European studies blog

187 posts categorized "Russia"

03 November 2015

Nikolai Misheev, an art critic of ‘The Chimes’

The name of the Russian literature and art critic and playwright Professor Nikolai Isidorovich Misheev (1878-1947) is well known in the academic circles of art historians and specialists in the Russian émigré press.  Misheev was born in Kyiv and graduated first from the Seminary and then  from the Faculty of History and Philology of Warsaw University. In St Petersburg he taught at women’s colleges, including the famous Smolnyi finishing school for young noblewomen. 

Misheev left Soviet Russia in 1925 and for the first four years lived in Riga, but settled in Paris in 1929. Not attempting to give a full survey of his works, I would just mention Misheev’s books held at the British Library: Noveishaia russkaia literatura (‘Essays on Modern Russian Literature’), the play Na rassvete (‘At dawn’) and Bylina (‘Russian Folk Tale’). In 1935, his essay on Russian folk-tales was translated into English under the title A Heroic Legend by Gleb Struve, (a Russian literary historian and later  author of the most influential book of its time on Russian émigré literature, Russkaia literatura v izgnanii ), and the founder of the School of Slavonic Studies, Bernard Pares

Black and white Photographs of an exhibition of Russian émigré periodicals
Photographs of an exhibition of Russian émigré periodicals in Prague, from Perezvony, N18, 1926.

While living in Riga, Misheev actively contributed to one of the  Russian émigré magazines, Perezvony (‘The Chimes’), published between 1925 and 1929 (British Library PP.1931.pml). The magazine was meant to continue the pre-revolutionary tradition of illustrated weekly or monthly editions for the whole family. The first issue came out on 8 November 1925 and until February 1926 it appeared weekly. From Number 14 it became a bi-monthly publication; in 1927 it became a monthly and in 1928-29 the frequency diminished to two issues per year. Among its contributors were Boris Zaitsev (also editor of the literature section), Ivan Bunin, Konstantin Balmont, and  Marina Tsvetaeva.

The editorial board paid a lot of attention to the artistic appearance of the magazine. The cover, with a tree growing in a foreign soil covered with bells that create the familiar chimes of Russian churches in the background, was designed by Mstislav Dobuzhinsky, and the influence of the “World of  Art” movement on the entire concept of the periodical is obvious.

Cover of the first issue of Perezvony with an illustration of a tree hung with bells growing on a green hill with Russian churches in the background
Cover of the first issue of Perezvony (1925)

Misheev took responsibility for the art section of the magazine and contributed to every issue (sometimes more than one item, in which case he use his pseudonyms, e.g. ‘Pritisskii’). A great number of issues were topical and presented essays on important Russian and world artists. Misheev wrote about  the Academicians Sergey Vinogradov (1869-1938), Nikolai Bogdanov-Bel’skii (1868-1945), Mikhail Nesterov (1862-1942),  Mstislav Dobuzhinsky, Vilhelms Purvītis (1872– 1945) and many more.

Painting of three Russian peasant women walking along a country road
S.Vinogradov. To the Reverend

 

painting of a man seated reading a newspaper by lamplight by snow-covered railings
Nikolai Bogdanov-Bel’skii. A Defender of the Motherland.

 

Painting of two women outside a wooden building by a lake
M.Nesterov. Two sisters

 

Illustration of the Russian children's character Dr Aybolit speaking to a pirate
M. Dobuzhinsky. Dr Aibolit and Barmaley

 

Painting of a Russian village in the snow
V. Purvītis. In the country
.

Misheev contributed essays on Russian architecture, folklore and culture. As K. Pritisskii he wrote an article entitled  ‘Russkaia literatura, kak ‘nakaz’ russkogo naroda’ (‘Russian Literature as a mandate from the Russian people’) (No. 19, 1926, pp. 605-609). His accessible and popular style combined with profound knowledge of the history of art and Russian culture make Misheev’s essays an enjoyable read. 

