozhestve, liubov´iu plameneia,/ O svetlom bozhestve nad vami ia mechtal./ Teper´ uteshu Vas. Pygmaliony redki,/ No est´ kamenotes v primete u menia:/ Iz mramora skam´iu on sdelaet v besedke/I budet otdykhat´ ot trudovogo dnia. 28. Count Ferdinand Georgievich de la Bart: Velichko’s brother-in-law. 29. Homousian: adopted at the Nicene Council, the doctrine asserting that the Father and Son are of a single, identical substance. Homouisian: rejected at the Nicean Council, the doctrine that the Father and son are of similar, though not identical, substance. 30. Posmotri: poblednel serp luny,/ Poblednela zvezda Afrodity,/ Novyi otblesk na grebne volny …/ Solntsa, solntsa so mnoi podozhdi ty!/ Posmotri, kak potokami krov´/ Zalivaet vsiu temnuiu sily!/ Staryi boi razgoraetsia vnov´ …/ Solntse, solntse opiat´ pobedilo. 31. Alexei D. Obolensky (1857–1933): a Germanophile who served in various capacities in the Russian government, including banking and finance; author of Osnovnaia prichina krest´ianskogo nestroeniia (1894). 32. “Even efficiently,” i del´no: perhaps alluding to the beginning of Griboedov’s Pritvornaia nevernost´ (Pretended unfaithfulness [1818]), a comedy in one act. 33. “Son of the Morning” [Morning Star], Dennitsa: Isaiah 14:12; also a Slavic ­magazine. 34. Russie, âme brumeuse, errant sur l’avalanche:/ Tu t’es donc arrachée à la vision blanche/ De tes champs de glaces éternels,/ Pour venir oublier l’âpre souffle de pôle/ Et fondre des frimas de ta neigeuse épaule/ Au feu des nos coeurs fraternels./ Accours! nos étalons épousons tes canales,/ Et nos chênes croissant sur les forêts rivales(?)/ S’entrelacent à tes sapins. 35. “Wait for the end of my ‘Love,’” zhdi okonchaniia moei “Liubvi”: Smysl liubvi first appeared in four installments in Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii, nos. 14 (1892), 15 (1892), 17 (1893), and 21 (1894). 36. Skoro, skoro, drug moi milyi,/Budu vypushchen v tirazh/ I voz´mu s soboi v mogilu/ Ne blistatel´nyi bagazh./ Mnogo driani za dushoiu/ Ia imel na sei zemle/ I s bespechnost´iu bol´shoiu/ Byl ne tverd v podob´e Bozh´em/ Nepreryvno oskorblial,—/ Lish´ s obshchestvennoiu lozh´iu/ V blud korystnyi ne vpadal./ A zatem, khotia premnogo/ I bezputno ia liubil,/ Nikogo, zato, ei-Bogu,/ Ne rodil i ne ubil./ Vot i vse moi zaslugi,/ Vse zaslugi do odnoi/ A teper´, proshchaite, drugi!/ So sviatymi upokoi! 37. “Tuesday, Eve of the Octave of All Saints,” Mardi, veille de l’Octave des tous saints [Fr.]. “Day of Presence,” Den´ prisutstvennyi. 38. “Mahomet”: eventually published in the series Zhizn´ zamechatel´nykh liudei, as Mahomet, ego zhizn´ i religioznoe uchenie (St. Petersburg: Pavlenkov, 1896); also SsVSS 6:543–618; translated as “Mohammed, His Life and Religious Teaching” in Wozniuk, Enemies from the East?, 146–211. 39. An imprecise rendering of the exchange in Koz´ma Prutkov, Oprometchivyi Turka ili priiatno li byt´ vnukom? (St. Petersburg, 1860) (Prutkov, PssKP, 238).

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations 40. “Face color—hemorrhoidal,” Tsvet litsa gemorroidnyi: recalling the description of Akaky Akakievich’s complexion in Gogol’s story “The Overcoat.” 41. Boborykin … Pierre Bobo: Petr D. Boborykin (1836–1921), a critic of Soloviev and prolific writer of lesser renown—plays, short stories, and novels; he became the butt of jokes, referred to in French intellectual circles by the surnom “Pierre Bobo.” Tsvet litsa gemorroidnyi,/ Volos padaet sedoi,/ I grozit mne rok obidnyi/ Prezhdevremennoi bedoi./ Ia na vse, sud´ba, soglasen./ Tol´ko plesh´iu ne dari:/ Golyi cherep, akh! uzhasen,/ Chto ty tam ni govori./ Znaiu bezvolosnykh mnogo/ Mezh sviatykh otsov u nas;/ No ved´ mne ne ta doroga:/ V dele sviatosti ia—pas./ Preimu­ shchestvom fal´shivym/ Ne khochu ia shchegoliat´/ I k glavam mirotochivym/ Greshnyi cherep prichisliat´. Popravka. Akh! zabyl ia za sviatymi,/ Boborykina zabyl!/ Pozabyl, chto gol, kak vymia,/ Cherep onyi vechno byl./ Vprochem, etim faktom tozhe/ Obnadezhen ia,—ibò/ Esli ne sviatoi ia Bozhii,/ To ved´ i ne P´er Bobo? 42. “Verses … grow silent,” stikhov … stikhnut: an obvious pun in Russian. 43. Nikolai G. Chernyshevsky (1828–1889), author of the socialist novel Chto delat´? [What Is to Be Done?]. “Bobo-ribbed,” boboryknul: a neologism. 44. For Soloviev’s article on Chernyshevsky’s aesthetics, see “Pervyi shag k polozhitel´noi estetiki,” Vestnik Evropy, no. 1 (1894): 294–302; also SsVSS 6:424–31; translated as “A First Step toward a Positive Aesthetic,” in Wozniuk, Heart of Reality, 135–43. 45. Ferdinand Brunetière (1849–1906): French critic, specialist on seventeenth-­ century literature, and regular contributor to Revue des deux mondes, also serving on its editorial board. Jacques Benin Bossuet (1627–1704): French theologian, historian, and preacher, author of Discours sur l’histoire universelle (Paris, 1681). Abbé Jules Auguste Lemire (1853–1928): French priest and reformer who became known as a Catholic socialist; elected to the Chamber of Deputies in 1893. Vasily I. Semevsky (1848–1916): liberal historian of serfdom and the peasantry, and the conditions of workers in Siberian gold-mines. 46. “The Frenchman has no reason …,” Frantsuz razuma ne imeet i imet´ onyi pochel by dlia sebia neschast´em: a slight revision of Fonvizin’s words—Razsudka Frantsuz ne imeet i imet´ ego pochel by neschast´em ego zhizni. On his visit to France, Fonvizin described the French as petty criminals but childlike, preferring entertainment to serious undertakings. See “Iz pervago zagranichnago puteshestviia,” in Pervoe polnoe sobranie sochinenii D. I. Fon-Vizina, kak original´nykh tak i perevodnykh, 1761– 1792 (St. Petersburg: Shimov, 1888), 904. 47. Nikolai V. Vodovozov (1870–1896): legally trained, he wrote on Fourier for Russian Thought, no. 9 (1892), which is perhaps what Soloviev was referring to here and below. 48. Abbé Lemire was among the injured when the anarchist Auguste Vaillant threw a bomb as the Chamber of Deputies met (9 December 1893). Vaillant was executed on 3 February 1894.

1894–1895

1894–1895   1. Soloviev cited the penitent sixteenth-century Maxim the Greek’s words to Metropolitan Daniil regarding “errors” made in correcting, writing, and translating: iako nizhe po eresi, nizhe po lukavstvu nekoemu sitsevo, chto derznuto byst´ mnoiu, no po nekoemu vsiako sluchaiu, ili po zabveniu, ili po skorbi, ili nechto izlishnemu vinopiiatiiu pogruzivshu mia, napisat´sia tako.     This quote appears with slight variations in S. M. Soloviev’s Istoriia Rossii s drevneishikh vremen, 4th ed. (Moscow, 1872), vol. 5, bk. 2, pt. 3:480n433.  2. V okrestnostiakh Abo. Ne pozabudu ia tebia,/ Krasa polunochnago kraia,/ Gde, nebo bednoe liubia,/ Volna bledneet golubaia;/ Gde noch´ bezmernaia zimy/ Tait magicheskie chary,/ Chtob vdrug podniat´ sred beloi t´my/ Siianii veshchikh plamen´ iaryi./ Tam ia skitalsia molchaliv,/ Tam Bogu pravdy ia molilsia,/ Chtoby nasiliia priliv/ O kamni finskie razbilsia.   3. “Tolstoy … Toulon”: referring to Tolstoy’s essay “Khristianstvo i patriotizm,” dated 17 March 1894, concerning the October 1893 public celebrations of the Franco-Russian Alliance during a visit of a Russian naval squadron to Toulon, France. See L. N. Tolstoy, Christianity and Patriotism, trans. Constance Garnett (London: Jonathan Cape, 1922).   4. “Of Isaac-the-Giant,” Isaaka-velikana: alluding to Galernaya St., the address of Stasiulevich and Messenger of Europe near St. Isaac’s Cathedral. An 1844 Tiutchev poem reads: Gliadel ia, stoia nad Nevoi,/ Bliz Isaaka-velikana/ Vo mgle moroznogo tumana/ Svetilsia kupol zolotoi.   5. “God of Ekron … ‘lord of the flies,’” Ekronskii Bog … gospodin mukh: Soloviev made use of the disparaging references in 2 Kings 1:2–6, punning on Velichko’s play Mukha (The fly). Velichko referred to it as Pervaia mukha (The first fly). See Velichko, Vladimir Solov´ev, 194.   6. Alexander I. Sumbatov (1857–1927): dramatic writer and actor, known on stage as “Yuzhin.”   7. Vasily M. Sobolevsky (1846–1913): a writer on social and political themes, he became editor-publisher of Russian Gazette in 1881. Alexander S. Khakhanov (1866–1912): a professor and philologist of Georgian descent with special interest in the Caucasus, particularly Georgia.   8. Joseph Krauskopf (1858–1923): Prussian-born American reformed rabbi and teacher, author of Bible Ethics (1884) and The Evolution of Judaism (1887). Soloviev assisted in guiding him to Tolstoy, whose teachings inspired concrete educational results. See my introduction.   9. “Franco-Russian deception,” franko-russkomu obmanu: the alliance between France and Russia, secretly drafted in the summer of 1892, was finalized on 4 January 1894. 10. “Essence of the world process,” sushchnost´ mirovogo protsessa: in the Hegelian sense.

