A history of Slavic studies in the United States — Context and Discussion

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Manning, Clarence Augustus, 1893-1972 Project Gutenberg 2025 Not confirmed
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Words 47,455
Reading time 207 min
Text sections 18

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Clarence Manning traces the institutional growth of Slavic studies in U.S. universities from late-19th-century individual efforts through post-1945 expansion, emphasizing the role of refugee scholars and shifting public attitudes.
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Strangely enough, the Russians failed to cross the coastal mountains either in Alaska or further to the south. They contented themselves with the hunting of marine animals, especially the sea otter, sending the skins back to Siberia for Asiatic distribution. They apparently did not realize that the American continent could be crossed by land, a peculiar oversight when we remember their rapid crossing of the whole of Asia. Rezanov had hoped to make Kodiak a center of Russian culture. He had come to Russian America by sea from St. Petersburg and brought with him a large library of books for an academy which he proposed to establish. Apparently Shelikov had spread excessive stories of the Russian achievements, for Kodiak was only a wretched frontier village and not an embryonic metropolis, Slava Rossii, as he boasted. Rezanov’s collection remained in Kodiak until its destruction by fire on July 18, 1943.

The Russian Orthodox Church also sent a mission to the colony. The monks, largely from Valamo, were devoted men and at least one was a martyr. The greatest of the Russian clergy was Ivan Venyaminov, later Archbishop Innokenty, Metropolitan of Moscow and one of the great figures of the Russian Church. This mission converted the majority of the Aleuts and Eskimos in the neighborhood and the Russian language was long the common speech on most of the Aleutian Islands.

Russian expansion thus had begun to take shape seriously at about the same time the Americans began to push westward. After buying the Louisiana Territory from France in 1803, President Thomas Jefferson sent an expedition under Meriwether Lewis and William Clark to explore the northwest. In 1806 the expedition reached the mouth of the Columbia River. Then followed the settlement of Astoria by agents of the American fur trader, John Jacob Astor. By the time the Russians were ready to advance to the south, the Americans were established in the center of the area and the Russian colonies never formed a solid belt on the west coast. For some reason the Russians did not try to eliminate the Americans and the southern settlements began to wither away from inability to expand. In 1841, Fort Ross was sold to a group of Americans and the Russians withdrew northward.

The lively trade between Sitka and Boston was interrupted by the War of 1812 and when peace came, commerce was further hindered by Russian efforts to impose trade restrictions that were unacceptable to the Americans. These came at the same time as the revolutions and declarations of independence of the Spanish colonies and the adherence of Tsar Alexander I to the Holy Alliance to aid Spain in recovering them. The Russian efforts at controlling the north Pacific and the American sympathy for the Spanish colonies led to the proclamation of the Monroe Doctrine in 1823 which doomed European expansion in the New World. Both President Monroe and his Secretary of State, John Quincy Adams, had held diplomatic posts in Russia and were aware of the differences between the Russian and American points of view.

The Monroe Doctrine and the settlement of the northwest determined the fate of Russian America. It was blocked to the south by the United States and the British settlements in the Canadian West. In 1867, Russia realized the hopelessness of its position and sold the territory now known as Alaska to the United States. The Russians then established their bishopric in San Francisco but during the next years the Russian colony in the far west remained an isolated group and it was only toward the end of the century that it merged with the general Slavic immigration.

This, then, is the first phase of Slavic contact with the New World. Relatively little imprint was left on American life, although we must not undervalue certain ideas that did pass into the young republic. They were the result of individual effort rather than organized or mass movements which came later.

CHAPTER 2 MASS IMMIGRATION

As the middle of the century approached the situation began to change radically. There came a marked improvement in the accommodations and regularity of the trans-Atlantic ships and contacts between North America and Europe began to multiply.

Then came the Spring of the Nations, the year 1848, with the efforts of the Germans and the peoples of Austria-Hungary to put an end to the prevailing absolutism. This movement failed but it led a large number of Germans who had supported the Frankfort General Assembly to leave their native land and to seek refuge in the United States. Most of them drifted west, settling in many of the Central States and the Middle West. They took up free land and settled down to become prosperous farmers. The rumors of their success in adapting themselves to their new environment spread beyond Germany and fired the resolution of other discontented peoples.

