Бесплатный фрагмент - Leo Tolstoy vs. Dostoevsky: War or Peace?

Preliminary remarks

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The Book’s Main Characters

Leo Tolstoy and Fyodor Dostoevsky are two giants of Russian literature, two unquestioned spiritual authorities whose artistic creations have had an immense influence on the world. Their ideas became so intertwined that it’s impossible to consider one writer in isolation from the other, despite their fundamentally different beliefs and worldviews.

Although they never met and were extremely reserved in their comments about each other — showing, rather, a sincere mutual interest and goodwill — the relationship between them was far from untroubled.

In this book, their unseen and still-unabated dispute will continue as a clash between two irreconcilable artists and thinkers who, in their search for faith and God, followed different spiritual paths. Tolstoy will appear before us as the sage and teacher from Yasnaya Polyana, preaching the Spirit of Truth, while Dostoevsky, with his profound mysticism and tragic vision of life, will be portrayed as an Orthodox prophet whose soul was seized by a universal Spirit of Ecstasy.

The catalyst for this clash will be one of the Gospel stories — the miracle at Cana.

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Many prominent thinkers, both supporters and critics, have attempted to unravel the mystery of Leo Tolstoy’s and Fyodor Dostoevsky’s spiritual confrontation. They saw in this conflict the key to understanding the entire history of humanity.

Dmitry Merezhkovsky (1865–1941) holds a special place among them. A brilliant symbolist and philosopher, a herald of the “Third Testament”, he possessed the ability to captivate readers with unexpected revelations. This was not solely due to the considerable effort he invested in studying the works of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, which resulted in an outstanding, albeit controversial, work about them. Anticipating the coming upheavals and nurturing a hope for humanity’s salvation, a profoundly original, prophetic voice would at times awaken within him. And though his ideas were often far from the views of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, his intonation was consonant with their genius.

It is therefore no surprise that Merezhkovsky becomes the third hero of this book. Without him, the picture of the two titans’ confrontation would be incomplete. To understand the course of his extraordinary thoughts, let us briefly examine his views.

Merezhkovsky believed that the spiritual history of humanity was rooted in a struggle between two principles, two abysses: spirit and flesh. On one side was Christian asceticism; on the other, pagan adoration of the carnal. In his view, only a synthesis — the creation of “spiritual flesh” — could overcome this schism. Within this framework, Tolstoy was for him a “clairvoyant of the flesh,” and Dostoevsky was a “clairvoyant of the spirit”:

Just as L. Tolstoy peered into the abyss of the flesh, Dostoevsky peered into the abyss of the spirit and showed that the upper abyss is equal to the lower; that one level of human consciousness is sometimes separated from another, one thought from another, by the very same “chasm”, “incomprehensibility”, as separates a “human embryo” from non-existence.

The philosopher saw himself, however, as the seer of the indivisible “holy flesh” — a prophet of a future unity.

Does not Christ affirm the equal value, the equal sanctity of the Spirit and the Flesh?

he would ask, placing his hope in a “spiritual revolution” and the coming Church of Flesh and Blood.

Is its turn not now approaching? Will it not also be called to some great action that might perhaps “contain” the Lord’s uncontained word on the Holy Spirit and the Holy Flesh?

Naturally, Merezhkovsky perceived himself as the bearer of a “new religious consciousness.” He was convinced that it was to him that the Lord’s “uncontained word” had been revealed — a word that neither Dostoevsky nor Tolstoy had fully grasped.

These bold and, at times, deeply insightful reflections by Merezhkovsky undoubtedly deserve a place in our narrative, adding another layer of intrigue.

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Truth vs. Ecstasy

In the proposed book, the miracle at Cana of Galilee becomes the key to understanding the great confrontation between Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. This biblical story, like a prism, reveals in a new light the characters, aspirations, and ideas of these two titans of Russian literature.

Quite expectedly, Tolstoy appears here as a master of stark realism and Dostoevsky as an artist of ecstatic perception. But for their dialogue to resonate in its full complexity, a third participant joins them: Dmitry Merezhkovsky. With his inclination towards mysticism, he will act as Dostoevsky’s advocate, while I, as the author, will gladly take on the role of defending Tolstoy’s sober worldview.

With such support, the dispute between the two geniuses promises to become even more intense and profound, embodying the eternal opposition of two Olympian gods: Dionysus and Apollo. At the center of attention will be the clash of two fundamentally different paths to knowing God, dating back to the Hesychast controversies: the mystical path, based on faith in miracles, and the rational one, which relies on reason.

Defending Dostoevsky’s “sacred seizures,” Merezhkovsky will call upon the mighty evangelist John for aid and present the writer’s “divinely intoxicated” characters — Alyosha Karamazov and Prince Myshkin. I, in turn, will help the “terrifyingly sober” Elder Tolstoy rise to his full, formidable stature through his renowned heroes — Father Sergius and Prince Andrei Bolkonsky.

