ABSTRACT
Shortly after Solov’ev’s death in July 1900, tributes from close friends and colleagues on the editorial board of the European Messenger were printed in the journal’s chronicle section.2 As ‘obituary notices’, these personal reminiscences concentrated on the loss of a remarkable, unique spirit – a creative genius, brilliant polemicist, and a rare example of moral integrity. In private correspondence, they openly mourned the loss of a dear friend: ‘I cannot come to terms with the thought that he is no more’, wrote Koni, ‘that we will never again hear his pure, child-like, infectious laughter, never again see that prophet-like head of his, nor hear his original and sublime (vozvyshennye) thoughts.’3 Solov’ev was among the few who had the courage to announce their religious convictions in a society that was losing sight of human decency and moral rectitude and which was falling prey to increasing brutality (evidenced, it was noted, by practices in courts of law). As Koni saw things, should Solov’ev’s message, unfashionable as it was, go unheard in the desert, it would be an irreparable loss:
One might be quite critical of Solov’ev, or Tolstoi for that matter, but life today is sullied to such an extent by all kinds of rascals, by self-satisfied nobodies and predators on the nation’s honour and wellbeing, that the loss of men such as Solov’ev, or indeed, Tolstoi, cannot be passed over in silence.4
