RUSSIA — Decis of the Novgorod School (15th century), copy of Prince Brailowsky — Vatican City, Eastern Congregation.
I. History. Among the principal exponents of the Slavophile orientation are remembered the brothers Ivan and Petr Kireevskii, I. Khomiakov, the brothers Konstantin and Ivan Aksakov, and I. Samarin.
In tracing the further development of Russian literature in its period of greatest splendor, one is necessarily limited to the greatest figures. Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev (1818–83) is undoubtedly considered the most Western-oriented among the great Russian writers; nevertheless, his *A Sportsman’s Sketches* bears the unmistakable fragrance of the Russian soil in all its most delicate nuances; typically Russian traits are also found in the characters of many of his novels and stories (e.g., in *A Nest of Gentlefolk*). His somewhat journalistic desire to keep abreast of the moods and ideologies of Russian youth may have sometimes harmed him, as in *Fathers and Sons* and *Virgin Soil*, stories that remain, however, of the liveliest documentary interest. Ivan Aleksandrovich Goncharov (1812–91) introduced into literature the lazy, old-world atmosphere of his native Simbirsk on the Volga. His *Oblomov*, a powerful portrayal of old Russia as sleepy and indecisive—in an age of incipient democratization and nihilism—belongs among the principal literary masterpieces of the 19th century. Like all great realists (to use an expression dear to Russian criticism), Aleksandr Nikolaevich Ostrovskii (1823–1886) was, with his drama of manners, more properly a transformer of reality. In his theater, the rough, opaque, and traditionalistic world of Russian merchants lives with robust and intense vitality. Among his most famous comedies, one may recall *The Storm*, *The Forest*, and *It’s a Family Affair*.
Fedor Mikhailovich Dostoevskii (q.v.) was not only a discoverer of the darkest abysses of the human soul but, like all supreme geniuses, was at the same time a classic, for his ability to represent overwhelming passions from different points of view and for his clear art that shuns literary and artificial sufferings. From the delicate pages of *Poor Folk* and *White Nights*, from the overcoming of Gogol and Hoffmann celebrated in *The Double*, to the great masterpieces (*Crime and Punishment*, *The Idiot*, *The Brothers Karamazov*), one can observe in Dostoevskii’s work a harmonious evolution, rich, however, in surprises and continual renewal. Dostoevskii had the ability to resolve into art a turbulent and powerful world of passions and ideas in an age of incipient Revolution (still largely confined to the intelligentsia). His love for Russia (sometimes not without messianic and Pan-Slavic overtones) is identified with a tormented but intensely lived Christianity. Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoi (q.v.) is the creator, with *War and Peace*, of one of the greatest masterpieces of modern epic; celebrated worldwide for the novel *Anna Karenina*, he is also a great artist in *Resurrection* (in which one senses the heaviness caused by an ideological content) and of lively interest in his polemical and sometimes paradoxical moments. M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin (1826–1889) was perhaps the greatest of Russian satirists: some of his writings may appear as vast tableaux of Russian society of his time. G. I. Uspenskii (1840–1902) described, with predominantly naturalistic accents, a world of the petty bourgeoisie. A. F. Pisemskii (1820–1881) may in some way be recalled, albeit on a minor scale, alongside Turgenev. N. S. Leskov (1831–1895) was an original and vigorous writer who focused especially on the life of the Russian clergy but also provided a vivid picture of Russian society before and after the great reforms of Alexander II. Rather opposed in an age of literary realism, he was fully appreciated in the early 20th century.
A fine writer, inclined to “ narodnik ” populism, was V. G. Korolenko (1853–1921), best known especially for *The Makar’s Dream*. Korolenko may in some way be compared to A. I. Ertel’ (1853–1908). V. M. Garshin (1853–88) revealed himself, despite his brief life, as a notable artist: a nervous illness led him to suicide, and morbid traits are evident in his delicate and refined tales, in which realistic elements tend to assume symbolic significance. S. Ia. Nadson (1862–87) devoted his brief life entirely to poetry: from his early and somewhat vague social enthusiasms, he moved to notes anticipating decadent and precursory tastes; his great fame was rather fleeting.
Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860–1904) was perhaps the last great representative of the “golden age” of Russian literature: his friends and admirers, carrying him to the grave, vaguely sensed that with his funeral an era was drawing to a close. His “scientific” and positivist background led him to experiences different and even opposed to those of Zolaesque art: his is a tragic positivism. He is the creator of the “drama of moods,” of unmistakable gray atmospheres illuminated by “mirages.” Here we may only briefly recall his admirable short stories, as well as his principal dramatic works: *The Seagull*, *Uncle Vanya*, *Three Sisters*, and *The Cherry Orchard*. Maksim Gorky, pseudonym of A. M. Peshkov (1868–1936), became famous with his early works inspired by the life of Russian vagabonds. He oscillated somewhat between revolutionary socialism (not without romantic and individualistic traits) and Bolshevism, ending as a classic of Soviet literature. A. I. Kuprin (1870–1938), known for his sweeping works *The Pit* and *The Duel*, is not without certain characteristic defects of a crudely realistic and naturalist tradition. Ivan Alekseevich Bunin, who became famous for his masterpieces *The Village* and *Dry Valley*, is a writer of aristocratic refinement and keen powers of observation. Boris Konstantinovich Zaitsev, who found in Italy almost a second homeland, proved himself an original writer especially in his short stories. A dramatic and humanly interesting figure was L. N. Andreev (1871–1919). In his person and in his work is reflected the drama of the Russian intelligentsia: an exalter of the Revolution as long as it seemed to him an anarchic rebellion against every oppression and tyranny (*The Red Laugh*; *The Governor*; *The Story of the Seven Who Were Hanged*), he then hurled the most violent anathema against the Revolution when it appeared to him as tyranny, as a negation of the great Russian literary tradition of which he had been, despite certain innovative aspects of his art, one of its last notable epigones.
In the early years of the 20th century, Russian poetry experienced a grand flourishing of spiritualist and symbolist tendencies. All of culture tended to free itself from old formulas; against realism, naturalism, and positivism, vaguely idealist tendencies were opposed, while religious values were reflected, now as a return to Russo-Byzantine traditions, now as refined and cultivated religiosity, licit and equivocal. A precursor of the symbolist generation may, in various respects, be considered Dmitrii Sergeevich Merezhkovskii (1866–1941), a soul deeply tormented by religious problems, author of novels that had wide resonance, such as *Julian the Apostate* and *Leonardo da Vinci*, perhaps weighed down by the too rigid and schematic “parts” that the author assigns to his characters.
In a climate of relative freedom, the new Russian lyric poetry took flight in the untrammelled realm of fantasy. Baudelaire, Verlaine, Rimbaud, Mallarmé, Verhaeren experienced in Russia the moment of their triumph. In the “artificial,” refined, and splendid St. Petersburg, on the edge of the steppe and on the brink of revolution, there flourished a taste for sumptuous spectacles and for “hothouse flowers,” for everything that might appear exotic and extravagant. A century after the great European Romanticism, a new Romanticism developed in Russia: ancient aspirations of mystical poets indeed blossomed anew in the songs to the “most beautiful lady” by Blok, against the “Dostoevskian” and hallucinated backdrop of the Neva’s canals. Following in the footsteps of Novalis, the new poetry tended to fuse the lyrical element with the religious (with vague aspirations to prophecy).
K. D. Balmont sought to be, with his ostentatiously solar and sonorous songs, the “priest of beauty”; and though today much of his poetry appears prematurely aged, he merits the distinction of having been an indefatigable translator (as has often been the case with second-rate poets). V. J. Brjusov was, among the young writers of the very beginning of the twentieth century, perhaps the most learned and the most tireless seeker of new forms. V. S. Solov’ev (Solov’ev) was both poet and philosopher and in a certain way marks the link between Dostoevskij and the greatest of the Russian Symbolist poets—Blok. Of Solov’ev, who knew how to express in the most delicate nuances of his poetry the troubled and complex sparks of his philosophical thought, one recalls *Three Meetings*, *Ex oriente lux*, and *Panmongolism*. V. I. Ivanov, who gathered writers and thinkers in his famous “tower,” was carried by the whirlwinds of the Revolution to Rome, along a path at once artistic and spiritual: a figure of truly exceptional proportions, he was poet, philosopher, and philologist. A. Belyj (the pseudonym of B. N. Bugaev), a poet of mystical tendencies, in the years of the Revolution, together with Blok (of his final period) and the thinker Ivanov-Razumnik, expressed a curious “Scythian” messianism, in which “Orthodox” and Slavophile motifs merged with Bolshevik revolutionary sparks. The greatest, purest, and most virginal of these early twentieth-century Russian poets was undoubtedly Aleksandr Blok (1880–1921), whose *Verses to the Beautiful Lady* are among the other lyrical collections remembered. His long poems *The Twelve* and *The Scythians* gained wide renown for their extravagant content, at once mystical and revolutionary, for a class-conscious and nationalist ideology, and finally for the attractive balance of ancient, almost archaic reminiscences and bold avant-garde daring.
