Abstract

After the defense of his thesis, Solov’ëv sought the professorship at Moscow University now vacant owing to Jurkevich’s death. We look here at his efforts in this regard, his effectiveness as a university-level lecturer and his abrupt departure for London to research a planned doctoral dissertation on Gnosticism. We examine the reaction to his magister’s thesis, particularly that of Kavelin, and his own reply to the criticism, which provided some much needed clarification. We also look at the openly mystical turn in his thought as evidenced by an only recently published set of manuscripts from this time that he had once hoped would serve as the basis of a doctoral dissertation. Nonetheless, these manuscripts contain an odd assortment of reflections, some apparently written in response to his earlier critics and which demand rational scrutiny. Finally, we will look at Solov’ëv’s hurried and odd sojourn to Egypt on suspect grounds and his account of his adventures there both as related at the time to others and later in life in poetry.

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Notes

  1. 1.

    Cf. Karinskij 1873. Covering much the same ground as Solov’ëv’s thesis, Karinskij’s thesis was not just larger but more thorough and scholarly and therefore less accessible and controversial.

  2. 2.

    A number of questions immediately spring to mind with news of the dean’s proposal that, unfortunately, are not addressed in the surviving historical record. For example, did the dean have some assurance that the government would accede to the establishment of an additional teaching post? Did the dean expect a sudden increase in university enrollment that would warrant two teachers in philosophy?

  3. 3.

    Troickij held a magister’s degree in theology from the Kiev Theological Academy. He first submitted his doctoral dissertation in philosophy to Jurkevich at Moscow University. However, after reading it the latter declined to accept it, claiming it did not meet the standards for such a treatise. However, in a letter to Troickij Jurkevich made clear that the real reason behind his rejection was political: Troickij’s philosophical position was viewed as too close to that of the young materialists Chernyshevskij and his group. Unwilling to accept Jurkevich’s refusal, Troickij submitted his work Nemetskaja psikhologija v tekushchem stoleliju (German Psychology in the Current Century) to Vladislavlev and F. F. Sidonskij at St. Petersburg University in 1867. Although it met predictably with rather sharp criticism in the press, this did not impede Troickij’s academic advancement. Ivanovskij 1900: 205. Shortly before his death in 1900, Solov’ëv would write: “If philosophy, or – to put it more precisely and modestly – philosophical education, in Russia is to have a future, then certainly Matvej M. Troickij’s name must always remain in our intellectual history.” SS, vol. 8, p. 414. The irony here is that Troickij, who would hold the senior position in philosophy, is unanimously hailed as sympathetic to the very positivism that Solov’ëv sought to combat in his magister’s thesis.

  4. 4.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 225. Of course, Solov’ëv was likewise “newly elected.”

  5. 5.

    For additional information on these matters see, in particular, Luk’janov 1990. vol. 3, vyp. I: 64–56.

  6. 6.

    Kant 1997: A797/B825-A800/B828

  7. 7.

    Schopenhauer 1969. vol. I: 59.

  8. 8.

    PSS, vol. 1: 244–245; Cf. Schopenhauer 1969. vol. II: 161.

  9. 9.

    PSS, vol. 1: 340.

  10. 10.

    PSS, vol. 1: 177.

  11. 11.

    PSS, vol. 1: 179.

  12. 12.

    PSS, vol. 1: 180.

  13. 13.

    Mochul’skij believes that by the time of this lecture Solov’ëv’s project expanded beyond the narrow confines of his Slavophile-inspired thesis. “In comparison with the fundamental positions of his thesis, the introductory lecture contains something new. In The Crisis of Western Philosophy Solov’ëv asserts that the truths which Western thought attained, coincide with the truths of the ‘teachers of the East, in part the ancient East and especially the Christian East’. This can be understood in a Slavophile spirit: the need for a synthesis of Western rationalism with Eastern Orthodoxy. In the introductory lecture, the program is significantly broadened: the author sets as his goal to show that German metaphysics elaborated the same ‘true view’ as Indian religion and Greek art.” Mochul’skij 1936: 61.

  14. 14.