Clarence Manning opens his history by acknowledging the difficulty of the task: much of the pertinent material has never been collected, and what exists has not been adequately evaluated against the general American cultural and educational development. He warns that any synthesis must be highly tentative. This cautious, scholarly tone sets the stage for a work that is less a triumphant narrative and more a provisional mapping of scattered data. Manning is careful to distinguish between formal academic programs—which began only at the end of the nineteenth century—and the broader, informal presence of Slavic peoples in America, which he treats as a necessary background. The book thus proceeds in two registers: a chronicle of courses, departments, and publications, and a wider social history of immigration and cultural influence.

A Tentative Synthesis

Manning repeatedly stresses the provisional nature of his account. In the introduction, he calls his work “highly tentative, subject to correction and amplification.” This is not false modesty but a reflection of the state of the field in 1957: archives were scattered, many records were lost, and the rapid changes of the preceding decades made any firm conclusions elusive. The author’s diction—words like “creditable but small,” “incomplete,” and “difficult, if not impossible”—reveals a historian working with gaps. He does not pretend to offer a definitive story. Instead, he invites future scholars to fill in the blanks. This methodological honesty is one of the book’s quiet strengths, and it shapes every chapter.

The Language of Institutional Growth

Manning’s prose is dense with institutional names, dates, and titles. He writes of “Professor Alfred Senn, a Swiss philologist from the University of Kaunas,” who “became Professor of German Philology at the University of Pennsylvania in 1938” and later “Professor of Balto-Slavic Philology.” The accumulation of such details—Cornell’s appointment of Jack Posin, Syracuse’s Albert Menut developing Russian courses within a Romance Languages department—builds a picture of ad hoc expansion. Manning rarely pauses to evaluate the quality of these programs; his focus is on their existence and the circumstances of their founding. The effect is a kind of institutional cartography, mapping where and when Slavic studies took root, often through the efforts of a single determined individual.

Refugee Scholars as Agents of Change

A recurring pattern in Manning’s narrative is the arrival of European scholars fleeing Nazi and Soviet power. He notes that “the chief counterweight” to anti-intellectual trends was “the arrival in the United States of many distinguished scholars who had escaped the holocaust of Nazi rule.” The Poles were “more fortunate” in their escape routes; the Czechs were largely trapped; few Russians came; only one Ukrainian arrived, “almost by accident.” Manning’s language is precise about the mechanics of displacement: scholars “escaped north into Lithuania or south into Romania,” then made their way west. Organizations like the Polish Institute of Arts and Sciences provided a “center” to keep them “from being lost in American life.” These passages show Manning’s attention to the human logistics behind institutional growth.

War and the Shifting Public Mood

Manning contrasts American reactions to World War I and World War II. In 1914, Slavic studies were negligible; by 1940, despite anti-Nazi sentiment, there was “no attempt to exclude German from the curricula of any important institution.” Instead, Russian enrollments rose, and “governing bodies of institutions without Slavic departments began to think of introducing them.” Manning attributes this not to a sudden love of Slavic culture but to geopolitical necessity. His phrasing is measured: war “produced, at first, relatively little effect upon Slavic studies as a whole.” The change came gradually, and Manning tracks it through administrative decisions—new departments, new hires—rather than through grand pronouncements. The result is a quiet, evidence-based account of how world events reshaped American academia.

Manning’s history is best read as a primary document of mid-century academic self-consciousness. It reveals how a field understood its own origins at a moment of rapid expansion. Readers interested in the sociology of knowledge, the impact of exile on scholarship, or the institutional mechanics of area studies will find here a wealth of specific detail. The book’s tentative tone is not a weakness but a feature: it reminds us that all disciplinary histories are provisional, shaped by the archives available and the questions their authors choose to ask.

I kept thinking about how Manning shows those early scholars quietly building something lasting, shaped by displacement and fragile hope. It reminded me of arguments in The higher education of women — Key Ideas to Explore—how certain doors only open slowly, through patient conviction. That sense of time passing with real changes underneath stayed with me long after I closed the book.

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