The Spirit of Russia/Volume 1/Chapter 8
PART TWO
SKETCHES OF RUSSIAN PHILOSOPHY
OF HISTORY AND PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION
CHAPTER EIGHT
P. J. ČAADAEV.CATHOLIC VERSUS ORTHODOX THEOCRACY
§ 48.
THE decabrist rising was suppressed in blood, Poland was pacified, and under the supervision of the third section Count Uvarov, in the name of the official trinity of Orthodoxy, autocracy, and nationality, had just proclaimed the infallibility of Tsar Nicholas' policy, when there suddenly appeared Čaadaev's Philosophic Writing wherein in the name of religion Uvarov's formula and the entire history of Russia were declared null.[1]
Russia, we are told in the writing, has neither history nor tradition, for she has no guiding ideal, and nations cannot live and thrive unless they have an ideal and realise it in practice. Russia has not given a single thought to the world, the world has been able to learn nothing from the Russians, for all individual Russians and the Russian people as a whole are poor-spirited, empty and dead in soul—Čaadaev's essays are dated from "Necropolis." He considered that the universal spiritual inactivity was actually stamped upon the Russians, that Russians had no physiognomy.
The Philosophic Writing contains the outline of a philosophy of history. With full awareness of the import of his demand, Čaadaev insists that Russians need an entirely new philosophic outlook upon history, so that they may attain to clear views regarding their position in historical evolution and the tasks they have to fulfil. He follows here the path indicated by western philosophy, in especial by Schelling and in part also by Hegel, but it was inevitable that the suggestion should seem monstrous to the champions of official patriotism, seeing that Uvarov's philosophy of history had formulated perfectly clear prescriptions as to Russia's place in the world and the duties incumbent upon Russians.
To Čaadaev human history is the history of Christianity and of the church, the history of the realisation of God‘s kingdom upon earth, the history of religious education. To him the Christian religion is no more system of morality Above all it is the eternal, divine energy, not acting upon the individual alone, but infused into society at large. The dogma of the one true church implies such a social influence. Christianity has organised society; Christianity has actually realised God's kingdom upon earth; Christianity is not merely an ideal, for it is a living energy, the divine energy incarnate.
The principle of unity, indivisibility, and uniformity, by which religion has displayed itself as the central and leading force of history, is found by Čaadaev in Catholicism alone, for only in the Catholic church has the world-embracing Christian ideal been embodied. Despite the individuality of separate nations, he considers that in the spiritual sphere the medieval church realised cultural unity. In his enthusiasm for this unity, he is not content with rejecting the reformation as presented in the Lutheran and Evangelical churches, but in addition he refuses to recognise the Orthodox church of Russia. The Byzantine church originated in the ambition of Photius; by adhesion to that church Russia shut herself out from the Christian community, and owing to her consequent isolation remained without a living civilisation, for genuine, living, and inspiring civilisation is attainable only in the great community of nations. According to Čaadaev, Moscow imposed upon the Russians a yoke far heavier than that of the Tatars. Russia, in her isolation, was devoid of religion as well as of civilisation. The Russians were Christians, indeed, but only in name. The Abyssinians were also Christians. Russia has a culture of her own; but, asks Čaadaev contemptuonsly, have not the Japanese likewise a culture? Where are the great men of Russia, her sages, the leaders of the Russian nation and of a wider humanity? The writer does not share the views of those who look hopefully towards the great masses of the population. The masses are blind; none but heaven-sent great men can be accepted as representatives of the peeple, and there are no such men in Russia. Moreover, Russian life is not inspired with a genuinely Christian spirit. Čaadaev points to the English as exemplars of a truly religious people, for to him England, not Russia, is the promised land.
The ideals of duty, of justice, of law and order, are at home only in the west, not in Russia.