    Kavelin (1818–1885) was an important figure in Russian intellectual history in his own right. As a professor of law at St. Petersburg University since 1857, Kavelin took an active role in the preparation of the Great Reforms of the early 1860s, in which the government noted his decidedly liberal stance. Student unrest at the university in 1861 led to his forced resignation, after which he was not permitted to resume teaching until 1877.

  15. 15.

    Kavelin 1875: 298.

  16. 16.

    Kavelin 1875: 303.

  17. 17.

    Kavelin does not himself mention Locke, and it is unclear to what extent he was directly familiar with the latter’s writings. In fact, Locke already realized, apparently unlike Kavelin, that the idea of time did not presuppose an impression of motion. Locke 1968: 148. On the other hand, the similarities between their ideas are so numerous and apparent that sheer coincidence must be discounted.

  18. 18.

    Berkeley 1963: 113.

  19. 19.

    Pis’ma, vol. 4: 146.

  20. 20.

    Quoted in PSS, vol. 1: 355.

  21. 21.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 226.

  22. 22.

    Shortly before his death, Solov’ëv returned to this argument, taking a radically different stand.

  23. 23.

    PSS, vol. 1: 193.

  24. 24.

    Berkeley 1963: §49.

  25. 25.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 222.

  26. 26.

    Hegel 1904: 210–211. Surely for Solov’ëv, the influence is primarily through Jurkevich, rather than through Hegel. See Jurkevich 1860.

  27. 27.

    PSS, vol. 1: 196. In a set of thirty “theses,” presumably conceived in connection with preparing to write “Sophia,” Solov’ëv remarked, “through the logical combination of inner and outer experience we have cognition of the existence (sushchestvo) of the other.” PSS, vol. 2: 168.

  28. 28.

    PSS, vol. 1: 197. While Solov’ëv’s position in this matter certainly sounds strange, if not ludicrous, to us today, it should be set in the context of his immersion in Hegel, Schopenhauer and German Romanticism.

  29. 29.

    Kavelin 1899: 335.

  30. 30.

    Two of the editors of Solov’ëv’s collected works, A. P. Kozyrev and A. A. Nosov, write that his goal was “not to teach but to realize his scholarly intentions.” If they mean by this that Solov’ëv’s hope was not to secure a professorship but to effect a reform of Christianity, there is nothing in the historical record to substantiate this nor is there any logical reason why Solov’ëv could not have hoped to achieve both. Given the speed at which he completed his magister’s thesis, he was obviously impatient for success including academic advancement.

  31. 31.

    Quoted in PSS, vol. 2: 315.

  32. 32.

    Janzhul 1910: 99. It is not clear what Ekaterina Janzhul had in mind when she ascribed “skepticism” to Solov’ëv.

  33. 33.

    There is apparently some dispute concerning Solov’ëv’s vegetarianism. Mochul’skij contends that although Solov’ëv was not a vegetarian he never ate meat. Mochul’skij 1936: 223. K. M. El’cova, a family friend and one who knew Solov’ëv for many years, wrote that as long as she could remember he never ate meat. El’cova 1926: 138. Evgenij Trubeckoj writes that Solov’ëv kept erratic eating habits and that when hunger prodded him he would consume vegetarian fare. Trubeckoj 1995. vol. 1: 27. Janzhul reports that while in London Solov’ëv was disgusted with English meals consisting of half-cooked meat alone. Janzhul 1910: 100.

  34. 34.

    His desire to go to Newcastle and Bristol was obviously not a fleeting whim. In an earlier letter from 8 September, Solov’ëv wrote that he hoped to visit the former in October and the latter in January.

  35. 35.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 16.

  36. 36.

    See, for example, the testimony of Pypina-Ljatskaja 1914: 426–427.

  37. 37.

    In his letter two days later, Solov’ëv recounts his journey into the desert, where during the night he was almost killed by bedoins. Those sympathetic to a literal reading of Vladimir’s poem “Three Meetings” contend that while on this outing into the wilderness he was “visited” again by Sophia and that, indeed, it was his expectation of such a vision that led him to Egypt in the first place. Oddly, he never mentioned having such a vision at the time even to his friend Certelev, who in general was sympathetic to Solov’ëv’s spiritualist bent. Additionally, if he had traveled to Egypt not to learn first hand more about asceticism but to await a mystical vision, why did he linger there for months afterward? Also, in letters written while in Paris en route to Cairo Vladimir mentioned a desire to continue on to India, a desire repeated in a letter to Olga Novikovoj, the sister of an old friend, written just prior to his supposed “vision.” Would not the interest in asceticism be more consistent with these facts?