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations 11. “First begotten of the dead,” perventsa iz mertvykh: see Revelation 1:5; and Acts 26:23. 12. Urbain Jean Joseph Le Verrier (1811–1877): French mathematician of celestial mechanics. 13. “Illiterate Jews,” negramotnykh evreev: see Acts 4:13. 14. Quietism: seventeenth-century heretical contemplative movement (in France: the mystic Jeanne Marie Guyon, Bishop François Fénelon; in Spain: Miguel de Molinos), claims of which included the assertion that meditation could replace good works. 15. For the serious poems in the note, see Stikhotvoreniia, 2nd ed., 74, 75; and 5th ed., 106–10. 16. The playful verses: a. Skazal mne Radlov, vam znakomyi,/ Chto dukhom novshestva vlekomyi,/ Ty, Grot, reshil Saturna beg/ Uskorit´,—derzkii chelovek!/ No ne udastsia i vdvoem/ Noiabr´ nam sdelat´ oktiabrem. b. Ia klianusia sei bumagoi/ I chernil´nitseiu sei:/ Vam redaktorskoi otvagoi/ Ne smutit´ dushi moei./ Vdokhnovliaemyi Minervoi,/ Otoshliu stat´iu vam ia/ Lish´ togda, kak liazhet pervyi/ Sneg na finskiia polia./ S"ezzhu sannoiu dorogoi/ Po ozeram, po rekam,/ I togda na sud vash strogii,/ Lish´ togda stat´iu otdam. c. Na beregu pustynnykh vod/ Mne muza finskaia iavilas´:/ Ia tol´ko vezhliv byl—i vot/ Zlodeika troinei razrodilas´/ Inykh pokuda net grekhov,/ Nichto strastei ne vozbuzhdaet,/ I tikhii roi nevinnykh snov/ Prozrachnyi sumrak navevaet./ Zhivu, s zabotoi neznakom,/ Bez utomlen´ia i usil´ia,/ Pitaias´ tol´ko molokom,/ Kak Pedro Gomets, “Lev Kastil´i.” The last two lines “Pedro Gomez … Castille” allude to Prutkov, PssKP, 44. See MMSp, 5:382. d. Goditsia li, ili negodno— / Kto dlia menia teper´ reshit?/ Khot´ Saimaa ochen´ mnogovodna,/ No pro svoe lish´ govorit./ Krugom sobaki, ovtsy, krysy— / Ne vizhu sudei nikakikh,/ Chukhontsy, pravda, belobrysy,/ No im nevniaten russkii stikh./ Pishu. Gliadiat v okoshko eli,/ Morozets serebrit puti …/ Stikhi odnako nadoeli,/ Pora i k proze pereiti. 17. “Pension Alm,” pension Al´ma: Gustaf Alm (1830–1907), Finnish businessman, Imatrian hotel manager and tied to the inn’s trade movement, founded the Peace boarding house (1894). 18. a. O Grot sverkhvremennyi, peshchera sozertsanii!/ Uvy! Ne uprazdnial ty vremeni polet./ Kak vstar´, ono—predmet skorbei i ozhidanii,/ Bez ustali bezhit i nas s soboi vlechet. b. Liubia tebe ves´ma,/ Stat´iu ia posylaiu,/ No net li v nei …,— / Ei-Bogu, ia ne znaiu./ Ispravil vse, chto mog;/ Pribavil abzats novyi./ Pechatai! S nami Bog!/ I shli mne list gotovyi./ Pod sen´iu strui opiat´/ Odin ia poselilsia,/ Opiat´ … / Ia v ozero vliubilsia. c. Vsia ty zakutalas´ shuboi pushistoi,/ V sne bezmiatezhnom, zatikhnuv, lezhish´;/ Veet ne smert´iu zdes´ vozdukh luchistyi,/ Eta prozrachnaia belaia tish´. V nevozmutimom pokoe glubokom,/ Net, ne naprasno tebia ia iskal./ Obraz tvoi tot-zhe pred vnutrennym okom,/ Feia-vladychitsa sosen i skal. (Eka rifma!) Ty neporochna, kak sneg za gorami,/ Ty mnogodumna, kak zimniaia noch´ …/ Vsia ty v luchakh, kak poliarnoe plamia,/ Temnogo khaosa svetlaia doch´!

1894–1895 19. “Your ‘Time,’” tvoem “Vremeni”: an article appearing in Voprosy filosofii i psikhologii (1894). See also Soloviev’s article on Kant in the Brokhaus-Efron Dictionary. 20. Rodilsia v mire svet, i svet otvergnut t´moiu,/ No svetit on sred t´my [vo t´me], gde gran´ dobra i zla: adapted from John 1:5, 10; 3:19–20. The title “Noch´ na Rozhdestvo” is followed by “(dedicated to V. L. Velichko),” and dated 24 December 1894 (Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 117–18). 21. “Fairness would require dedicating the entire collection”: Velichko’s second collection was dedicated to V. S. Soloviev. See V. L. Velichko, Vtoroi sbornik stikhotvorenii (St. Petersburg: Suvorin, 1894). “Watch!,” Bdi!: a warning appearing in the New Testament (Church Slavonic) as well as in no. 42 of Kozma Prutkov’s “Thoughts and Aphorisms.” See Matthew 24:42; and PssKP, 91. 22. Sumerki—Shum dalekii vodopada, “Twilight—Distant noise of a waterfall”: appearing in the 5th edition without a title, dated December 1894 (Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 114). 23. In German: Durch den Sturm, im leichten Nachen,/ Protegiert von dem Planet,/ Zu entflieh’n dem alten Drachen/ Rudert er so fein und nett. 24. “In the flesh … symbolically”: wordplay, apparent in Russian—samolichno, simvolichno. 25. “The following occurrence occurring by chance,” sleduiushchie sluchaino sluchaiu­ shchiesia sluchai: an alliterative mouthful that loses greatly in translation. 26. Hrihory Skovoroda (1722–1794): Ukrainian philosopher, from whom Soloviev descended on his mother’s side. The piece appeared in the Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary. 27. Radlov’s note suggests minor variations, but a reworked version of three stanzas appears in Soloviev’s Poems, dedicated parenthetically “(To the Memory of A. F. Aksakova)” carrying the date April 1895 (Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 124). 28. V lesu boloto,/ A takzhe mokh./ Rodilsia kto-to,/ Potom izdokh. 29. “Pollice verso,” judgment by thumb: the title of Lugovoy’s best-known work, first published in German as Pollice verso: Parallelen, trans. H. Johannson (Leipzig: Reclam, 1894), appearing in Russian only in 1901. 30. “Concerning a mountain …”: Mount Ida, the “Mountain of the Goddess.” 31. Andrei Bely, a Soloviev family friend, noted Velichko’s turn from liberalism and his embrace of right-wing nationalism by the middle of the decade; he claimed Soloviev was the source of a homonymic pun about Velichko’s move to Isfahan, Iran: that he “ispoganilsia” (fucked up) in Isfahan. See Bely, Na rubezhe dvukh stoletii (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1989), 367, 529. 32. “Brothers Tuzov”: Ignaty L. Tuzov (1851–1916) was a St. Petersburg bookseller. “Apollo Musaget”: a second-century (AD) statue of this leader of the nine muses had at the time only recently been discovered among Italian ruins, later placed in the Vatican. “Maikov’s Apollo”: a jest referring to the Russian poet A. N. Maikov, mentioned earlier. “Corinthian Apollo”: the name of a Jewish Christian evangelist