Čaadaev expressly condemns the chauvinistic glorification of Russia and the east vis-à-vis the west, a supervaluation common in the Russia of his day. The Christian consciousness must be based upon truth, not upon blind national prejudices which serve only to keep men apart. Russia, continues Čaadaev, does not belong to the east either geographically or historically. It has remained isolated between east and west, and for this reason has failed to share in the advantages ot.the east or to cooperate and participate in those of the west. Precisely on account of its peculiar geographical position, Russia, leaning in the east on China and In the west on Germany, should have endeavoured to co-ordinate the two great principles of mental life, the imagination and the reason, and to unify in her own civilisation the history of the entire globe. But Russia failed to do anything of the kind, merely imitating the intellectual life of the west, and taking over western ideas ready made. This imitation, this acceptance of the ready made, is disastrous. Ideas must be developed by spontaneous activity if they are to work as living thoughts. It is through such an elaboration of idea that individuals and nations acquire a specific spiritual tendency. Russia's misfortune lies in this; that Russians have accepted ideas in the finished state, and therefore lack the definite trend, the peculiar methodology, the logical and syllogistic thought of the west, which in the west is realised through ideas. "We grow, but we do not ripen."
This spiritual isolation and inactivity are paid for by every individual Russian. The Russians have no common life, no common tradition; each one of them endeavours as best he can to enter upon his own account into relationships with historical evolution.
Čaadaev compares the position of the Russian nation in respect of European civilisation with the social position of illegitimate children. Without inheritance, without any union with the men who have gone before, the Russians have no part in the tasks which devolved upon humanity before they themselves appeared upon the stage of history. . . .
The effect of the Philosophic Writing was stupendous. Herzen compared this effect with that produced by Griboedov's comedy. He exaggerated, but its influence was in truth powerful and impressive, like that of the cry of "fire" in the quiet of night.
When Nicholas read the essay, he made a marginal note to the effect that the work was an impudent absurdity which could only have been written by a madman. It is impossible to say whether this judgment was based solely upon the perusal of the writing or whether the tsar had been informed regarding Čaadaev's eccentricities and nervous peculiarities. However this may be, orders were now issued that Čaadaev should be examined daily by the police physician and should be declared insane. Naturally the author was watched also by the police, but the physician soon discontinued his visits, whilst the police ceased to concern themselves about the author after he had been forbidden to write. In fact, Čaadaev never published anything in book form.
The Philosophic Writing of Čaadaev was given to the world without the writer's authorisation; by 1836 his views had undergone modification, and the essay had never been intended for the general public. But in this very point lies the significance of the work, and it is for this reason that it has become a literary document of the Nicolaitan epoch. It was addressed to a lady quite unknown in the literary world, and it was through its artless character, through its intimate tone of conviction, and through its frankness, that the Writing exercised so inflammatory an effect. The appearance of this heretical and revolutionary essay in Nadeždin's journal "Telescop" was, moreover, characteristic of tsarist absolutism and the censorship of that day. Nadeždin, it is related, adroitly extorted an authorisation to print from the censor when the latter was, as usual of an evening, engrossed at the card table. A passionate devotion to cards was a characteristic fruit of the Russian prohibition of thought. The censor's carelessness, the energy of an editor speculating in a sensation, in a word, the publication of the Philosophic Writing with its attendant details, reproduce for us the essence of Nicolaitan civilisation. Another characteristic touch is that the signal for the philosophic revolution should have been given by a soldier, for at that time the officers constituted in a sense the most cultured and independent class in Russia. Čaadaev took his place as successor of the decabrists. Further, his essay waw written in French. At the close of the twenties, the cultured Russian, though he studied German philosophers and accepted many of their ideas, was still predominantly under French influence. Beyond question Čaadaev's essay is a literary document of surpassing interest.
§ 49.