  38. 38.

    Quoted in Luk’janov 1916. vol. 3, vyp. I: 190. Since this is the same Kovalevskij to whom Solov’ëv in London admitted seeing an evil spirit at night, it is unlikely that he would have been reticent in confessing to having seen a divine apparition in the British Museum. Moreover, if Solov’ëv was willing to confide in Kovalevskij of a spiritual communication regarding a secret society in Egypt, why would he not be willing to confide in a spiritual communication to travel to Egypt to receive yet another such vision?

    The arguably most vivid account of Solov’ëv at this time comes to us from the French writer Eugene Melchior de Vogüé, who later in life recalled meeting him one evening in Cairo: “Despite the heat of the Egyptian summer, Vladimir wore a long black cloak and a top hat. He frankly told us that in this attire he once went into the Suez desert, to the Bedoins. He wanted to search for some tribe which he had heard had preserved certain secrets of the religious-mystical teachings of the cabala and masonic traditions, handed down, as it were, in a direct line from Solomon. Of course, he found nothing and ultimately the Bedoins stole his watch and spoiled his hat.” Vogüé 1904: 17–18.

    Despite the similarity of these independent statements, Mochul’skij claims that they constitute Solov’ëv’s “official version” of what happened in the desert that night. “Only some twenty years later and in verses half in jest did he tell the truth.” Mochul’skij 1936: 69. Yet what possible evidence and how much of it would convince Mochul’skij that the “official version” was the truth, and not the poem?

  39. 39.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 23.

  40. 40.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 227. As we saw in the previous chapter, Solov’ëv already displayed a particular penchant for such constructions in the closing pages of The Crisis.

  41. 41.

    Luk’janov 1916. vol. 3, vyp. 1: 143–145.

  42. 42.

    A. P. Kozyrev and N. V. Kotrelev, the two principal editors of Solov’ëv’s collected works, inform us that although no manuscript with this French title is known to them, the expression “universal religion” repeatedly occurs in “Sophia.” PSS, vol. 2: 322.

  43. 43.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 146.

  44. 44.

    Owing to their different format and Solov’ëv’s haste to conclude his activities in Western Europe after his stay in Sorrento, we can cautiously conclude that the undated manuscripts were written before those bearing a date, i.e., before February 1876. From his letters, we can surmise that Vladimir first conceived the idea for “Sophia” shortly before or immediately after embarking on his trip to London in June 1875. The surviving sketches for “Sophia,” written in Russian, may well, at least in part, have been composed during Vladimir’s stay in Warsaw. Of course, in the absence of evidence, such dating must remain conjectural. From the fact that the four manuscripts were written in French, we can conclude with a high degree of confidence that none were composed earlier than September 1875. For otherwise, as his letter to his father that month indicates, “Sophia” would have been composed in English, not French. Furthermore, there is no reason for us to suspect that Solov’ëv became disenchanted with the idea of writing in English before his abrupt departure from London in late October.

  45. 45.

    Schopenhauer 1969. vol. II: 160.

  46. 46.

    Based on a surviving sketch for the entire work, written in Russian and thus presumably composed either while still in Russia or en route to London, Solov’ëv for a time conceived the pages devoted to the human need for metaphysics as an introduction to the entire unnamed work. See PSS, vol. 2: 172.

  47. 47.

    Possibly, Solov’ëv would say that the tacitly recognized insatiable quest for scientific knowledge is tantamount to metaphysical questioning. This, however, remains a conjecture, and, in any case, would meet resistance from the ardent positivist, for whom the methods employed in science make it entirely different from metaphysics.

  48. 48.

    Apart from whether he saw himself as possessing such an ability, we know that Solov’ëv was, at this time, extremely interested in clairvoyance and séances.

  49. 49.

    In the terms of Husserlian phenomenology, we could say that the philosophical argument can be framed under the three headings: cogitata, cogitatio and ego respectively. See Husserl 1970a: 171.

  50. 50.