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations in Acts 18:24–19:1 and 1 Corinthians 16:12; also a subject of comparison in 1 Corinthians 1:12; 3:4–6; and 4:6. 33. A version of the poem dated April 1895 was sent to M. M. Stasiulevich. See MMSp, 5:392. Neskladnykh virshei polk za polkom/ Nam shlet Vladimir Solov´ev/ I zashibaet tikhomolkom/ On gonorar naborom slov./ Votshche! Ne prozhivesh´ stikhami,/ Khot´, kak svin´ia, bud´ plodovit´./ Torgui, neschastnyi, sapogami (sic!)/ I ne mechtai, chto ty piit./ Nam vse ravno,—zima il´ leto,/ No ty stydis´ sedykh volos:/ Ne zhdi ot starosti rastsveta/ I pet´ ne smei, kol´ bezgolos! 34. Citing the letter, Velichko omitted the end of the phrase “corals, jasper, and malakites of Velichko?” inserting “etc.” (i. t. d.) in its place. Soloviev used the plural korally, referring not to precious stones, but red-beaded Ukrainian peasant necklaces; Velichko was of Ukrainian descent and had an estate there. Soloviev began the letter referring to his verses on the Ukrainian national poet Taras Shevchenko. See Velichko, Vladimir Solov´ev, 186 (189). 35. Akhsharumov: family of Georgian descent, either Nikolai D. Akhsharumov (1819–1893) or Ivan D. Akhsharumov (n. d.), both writers of lesser talent. Nikolai D. was better known as a critic, and Ivan D. as a privy council member and procurator of the Petersburg District Court; the first volume of his collected works was published in Petersburg in 1894. 36. Baron Christian Illo (1580–1634): an aide to Wallenstein, field marshal during the Thirty Years’ War. F. Schiller’s History of the Thirty Years’ War and play The Death of Wallenstein explore loyalty and betrayal in the tragic unknown fate of Wallenstein and those close to him. 37. “Sufficient unto the day …,” Dovleet dnevi zloba ego: Matthew 6:34 in Church Slavonic. 38. Nikolai P. Karbasnikov (1852–1921): book publisher; the last two lines of V. A. Zhukovsky’s “Vospominanie” (1827): O milykh sputnikakh, kotorye nash svet/ Svoim sopututstviem dlia nas zhivotvorili,/ Ne govori s toskoi—ikh net,/ No s blagodarnostiu—byli! 39. Mikhail M. Lederle (1857–1908): writer of children’s literature, book publisher from 1889 to 1898, including the series Moia biblioteka. 40. Ich bin nun zwei—und—vierzig Jahr alt/ Und du bist neunzehn jährig kaum/ O, Zoia! Wenn ich dich erblicke/ Erwacht in mir der alte Traum. 41. “With the mother, who’s not yet going under the portico …,” s mater´iu, kotoraia eshche ne ukhodit´ pod portik sok granatu vyzhimat´: from Koz´ma Prutkov, “Novogrecheskaia pesn´”: Spit zaliv. Ellada dremlet. Pod portik ukhodit mat´/ Sok granaty vyzhimat´ …/ Zoia! nam nikto ne vnemlet! Zoia, dai sebia obniat! PssKP, 61–62. 42. “Alliance between China and Japan”: theme in “A Brief Tale about the Antichrist” (1900). 43. Nikiforov only took part of Soloviev’s advice, translating Natural Law in the Spiritual World abridged as Estestvennyi zakon v dukhovnom mire (St. Petersburg, 1897), while The Ascent of Man was translated unabridged by N. A. Ivantsov under

1896–1897

44.

45. 46. 47.

48.

49.

50.

51.

the title Evoliutsiia i progress cheloveka (Moscow, 1897). It seems Soloviev did not provide a foreword to either one. “Trishkin’s kaftan”: a fable by Ivan A. Krylov (1769–1844); the moral of this little gem is how misguided it is to fix one thing before considering what the action’s effects will be. “Do not drink wine nor strong drink,” vina i sikera ne piite: Leviticus 10:9 in Church Slavonic. “Abomination of Desolation,” merzost´ zapusteniia: see Daniel 11:31, 12:11; Mark 13:14 and Matthew 24:15. Nepodvizhna v inee,/ Belaia poliana,/ Zakhlebnulis´ linii/ Molokom tumana,/ Vyrastaet liliia/ V serdtse odinokom/ I plody usiliia/ Boriutsia s porokom./ Ne zaiti-l´ sred´ sumerek/ K blednoi Valentine?/ No kotoryi numer? … Ek!/ Bezgolov ia nyne! Fyodor Eduardovich Shperk (1872–1897): son of a famous medical specialist on syphilis and public hygiene, he was antiliberal and pro-Slavophile, writing articles for New Times. Probably Nikolai A. Liubimov (1830–1897): a professor of physics, he wrote on the history of physics and popular science, known as well for translating the work of Descartes. “Among them first am I,” ot nikh zhe pervyi esm´ az: Moses asks the Lord (the great “I AM” [Ch. Slav.: az esm´]) “who am I [kto esm´ az] to go to pharaoh?” See Exodus 3:11, 14. Esper Esperovich Ukhtomsky (1861–1921): a noble of centrist convictions and Sinophile, he traveled with the heir-apparent on a trip east (1891), publishing his impressions (1893).

1896–1897   1. For the story of Balaam, see Numbers 22, esp. 22:22–33; see also 2 Peter 2:15–16.  2. Izraelia vedia stezeiu chudnoi,/ Gospod´ zaraz dva dela sotvoril:/ Otverz usta oslitse besslovesnoi/ I govorit´ proroku zapretil./ Dalekoe gridaushchee tailos´/ V sikh ­chudesakh pervonachal´nykh dnei,/ I nyne kazn´ Moava sovershilas´,/ Uvy! nad bednoi rodinoi moei./ Gonima, Rus´, ty besposhchadnym rokom,/ Kak nekogda nevernyi Bileam:/ Zagrazhdeny usta tvoim prorokam,/ I slovo vol´noe dano tvoim oslam./ Kaius´, drevnaia oslitsa,/ Ia tebia obidel derzko,/ Ved´ mezh nashimi oslami/ Govorit i kniaz´ Meshcherskii./ Govorit takie rechi,/ Chto, uslysha ikh, ot srama/ Pokrasnela by v Sheole/ Ten´ oslitsy Bileama.  3. “Enemy-friend,” vragodrug: Nikolai N. Strakhov passed away on 24 January 1896.   4. Clement Marot (1496–1544): French poet of the Renaissance.   5. “Your namesake”: referring to Soloviev’s brother Misha [Mikhail] and their father’s notes. See letter to M. M. Stasiulevich dated 25 February 1896, PVSS, 1:132, not included here.

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations   6. “Bulgarian exarch”: perhaps Joseph I. Lazar (1840–1915), who played a key role in Bulgaria’s “national awakening” against the Ottomans. “Mlle Judic,” M-lle Zhiudik: Anna Damiens (stage name Anna Judic), actress in “Bouffes-Parisiennes,” known for chansons de geste.   7. Pavel Ya. Rosenbach (1858–1918): psychiatrist specializing in nerve disorders, falling sickness, traumatic neuroses.   8. “Meaning of War”: first appearing as “Smysl voiny,” Niva, no. 7 (1895); later revised as a chapter in Justification of the Good.   9. Maimonides (1135–1204): Soloviev favored this Jewish philosopher in Spain under Muslim rule, for he demonstrated an ultimate compatibility between religious and scientific knowledge. Nicholas Malebranche (1638–1715): French priest/theologian; Cartesian ideas spurred him to turn attention to philosophy, with principal emphasis on all things as existing in God. 10. “Speak of the devil and he appears,” Quand on parle du loup on en voit la queue: more literally “When we speak of the wolf, we see the tail.” 11. “Anacharsis,” Anakharsis: sixth-century BC Scythian “philosopher” who purportedly became friends with the lawgiver Solon. Soloviev’s note is crafted thickly with older Russian verbiage. 12. Nevron Finlandskii, strazhdushchii nevritom,/ Privet svoi shlet Moskovskomu­ nevronu!/ Vse bytie zemnoe—chto ni vri tam—/ Vse v reku brosheno (v reku v­ remen)— ne v Ronu! 13. “Πάντα ῥε ,” Panta rhei—everything flows: a phrase closely associated with Heraclitus (540–475 BC), whose influence on Plato is generally assumed. The idea of change as the sole constant is attributed to Heraclitus, Hegel adopting it into his system; the allusion here is to Phenomenology of Spirit (1807). Πάντα ῥε . I s kazhdym godom, podbavliaia khodu,/ Reka vremen nesetsia vse bystrei,/ I, chuia izdali i more, i svobodu,/ Ia govoriu spokoino: panta rei!/ No mne grozit Levon neustrashimyi,— / Substantsii dinamicheskikh meshok/ Svezti k reke i massoiu nezrimoi/ Vdrug zaprudit´ ves´ Geraklitov tok./ Levon, Levon! Ostav´ svoiu zateiu,/ I ne shuti s vodoiu i ognem … / Substantsii net! Prognal ikh Gegel´ v sheiu;/ No i bez nikh my slavno zazhivem! 14. “Delayers,” kunktatory: from the Latin “cunctator,” i.e., third-century Roman general Quintus F. M. V. Cunctator, noted for his “delaying” tactics in the Punic wars. 15. Nephritis: inflammation of the kidneys. 16. “Marta! Marta! Where have you vanished?”: perhaps an adaptation of the line “Marta, Marta, tu sparisti” from Friedrich von Flotow’s (1812–1883) popular Marta: Opera semiseria in quattro atti (Act III, scene 4). See also the story of Martha and Mary in Luke 10:38–42. 17. Eti finskiia maliutki/ Bezkonechno belokury!/ Khot´ poprobovat´ dlia shutki/ Im v ser´ez ustroit´ kury?/ Ot menia sedykh by zaitsev/ Rodili oni naverno./ Miasa ia ne em, i byl by/ Im papasha ia primernyi./ Pustiaki! Na belom svete/ Prozhivu bez belykh finnok,/ A komu ugodno zaitsev,—/ Ikh zimoiu polon rynok!