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator East European Collections

References:

Nikolai Misheev, Noveishaia russkaia literatura (St Petersburg, 1905) 1865.c.3.(83.); (Moscow, 1914) RB.23.b.6297

Nikolai Misheev, Na rassvete (St Petersburg, 1920) 11758.dd.27.

Nikolai Misheev, Bylina (Vladimirova, 1938)  YA.1996.b.7845 ; English translation by Gleb Struve and Bernard Pares:  A Heroic Legend: how the holy mountains let out of their deep caves the mighty heroes of Russia. (London, 1935) 20019.ee.33.

Gleb Struve, Russkaia literatura v izgnanii (New York, 1956) 11872.g.8.

Perezvony  (Riga, 1925-1929) PP.1931.pml; several issues are available online via Sait-arkhiv emigrantkoi pressy (The Website-archive of Russian émigré press).

 

22 October 2015

Some birthday thoughts on friendship, love and ‘luxury’ editions

Today we celebrate 145 years since the birth of the Nobel Prize-winning Russian author Ivan Bunin.  On 22 October 1945 he was celebrating his 75th birthday in post-war Paris. He was in desperate need of money, as nothing could be published in occupied France and the occasional fees he earned in America were difficult to receive. His loyal friend the writer Mark Aldanov, who at the beginning of the war had fled Europe and settled in New York, tried to help.  In 1942, Aldanov became one of the founders of Novyi  Zhurnal=The New Review which remains the oldest and most influential Russian émigré literary journal. He invited Bunin to contribute his latest short stories to the journal. They were later published together as a book under the title Temnye allei (Dark Avenues) – a book about love. When Aldanov started receiving Bunin’s stories for publication in America, he felt a little uncomfortable, as quite a few of them were rather more erotic and explicit than was permissible in the puritan post-war US, even in foreign languages.

In his letter of 28 August 1945 to Bunin’s wife Vera Nikolaevna,  Aldanov wrote:

Today I received two wonderful short stories by Ivan Alekseevich: ‘The Oaklings’ and ‘The Riverside Inn’. This is very fortunate, as in the 11th book [of The New Review] we were planning to publish ‘Madrid’ and ‘The Second Pot of Coffee’, but this would have been a bit inconvenient. Yesterday, we had a quick meeting to discuss how to collect a bit of money for Ivan Alekseevich on occasion of his anniversary. […]  But you probably understand that ‘Madrid’ and ‘The Second Pot of Coffee’ would be met with displeasure in some ‘puritan’ New York circles. We do not care, but this might affect our collection: rich ladies are angry – their virginal prudery is offended by Ivan Alekseevich. That is why it is better to publish in the 11th book these recently received stories and the other two – after the celebration.

To collect more money for Bunin’s jubilee Aldanov and other prominent figures in the Russian American circles decided to present a token of gratitude to those who wanted to contribute to Bunin’s collection: each contributor would receive a ‘luxury’ edition of one of Bunin’s stories. ‘Riechnoi traktir’  (‘The Riverside Inn’) was chosen to be published as a separate edition.  The book was designed by Mstislav Dobuzhinsky free of charge.

Cover of 'Riechnoi traktir' with a vignette of a concertinaCover of Ivan Bunin, Riechnoi traktir (New York, 1945) British Library X.902/3839

In his letter, Aldanov informed Bunin that they would like to reproduce of one the typewritten pages with Bunin’s handwritten annotations and ideally  his portrait.

Facsimile of a page of typescript and illustration of a bench by a roadside at night
                                                        The facsimile of a typewritten page

On 23 November 1945 Aldanov thanked Bunin for the photograph: “I’m grateful for everything, and especially for the photograph and the inscription (a very nice one which cheered me up a lot). As soon as the printer has finished with it, I will frame it and put it in the most honourable place”.   Bunin liked some of his photos, but hated looking old, so the portrait that appeared in the book (below) dates from 1899, when he was 29.