Unable to cite all the names worthy of note, we recall the great poetess A. A. Achmatova, whose poetry, suffused with delicate amorous notes, often assumes the tone of confession, and whose modern expression finds control and restraint in her innate classical taste, her simplicity, and her unmistakable feminine tone. Also to be remembered is N. S. Gumilev, executed by the Bolsheviks at the outset of the Revolution, a vagabond temperament, a poet of complex and interesting avant-garde. Also worthy of mention are S. M. Gorodeckij, V. F. Chodasevič, M. A. Kuzmin, and F. Sologub (1863–1927), the pseudonym of F. K. Teternikov, best known as a narrator, especially for his novel *The Petty Demon*. Also to be recalled is the notable poet O. E. Mandelstam, who, departing from Symbolism, underwent interesting developments, and V. V. Chlebnikov, who introduced Futurism into Russia.
Soviet literature initially emphasized avant-garde tendencies, particularly Futurism. The political-social revolution and the artistic revolution had indeed sprung, at least in certain of their characteristic aspects, from a common materialist foundation, from the exaltation of factories and moving masses—in a word, from “ragamuffinism.” But soon, under the influence of Lenin, who disapproved of hermeticism (inaccessible, in his view, to the working masses), and even more as a result of an evolution (in whose name old military and political glories were revalorized), there was a return to the rehabilitation of many classics (though interpreted rigidly according to party directives) and to the resurgence in all fields of “realism.” Not only in literature but also in painting, architecture, etc., the avant-garde was now defeated. Increasingly, Soviet literature developed as a kind of “manipulated literature.” At a literary congress in 1932, the function of criticism was officially identified with the task of determining whether a writer conformed to the new political directives. The directives of Zdanov came increasingly to represent, for writers, the directive to follow party directives faithfully. The Soviet regime framed literary production among other “productions,” assigning specific tasks and subjects to writers: an attitude certainly entirely new in the history of modern literatures, but logically flowing from the premises of Marxism-Leninism.
Vladimir Majakovskij (1893–1930) was the foremost exponent of Russian Futurism (of him is cited the poem *150,000,000*): not lacking in brilliant sparks, he is at times nevertheless overwhelmed by a certain sonority, through which he manifested himself as a disseminator of the party’s slogans. A truly great poet—though uneven—was Sergej Esenin (1895–1925). He wrote in the years of revolutionary storm, famine, and civil war. Esenin’s poetry oscillates between idyllic, rustic, almost folkloric echoes and a tormented search for new forms and artificial paradises in the nightclubs of the metropolis. Among the principal Soviet writers are Boris Pilnjak, L. Sejfullina, V. Ivanov, E. Zamjatina, N. Nikitin, Lunc, Babel’, Leonov, Gladkov, M. Zosčenko (later violently criticized for “deviationism”), the aristocratic A. N. Tolstoj (1883–1945), who first opposed communism and then returned to the U.S.S.R., an uneven and sometimes interesting writer, I. Erenburg, who in his youth oscillated between an anarchic stance and mystical-religious escapism, later becoming in a certain way the unofficial chronicler of the “Stalin era.” In all these writers and in others, perhaps less known abroad, there is something ephemeral and polemical, but there are also moments of authentic art: it suffices, for example, to recall *The Red Cavalry* by the aforementioned I. Babel’. A novelist of great talent revealed himself in J. K. Oleša, in his felicitous balance of constructive ability and modern sensibility. A notable poet proved to be Boris Pasternak, a felicitous translator of Goethe, Verlaine, and Rilke: though he began in Futurist positions, he later drew inspiration from a world of memories, moods, and Romantic echoes. A writer of broad scope and epic color revealed himself—despite a certain prolixity—in M. Šolochov, the author of *Quiet Flows the Don*. Nor should we forget, among many others, the names of Fadeev and Simonov.
Even in emigration, despite considerable difficulties, a literary and cultural life developed, but over the decades writers who had matured around 1917 have gradually faded away, while many young writers have been absorbed—as was natural—into the new environments in which they were born or had developed.
VI. ART
Art in Russia from its earliest beginnings assumed a predominantly religious character and coincided with the official introduction of Christianity in 988. Alongside the first priests, architects, painters, and musicians arrived from Byzantium.
The first outpost of Byzantinism toward Russia was the city of Chersonesus Taurica, whose cathedral seems to have been reproduced in the famous Saint Sophia of Kiev. Byzantine art penetrated Russia also through Armenia and Georgia, by way of the Volga and its tributaries, as far as Vladimir and Suzdal. This second, indirect source of penetration brought about variations in the original Byzantine style that made some churches in Kiev, Chernigov, Novgorod, and Vladimir resemble the basilica of Ani in Armenia and that of Mokvi in Georgia.