ČAADAEV grew up among the decabrists, and was subjected to the same influences as his friends N. Turgenev, Jakuškin, Griboedov, Puškin, etc. He shared the views of the decabrists, but in addition he watched the restoration of the old regime in France and elsewhere in Europe, attuning his mind to the philosophy of that restoration. Frenchified by his education, he had become acquainted with the change of philosophic front in France; had familiarised himself with the thoughts of Chateaubriand, of Madame de Staël, de Maistre, de Bonald, and Ballanche; had learned something of German philosophy—from Schlegel a little, from Schelling a great deal, and somewhat from Hegel. Among classical thinkers he had paid great attention to Plato. Writers of his own day had exhibited the counter-revolution to him as a.great historical problem with which humanity was faced; in his own land and in his personal experience he had acquired first-hand knowledge of this counter-revolution and of the part played in it by the Russia of Alexander and of Nicholas. He had participated in the war against Napoleon. At a later date (1820), a mutiny occurred in his regiment, and he was ordered to report on it by Tsar Alexander, who was then in Troppau. After a prolonged sojourn in Europe, in his Philosophic Writing Čaadaev proclaimed his dissent from the Nicolaitan system.
Čaadaev's literary remains are fragmentary; they have not hitherto been subjected to adequate criticism; reports as to his views are indefinite. For these reasons I cannot attempt a decisive judgment.
Beyond question Čaadaev passed through a religious crisis, like so many of his contemporaries. He moved away from the rationalist outlook of Voltaire to romanticist mysticism. From available evidence it is impossible to determine whether and to what extent he returned to Voltairism. Even though as late as 1837 he described the philosophy of the decabrists as mere frigid deism culminating in doubt, this must not be taken as implying that by that date he had himself ceased to doubt. It seems probable that towards the year 1820 he inclined towards mysticism, a mysticism intense to a degree that was almost morbid. This much, at least, is certain, that he was greatly interested in the writings of Jung-Stilling and Eckartshausen, and was pondering about the spirit world. I think, however, that he got the better of this mysticism. There is no mystical element in his Philosophic Writing or in his other known works. It is true that thoughts are occasionally expressed by him which may be the outcome of a mystical contemplativeness, but side by side with these we find disquisitions with no trace of mysticism, and his conception of the philosophy of history is entirely unmystical. His demand for spiritual passivity, and above all his demand for the annihilation of the ego, may be mystically interpreted. Čaadaev speaks of his contempt for the world, rejecting on this ground all participation in the political improvement of the world; he even contends that the world is our work and can therefore be annihilated by us at our own will: these and similar sayings may be mystically interpreted. There is a mystical ring about his presentation of eternity as the life of the righteous, and about his claim to have eliminated the concept of time ("thou opinest that the shovel of the gravedigger stands between thee and heaven"—1837); and a similarly mystical interpretation may be attached to his conception of immortality in the sense of the Platonic pre-existence; but these utterances may also be interpreted unmystically. His Philosophic Writing is not mystical. At the outset of the essay Čaadaev commends to his correspondent the practice of all the ceremonies of the church. This is the very reverse of mysticism; it is perhaps | a romanticist prescription à la Chateaubriand, but does not remind us of Tauler Similarly, Čaadaev's religious philosophy is devoid of mysticism. He lays great stress upon the church and upon its political power. For him religion and the church are identical concepts. He lays especial stress upon the objective aspect of religion as contrasted with the subjective, explicitly rejecting the Protestant doctrine of the invisible church. In so far, too, as he analyses the nature of religion, his outlook is unmystical. He stresses the truth of religion, valuing before everything the struggle of religion towards truth and towards the ideal. Love of one's neighbour has for him a logical basis; in the search for truth a man is defeated by his own ego, because this ego hides the truth from him; he must therefore overcome his ego if he is to find truth.
Finally, Čaadaev's leanings towards Catholicism and his fondness for the papacy are evidence against the view that he was a mystic. In these respects he was conquered by de Maistre the politician, and not by mysticism.