Black and white photograph of Ivan Bunin seated

The book was published in a limited edition of 1000 numbered copies. The British Library’s copy is no. 412, and was purchased in June 1980.

Aldanov and Bunin’s other friends managed to raise ca 1,000 dollars on the occasion of his 75th jubilee.

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator East European Collections, European Studies

References/further reading

Aldanov’s letters to the Bunins; University of Edinburgh Special Collections, Gen 565 (4) 262/17 I. Bunin.

Temnye allei. (Paris, 1946) 12591.p.51. English translation by Hugh Aplin, Dark avenues. (Richmond, 2008). H.2009/2984 

 

12 October 2015

Author’s fees for banned books, or a story of one donation: Lenin in the British Library 3

Lenin’s presence in London is well known and documented. A fascinating story of the area where he used to stay during his visits is described in the Survey of London.

A white marble bust of Lenin
A bust of Lenin from the Islington Museum (via Europe A la carta )

Lenin’s visits to the British Museum Library are also documented and written about (see our previous posts on Lenin at the British Library by our former colleague Dr Robert Henderson).

The British Museum Donation Register lists presents 152 (11 Jan. 1908) and 537 (14 Mar 1908):  Za 12 let (“12 Years Writings”) and Agrarnyi  vopros (“The agrarian question”) respectively.  These two books meant to constitute the first two volumes of a three-volume collection.  A copy of Za 12 let is Lenin’s only donation to bear a note made by a member of the British Museum staff: “Donation from the author”.  According to his letters, it doesn’t seem that Lenin left Geneva between January and March 1908, but he definitely was in London in May 1908, so who presented the volumes on these two occasions remains unclear.

Cover of Za 12 let. with a British Library shelfmark and note that it was presented by the author Za 12 let.  Tom pervyi. Shelfmark Cup.403.w.8

Lenin’s works appeared under one of his pseudonyms – Vl. Il’in. The title of the book is an allusion to then recently published collection of Georgii Plekhanov’s  works Za 20 let (“20 years of Writing”; St Petersburg, 1905). Lenin selected articles previously published between 1894 and 1905, edited and shortened some of them, and wrote a preface. The first volume that contained Chto delat’? (“What’s to be done?”), Shag vpered, dva shaga nazad (“One step forward, two steps back”), Zadachi russkikh sotsial-demokratov  (“The Tasks of the Russian Social-Democrats”), etc.  was legally published  in 1907 (although the date given on the title page is 1908) by the Bolshevik publishing house Vpered (“Forward”) founded and managed by a politician and writer Vladimir Bonch-Bruevich, who served as Lenin’s secretary after the October revolution. When Vpered was closed by the police in summer 1907 all the materials very transferred to the publishing house Zveno (“A Chain”), led by Mikhail Kedrov, in the Soviet period – a Chekist and organizer of the first labour camps in the USSR. Printing was done by by the Bezobrazov printing house in St Petersburg, which produced books on a variety of topics from Greek etymology to the popular cookery book by Elena Molokhovets. 

Lenin attempted to publish his almost complete collection of writings (excluding Razvitie kapitalizma v Rossii - “The Development of capitalism in Russia”) for the second edition of which he had already had a contract with another publisher that brought him about 2,000 Roubles, at the very end of the period of press liberalisation that had started with the 1905 October Manifesto. After the second Duma  had been dissolved on 3 June 1907, the newly emerged free press was crushed by a system of fines and bans which in effect restored the pre-1905 censorship. However, advertisements  for this collection of works appeared in Russian newspapers, e.g. in the weekly Novaia kniga (“The New Book”) and subscription for the first two volumes at the price of four Roubles was announced. 