And although the spirit of Christ’s Elder needs no defense, to properly assess the “miracle-raptures” of Dostoevsky and Merezhkovsky it will be soul-profiting to turn to the experience of the great ascetic Simeon Stylites, as well as to examine certain reports from the extensive clinical practice of the authoritative philosopher and psychiatrist Karl Jaspers.

In the course of the narrative, such outstanding Christian ascetics as Saint Seraphim of Sarov and Blessed Theophylact of Ohrid will also offer their judgment.

We will also recall a little-known but remarkable young man of fiery temperament whose impulsive recollections will only bring the portraits of our main heroes to life. We are speaking of the Moscow philosophy student Anatoly Vinogradov (1888–1946), who in his search for truth met with Tolstoy three times at Yasnaya Polyana and spoke with him at length about faith. The future historical novelist and biographer, like many of his contemporaries, was captivated by the ideas of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy and avidly read Merezhkovsky’s popular book of the time about these two geniuses, unable to decide which to prefer. Vinogradov’s diary entries reflect his spiritual torments with disarming sincerity. Some of them will be included in our narrative.

And if the reader, like Vinogradov, is plagued by doubts throughout this narrative as to whose side to take — Tolstoy’s or Dostoevsky’s, mine or Merezhkovsky’s — this will only confirm the book’s value. In the eternal confrontation between two great writers, everyone must make their own choice.

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Leo vs. Fyodor and Paul

Before proceeding to the main part of the book, I would like to comment on the special role played by the unseen presence of the Apostle Paul in the ideological dispute between Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. I hope this will serve as an important aid to the reader, helping him get to the very roots of their fundamental disagreements and, at the same time, clarifying my own authorial position.

It is well known that on many issues, especially matters of faith, the views of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky diverged sharply. The reason for this was not only the dissimilarity of their artistic temperaments. Tolstoy categorically rejected Dostoevsky’s religious convictions, and Dostoevsky, in turn, felt the same toward Tolstoy, although neither expressed this publicly.

To demonstrate this clearly, let us examine the creed of each writer. Dostoevsky articulated his creed in 1854 in a letter to the Decembrist Natalia Dmitrievna Fonvizina:

This creed is very simple: to believe that there is nothing more beautiful, more profound, more sympathetic, more reasonable, more courageous, and more perfect than Christ, and not only is there not, but I tell myself with a jealous love that there cannot be. Moreover, if someone were to prove to me that Christ is outside the truth, and it really were so that the truth is outside Christ, then I would prefer to remain with Christ rather than with the truth.

And although the image of Christ in this creed is not entirely canonical, do not these confessional words, in their holy simplicity, recall the apostle Peter’s acknowledgment: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God”? Towards the end of the writer’s life, we find even more convincing words from him, leaving no room for ambiguity regarding the firmness of his “hosanna,” which had passed through a “crucible of doubt”: “The entire Russian people is in Orthodoxy; Orthodoxy is the Church, and the Church is the crowning of the edifice, and this for all eternity.”

As we can see, Dostoevsky the Christian is truly of the Church: he accepts all the dogmas of the Eastern Church, including the doctrine of Christ’s divine nature. True, as an artist-prophet, he allows himself certain “liberties”: for example, he imbues the Byzantine face of the Savior with more native Russian features, and does so with a universal scope.

Tolstoy’s Christianity is radically different. The writer rejects both the Church and all its dogmas: “I have indeed renounced the church.” He expressed the essence of his faith in his scandalously famous response to the Synod:

I believe in the following: I believe in God, whom I understand as Spirit, as Love, as the origin of all things. I believe that He is in me and I am in Him. I believe that the will of God is most clearly and comprehensibly expressed in the teaching of the man Christ, whom to consider God and to whom to pray I regard as the greatest blasphemy… I began by loving my Orthodox faith more than my own peace of mind, then I came to love Christianity more than my church, and now I love truth more than anything in the world. And to this day, truth for me coincides with Christianity as I understand it.

It would be difficult to find more opposing views on Christianity than those of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. On this matter, Dmitry Merezhkovsky, denouncing Tolstoy’s “religion of lies” and his “complete godlessness,” expressed himself with utmost categoricalness:

Here there is even more than opposition; here there is an irreconcilable contradiction… The contradictions of these two consciousnesses cannot be eliminated without eliminating the very teaching of Christ.

And yet, for all their fundamental dissimilarity, one unshakable conviction paradoxically united these two great artists. What did it consist of? It turns out that both of them built their faith on a keen, albeit polar-opposite, relationship to the teachings of… Paul.