I devote considerable space to this question, because of late much emphasis has been laid upon the mystical aspects of Čaadaev's work, and because it seems to me expedient to elucidate the religious foundations of this writer's philosophy of history.[2]
Even though at a later date Čaadaev gave a psychological explanation of the characteristics of his Writing, attributing it to a condition of morbid mental irritability which had even led him to entertain thoughts of suicide. I hesitate to accept the characterisation. In any case, the occurrence of this mood of despair would suggest that his earlier attitude of doubt had not been definitively replaced by religious conviction.
For all his gifts, Čaadaev was not a profound thinker, for he lacked scientific steadfastness and power of elaboration. He said of himself that he had but one idea. It is true that in his eyes history was the realisation of only one idea, but even this he fails to formulate with sufficient clearness and to trace without ambiguity. The defect in his work is associated with and exemplified by his attitude towards Catholicism. He never went over to Rome, and when questioned on the matter he would take refuge in indefinite phraseology, or would explain that he regarded Catholicism as a kind of regulative principle for faith. He was not a strong, firm man, being much more the dandy of the English club than the man of faith. In my view, he was greatly impressed by French civilisation, and in accordance with the Catholic philosophy of his day he regarded this civilisation as the fruit of Catholicism, which, once more in the French spirit, was identified by him with Christianity. He was fortified in such a position by his romanticist predilection for Catholicism. We are justified in assuming that he noted the progress made by Catholicism in the west, especially among the Protestant peoples, for this progress was notorious. Moreover, he himself tells us that from 1833 onwards he had observed the spread of the Puseyite movement in England. Catholicisation was a widespread phenomenon of the day. In Russia, Čaadaev was not the only Catholiciser. I may remind the reader of Alexander I and of his hopes of the pope. Since the days of Tsar Paul, among the Russian aristocracy there had been much sympathy with Catholicism and above all with Jesuitism. Several highly placed nobles were Catholics, and some were actually Jesuits, like Prince Gagarin, the editor of Čaadaev's Writing. An interesting career in this connection was that of Pečerin, at one time professor of philology at Moscow, who sought refuge from atheism with the Redemptorists. The conversion of Gagarin and of Pečerin took place after the appearance of Čaadaev's Writing, which was perhaps contributory. Čaadaev himself did not become a Catholic, and his views upon the Russian church underwent a change. But we lack sufficient information as to Čaadaev's thoughts concerning the leading problems of theology and religion, and above all we are ill informed as to his views upon the relationships between the two leading Catholic churches, as to his estimate of their differences in point of dogma and as to his detailed hopes for their reunion. The abstract character of his fondness for the papacy is plainly shown by his selection of England, rather than France, or Austria under Metternich, as the ideal of a religious land.
Čaadaev's sympathy with Catholicism and the papacy prejudiced him with the liberals as well as with Uvarov, as is manifested by the protests of Odoevskii and Puškin. Puškin unfortunately took part against his friend in the Vjazemskii denunciation of Čaadaev to the minister for education. Dostoevskii, when composing the greatest of his novels, desired to make Čaadaev, with his fondness for Catholicism the leading figure in the story. Thus persistent was the influence of Čaadaev, and thus extensive was the significance attached to him by his successors.
§ 50.
ČAADAEV was astonished at the vogue of his Writing, and he endeavoured in his Apology to justify and expound the earlier work. It is undeniable that the exposition weakened his criticism of Russia, but it must also be admitted that in the Apology many of the utterances of the Writing are clarified. In the last-named work, some of the concepts are presented with inadequate precision, and this makes it difficult to decide whether Čaadaev's later views represent a natural development or the withdrawals of a weakling. It is necessary to emphasise the crudity of the Writing. Almost childish is the way in which Čaadaev fails to recognise that his commendation of England and of the English religious spirit conflicts with the fundamental thesis of his work. The more closely we examine that work, the more strongly are we impressed with the indefiniteness of its leading ideas. Čaadaev is no more than a philosophic improviser, an aphorist whose views had not been logically thought out and systematised.