The subscription campaign was not very successful, and by the time the first book came out only 200 subscribers had contributed towards its cost. The first volume appeared in 3,000 copies, and Lenin received an agreed fee of 60 Roubles per  24 pages of typescript for reprinted works and 100 Roubles per 24 pages for contributions written specially for this edition.  It was not too bad money, considering that in the 1900s the best-paid ‘proletarian’ Russian author, Maxim Gorky's rate was around 1200 Roubles, Ivan Bunin's - 600 Roubles, and medium range authors received around 200 per 24 pages.

The first volume of Za 12 let was banned by the Russian authorities, as it was announced in the newspaper Rus’ on 11 December (28 November)  1907. So it was decided to publish the second volume under the separate title Agrarnyi  vopros (“The agrarian question”) in two parts, where part one would consist of previously ‘legally’ published articles, and part two would contain the Bolsheviks’ agrarian programme.

Image 3 Agrarnyi vopros. Chast 1.  British Library's shelfmark Cup.403.w.8

However, when the proofs were sent by the printers to the Zveno office, the police were already there to confiscate it. After this there were no further attempts before the Bolsheviks seized power in 1917 to publish the rest of this collection.

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator East European Collections, European Studies

References/further reading:

Robert Service,  Lenin: a biography (London , 2000) YC.2001.a.8941

 

09 October 2015

Presents as propaganda: Lenin at the British Library 2

Taking into account Lenin’s great admiration for the Library of the British Museum, and the fact that he donated several of his books to other European libraries it is surprising to find only four donations recorded in the British Museum’s ‘Book of Presents’. This lists:

Present 152: (11 Jan. 1908) “12 Years Ago” " by Vl. Il'in, tom 1 (in Russian) Pres'd. by the Author.

Present 537: (14 Mar 1908) “The Agrarian Question”  by V.C. Oulsanov [sic] Pres'd.by the Author, Rue des deux Ponts 17, Geneve.

Present 857: (11 Apr 1908)  “Development of Capitalism in Russia” by V.Ilin, 1908. (In Russian) Pres'd. by Mr. Oulianoff,17 Rue des deux Ponts, Geneve. (i.e. Razvitie kapitalizma v Rossii. Izdanie vtoroe, dopolnennoe (St-Petersburg, 1908). 08226.i.22)

Present 2153: (11 Nov 1911)  “Deux Partis” par G. Kameneff,1911 Pres'd. by Mr. Oulianoff, 4 Rue Marie Rose, Paris. (i.e.: Dvie partii s predisloviem N. Lenina,"((Paris, 1911)  8094.k.43.

Cover of Dve partii s predisloviem N. LeninaDve partii s predisloviem N. Lenina

Presents 152 and 537 are the two parts of Za 12 let. Sobranie statei. tom 1,2 chast.1. (St Petersburg, 1908; Cup.403.w.8) marked in the catalogue as “Author’s presentation copy to the British Museum”, while  537 and 857 correspond to the two books mentioned in his letter of 18 May 1908. Many more of Lenin’s books held by the British Library bear the yellow stamp signifying a donated work. However, these are either not listed in the Book of Presents, or are entered as anonymous gifts or as donations from elsewhere. A case in point is Present 582 for 12 April 1902:

 “What's to be done” by N. Lenin  (in Russian) Pres'd. by J.H.W. Dietz, Nachf. Stuttgart. (Chto delat’? Nabolevshie voprosy nashego dvizheniia. (Stuttgart,1902) C.121.c.3.)

Cover of Chto delat’? with black type on a red backgroundChto delat’? Nabolevshie voprosy nashego dvizheniia

Unfortunately, it is impossible to say whether Dietz, his German publishers, made this donation on their own account, or whether they were instructed to do so by Lenin. On the other hand, the Library's copy of the first edition of K derevenskoi bednote (‘To the Village Poor’), also bears a yellow stamp, and even though it is not listed in the Book of Presents, one may be inclined to believe that if Lenin had to donate only one of his works this would most certainly have been his choice, since it was based largely on the research work which he carried out during his first visit to the Library.