1896–1897 18. “Parfenson”: an adaptation of the word “professor” by the local folk in Imatra, ­Finland. 19. “To finish a booklet … my big book”: Law and Morality; Justification of the Good. Serge M. Wolkonsky (1860–1937), great-grandson of the Decembrist. His mother (E. G.) was a friend of Soloviev; either Impressions: Sketches of American Life as Observed by a Russian (Chicago: Unity Publishing, 1893), or Addresses (Chicago: J. C. Winship, 1893). 20. “Rectal prolapse … obstructs the visitation of company,” vypadeniem priamoi kishki … prepiatstvuiushchaia poseshcheniiu obshchestva: double entendre, since the word poseshcheniia may also carry the meaning of “punishment, affliction.” 21. “Retribution,” Nemezida: the goddess Nemesis wrought vengeance upon those with hubris. 22. Po povodu stikhov Maikova: “U grobnitsy Groznago” i stikhov Fofanova na mogile Maikova: Kogda lukavymi slovami/ Ty zluiu sily vospeval,/ Ne mnil ty, Maikov, chto mezh nami/ Uzhe otmstitel´ vozstaval! I on prishel k tvoei mogile,/ I dikii voi razdalsia vdrug,/ I stalo toshno adskoi sile,/ I sodrognulsia gornyi krug. A tam v Arkhangel´skom sobore/ Proshel kakoi-to strannyi gul,/ I, neskazannym virsham vtoria,/ Sam Groznyi kriknul: “karaul!” 23. Tosna: north-flowing tributary of the Neva. The line: solntse igraet nad dikoiu Tosnoiu appears in Soloviev’s poem “Pamiat´,” dated 23 February 1892 (Stikhotvoreniia, 5th ed., 79). 24. “Ye have an unction from the Holy One and ye know all things,” Imeete pomazanie ot sviatykh i vedaete vse: 1 John 2:20. 25. Est´ beztolkovitsa,/ Son uzhe ne tot,/ Chto-to gotovit´sia,/ Kto-to idet: the first four lines from a short “mystery” play by Kozma Prutkov titled Srodstvo mirovykh sil (The affinity of amicable forces). See PssKP, 244. 26. “Corrected edition of Lermontov,” ispravlennoe izdanie Lermontova: pun on the poet’s full name. 27. Drugim schitat´ gody opasno,/ No Vas chislo ikh veselit:/ Trud plodotvornyi, podvig iasnyi/ Ne istoshchaet, a bodrit./ Ser´eznost´ s shutkoiu bespechnoi,/ V spokoistvii— kipen´e sil … / Ia b Vam zavidoval, konechno,/ Kogda by men´she Vas liubil. 28. “How many times has the world been told,” Uzh skol´ko raz tverdili miru: first line of Krylov’s fable “The Crow and the Fox” (Vorona i lisitsa, 1807). 29. a: Votshche! S Dunaia, Temzy, Tibra,/ Letiat poslan´ia po piatam— / Muzhchin, lishennykh ekilibra,/ I s zhiru besiashchikhsia dam. b: Ne bolen ia i ne pechalen,/ Khot´ vreden mne klimat Moskvy,/ On cherezchur kontinentalen,/ Zdes´ net Galernoi i Nevy./ Nu, nasolil zhe mne Chicherin,/ Samodovol´nyi dvorianin,—/ Vse perevral, kak sivyi merin,/ Skopets tambovskikh palestin./ Vchera prikonchil ia zlodeia. / Ukral on mesiats trudovoi./ Za eto b´iut! I ne zhaleia—/ Trakh! Trakh!—i v iamu golovoi. 30. “Maecenases,” metsenatov: patrons of art and literature (from the Roman “­Maecenas”).

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations 31. “Tertius gaudens,” a third rejoices: legal term for the tertiary beneficiary of a ­dispute. 32. Maurice Maeterlinck (1862–1949): Belgian symbolist playwright (Nobel laureate, 1911) known for mystical and philosophical ideas in works such as Trésor des humbles (The treasure of the humble [1896]).

1898–1900   1. Albert G. Hanotaux (1853–1944): minister of foreign affairs, in favor of rapprochement with Russia. “Being the high priest that year,” étant sacriticateur cette année là: set phrase in the New Testament for the high priest Caiaphas. See John 11:49, 51; 18:13; Matthew 26:3; Luke 3:2; and Acts 4:6.  2. “Nave senza nochhiero in gran tempesta,” ship without a helmsman in a mighty storm: slight variation of a line from Dante’s Purgatorio, VI, 77. In fuller context, referring to Italy suffering without sovereignty, subject to the will of others, like a prostitute: “Ah, serva Italia, di dolore osteblo, nave sanza nocchiere in gran tempesta, no douna di province, ma bordello!”   3. “Faith is feeble and livers diseased,” la foi est faible et le foie malade: obvious ­wordplay.   4. “Zhizhnennaia drama Platona,” Vestnik Evropy, no. 3 (1898): 334–56, and no. 4 (1898): 769–93; also SsVSS, 8:246–90; translated as “Plato’s Life-Drama” in Wozniuk, Politics, Law, and Morality, 213–54.   5. Alexander I. Vvedensky (1856–1925): Kantian professor of logic, philosophy, and psychology in St. Petersburg, author of Teachings of Leibniz (Uchenie Leibnitsa [1886]).  6. Khristos Voskrese!/ Vot my v Odesse …/ Proshchai zemlia!/ Svezheet veter/ I termometr/ Vblizi nulia./ Vot chaek staia,/ Volna bol´shaia;/ Vot drug Ernest,/ Bliuiushchii s borta/ V morskogo chorta,/ Tuman okrest./ K Bosforu blizhe / Volnen´e nizhe/ I vyshe rtut´… / Vot i igrushki:/ Kazarmy, pushki/—I prervan put´!   7. Fyodor I. Uspensky (1845–1928): respected Byzantine historian. Nikolai I. ­Skrydlov (1844–1918): naval hero during the Russo-Turkish War, specialist on mines.  8. “Protopoporum, poporum, diaconorum, diatchkorum ponomariorumque … ­laikorum — oblupatio et obdiratio”: the first set of terms—church hierarchy down to sexton/sacristan; the second—nonsense wordplay, as if in Latin but at the expense of priests, who could be taken as ready to fleece, peel (oblupat´) or strip (obdirat´) off the skin of the laity (laikorum).   9. “In the half already published,” v napechatannoi eiia polovine: the talk “Ideia chelovechestva u Avgusta Konta,” 7 March 1898, appeared in two parts: Cosmopolis, nos. 4 (1898): 60–73, and 12 (1898): 179–87; also see SvVSS, 8: 225–45.

1898–1900 10. S. M. Lukianov’s addendum: “Written, it seems, in March 1899. Justification of the Good, 2nd edition, released about that time, was sent with the letter. In 1899, the addressee lived on Aptekarskii Island, along Lopukhinskaia St., near Karpovkaia. From here comes the expression: ‘transcarpothian lands’—The guest about whom he’s speaking is Ms. A. I. V—va. Soloviev kindly volunteered ‘to give her a lift.’ After that, it happened that A. I. V—va was in Moscow when Soloviev was interred. Present at the burial, she very much wanted to receive something as a keepsake. When the coffin was being brought past her, a rose from a wreath fell at her feet.” 11. The first version of “Three Conversations” was published from October 1899 to February 1900 in Knizhki nedeli (Books of the Week) under the title Pod pal´mami: Tri razgovora o mirnykh i voennykh delakh. It appeared later that year under the title Tri razgovora o voine, progresse, i kontse vsemirnoi istorii, so vkliucheniem kratkoi povest ob antikhriste i s prilozheniiami. 12. Vot blednyi ocherk pukhloi rozhi:/ Portret bez lesti, no pokhozhii. 13. In Radlov’s footnote: Friedrich Jodl (1849–1914), positivist in philosophy and psychology 14. A brief reference to “Jean de Kobeliatnikoff ” also appeared in a letter to the philologist Ilya A. Shliapkin, dated 10 December 1898, in PVSS, 1:155, not included here. 15. a. Chernyi tsvet, mrachnyi tsvet,/ Ty mne mil zavsegda: a couplet from an old gypsy romance. b. Gliazhu kak bezumnyi na chernuiu shal´,/ I mrachnuiu [*khladnuiu] dushu terzaet pechal´: from Pushkin’s poem “Chernaia shal´” (1820). c. Peterburgskie belye nochi/ Cherez mrak utomitel´nykh dnei/ Mne napomnili chernye ochi/ I tainstvennyi sumrak allei. 16. Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778): the social contract philosopher, born in Geneva. Jean Cauvin (Calvin, 1509–1564): Genevan protestant leader—­ condemned heretics to death. Perhaps Jacques Alfred Marchand (1842–1895), a writer on religion, monks, and nuns. 17. General Georges Boulanger (1837–1891): French minister of defense whom Charles Floquet seriously wounded in a fencing duel over insults and constitutional issues in 1888. See above. 18. Fyodor F. Marthens (1849–1909): diplomat and specialist on international law. 19. Ia raspukh, propitan iodom,/Nos, glaza—v ogne./I iavliat´sia k vam urodom,/ Ne okhota mne./ Trekh pokoinikov publichno/ Dolzhen ia pochtit´,/ I, pozhalui, neprilichno/ Mne chetvertym byt´. 20. Adrian A. Kriukov (1849–1908): ophthalmologist, author of A Course on Eye Diseases (Kurs glaznykh boleznei [1894]). 21. Fyodor E. Korsh (1843–1916): a philologist who worked in Roman and European literature, as well as Indo-European languages more broadly; he also produced a volume of Greek and Latin poetry on Russian topics titled Stephanos.