In the Apology he admits that the criticism voiced in the Writing had been acrid and excessive. But he accounts to this by his extreme distaste for the "fanatical Slavs," that is to say for the slavophils who, chauvinist in method and in aim, have uncritically panegyrised Russian history. Čaadaev has a perfect horror of nationalism, and above all of the national prejudices which hold men apart. To him the patriotism of the slavophils seems a mere national instinct, and he demands that national instinct shall be enlightened by reflective ideals. For Russian patriotism "the day of blind amours" is past. "I have never learned to love my fatherland with lowered eyelids, bowed head, and closed lips. In my view those only who see their country with clear vision can be helpful to their country. . . . I love my fatherland as Peter the Great taught me to love it. I admit that I have no sympathy with ecstatic patriotism, that indolent patriotism which sees everything rose-tinted, and succumbs to the slumber of illusion. . . . Love of country is a great thing, but there is a greater love still, the love of truth. . . . The path to heaven leads upward, not through the fatherland, but through the field of truth. . . . Love of country engenders heroes, but love of truth creates sages."
Čaadaev reiterates the thesis of the uncivilised character of prepetrine development. The calm recognition of this fact does not seem to him unpatriotic, but it proves that Russians excel men of other nations in taking unbiased views of themselves. In their lack of culture the Russians, less overloaded with ideas, have fresher minds, are more receptive, are comparatively unprejudiced. The Russian spirit is receptive precisely because it is empty, and all that Russian have to do is to choose from Europe what is best. But they must choose; they must not blindly imitate! Such, contends Čaadaev, was the aim of Peter the Great. Peter found his country a blank scroll. With his strong hand he inscribed on this blank the words "Europe" and "the West." Since then the Russians have belonged to Europe and the west. Peter showed that Russia's mission was to effect a deliberate synthesis of the best elements in European civilisation.
Čaadaev's meaning is plain. Russia is to take over the conduct of human history. He does not say this in so many words, but it is the corollary of his estimate of Russia and of Europe. As early as 1831 he writes apocalyptically in a letter, "An obscure feeling convinces me that a man is destined shortly to appear who will reveal to the age the truth of which it is in need." Was it to be some Saint-Simon to found a political religion, or some Lamennais to establish a new Catholicism? However this may be, Čaadaev looks for the completion of human destiny and for a new evangel from heaven. In the Apology (1837) he gives expression to his profound conviction that the Russians have been appointed to solve many social problems, to perfect a considerable part of the ideas formulated among the older societies, and to supply the answers to the most difficult questions that confront humanity.
In the Writing he demands that Russia shall effect a synthesis of east and west, but in the Apology he modifies this view. At the outset he completes his characterisation of east and west. The east is religiously contemplative, the west is active; hence the east has left the conduct of affairs entirely in the hands of government, whereas the west bases government upon law. Both east and west have done great things; the east was the pioneer; but the west, more energetic, subsequently absorbed the east. Ultimately the east fell asleep in its indolent "synthesis." In this characterisation of the east Čaadaev takes sides definitely against the slavophils, who conceived Russia as of the east and played her off against the west. Čaadaev recognises the importance of the east, but its importance is subordinate to that of the west, and he will not admit that Russia is essentially eastern. This is inconsistent, for in the Writing he represents Russia as of the east, and at a later date (as, for example, in a letter to Schelling in 1842), we find that Čaadaev refers to modesty, bashfulness, and ascetic contemplativeness as characteristic of the Russian spirit—and at that time these traits were regarded, and by many are still regarded, as typically oriental.
In the Apology Čaadaev is inclined to refer Russia's defects to her geographical situation, to her position on the uttermost limit of civilisation. He frequently refers to this position in the world, emphasising the assertion that the Russians are northlanders, and he insists that the Russians have to a predominant extent allowed themselves to be guided by government. When he makes this an occasion for a compliment to Nicholas and his dynasty, we are reminded of the negotiations which in 1833 Čaadaev conducted with Benckendorff with a view to securing an official post. Čaadaev then wrote that for Russians there was no other way of progress than by remaining faithful subjects, by subordinating their own feelings to the feelings of the tsar, and by an attitude of absolute humility towards the autocrat. It must be remembered that Čaadaev had strongly condemned the revolution of July 1830, and indeed the French of that date.