Cover of K derevenskoi bednoteK derevenskoi bednote (Geneva, 1903)  C.121.a.6(8)

R. Henderson, Honorary Research Associate, School of History, Queen Mary University of London

05 October 2015

I beg to apply for a ticket: Lenin at the British Library

The founder of the world’s first socialist state, Vladimir Il'ich Lenin, visited London six times between 1902 and 1911, and on at least five of these occasions found the time to call into the British Museum whose Library collections were in his view unparalleled. At the time of his 1907 visit he said:

It is a remarkable institution, especially that exceptional reference section. Ask them any question, and in the very shortest space of time they'll tell you where to look to find the material that interests you. ... Let me tell you, there is no better library than the British Museum. Here there are fewer gaps in the collections than in any other library.

Praise indeed from a man who was already well acquainted with many of the major libraries of Europe and Russia.

His attachment to the Library dates from 29 April 1902, when he first entered the Round Reading Room to commence his studies. He had arrived in London with his wife, Nadezhda Konstantinovna Krupskaia, earlier that month in order to set up publication of Iskra, the newspaper of the Russian Social Democratic Labour Party (RSDLP). The Twentieth Century Press had agreed to carry out the printing at 37a Clerkenwell Green, (now the Marx Memorial Library), and soon accommodation was found for the new arrivals not far from there, at 30 Holford Square, Pentonville.

It was from this address that Lenin first wrote to the Director of the British Museum requesting permission to study in the Library. The documents related to this episode are held in the British Library (Add. MS.54579.)

Lenin's application letter for a British Museum reader's ticket

The letter (above), dated 21 April 1902, bears the signature “Jacob Richter”, the pseudonym Lenin had adopted to throw the Tsarist police off his track. The reference required  was supplied by the General Secretary of the General Federation of Trade Unions, I. H. Mitchell, but this did not satisfy the Admissions Office as Mitchell’s home address could not be found in the London street directories. Lenin wrote again enclosing another recommendation from Mitchell, who this time used the address of his union’s headquarters. The following day Lenin was informed that a Reader’s Ticket would be granted to him, and four days later he signed the Admissions Register and was issued with ticket number A72453 (below).

Acknowledgement of Lenin's application for a Reader's Ticket

The ticket was valid for three months only, but the period was extended, first by three months, and then by a further six . Finally, on 29 April 1903, exactly one year after entering the Library for the first time, he surrendered his ticket and a few days later left England for France.

In August of the same year he returned for the famous 2nd Party Congress, during which the RSDLP made its historic split into “menshevik” and  “bolshevik”  factions, but there is no evidence to suggest that Lenin found the time to visit the Museum on this occasion, despite the fact that he said he used the Library whenever he was in London.

However, during the 3rd Party Congress, which again took place in London (from 25 April to 10 May 1905), it is known that he paid a visit to Great Russell Street, and there copied out extracts from the works of Marx and Engels. Unfortunately, there is no record of this in the Museum archives.

His next visit to London took place in early summer 1907, and from the reminiscences of his colleagues we know that he spent roughly a week in the Library at the beginning of June. The Temporary Admissions Register does mention that a J. P. Richter was admitted in May 1907 (no.3782), but one cannot be sure whether this was Lenin – Richter was not a particularly uncommon name. However, we can be quite sure about the details of his visit the following year. In mid-May 1908 he arrived in London with the express intention of spending a month in the Museum to work on his book, Materializm i empiriokrititsizm, and fortunately, his correspondence with the Museum authorities survives in the Library archives.

On 18 May 1908 under his real name, Vladimir Oulianoff, he wrote to the Director of the Museum requesting permission to study in the Library and referring to an earlier donation of two of his books. His recommendation came from a certain J. J. Terrett, an English Social Democrat, but history repeated itself, and just as in 1902, he was refused  admission. Two days later he wrote again enclosing a second reference, this time from his old friend, the manager of the Twentieth Century Press, Harry Quelch. This proved sufficient, and as in 1902, he immediately received instructions to call into the Library to collect his Reader's Ticket. On 22 May, he signed the Admissions Book, and was issued with a three-month pass, number A88740.