    PSS, vol. 2: 20. At this time, we will concern ourselves merely with an overview of Solov’ëv’s position as it stood at the time of writing “Sophia,” leaving a critical examination until we meet his more careful restatements of these arguments in later works. Nevertheless, we should point out here that the Slavophile Ivan Kireevskij charged in 1856 that the Roman Catholic Church’s preference for syllogism over tradition served as the basis of its divorce from the Orthodox Christian Church. See Kireevskij 1856: 348.

  51. 51.

    PSS, vol. 2: 82. Interestingly, we see Solov’ëv here referring to the position he opposes as “abstract philosophy,” adopting the terminology and general line of thought of Kireevskij.

  52. 52.

    PSS, vol. 2: 126.

  53. 53.

    Solov’ëv provides no reference to Schopenhauer’s work, but see Schopenhauer 1969. vol. II: 195.

  54. 54.

    Kant 1997: B156. On the other hand, Schopenhauer remarked in a similar vein as would Solov’ëv that: “To the subject of knowing, who appears as an individual only through his identity with the body, this body is given in two entirely different ways. It is given in intelligent perception as representation…. But it is also given in quite a different way, namely as what is known immediately to everyone, and is denoted by the word will. … It is just this double knowledge of our own body…not as representation, but as something over and above this, and hence what it is in itself.” Schopenhauer 1969. vol. 1: 100 and 103.

  55. 55.

    PSS, vol. 2: 36. In a similar fashion, Schopenhauer claims “will” to be the essence of everything in nature: “But the word will, which, like a magic wand, is to reveal to us the innermost essence of everything in nature, by no means expresses an unknown quantity, …but something known absolutely and immediately…. Hitherto, the concept of will has been subsumed under the concept of force; I, on the other hand, do exactly the reverse, and intend every force in nature to be conceived as will.” Schopenhauer 1969. vol. 1: 111.

  56. 56.

    At this point, Solov’ëv uses the term “substance” interchangeably with “being.” Although Solov’ëv’s reasoning here is rather vague, to say the least, we can supplement it by turning again to Schopenhauer: “The will as thing-in-itself is quite different from its phenomenon, and is entirely free from all the forms of the phenomenon into which it first passes when it appears…. As we know, time and space belong to this principle, and consequently plurality as well, which exists and has become possible only through them. In this last respect I shall call time and space the principium individuationis, an expression borrowed from the old scholasticism…. For it is only by means of time and space that something which is one and the same according to its nature and the concept appears as different, as a plurality of coexistent and successive things.” Schopenhauer 1969. vol. 1: 122–123. Thus, pursuing my idea that he was at this time still deeply indebted to Schopenhauer, Solov’ëv concluded that the absolute substance was unitary because plurality is an empirical or mediate phenomenon. Not surprisingly, both use the term “plurality.” See PSS, vol. 2: 39

  57. 57.

    Solov’ëv some twenty years later came to the defense of Spinoza against the charge of atheism by Aleksandr Vvedenskij, the St. Petersburg neo-Kantian professor of philosophy.

  58. 58.

    Solov’ëv does not say that the imagination supplies the material element of inspiration. No, the imagination is the material element. Again, the term “inspiration” plays a role in Schopenhauer’s thought, particularly in his discussion of aesthetics where he claims it is a necessary, though not sufficient condition, of genius.

  59. 59.

    As I read Carlson, she too sees Solov’ëv as a proponent of emanationism at this particular time, although she refrains from such an explicit identification. Carlson 1996.

  60. 60.

    PSS, vol. 2: 66–72.

  61. 61.

    Carlson writes that Solov’ëv’s work is not “fragmentary, inconsistent, and ambiguous.” This is quite a broad statement particularly in light of its quite obvious “fragmentary” condition, since it consists of various musings on a variety of topics. Thus, the burden is on Carlson to show that this piece is not what others have said it is. See Carlson 1996: 62.

  62. 62.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 233.

  63. 63.

    Pis’ma, vol. 2: 28.

  64. 64.

    Pis’ma, vol. 4: 147.

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Nemeth, T. (2014). The Unfinished Sophia. In: The Early Solov’ëv and His Quest for Metaphysics. International Archives of the History of Ideas Archives internationales d'histoire des idées, vol 212. Springer, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-01348-0_2

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