It will be seen that Čaadaev was not notably courageous. In his Apology he calumniated Herzen in a most distasteful manner. When taxed with this by a friend, his excuse was: "Mon cher, on tient à sa peau."
In the Apology Čaadaev speaks of Peter, Lomonosov, and Puškin as Russian sages and as the teachers of mankind. Their existence is a proof that Russia, at any rate the Russia of Peter the Great, progresses. But in prepetrine Russia, too, he discovers a valuable and significant civilising factor, the Russian church, and the Christian humility which it has stamped upon the Russian people. Čaadaev was an opponent of serfdom, as we learn from his letters and from the reports of his friends. N. Turgenev, whom we know to have been a strong opponent of serfdom, endorsed Čaadaev's views. Further, Čaadaev deplored the subjugation of church to state, this implying censure of cæsaropapism But should he not have asked himself whether these phenomena had any connection with the way in which the Russian church had inculcated prayer and humility upon Russians?
In these matters Čaadaev's position was embarrassing. His condemnation of Gogol's Correspondence with Friends in the year 1847 suffices to show that even after 1836 he had no great love for the Russian church and its humility. Still later, he spoke of the Crimean war in a way which was ill calculated to promote a spirit of humility towards the autocrat of all the Russias.
§ 51.
IN his philosophy of history Čaadaev vacillates above all in respect of the fundamental idea of progress. On the one hand he is inclined, with Pascal, to assume that progress is continuous. On the other hand he regards the Christianisation of the world as a miracle, as the outcome of supernatural intervention; on a single day there perished, to be reborn, not alone the Roman empire, but the entire world of classical antiquity.
In like manner Čaadaev arrives at peculiar estimates of classical civilisation in general. In Greek civilisation he esteems its material beauty alone, condemning Socrates, Marcus Aurelius, the stoics, the Platonists, and Homer "the corrupter of mankind." The old world was not destroyed by the barbarians, but fell to pieces at a touch, for it was already a corpse. None the less he has praise for Epicurus and his ethical system, for therein he discerns the factor that binds human beings together. It is equally uncongenial to find that while he esteems Mohammed and Islam, and also the religions of Hindustan, he has no word of commendation for Aristotle and his undeniable services. Apropos of the settlement with Islam he is bold enough to admit that Christianity can adopt divers religious forms, and that in case of need it may even enter into alliance with error in order to attain its aims to the full! Two of his philosophical essays are devoted to these questions.
Čaadaev simultaneously touches on the problem of freedom. On the one hand he admits the determinism of many historical events and facts, as when he refers to the influence of geographical situation. He insists, too, upon the internal logicality, upon the "syllogism," of historical development, thus reminding us of the Hegelian dialectic. On the other hand he maintains that the individual is free, for "the absolute freedom of the human spirit" has been preserved by Christianity; and he desires also to rescue the "universal reason." In the letter written to Schelling in 1842 he condemns the Hegelian dialectic as a fatalistic logic which practically abolishes free will. It cannot be said that he even approaches to a clear formulation of the problem. He tells us that history is the product of the divine energy; but how can we conceive the freedom of the individual and of the universal reason as reconcilable with this theism? What is the general significance of the immanence of God; what is the individual reason; and what is the "universal reason"? What is the relationship of immanent teleology to freedom and to necessity?
It would seem that these problems flitted through Čaadaev's mind, though he failed to formulate them adequately. He was familiar with the difficulties which Tolstoi (among others) was subsequently to encounter in the elaboration of a philosophy of history.
Frequently he contemplates the kingdom of God on an sub specie æternitatis, so remote from time that men, the world and history become more symbols. Thus for him Rome is symbol of the entire history of the world; the eternal city a real point, where concretely and physiologically man can conceptually grasp all the memories of the human race, whilst the pope is a mere idea, a pure abstraction, not a man, but an all-powerful symbol of time.