Lenin made use of the Library's collections only once more, during his lecture-tour of 1911, when he visited several European cities to deliver his paper on “Stolypin and Revolution”. The London reading took place on 11 November in the New King's Hall, Commercial Road, Whitechapel, and on the same day the Museum issued a temporary pass to Mr. Vladimir Oulianoff, making a note of his address, 6 Oakley Square, N.W., in their Card Index.

Although Lenin may indeed have had a favourite seat in the Reading Room, neither he nor anyone else has left any indication of which seat that may have been. Several numbers have been suggested, including: G7, H9, R7, R8, and L13. In fact, the latter is probably the most likely, positioned, as it was then in a row opposite the reference works on British and European history, which he doubtless made use of on several occasions.

R. Henderson, Honorary Research Associate, School of History, Queen Mary University of London

28 September 2015

Old Newspapers and a League of murderers in Stockholm

In a volume that was catalogued under the mysterious title A collection of 22 miscellaneous Russian periodicals, among single issues of various newspapers and magazines, such as Vestnik teatra (The Theatre Herald), Trudovaia mysl’ (Labour Thought), Vlast’ Sovetov (Soviets’ Power), Biulleten’ Khar’kovskoi gubernskoi pri Revkome Kommissii po obsledovaniiu zverstv uchinennykh Dobrarmiei (A Bulletin of  the Commission for investigation of atrocities committed by the Volunteer Army, attached to the Khar’kov regional Revolutionary Committee), Gornorabochii (The Miner), Krasnyi pakhar’ (The Red Ploughman), etc., I found  one issue of the Novoe Russkoe Ekho (New Russian Echo). The newspaper was published in Stockholm in both languages and had a parallel title in Swedish, Nya Ecco Rossiji: Rysk-Swvensk Tidning.

Masthead of Novoe Russkoe Ekho
Novoe Russkoe Ekho, 31 January 1919 (P.P.7500.b)

Most of the materials – emotionally engaged appeals or newsreels – were signed by M.B.Khadzhetlashe = M. B. Hadjetlaché (in English spelling: Hadjetlashe),  a Circassian  journalist, writer, and apparently MI6 (SIS) and Cheka agent.  It looks as if the entire issue was written almost single-handedly by Hadjetlashe, as other articles, short pieces and even poems are signed by ‘MBKh’, ‘Ia. Timochkin’ or ‘Leilin’ (which are quite likely to be his other pseudonyms).

Page from the newspaper Novoe Russkoe Ekho
 Novoe Russkoe Ekho p. 4

His name rang a bell, but only after some time did I realise that I had read about him in literature. Aleksei Tolstoy in his novel Emigranty (The Emigrants) made him a character under his real (?) name:

I’m warning you: you got into  bad company… If, for example, Khadzhet Lashe learns about this conversation, I won’t be surprised if he sends my dismembered body in a luggage compartment somewhere far away. There were similar cases… In Constantinople, we signed a paper… Later, when I’m very drunk, I’ll tell you this story … They are training us for something… I guess this is all about Stockholm… When Levant orders us to get ready, they will take us to Stockholm, and the main business will be happening there… Please note, I’m not complaining… You cannot do anything for me… Anyway, damn it… I’m warning you, be vigilant - Levant is a terrible man. And the other, Khadzhet Lashe, the master, is even more terrible.

This novel is a fictitious account of a real affair: the activities of a short-lived anti-Bolshevik terrorist organisation which kidnapped and killed people.  When the police discovered the gang in 1919, three murdered bodies were found in Lake Norrviken. It is not impossible that the entire organisation was set up with help from or at least with approval of the Soviets and was meant to be a huge provocation. Vatslav Vorovsky, in 1918-1919 head of the Bolshevik legation in Stockholm, immediately published a brochure V mire merzosti i  zapusteniia: Russkaia belogvardeiskaia liga ubiits v Stokgol’me (‘In the World of abomination and desolation: Russian White Guard League of murderers in Stockholm’ (Moscow, 1919) 8094.cc.10.(10.)). Tolstoy’s novel was published soon after.