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Editor-Translator’s Annotations Viktor K. Ernstedt (1854–1902): professor of Greek and Roman literature at St. Petersburg. 22. Non ignarus mali miseris succurrere disco: “Not ignoring evil, I learn to help the wretched.” 23. “It doth not yet appear what we shall be,” Ne u iavisia, chto budem: 1 John 3:2, Church Slavonic. 24. “The Dragon,” Drakon: first published with the date 24 June 1900, appended to Vestnik Evropy, no. 5 (1900): 316. See my introduction. Soloviev died on 31 July 1900.

Index of Biblical References Genesis 1:31, 207 Genesis 2:11–14, 150, 320n4 Genesis 14:18, 79, 313n52 Genesis 22:3–5, 244 Exodus 3:1–3, 179, 323n17 Exodus 3:11, 250, 333n50 Exodus 8:10, 89, 314n2 Exodus 15:11, 89, 314n2 Leviticus 10:9, 245, 333n45 Numbers 22:22–33, 250, 333n1 1 Kings 19:10, 118, 316n5 2 Kings 1:2–6, 224, 329n5 Proverbs 8:1–9:18, xv, 36, 307n5 Psalm 40:14 [Russian: 39:15], 118, 316n5 Psalm 74:14, 79, 313n52 Psalm 104:26, 79, 313n52 Psalm 110:4 [Russian: 109:4], 79, 313 n52 Isaiah 1:13, 117, 316n1 Isaiah 14:12, 214, 327n33 Isaiah 27:1, 79, 313n52 Ezekiel 9:4, 18, 303n20 Daniel 11:31, 247, 333n46 Daniel 12:11, 247, 333n46

Job 41:1, 79, 313n52 Matthew 6:3, 182, 323n22 Matthew 6:34, 128, 242, 317n17, 332n37 Matthew 7:16, 20, 57, 310n18 Matthew 8:3–4, 193, 324n34 Matthew 10:16, 14, 303n14 Matthew 24:15, 247, 333n46 Matthew 24:42, 234, 331n21 Matthew 25:40–45, 182, 323n22 Matthew 26:3, 268, 336n1 Mark 1:42–44, 193, 324n34 Mark 13:14, 247, 333n46 Mark 16:15, 16, 303n17 Luke 3:2, 268, 336n1 Luke 7:28, 182, 323n22 Luke 10:38–42, 259, 334n16 Luke 17:14, 193, 324n34 Luke 23:34, 15, 303n16 John 1:5, 10, 233, 331n20 John 3:19–20, 233, 331n20 John 4:42, 9, 303n11 John 8:23, 95, 315n15 John 11:49, 268, 336n1 John 11:51, 268, 336n1 John 12:31, 95, 315n15 John 18:13, 268, 336n1 John 18:38, 43, 308n19

340

Index of Biblical References Acts 4:6, 268, 336n1 Acts 4:13, 228, 330n13 Acts 4:32, 184, 323n23 Acts 17:27–28, 9, 303n10 Acts 18:24–19:1, 241, 332n32 Acts 26:23, 227, 229, 330n11 Romans 8:38–39, 95, 315n15 1 Corinthians 1:25, 16, 303n18 1 Corinthians 3:4–6, 241, 332n32 1 Corinthians 4:6, 241, 332n32 1 Corinthians 13:1–13, 53, 309n5 1 Corinthians 15:28, 51, 309n1 1 Corinthians 16:12, 241, 332n32 Ephesians 1:10, 51, 309n1 Ephesians 1:21, 95, 315n15 Ephesians 4:6, 51, 309n1 Galatians 6:2, 196 Colossians 2:9, 52, 309n4 Colossians 3:11, 14, 51, 309n1 Hebrews 5:6–7:21, 79, 313n52 2 Peter 2:15–16, 250, 333n1 1 John 2:18, xxx, 301n21 1 John 2:20, 264, 335n 1 John 3:2, 284, 338n23 1 John 4:8, 53, 309n5 3 John 1:13–14, 88, 314n69 Revelation 1:5, 227, 330n11

General Index Abaza, Nikolai S., 163, 321 Acts of the Apostles, 184 Acts of the ecumenical councils, 57 Aeneid (Virgil), 135, 282, 292, 318, Akhsharumov, Ivan D., 242, 332 Akhsharumov, Nikolai D., 242, 332 Aksakov, Alexander N., xxii, 24, 54, 58, 60, 64, 69, 72, 78, 172, 194, 291, 304, 309, 310 Aksakov, Ivan S., xxii, 55, 56, 57, 61, 62, 64, 67, 69, 112, 116, 270, 309, 310, 311 Aksakova, Anna F., 144, 145, 284, 331 Albanians, 162 Albigensians, 324 Alexander II and III, Tsars, xviii, xxi, 47, 291, 292 Alexandria (Egypt), 29, 77, 272 all-unity, x, xvii, 200, 309 America and Americans, xxviii, 150, 261, 279, 319, 329 Anacharsis, 258, 334 Anglo-Russian Literary Society, 311, 322, 325 Antichrist, xxx, 106, 107, 168, 206, 255, 256, 257, 265, 270, 271, 283, 301, 306, 311, 332 antisemitism, xxv, xxvi, xxx, 134, 167, 171–172, 268, 269, 295, 298, 305, 318, 321 Antonii, Archimandrite, 92, 93, 95, 111, 118, 167, 291 Apollo, 17, 53, 241, 331

Aquinas, Thomas, and Thomism, 324 Aristotle, 296, 312 Arnold, Gottfried, 37, 307 Arseniev, Konstantin K., 176, 181, 182, 193, 210, 220, 244, 291, 323, 324 Astafiev, Petr E., 205, 326, Astashkov (pseudonym), 123 Athanasius (the Great), 77, 78, “At the Dawn of Nebulous Youth” (­Soloviev), 302 Augustine, Saint (bishop of Hippo), 312, 324 Avvakum, 240 Bacon, Francis, 7, 302 Bakhmeteva, Nina P., 267, 291 Bakst, Nikolai I., 176, 323 Balkans, 292, 312 Baranov, Nikolai M., 46, 291 Barnabas, Father, 319 Bart, Count Ferdinand Georgievich de la, 327 Basil, Grand Duke, 106 Basil, Saint (the Great), 233 Batiushkov, Fyodor D., 273, 274, 292 Batiushkov, Konstantin N., 306 Battenberg, Alexander Joseph, 141, 319 “Beauty in Nature” (Soloviev), 296, 309, 317, 321 Bely, Andrei, x, 331 Bestuzhev-Riumin, Konstantin N., 44, 45, 49, 292

342

General Index Bezobrazov, Pavel V., 153, 156, 157, 320, 325 Bible and biblical citations. See Index of Biblical References Blavatsky (Blavatskaya), E. P., 54, 284, 310 Blessed Virgin, 120 Boborykin, Petr D. (Pierre Bobo), 218, 219, 328 Boehme, Jacob, 37, 304, 307 bogochelovechestvo. See God-man and Godmanhood Bossuet, Jacques Benin, 219, 328 Botkin, Sergei P., 66, 160, 311 Boulanger, Georges, 279, 337 Boutourlin, P. 132, 317 Bredikhin, Fyodor A. 78, 313 “Brief Tale about the Antichrist” (Soloviev), xxx, 306, 311, 332 British Museum, xvi, 26, 305, 321 Brokhaus-Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary, xviii, xxxv, 182, 291, 294, 298, 313, 331 Brokhaus-Efron Jewish Encyclopedia, xxvi, xxv Brothers Karamazov (Dostoevsky), ix, 52, 292, 299 Brunetière, Ferdinand, 219, 328 Bruno, Giordano, 159, 320 Büchner, Ludwig, 6, 7, 302 Buddhists and Buddhism, xiv, 121, 168, 270 Burenin, V. P., 202, 241, 326 Butlerov, A. M., 59, 78, 109, 121, 125, 311 Byron, Lord, 14, 312 Byzantium and Byzantines, 104, 110, 159, 186–187, 191–192, 202, 204, 320 Caiaphas, High Priest, 336 Cairo (Egypt), 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 271, 272, 320

Calvin, John ( Jean Cauvin), 185, 278, 337 Casimir‑Perier, Jean Paul Pierre, 279 Cathars, 324 Catholics and Catholicism, x, xiii, xix, xxi–xv, 56–57, 62–63, 65, 67–70, 80–81, 85–86, 96, 100–111, 113–115, 120–123, 129–131, 136, 141, 152, 155, 159, 161, 165, 185, 188, 220, 255, 291, 292, 293, 294, 295, 299, 302, 307, 311, 312, 313, 315, 317, 328 Caucasus, 59, 98, 133, 139, 160, 174, 281, 298, 315, 329 Caucasus (newspaper), 265 censorship and censors, xiv, xviii, xxiii, xxvi, 73, 80, 83, 110–111, 112, 114, 115, 116, 119, 120, 128, 140, 142, 143, 147, 149, 155, 159, 161, 163, 168, 169, 170, 177, 189, 193, 201, 205, 210, 235, 261, 274, 276, 307, 312, 313, 314, 326 Chalcedon, Council of, 90 Charles XII, 175 Chel´tsov, Grigory V., 324 Chernyshevsky, Nikolai G., 219, 297, 328 Chicherin, Boris N., 62, 266, 267, 311, 322 China and Chinese, xxix, xxx, xxxi, 168, 196, 209, 243, 287, 301, 332 “China and Europe” (Soloviev), xxxi, 301 Christ and Christianity, ix, x, xiv, xv, xx–xxvi, xxix–xxxi, 2–3, 6, 7–9, 15–16, 18, 19, 30, 47, 50, 52, 55, 65, 67, 68, 71, 73, 77, 80, 88, 92, 103– 109, 141, 152, 158, 162, 167, 168, 172, 183–186, 189–192, 205, 210, 225–229, 241, 248, 250, 255–257, 264, 286, 289, 296, 321, 324