In association with these problems Čaadaev had to consider how the individual is related to social development. He contrasts society with the individual, and subordinates the individual to society. Not merely does he demand humility and the religious subjugation of the ego, but for him the "universal reason," as he terms it, is the social whole, which is subject to the will of God, but which, as a whole, has an independent and spontaneous existence vis-à-vis the individual. As people this whole is conceived to be something distinct from the mere government, but (at least when he is dealing with the middle ages) he postulates the federative system of nations as a whole, and it is this whole which he terms "the Christian nation," wherein individual and national differences disappear or are subsumed. What view are we to take of divinely sent great men as leaders of the people? "To genius all things are possible." Schelling seemed to him the one man great enough to lead all the leaders of the crowd. What are the blind masses when compared with their leaders? In 1837, without relinquishing his respect for "universal reason," Čaadaev had energetically combated Lamennais' doctrine of the universal spirit, although Lamemmis terms it "la raison universelle du genre humain," which is identified with the tradition and consciousness of the Catholic church, with Catholicism.
If I am to aim at a decisive judgment, I must express my regret that no complete critical edition as yet exists of all Čaadaev's fragmentary writings. In the works of this author we have a concrete example of the difficulty to which I referred in the preface, the difficulty while in Europe of writing about Russia. For an adequate study of Čaadaev it would be necessary to consider manuscript memorials, to collect all the available fragments, and to arrange them in chronological order. Thus only would it be possible to present Čaadaev's mental development.
I have treated Čaadaev as the first Russian philosopher of history. He was in fact, the first Russian who endeavoured, following the lines laid down by German philosophers of history, to attain to clear conceptions concerning the nature of the philosophy of history and of history in general. He was especially interested in the philosophical demonstration and valuation of the ideas of which historical facts are the expression. To Čaadaev the history of every nation is no mere succession of facts, for it is in addition a concatenation of ideas. In this and in similar respects Čaadaev reiterates the Hegelian dialectic and reproduces the Hegelian outlook. As we have seen, he employs Hegelian terminology, speaking of the logic and syllogistic of the "universal reason" as it evolves in history. To the Russians, in their adaptation to a commencing Europeanisation, a philosophy of history was especially necessary.
In this matter Čaadaev occupied a peculiar position between two parties that were then in process of formation, that of the slavophils and that of the westernisers.
He accepts the fundamental thesis of the slavophils, that society and historical development are to be conceived, above all, in a religious sense. But he is distinguished from the slavophils in that when he thinks of religion and the church he thinks of the militant and conquering church of the west, whereas the slavophils had in mind rather the contemplative religion of the east with its mystical renunciation of the world. Thus it was that Čaadaev instead of shutting himself up in a Russian monastery, sought out the world, becoming as it were a monk in a frock coat.
To Čaadaev the slavophils seemed to be retrospective utopists, learned apostles of a national reaction, whereas his aim was towards a world church, a universal church, modelled on the papacy. Čaadaev's papistical leanings constituted a stumbling-block for his slavophil friends and opponents, but in Moscow he had personal associations with Ivan Kirěevskii, Homjakov, and the other founders and advocates of slavophilism from whom he derived his later esteem for the Russian and eastern church.
In this way Čaadaev drew nearer to the program of official theocracy, though he continued to think rather of a "theocracy of consciousness" in Schlegel's sense than of theocracy as it was understood by Count Uvarov, and for this reason he was an object of suspicion to the government no less than to the first slavophils. In 1852, when the police compiled a register of slavophil suspects, Čaadaev was included. Fun has been made of this police catalogue of men of letters, but as far as Čaadaev was concerned it did not err.