Before the revolution Hadjetlashe had contributed to the well-known journal Syn Otechestva (‘Son of the Fatherland’), and some Muslim Russian language publications. The best known of his projects was the journal Musul’manin (A Muslim) published in Paris. He also wrote several popular novels, such as Zapiski nachal’nika tainoi turetskoi politsii (‘The Notes of the Head of the Turkish Secret Police’) available, curiously enough, from  AbeBooks in Swedish translation. Hadjetlashe’s biography is full of unverified facts, myths and rumours; a lot of his activities remain extremely controversial, despite the fact that his archive is held at the Bibliothèque de Documentation Internationale Contemporaine (Musée D’Histoire Contemporaine). Recently Olga Bessmertnaya, a Russian academic researching materials related to Hajetlashe’s life gave a conference paper  ‘What Else But Politics?’ about the  ‘Erratic Autobiography of a Steady Russian Impostor (late 19th-early 20th Centuries)’, which was devoted to Mohammed Hajetlashe(1870-1929).

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator East European Collections

References / Further reading:

A.Tolstoy. Emigranty.  (Moscow, 1940) 12594.b.19

Kadir I. Nantho. Circassian history.  (New York, 2009). [Not in BL]

Elena I. Campbell. The Muslim question and Russian Imperial governance.  (Bloomingtom,  2015). [Not yet shelfmarked]

Nezabytye mogily. (Moscow, 1999-). ZA.9.b.2512; Vol.6. (2007) Book 3. p. 17

 

18 September 2015

‘Fables of another type’: some Animal Tales from Russia

Very few people now know the name of Ivan Ivanovich Bashmakov (?-1865) or his pen-name Ivan Vasenko. Even fewer can remember reading anything by him. A prolific Russian writer, he published novels, fairy tales, short stories, books for children, and even patriotic tracts (e.g., Enemies of the Holy Russia about the siege of Sebastopol), primers and textbooks for learners.

In literary encyclopaedias Bashmakov is described as an author of popular literature for common people. Critics agree that he was best known for his fables in verses (first published in 1854), which although not masterpieces, were lively, witty and funny.

The tradition of fables had been established in Russia by Mikhail Lomonosov, Ivan Krylov, Ivan Dmitriev and others, and Bashmakov successfully followed their steps, although supplied his book Semeinye prikliucheniia zhivotnykh (‘Animals’ family stories’; British Library 12304.c.8) with a subtitle: ‘basni inogo roda’ (‘fables of another type’). The book consists of two parts with a small appendix of three fables ‘Mysli i chuvstva rastenii’ (‘Thoughts and Feelings of plants’).

Bashmakov’s imagination took him on a trip of discovery of human features in almost every living creature: Goat’s valour, Bear’s taste, Crawfish’s  heroism, Bumblebee’s wish, Cat’s melancholy, Piglet’s annoyance, Cricket’s  dignity, Jackdaw’s gossip, Sparrow’s anger, Mouse’s impulse, etc. However, only two out of four lithographed images illustrate animals other than perfectly domesticated cats and dogs. Here is one:

A lion and an elephant

Although the fable tells a story of a Hare who, having overheard a conversation between an Elephant and a Lion, realised that all have their own weaknesses (as Lion was afraid of mice, he was afraid of dogs), it looks as if the illustrator decided to ignore the ‘main hero’ altogether. The two animals are of the same size and it is obvious that the artist had been trained to draw lions as they appeared in the European visual tradition, but had almost no idea how to approach drawing an elephant. Maybe, that is why the elephant is well hidden in the bushes?