General Index Church Messenger (newspaper), xxvi, 112, 113, 118 Citizen, The (newspaper), xxvi, xxviii, xxxv, 72, 155, 283, 305, 318 Coburg, Ferdinand I. See Ferdinand I Columbus, Christopher, xiv, 124 “Concerning Maikov’s Verses: ‘At the Tomb of [Ivan] the Terrible’ and Fofanov’s Verse at Maikov’s Grave” (Soloviev), 262 Comte, Auguste, 245, 273, 274, 294 Constantinople (Istanbul), 31, 48, 84, 110, 186, 189, 272, 307, 324 Cosmopolis (journal), 274, 292, 336 Council of Florence, 106 Crime and Punishment (Dostoevsky), 13, 292 Crisis of Western Philosophy: Against Positivism (Soloviev), xii, 19, 54 Crookes, William, 26, 305 Cyril and Methodius, SS, 324 Damiens, Anna Marie-Louise, 334 Danilevsky, Nikolai Ya., xxv, 71, 82, 83, 84, 89, 137, 142, 144, 146, 168, 306, 314, 318 Dante, 67, 311, 336 Darwin and Darwinism, 28, 52, 84, 89, 137, 144, 297, 309, 314, 317 David, king of Israel, 88, 141 Dead Souls (Gogol), 314 Descartes, Rene, 20, 21, 157, 249, 304, 333 Diary of a Writer (Dostoevsky), 305, 318 Didache (Διδαχη). See “Teaching of the XII Apostles” Divine Feminine. See eternal feminine Divine humanity. See God-man and Godmanhood Dokuchaev, Vasily V., 200, 325 Donatists, 187, 324

Dostoevskaia, Anna G., 20, 312 Dostoevsky, Fyodor M., ix, xxi, xxv, 13, 20, 28, 45, 53, 56, 71, 74, 75, 76, 163, 292, 296, 297, 299, 303, 304, 305, 306, 312, 313, 317, 318, 320, 326 “Dragon, The” (Soloviev), xxix, xxx, xxxi, 286, 338 Drummond, Henry, 244 Dreyfus scandal, 268 Duns-Scotus, 220 Du Prel, Carl, 205, 326 Duvernois [Duvernoy], Alexander L. 138, 318 Eastern Church. See Orthodoxy Egypt. See Alexandria; see also Cairo Elizabeth I, queen of England, 185 Entsiklopedicheskii slovar´ F. A. Brokgauza i I. A. Efrona. See Brokhaus-Efron Epictetus, 42, 308 Ermolov, Alexei S., 196, 325 Ernstedt, Victor K., 281, 338 eternal feminine, xv, 300 evangelism, x, xiv, xxv, 94, 315, 323, 331 Evgenii Onegin (Pushkin), 302 evolution. See Darwin and Darwinism Fadeev, General R. A., 29, 31, 306 Faust (Goethe), 46, 48, 49, 53, 58, 300, 308 Famine of 1891–1892, xxvii–xxviii, 180–181, 183, 194, 325 “Fate of Pushkin, The” (Soloviev), 304 Fedorov, Nikolai F., 49, 50, 157, 292 Fedorov, Vasily P., 52 Femininity, Divine. See eternal feminine Feoktistov, Evgeny M., 126, 173, 312 Ferdinand I, Prince of Coburg, 141, 319 Fet, Afanasy A., xix, 46, 48, 49, 53, 58, 78, 79, 98, 119, 123, 142, 150, 160, 193, 204, 282, 292, 308, 312, 313, 314, 322

343

344

General Index filioque, xxii, 68, 96, 311 Filippov, Tertii I., 73, 84, 159, 161, 169, 292, 312, 321 Finland and Finns, xvii, xxx, 46, 92, 212, 223, 229–233, 236, 238, 241–244, 258–259, 308, 315, 330, 334 “First Step toward a Positive Aesthetic, A” (Soloviev), 328 Flerov, Sergei V., 80, 314 Floquet, Charles, 154, 320, 337 Fonvizin, Denis I., 328 Fourier, Francois Charles Marie, 328 Fox, Kate, 28, 305 France and the French, xix, xxiii, xxiv, xxvi, xxx, 34, 128, 154, 155, 164, 213, 255, 257, 269, 277, 278, 284, 294, 295, 328, 329, 330 Fyodor, Tsar, 190 Gets, Faivel B., xxvi, 93, 97, 109, 115, 126, 134, 140, 167, 171, 172, 175, 177, 293, 315, 322 Gichtel, ( Johann) George, 37, 307 Giliarov, Alexei N., 82, 314 Giliarov-Platonov, Nikita, 314 Ginsburg, (Baron) David G., 177, 251 God-man and Godmanhood (Divine Humanity), x, xv, 68, 229 Goethe, Johann W., 53, 300, 308 Gogol, Nikolai, 260, 279, 294, 296, 303, 314, 320, 328 Golenishchev-Kutuzov, Count Arseny Arkadievich, 241, 310, 316 Golovin, Konstantin F., 262, 293 Goncharov, Ivan A., 181 Gospels. See New Testament “Grand Inquisitor” (Dostoevsky), 52 “Great Debate and Christian Politics, The” (Soloviev), xxii, 59, 62, 63, 64, 67, 69, 87, 190, 310

Greece and Greeks, 17, 28, 57, 106, 110, 164, 187–188, 228, 271, 278, 315, 329 Gregory of Nazianzus, 210 Gregory of Nyssa, 210 Griboedev, Alexander, 312, 327 Gringmut, Vladimir A., 184, 185, 187, 188, 189, 323 Grot, Nikolai Ya., 121, 125, 159, 163, 164, 170, 173, 183, 205, 214, 215, 222, 230, 232, 236, 247, 251, 252, 258, 293, 316, 321, 326 Gubernatis, Count Angelo de, 195, 325 Guettée, Vladimir (né René François), 122, 317 Gurevich, Liubov Ya., 181, 183, 196, 199, 200, 201, 293 Hagia Sofia, 35, 307 Hamlet (Shakespeare), 22, 308, 314, 324, 325 Hanotaux, Albert G., 268–269, 336 Hartmann, Eduard von, 24, 89, 304 Hebrew. See Jews and Judaism Hebrew Bible. See Bible; see also Index of Biblical References Hegel and Hegelianism, xii, 24, 52, 125, 259, 329, 334 Heine, Heinrich, 25, 198, 200 Hellenbach, Lazar B., 54, 58, 60, 309, 310 Hellenes. See Greece and the Greeks Heraclitus, 259, 334 Hindus and Hinduism, 271 History and Future of Theocracy, The (Soloviev), xi, xxiii, 83, 85, 88, 94, 95, 101, 111, 115, 118, 128, 129, 130, 132, 133, 135, 140, 145, 148, 155, 165 Hobbes, Thomas, 313 Holy Roman Empire, 176 Holy Scripture. See Bible

General Index Home, Daniel D., 28, 72, 305, 306, Horace, 74, 312, 322 idealism and idealists, xv–xvi, xviii, 8–9, 21, 22, 53, 67, 174, 175, 180, 184, 226, 228, 248, 303, 304, 309 Ignatius of Constantinople, 189, 324 Illo, Baron Christian, 242, 332 Imatra. See Finland and Finns immortality. See resurrection Inspector General (Gogol), 19, 303 “In the Vicinity of Åbo” (Soloviev), 223 Isidore, Metropolitan, 106 Islam. See Muslims; see also Mohammed Israel. See Jews and Judaism Ivan the Terrible, 77, 262 Ivantsov-Platonov, Alexander M., 56, 61, 122, 310 Jansenism, 317 Janssen, Johann, 80, 82, 313 Japan and Japanese, xxx, 141, 203, 243, 332 Jesus. See Christ and Christianity Jesuits. See Catholics and Catholicism Jewish Literary Society, 140 Jews and Judaism, xvii, xxi, xxv, xxvi, xxvii–xxix, xxx–xxxi, xxxv, 80, 91, 92, 93, 97, 98, 109, 116, 134, 140–141, 165, 168, 171–172, 176, 177, 178, 188, 189, 212, 228, 251, 270, 293, 296, 301, 302, 304, 313, 315, 316, 317, 318, 321, 323, 329, 330, 334 Jodl, Friedrich, 227, 337 John of Damascus, 189, 324 Journal of the Ministry of Public Education, xxxv, 42, 307, 309, 312 Judic, Anna. See Damiens, Anna Marie-Louise Justification of the Good (Soloviev), 334, 335, 337

Kabbala and kabbalists, 71, 251, 253 Kant, Immanuel, 20–21, 24, 161, 205– 206, 233, 248, 303, 308, 331, 336 Kapustin, Mikhail N., 26, 199, 305 Karbasnikov, Nikolai P., 25, 242, 332 Kardec, Allan, 28, 305 Kareev, Nikolai I., 11, 293 Katkov, M. N., xxvi, 37, 39, 45, 80, 82, 110, 127, 130, 133, 134, 137, 141, 151, 306, 307, 314, 317, 323 Kavelin, Konstantin D., 24, 304 Khakhanov, Alexander S., 224, 329 Khitrovo, Mikhail, 300 Khitrovo, Sophia P., xvi, 197, 291, 297, 298, 300 Khomiakov, A. S., 70, 131, 193, 308 King, John, 26, 305 Kingdom of God, xxi, 51, 228, 321 Kireev, Alexander A., xxii, 40, 62, 66, 68, 70, 71, 73, 77, 85, 86, 87, 95, 100, 114, 264, 293, 295 Kliuchevsky, Vasily O., 167, 321 Koburgsky, Ferdinand. See Ferdinand I Kolubovsky, Yakov N., 192, 293 Korolenko, Vladimir G., 170, 321, 322 Korsh, Fyodor E., 253, 281, 337 Kotliarevsky, Nestor A., 235, 260, 294 Kovalevsky, Maxim M., 25, 28–29, 34, 305 Kozlov, Alexei A., 163, 164 Krauskopf, Joseph, xxvii–xviii, 225, 301, 329 Kriukov, Adrian A., 204, 281, 326, 337 Krizanič (Krizhanich), Yuri, 102, 316 Krylov, Ivan A., 245, 333, 335 Kuhlmann, Quirinus, 191, 324 Kuzmin-Karavaev, Vladimir D., 175, 178, 205, 208, 229, 236, 322 Lamansky, Vladimir I., 83, 159, 314 Lamennais, Félicité-Robert, 195, 325 lamenters, 18, 303

345

346

General Index Lange, Friedrich A., 244, 277, 321 Lapshin, Ivan O., 5, 54, 56, 69, 294 Lapshina, Susanna D., 5, 294 Lazar, Joseph I., 334 “Lectures on Godmanhood” (Soloviev), xxv, 53, 54, 309 Lederle, Mikhail M., 242, 332 Lemire, Abbé Jules Auguste, 219, 221, 328 Lensky, Alexander P., 178, 323 Leo XIII, Pope, 318, 320 Leontiev, Konstantin N., 71, 159, 169, 173, 194, 204, 294, 324 Lermontov, Mikhail Yu., 22, 59, 174, 265, 294, 304, 310, 322, 335 Leroy‑Beaulieu, Anatole, xix, 120, 129, 130, 150, 317 Lesevich, Vladimir V., 147, 148, 163, 164, 170, 319 Leskov, Nikolai S., 313 leviathan, xxiii, 79, 85, 313 Lex, Ivan M., 29, 30, 31, 306 Lichtenberger, Johann, 321 Lopatin, Lev M., 32, 100, 145, 250, 258, 294, 318 Lugovoy, Alexei A., 165, 238, 254, 260, 294 Lukianov, Sergei M., 275, 285, 294, 337 Luther, Martin, 185, 189, 191 Maecenas, 267, 335 Maeterlinck, Maurice, 267, 336 Maikov, A. N., 53, 126, 241, 262, 321, 331, 335 Maiminodes, 313 Mansi, Giovanni D., 77, 80, 313 Marchand, Jacques Alfred, 278, 279, 337 Markonet, Alexander F., 195, 325 Marot, Clement, 252, 333 Marthens, Fyodor F., 279, 337 Martynov, Ivan M., xxiii, xxiv, 121, 122, 129, 130, 131, 135, 136, 147, 294, 295, 302, 317

Martynova, Sophia M., xvii, 178, 203, 294, 323, 326 materialists and materialism, xx, xxix, xxx, 6, 121, 227, 255, 302, 321 Maximillianova, Princess Maria (of Leuchtenberg), 149, 319 Maxim the Greek, 329 Maximus the Confessor, 189, 324 Meaning of Love, The (Soloviev), xi, xvii, 215, 302 Melchizedek, 79, 273, 313 Mendeleev, Dmitri I., 76, 313 Messenger of Europe (journal), xxiii, xxxv, 24, 38, 89, 93, 143, 146, 147, 148, 149, 156, 161, 171, 180, 182, 198, 207, 212, 214, 18, 219, 220, 225, 236, 252, 263, 265, 266, 272, 275, 291, 295, 296, 397, 329 Mickiewicz, Adam, 24, 304 Miliukov, Pavel N., 205, 326 Mill, John S., 3, 302 Miller, Orest F., 77, 159, 320 Mivart, St. George, 89, 314 Mochulsky, Konstantin, 300 Mohammed (Mahomet), 217, 306, 327 Mohyla, Metropolitan Petro, 104, 316 Molière, 323 Moscow Gazette (newspaper), xxi, xxvi, xxxv, 26, 37, 39, 72, 80, 81, 98, 134, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 193, 211, 188, 307, 314, 323 Muraviev, Andrei, 136, 318 Muromtsev, Sergei A., 321 Muslims. See Islam nationalism and nationality, xxv, 53, 66, 67, 69, 70, 135, 137, 144, 148, 168, 171, 214, 298, 311, 315, 318, 322, 331 Naumovich, Ivan G., 95, 315 Nebuchadnezzar, 193, 324 Nekrasov, Nikolai A., 79, 313

General Index “New Israel,” 80, 313 New Testament. See Bible New Times (newspaper), xxv, 62, 69, 72, 74, 92, 101, 121, 133, 148, 156, 163, 166, 167, 199, 252, 253, 264, 267, 275, 281, 283, 315, 316, 317, 319, 326, 333 Nicene Creed and Council of Nicea, xiv, xxii, 68, 104, 188, 309, 327 Nietzsche, Friedrich, xxx, 301, 304, 308 Nikanor, Archbishop (of Kherson and Odessa), 116, 136, 318 Nikiforov, Lev P., 208, 244, 295, 332 Northern Flowers (journal), 46 Northern Messenger (journal), 181, 183, 199, 293 “Nose, The” (Gogol), 159, 320 Notovich, Osip K., 140, 177, 319 Novikova, Olga A., 41, 295, 305 Obolensky, Alexei D., 212, 327 Old Believers. See schism (church) and schismatics Old Catholics, 68, 311 Old Testament. See Bible “On Counterfeits” (Soloviev), 173, 300, 322 “On the Decline of the Medieval World View” (Soloviev), 192, 324 Origen, 210 Orthodox Review (journal), 42, 80, 83, 84, 90, 308 Orthodoxy, xxi, xxiii, xxiv, 68, 85, 86, 113, 114, 115, 116, 131, 136, 137, 141, 190, 191, 240, 293, 294, 311, 315, 317, 318, 324 Ostrovsky, Alexander N., 323 Ostrovsky, Mikhail N., 73, 312 “Overcoat, The” (Gogol), 328 Ovid, 312 Palestine, 272

“Pan-Mongolism” (Soloviev), xxx, 301 “Panta Rhei (Πάντα ῥει)” (Soloviev), 258, 334 Paracelsus, 37, 307 patriotism and patriots, 144, 159, 225, 254, 269, 274, 329 Paul, Apostle, 52, 53, 71, 323 Paulicians, 186, 187, 189, 323, 324 Pavlenkov, Florenty F., 195, 325 Pavlov, Ivan, 195, 325 Pelgorskaya, Elizaveta A., 49 Peter I, Tsar (the Great), 127, 180 Peter, Apostle, 108, 118, 144 Petersburg Slavic Society and its journal Transactions of the Petersburg Slavic Society, xxxv, 63, 69, 311 Philaret of Moscow, Metropolitan, 104, 113, 136, 186, 308 Pierling, Pavel I., xix, xxiii, 120, 121, 122, 123, 128, 129, 132, 135, 136, 139, 141, 145, 146, 148, 155, 294, 295 Plato and Platonism, 270, 271, 282, 336 Pobedonostsev, Konstantin P., 56, 63, 76, 87, 110, 211, 212, 269, 291, 296, 310, 318 Poland and Poles, 24, 37, 59, 70, 106, 134, 152, 240, 293, 304 Polonsky, Yakov P., 79, 313 Popov, Nil A., 320 Pordage, John, 37, 307 Possart, E., 80, 81, 313 Preobrazhensky, Vasily P., 182, 295 Priapus and Priapeia, 34, 306 priscillians, 187 Problems of Philosophy and Psychology (journal), xxxv, 163, 173, 207, 239, 247, 258, 293 Progosticatio. See Lichtenberger, J. Protestants and Protestantism, 68, 80, 101, 104, 106, 113, 188, 240 Providence, xx, 103, 247, 249, 269

347

348

General Index Prutkov, Kozma, 36, 55, 76, 217, 307, 312, 327, 331, 332, 335 Pushkin, Alexander, 22, 44, 127, 241, 282, 287, 298, 302, 304, 308, 318, 337 Pypin, Alexander N., 214, 219, 295, 323 Quietism, 229, 330 Rabinovich, Yosif, 80, 313 Rachinskii, G. A., 320 Rački, Francisco, 87, 93, 95, 98, 99, 110, 165, 295, 297, 314 Radlov, Ernest L., xiii, xv, xx, xxxi, xxxv, 145, 198, 221, 234, 237, 260, 271, 281, 287, 294, 295, 299, 300, 314 Ralston, W. R. S., 26, 305 Ranke, Leopold von, 141, 319 Raphael, 141 reconciliation, xiv, xxi, xxiv, xxv, 56, 57, 64, 143, 157, 211, 212, 250, 322 religious persecutions, 185, 186, 187, 190 Renan, Ernst, 34, 141, 307, 319 republics and republicanism, 122, 269 resurrection, xiv, 51, 103, 147, 157, 226, 227, 228, 229, 292, 309 revolution, xxxi, 18, 55, 92 Roman Catholic Church. See Catholics and Catholicism Rome (imperial) and Romans, xxiii, xxx, 58, 86, 106, 107, 108, 135, 159, 194, 198, 264, 306, 315 Rosen, B. P., 217, 251 Rosenbach, Pavel Ya., 253, 334 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 278, 337 Rozanov, Vasily V., xx, 194, 204, 248, 249, 296, 297, 326 Russia and the Universal Church (Soloviev), xi, xxiv, 120, 129, 130, 135, 136, 138, 139, 153, 154, 155, 164, 190, 222, 294, 295, 306, 318 Russian Messenger (journal), xxxv, 35, 42, 43, 45, 72, 137, 144, 155, 307, 314

Russian Review (journal), xxxv, 207, 298, 316 “Russian Symbolists, The” (Soloviev), x, 235, 293 Russian Thought (journal), xxxv, 71, 72, 98, 109, 147, 165, 168, 168, 201, 220, 328 Russo-Turkish War. See Turkey and Turks Saimaa, Lake, xvii, 231, 232, 236, 243, 330 Saint Isaac’s Cathedral, 224, 238, 329 Sakketti, Liveri A., 93, 98, 116, 140, 315 Samarin, Dmitri F., 114, 166, 321 Samarin, Yuri F., 6, 131, 132, 133, 136, 214, 294, 302, 317, 318 Savine, Albert, 154 Schiller, Friedrich, 332 schism (church) and schismatics, xxi, 106, 107, 108, 130, 185, 187, 240, 324 Schmidt, Anna N., xix, xxxiv, 283, 284, 296 Schopenhauer, Arthur, xii, 34, 35, 42, 206, 238, 298, 308 Scotland and Scots, 211, 213 Selevina, Ekaterina V., 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 12, 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 296 Semevsky, Vasily I., 220, 328 Sergiev Posad (monastery), 117, 144, 145, 146, 324 Servetius, Michael, 185 Sev, Leopold A., 277, 296 Shakespeare, William, 298, 307, 308, 323 Sharapov, Sergei S., 169 Shenshin. See Fet, Afanasy A. Shliapkin, Ilya A., 337 Shperk, Fyodor E., 248, 333 “Sins of Russia, The” (Soloviev), xxv, 134, 149, 150 Skovoroda, Hrihory S., 236, 296, 331 Skrydlov, Nikolai I., 272, 336 Slavophiles and Slavophilism, xxi, xxii, xxiii, xxv, 37, 63, 70, 66, 123, 125,

General Index 132, 136, 142, 144, 159, 161, 166, 223, 270, 291, 297, 314, 326 Slonimsky, Leonid-Ludwig Z., 273, 287, 296 Smirnova, Olga Nikolaevna, 130, 317 Sobolevsky, Vasily M., 224, 329 socialism, 220, 309, 328 Soldatenkov, 282 Sollogub, Fyodor L., 138, 161, 178, 318 Soloviev, Mikhail S. [Misha], xvii, xix, 30, 33, 45, 46, 59, 63, 80, 82, 83, 88, 90, 91, 93, 100, 101, 126, 127, 132, 133, 138, 139, 145, 149, 160, 162, 163, 174, 175, 179, 194, 195, 204, 211, 229, 242, 243, 253, 296, 311, 325, 333 Solovieva, Poliksena V., 11, 23, 25, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 39, 42, 45, 46, 90, 000099, 126, 144, 149, 160, 296 Soloviev, Sergei M., 27, 190, 296, 318, 319, 329 Soloviev, Vsevolod S., 2, 23, 32, 39, 44, 45, 157, 174, 211, 284, 305, 310 Solunians, 186, 187, 190, 191, 324 Sophia. See Wisdom, divine Spasovich, Vladimir D., 224, 323 Spencer, Herbert, 275, 304 Spinoza, Baruch de, 21, 293, 304, 313 spiritism and spiritualism, xii, xvi, 26, 28, 53, 59, 72, 74, 121, 123, 305, 311, 0001312, 317 spiritual corporeality, 161, 321 Stakheev, Dmitri I., 73, 77, 118, 145, 147, 0000154, 312 Stankevich, A. V., 38 Stasiulevich, Mikhail M., xxiii, xxvi, xxix, xxx, xxxv, 89, 109, 116, 137, 143, 146, 149, 151, 153, 155, 156, 158, 176, 180, 193, 196, 201, 206, 214, 216, 218, 219, 221, 223, 234, 251, 263, 265, 266, 271, 272, 274, 276,

278, 280, 286, 297, 299, 300, 311, 317, 322, 326, 332, 333 Stasov, Vladimir V., 148, 319 Strakhov, Nikolai N., xii, 20, 42, 46, 48, 57, 66, 71, 72, 74, 75, 76, 77, 84, 117, 119, 121, 124, 142, 143, 144, 147, 151, 153, 154, 156, 168, 297, 300, 311, 314, 317, 326, 333 Strauss, David F., 133, 317 Strossmayer, Bishop Josip G., xiii, 87, 94, 96, 97, 99, 100, 102, 103, 116, 260, 295, 297 Struve, Henrykh E., 44, 308 Studite, Theodore the, 189, 324 Sumbatov, Alexander I., Pr., 224, 329 Suvorin, Alexei S., 127, 317 Swedenborg, Emanuel, 37, 291, 204, 307 Syromiatnikov, Sergei N., 238, 258, 297 Talmud. See Jews and Judaism “Talmud and Recent Polemical Literature Concerning It in Austria and Germany” (Soloviev), xxx, 301 Taras of Constantinople, 189, 324 Tavernier, Eugène, 152, 153, 154, 268, 297 “Teaching of the XII Apostles” (­Soloviev), 90, 94, 315 Theodora, Empress, 186, 187 Theodosius the Great, Emperor, 186, 187 Theosophist, The (journal), 54 Thessalonians, 301, 324 “Three Addresses in Memory of Dostoevsky” (Soloviev), 312 Three Conversations on War, Progress and the End of Universal History (Soloviev), 297, 306, 337 “Three Meetings” (Soloviev), 305, 306 Tikhonov. See Lugovoy, Alexei Tilloy, Jean Anselme, 138, 318 Tiutchev, Fyodor I., 55, 67, 210, 241, 311, 329

349

350

General Index Tolstoy, Count Alexei K., xvi, 28, 35, 282, 305, 307, 308, 314, 320 Tolstoy, Count Lev N., xii, xiv, xxvi, xxvii, xxviii, xix, 49, 55, 71, 74, 76, 77, 78, 79, 93, 94, 116, 119, 124, 125, 143, 144, 151, 167, 168, 170, 181, 183, 197, 198, 224, 225, 297, 300, 301, 315, 316, 317, 318, 320, 321, 322, 325, 329 Tolstoy, Countess Sophia, xvi, xix, 35, 36, 37, 40, 46, 48, 63, 66, 174, 195, 197, 211, 291, 297, 315 Trinity Monastery of Saint Sergius, 11, 18, 117, 119, 303 Troitsky, Matvei M., 24, 304 Trubetskoy, Evgeny N., 301 Trubetskoy, Sergei N., xxxi, 145, 163, 164, 165, 202, 215, 216, 222, 223, 231, 233, 247, 251, 288, 289, 301, 319 Tsertelev, Dmitri N., xvi, xix, 20, 22, 23, 24, 26, 28, 32, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 42, 43, 44, 50, 142, 145, 159, 160, 180, 210, 261, 280, 298, 306 Turgenev, Ivan, 71, 298 Turkey and Turks, xxi, 37, 85, 177, 209, 272, 307, 336 Tuzov, Ignaty L., 241, 331 Ukhtomsky, Esper E., 250, 333 unity-of-everything. See all-unity Universal Church. See Christ and Christianity unknowability. See Spencer, Herbert. Uspensky, Fyodor I., 272, 336 utopias and utopianism, xx, 165, 321 Vagner, N. P., 72, 121, 124, 125, 312 Vaillant, Auguste, 221, 328 Vatican. See Catholics and Catholicism Velichko, Vasily L., 207, 224, 233, 239,

241, 242, 243, 245, 260, 265, 298, 300, 325, 326, 327, 329, 331, 332 Vengerov, Semeon A., 163, 176, 195, 200, 245, 298, 300, 313, 325 Verrier, Urbain Jean Joseph Le, 330 Virgil, 127, 135, 180, 292 Vladimir the Great [Saint], 152 Vladislavlev, Mikhail I., 44, 308 Vodovozov, Nikolai V., 220, 328 Vogt, Karl, 6, 7, 302 Vogüé, Eugène-Melchior, vicomte de, 151, 163, 320 Voice of Moscow (newspaper), xxxv, 80, 83 Volkonskaya, Princess Elizaveta, 73, 94, 312 Volkonsky, Sergei M., 145, 218, 261, 335 Voltaire, 80, 81, 133, 278 Vorontsov, Vasily P., 201, 325 vseedinstvo. See all-unity Vvedensky, Alexander I., 271, 336 Vyshnegradsky, Ivan E., 118, 119, 316 Wallace, Alfred R., 27, 28, 305, 306 Week, The (newspaper), xxxv, 201, 243, 283 Western Church. See Catholics and Catholicism Westernizers and Westernization, xxii, xxiv, xxv, 89, 249, 310 Wisdom, divine (Sophia), xv, xvi, xvii, 36, 103, 108, 303, 305, 306, 307 Wolff, Christian, 20, 303 Yanzhul, Ivan I., 25, 33, 253, 298 Yuriev, Sergei A., 35, 81, 253, 307 Yurkevich, Pamfil D., 22, 23, 64, 304 Zhemchuzhnikov, Alexei M. See Prutkov, Kozma Ženíšek (Zhenishek), František, 195, 325 Zhukovsky, Vasily A., 242, 332