He was, however, distinguished from the slavophils by his unreserved admiration for Peter, and for the same reason he was esteemed by the westernisers, above all by Herzen. In the sphere of abstract politics he never abandoned the ideals of the decabrists, although he detested their method, the method of revolution. At bottom, indeed, Čaadaev too desired a revolution, but it was to be on the European model. In the west, writes Čaadaev in his first essay, all political revolutions were in reality spiritual revolutions; interests followed ideas instead of leading them.
Čaadaev shared with the westernisers an unsparing criticism of Russian conditions. He shared their aversion to national chauvinism, which since the Napoleonic campaigns had grown to constitute the official nationalism of Uvarov, and which Čaadaev regarded as national nihilism. We learn this from Jazykov, the slavophil poet, who fiercely censured Čaadaev for his antipatriotism.
Although Čaadaev's conceptions had a theocratic basis, the westernisers discovered in this writer an essential scepticism upon religious questions, and therefore felt at unison with him.
Čaadaev exercised powerful influence over his contemporaries and successors. We see this not only in Herzen, but also in Puškin, N. Turgenev, and even Dostoevskii. The influence is in part explicable through Caadaev's remarkable duplex position, a position recognised by Puškin in his criticism of this man whom he termed a "curer of souls." In Rome, said Puškin, he would have been a Brutus, but in Athens a Pericles.
- ↑ Petr Jakovlevič Čaadaev was born in Moscow on May 17, 1794. His mother was the daughter of Prince Ščerbatov the historian, and, after the early death of his parents, Petr and his brother Mihail, his elder by eighteen months, were brought up by his aunt Princess Ščerbatova. Čaadaev was well read at an early age. Entering the army in 1812, he was under fire at Borodino, Leipzig, and elsewhere, and sent in his papers in 1821. He associated freely with the decabrists, and was for a time an active freemason, but Ieft his lodge in 1818. The years 1823 to 1836 were spent in a visit to Europe. Upon his return to Russian soil he was arrested for complicity in the decabrist rising, but was set at liberty after a brief examination. He lived in Moscow, solitary at first, just as in Europe he had lived a lonely life, for in 1820 he had experienced a spiritual conversion, immersing himself in the study of certain mystics, and it seems that the state of his nervous system was not perfectly normal. His brother was likewise an eccentric, living an isolated village life, haunted by fears inspired by the decabrist rising. But in the year 1831, Petr Čaadaev, acting upon medical advice, joined the English club, and spent the rest of his days moving in the best circles of Moscow society, delighting in the impression he produced, not only by his philosophic views, but also by his faultless attire and by his studied courtliness of manner. Count Pozzo di Borgo, the celebrated Corsican in the Russian service, described Čaadaev as "un russe parfaitement comme il faut." Čaadaev never left Moscow, not even during the summer months, and died there on April 14, 1856. His literary reputation was secured by the publication of his Philosophic Writing, which appeared in Nadeždin's "Telescop." It was first composed in French in 1829, and was addressed to a lady. Three other essays of Čaadaev's are extant. The second and the third continue the correspondence, and refer to several previous writings; the fourth treats of Gothic and Egyptian architecture, and conveys Čaadaev's views upon Christianity and upon the antique. These four essays are spoken of as Čaadaev's philosophic writings, in contra-distinction to a number of his letters which have been preserved. There is likewise extant a fragment written in 1836, entitled A Madman's Apology. The four essays are included in Oeuvres choisies de P. Tschadaieff, publiées pour la premiére fois par le Prince Gagarin de la Compagnie de Jésus, 1862. A work by V. Frank, Russisches Christentum, 1898, contains epitomes of the first and second essays, together with the Apology, two letters to Schelling, and certain other extracts trom Čaadaev and opinions about his writings. Frank's publication, like Gagarin's was to subserve the aims of Catholic propaganda.
- ↑ I have at my disposal Čaadaev's writings in the Russian translation by Geršenzon (P. J. Čaadaev, Life and Thought, 1908). Here the word social'nyi is frequently employed with reference to the political significance of the church. Čaadaev even speaks of "the social problem," but he means no more than the problem of the influence of the church upon society, its political influence.