In general, for churches the fundamental principles of Byzantine architecture were adopted: the cubic form with a single dome and four piers, resulting from the union of the basilican form with the central plan; even the internal division followed that of Byzantine churches, introducing only a few variations. Wall decorations logically followed the architectural arrangement, adapting iconographic subjects to the function of the various spaces. At the summit of the dome appeared Christ the Eternal Judge, with severe eyes and ascetic, stern features, the Holy Trinity with the choir of archangels and Evangelists. In the apse dominated the Virgin, of gigantic proportions; below was depicted the Eucharist, in the form of the Communion of the Apostles. In the central nave were depicted the principal events of the Old and New Testaments; on the western wall opposite the sanctuary, grand and terrifying, the Last Judgment. These elements took concrete form in Russia in the 11th and 12th centuries in the churches of Kiev, Chernigov, Kanev, Oster, Pereyaslavl, and Vladimir-Volynsk, in which Byzantinism was tempered through the forms of Eastern art, assimilating Persian ornamentation and variations inherent in the powerful individuality of the Russian people.
In the year 989, Vladimir founded the oldest church in Kiev, the Church of the Tithes. Yaroslav the Wise built in Kiev in 1037 the cathedral of Saint Sophia. Iziaslav erected in 1073 the Petchersk Monastery and later the churches of Saint Michael and those of Saint Cyril and Saint Alexis. Of these, the most famous is that of Saint Sophia, on a rectangular plan, surmounted by 13 domes, encircled by external galleries. The church approached the Justinianic basilica only in the general scheme, deriving in its clustered piers and blind arcades from the cathedrals of Chersonesus, Armenia, and Georgia. In the first half of the 17th century, Saint Sophia underwent restorations that changed its entire external and internal appearance. In the wall paintings, Byzantine artists followed Byzantine canons. The musicians of Saint Sophia, though preserved only in part, constitute a true artistic treasure. In Chernigov too are preserved religious monuments from the grand ducal period, among which the Church of the Transfiguration.
During the dark period determined by the Mongol invasion, which stifled the brilliant civilization of Kiev and Chernigov, and before the new star of Moscow arose, the cities of Novgorod and Pskov developed notably in Russia and became in the 13th–16th centuries true outposts of Russian culture. Even in Novgorod, which had commercial relations with the centers of the Baltic Sea and particularly with the famous Hanseatic League, the first artistic manifestations occurred with religious monuments; the churches arose severe and simple, and Byzantine influence was tempered by the demands of the climate, local traditions and tastes, as well as by contact with the art of Western countries, especially Romanesque art. The architects of Novgorod faced the problem of wooden truss roofing and adopted the same solution as their Western colleagues, namely roofing with barrel vaults and clustered piers; the external walls were divided by pilasters, blind arcades, and adorned with elegant hanging arches. The churches of Novgorod and Pskov showed a tendency toward Gothic only by the 15th century. The oldest church in Novgorod is the cathedral of Saint Sophia (1045–52). Built by Byzantine masters, it was noted for its three bronze doors, of which the “Korsun Gate” is the work of a master from Magdeburg, as inscriptions attest. Many local master-architects also distinguished themselves, among them Peter, Mironzev, and others. There is also mention of a Roman Andrea who is said to have erected the Church of the Nativity of the Virgin.
Novgorod’s architecture reached its peak in the 14th century with the erection of the celebrated churches of Saint Theodore (1360) and the Transfiguration (1374), frescoed by the Byzantine master known as Theophanes the Greek. Pskov introduced some variations: the widespread construction of covered galleries around the central body of the church, and a greater organic unity and heaviness of forms.
Architectural development was accompanied by a true rebirth of painting and decorative art. Russian painting for centuries exhibited the stylistic and iconographic characteristics of Byzantine art; only later did it draw from the fertile source of Italian art, on the occasion of the Fourth Crusade, when Europeans reached southern Russia. Italian art spread in Russia through Dalmatia, Serbia, and Poland, particularly in the 16th century. Theophanes the Greek created in Novgorod a vast pictorial school from which emerged a star of Russian religious painting: Andrei Rublev, who influenced northern Russia and also the art of Vladimir-Suzdal. The frescoes of the Ferapont Convent (1500), executed by the master Dionisy and his sons, evoke, with their rich iconographic sky, the notable works of the Italian 14th-century masters, especially those of Giotto, Duccio di Buoninsegna, and Simone Martini. At the end of the 16th century, Muscovite art dethroned the pictorial school of Novgorod, becoming at the same time its heir.