Let us recall the message of the Apostle Paul, in which he expressed his creed, accepted by both the Western and Eastern Churches:

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, and then to the Twelve. After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers and sisters at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles (1 Cor. 15:3–7).

It is precisely this doctrine of Christ’s resurrection as the atonement for sins that exposes the essence of the disagreements between Tolstoy and Dostoevsky.

Thus, Dostoevsky, for all his attempts to rise above the decrepit Christian world, remained a faithful heir to the Apostle Paul, while the adamant Tolstoy was a fierce exposer of this false apostle. Dostoevsky believed in Christ as God, whereas Tolstoy categorically refused to understand Christ as God and considered such a notion of Christ “the greatest blasphemy.” Dostoevsky accepted the Resurrection as a miracle, while Tolstoy called it an absurd idea and Paul’s “chief villainy.” While Dostoevsky the prophet dreamed of “other worlds” and universal Orthodoxy, Tolstoy the enlightener revealed to people the Spirit of Truth, which, according to his understanding of Christ’s teaching, “is already here and lives in you.”

Is there any need to continue this list of disagreements?

Therefore, despite my obvious sympathy for Tolstoy, as the reader delves into the polemics of our heroes and assesses their remarks and judgments, one extremely important point should not be overlooked: when it comes to matters of principle — of faith and God — the shadow of Paul always emerges between Tolstoy and Dostoevsky.

And while Dostoevsky, inspired by the Galilean wine borrowed from John, intended only to renew Paul’s “worn-out” doctrine, rooting it in Russian soil and embellishing it with his own mystical experience, which Merezhkovsky so zealously seized upon, Tolstoy resolutely set about purifying the teaching of Christ from all superstitions, and, first and foremost, from the fabrications of Paul.

It is important to remember this in order to better understand the complex relationship between two geniuses who expressed different views on the teachings of Christ and the future of humanity. I hope this will help the reader find their own path to resolving their disputes.

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Please note that in some instances, I’ve set apart key words and phrases on

their own lines,

to specifically draw the reader’s focus.

Vladislav Tsylyov

The Miracle at Cana

You Are Also Invited

Leo Tolstoy was categorical and brief in his assessment of the miracle at Cana of Galilee, calling it “senseless” and “offensive”:

This event at Cana of Galilee, described in such detail, is one of the most instructive passages in the Gospels — instructive in relation to how harmful it is to accept the entire letter of the so-called canonical Gospel as something sacred. The event at Cana of Galilee presents nothing remarkable, nor instructive, nor in any respect significant. If it is a miracle, it is senseless; if a trick, it is offensive; and if it is a scene of daily life, it is unnecessary.

We see a completely different attitude in Fyodor Dostoevsky, who found the deepest spiritual meaning in this miracle. He dedicates an entire chapter to this event in The Brothers Karamazov. It is this very event that leads the hero to an ecstatic epiphany and a renewed Orthodox faith. It is important to note that this occurs within the framework of a work of fiction, not a theological treatise.

Dmitry Merezhkovsky, in his work Jesus the Unknown, acts more boldly and goes even further. Relying on the authority of Dostoevsky, he presents Alyosha’s dream about the miracle at Cana as the central event of his own teaching and as the culmination of a spiritual experience comparable to that of the Gospels. According to Merezhkovsky’s design, this experience is meant to become a model of a “miracle-sign” and to inspire all followers of the Third Testament. Thus the philosopher transforms a fictional plot into a legend created to suit his own ideas. But is this not the secret dream of any artist — for their images to take on flesh and blood in the minds of readers? Perhaps Merezhkovsky guessed the secret desires of the writer-prophet, yet can a new evangelist be permitted what is permissible for an artist?

If we consider Alyosha’s dream in the context of Merezhkovsky’s “apostolic” work, it evokes extremely contradictory feelings. The philosopher, without realizing it himself, seems to pour the wine of Cana… into “demonic” wineskins! By doing so does he not cast a shadow on Dostoevsky’s very idea of a new Orthodox hero?

To demonstrate the vulnerability of the spiritual experience of Dostoevsky the artist and the ecstasies of Merezhkovsky the theologian, we shall contrast Alyosha’s ordeal with the well-known patristic account of the temptation of Saint Simeon Stylites. According to tradition, while standing on his pillar, the saint undertook “great ascetic feats, arming himself against the invisible adversary.”

Let us recall one of the most poignant moments in Dostoevsky’s novel. The death of Elder Zosima plunges Alyosha into an abyss of spiritual despair. In the dim light of the cell, beside his mentor’s coffin, he is seized by bitterness. Yet, a light pierces this darkness — a strange, sublime premonition born from the Gospel verses about the wedding at Cana of Galilee: