The Icon and the Axe

The course of Ivanov's subsequent religious quest brought a frenzied climax to the century-long search for direct new links with God. At the same time it gives a hint of the new paths into which prophetic impulses and messianic longings were shortly to be channeled. For, although he spoke longingly in 1845 of a need for links with a Christian Church linked to the apostolic age "when religion was not a corpse,"111 he turned neither to the Orthodox Church that had attracted Gogol nor to the Roman Catholic Church that had won the allegiance of other Russians in Rome. Nor did he seek solace in some new form of inner devotion following the sectarian or pietistic tradition, as one might think from the title of his 1846 manuscript, Thoughts upon Reading the Bible. He turned instead to messianic patriotism,

a position that had been implied in the general assumption that Russia was to provide spiritual salvation for all mankind. Ivanov was profoundly moved by a visit to the artist's studio in December, 1845, which was made by Nicholas I during his trip to Rome. Ivanov became lost in a kind of fantastic eschatological chauvinism. Russia became "the last of the peoples of the planet… . The Messiah whom the Jews await and in whose second coming symbolic Christians believe is the Russian Tsar, the Tsar of the last people."112

He borrows the language of occult masonry in speaking of "symbolic Christians," the "elect (elu) of providence" and "all-wise rule" {premudroe tsarstvovanie). Humanity is about to enjoy "the eternal peace, which will be given to it by the great and final people." Truth is to be "the basis of everything"; the artist, who is "the priest (zhrets) of the future of humanity," will soon be superfluous, because there will be no conflict-or even any difference between the sexes. The Tsar will become "entirely equal to Christ in his high authority and belief in God" and will establish his authority "over the Slavic races" and

. . . then shall the prophecy be fulfilled that there shall be one kingdom and one pastor, for all surviving kings will ask his counsel in order to bring order to their governments in a manner befitting each separate nationality.

The Russian artist of today must speak

… in the Asian spirit, in the spirit of prophecy . . . like musicians going before a regiment all aflame, lifting men up and away from worry and grief to the finest moments of life through marvelous sounds.113

Thus, the theme of consecrated combat, so central to later militant Pan-Slavism, was given an early and exalted formulation. Like his friend, the poet Tiutchev, who had also seen messianic portents in Nicholas' visit to Rome, Ivanov saw apocalyptical implications in the revolution of 1848 and hailed Nicholas' stern repressive moves.

Deeply impressed that "the parabola of the bombs has missed my studio," Ivanov set forth on a frenzied secret project to found a new academy for a consecrated army of "public artists." Their shrine was to be a temple to "the golden age of all humanity," which was to be built in Moscow "on that very spot where the fate of Russia was resolved by the speech of Abraham Palitsyn."114 The temple, in turn, was to be dominated by a vast fresco, one half of which was to show the Holy Lands as they appeared in Christ's lifetime, the other to show the Holy Lands as they now

appeared, with Nicholas I in the center as the form taken by the Messiah in His second coming.115 Apparently believing that his project would gain the approval of the Tsar, he made some 250 sketches for murals and icons, including events from secular history and mythology along with sacred subjects.