The first religious buildings arose in Moscow from the end of the 14th century and were perfected during the reign of Ivan III (1462–1505), who sought to bring homogeneity to religious structures and control those of a civil nature. His marriage to Zoë Paleologa, educated in Rome under the protection of Pope Sixtus IV, occasioned the summoning of Italian architects and artists to Moscow. They adorned the city with splendid architectural monuments, the finest of the period between the second half of the 15th century and the first half of the 16th, including the famous Kremlin. However, the Italian artists had to adapt their genius to the demands of their patrons, who insisted that churches be built following the prototype of the cathedral of Vladimir, with a rectangular plan, multiple apses, and surmounted by five or more domes. Under this inspiration, Ridolfo Fioravanti, nicknamed “Ariostele” in Russia, built in Moscow (between 1475 and 1479) the famous Dormition Cathedral, introducing important innovations in the portals and external decorations and enriching the entire structure with lavish Italian ornamentation. The Italian masters also taught the Russians how to work with bricks, prepare lime, and use iron beams in wall construction. The use of bricks intensified the taste for ornamentation.
Alvisio Novi, known as the “master of walls,” fully introduced Renaissance artistic tendencies when constructing in Moscow the Archangel Michael Cathedral. He also built the famous Terem Palace, which served as the prince’s residence. Churches built in wood, in the most varied architectural styles, however, remained a constant feature of Russian sacred art.
Regarding painting, Moscow’s art inherited the tradition of the Novgorod school; later it sought new elements and created the so-called “Stroganov style,” named after the great northern patrons. A kind of “workshop” of artists and artisans formed, aiming to achieve richness in detail and ornamentation. Formal aspects became exclusive. The power and strength characteristic of the primitive paintings of Novgorod and Pskov disappeared, as did the unity and organic coherence of the whole; illustrative and narrative content prevailed. Later, the government sought to regulate artistic expression directly, entrusting the clergy with compiling technical manuals and obliging artists to adhere to the relevant canons.
While national religious painting in Moscow was in full decline before the rise of Peter the Great, who allowed Western culture to penetrate Russia, there was a brief but brilliant resurgence of Russian national art in Rostov and Yaroslavl. From 1620 onward, Yaroslavl saw the construction of forty stone churches, forming a distinct group while retaining the usual rectangular plan. Their dimensions increased, interiors became brighter through greater luminosity achieved, as in early Christian basilicas, with large windows and rich frescoes adorning the naves and apses. Artistic production took on a collective character. Painters worked in teams under master builders obliged to adhere to the canons prescribed by ecclesiastical authorities. One source of inspiration for Yaroslavl’s painters was collections of German and Dutch engravings, which supplied Western iconographic elements to Russian painting. Among the churches built in Yaroslavl, notable examples include the Church of the Prophet Elijah (1647–50), St. John Chrysostom in Korovniki (1649–54), and St. John the Baptist in Toltchkovo (1671–81). Near Yaroslavl, in Romanov-Borisoglebsk, the Church of the Resurrection was erected, a powerful example of Byzantinism with reminiscences of Western Romanesque in its galleries around the central body of the building, in the refined arches, and in the geometric decorative motifs.
Rostov, from the beginning of the 13th century, enjoyed a reputation as the “Montecassino of Russia” due to the grandeur of its churches, monasteries, and the richness of its libraries. Though it lost political independence in the 14th century, it remained a cultural and religious center of all northeastern Russia; its bishops wielded power akin to that of sovereigns. The famous Metropolitan Jonah Sisoev, who governed Rostov for nearly forty years (1652–90), greatly promoted progress in all fields, including the fine arts; he had the Rostov Kremlin built, a monastic fortress and testament to the era when religious authority also held civil powers. Of the five churches within the Kremlin, all flanked by two lateral bell towers, the oldest is the Church of the Resurrection (1670), richly adorned externally with majolica and bricks set on edge. The Church of St. John the Evangelist exemplifies greater technical maturity. In the Church of the Savior, internal fresco decoration predominates, inspired by sacred historical subjects; these frescoes are framed within floral borders of Eastern origin. The golden age of Rostov was short-lived; Peter the Great’s reforms deprived Rostov of many of its resources, and in 1788, the transfer of the metropolitan’s seat to Yaroslavl marked the beginning of its decline. The art of Yaroslavl and Rostov fittingly closed the truly national period of Russian religious art. Foreign influence, already strong in Moscow after 1650, became dominant with the founding of the new capital, St. Petersburg, which ushered in a new era and the emergence of new challenges for an art of predominantly secular character.
“Vedi tav. LXXXIX–XCII.