A snake and a skylark under a tree

The picture above  illustrates the fable called ‘Snake’s tenderness’. You can probably guess already that instead of a kiss for fantastic singing a Skylark got poisoned.

In the pictures that accompany the tales, ‘Dog’s instructions’ about an old female Dog recalling a story of her love and ‘Dog’s fate’ that, by comparing cats’ and dogs’ life in one household, concludes that we should to be happy with what we have, not wishing to obtain another fate, people clearly dominate the scene.

  An encounter between a man and woman with their dogs

A peasant and his dog

 Maybe, the artist really liked cats, as he supplied ‘Dog’s fate’ with one more picture, featuring a cat:

Two dogs by a kennel being watched by a cat from a windowsill

Quite unlike other images where animals were portrayed without any impersonation that was prompted by the text of the fables, only one cat in the whole book looks like a lady.

A cat in a bonnet and dress looking of a window

Can you imagine that this lady-Kitty in the fable ‘Cat’s sensibility’ interrupts her aria to her beloved Pussycat to catch a mouse? Oh, no!!! But will you drop your love song when your iPhone notifies you of new pictures on friend’s Instagram?

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator East European Collections

 

09 September 2015

A Series of Illustrated Books on Russia before the First World War

 The years between 1910 and 1913 were an opportune time for publishing house Adam & Charles Black to produce a series on Russian culture for a British audience.

IllustratedRussia1
 Cover of Russia (London, 1913; British Library 10291.cc.33.

George Dobson’s St. Petersburg (1910), Henry M. Grove’s Moscow (1912.) and Hugh Stewart’s Provincial Russia (1913) are all stand-alone works, collected together in 1913 for the larger and more expensive volume simply titled Russia. A further book aimed at younger readers had been produced in 1910 as part of the Peeps at Many Lands series. Colourful illustrations by Frederic de Haenen accompany all five works, showing a picturesque side to Russia far from the Russophobic caricatures the British public would have been used to.

IllustratedRussia2
The terrace of the Kremlin, from Moscow (1912)

Conservative concerns about the threat posed by Russia to the British Empire, and Radical opposition to the Autocratic form of government, had long nurtured suspicions about Russia. The growing threat of German militarism to British imperial interests and the democratic gains achieved after the 1905 revolution allayed these fears somewhat, opening up space for a more positive view. Between the Anglo-Russian entente  of 1907  and the beginning of the First World War vigorous attempts were being made to build mutual understanding between the two countries, and a historic visit by members of the Duma to Britain in 1909 raised the interest of the public further.

IllustratedRussia3
 Members leaving the Duma. from St. Petersburg (1910)

These popular books, aimed at the general reader, can be seen as an expression of, and a contribution to, what Michael Hughes called the ‘repositioning of Russia in the British imagination’ at this time. And it seems that such repositioning was not only one way, as Grove records in Moscow (1912, p. 118):

There was a Russian I knew well and met often – a schoolmaster. He and I were always quarrelling, for he professed to be and was a pronounced Anglophobe. At last I persuaded him to learn a little English, and go over to England for a few weeks, to see if we really were as bad as he thought. When he came back he was converted into a violent Anglomaniac. I asked him what had converted him, and he said, “Your British Museum.” He said that only the greatest nation on earth could have such a marvellous institution as that; he always felt as if he were in church when he was there, and always held his hat in his hand all the time he was in the building. I am afraid the British Museum does not have the same effect on the average Englishman.

Mike Carey, Collaborative Doctoral Student

References

George Dobson & Frederic de Haenen, St. Petersburg (London, 1910). 10292.dd.6.

Henry M. Grove & Frederic de Haenen, Moscow (London, 1912). 10291.bbb.11.

Hugh Stewart & Frederic de Haenen, Provincial Russia (London, 1913). 10291.cc.33.

Michael Hughes, ‘Searching for the Soul of Russia: British Perceptions of Russia during the First World War’, Twentieth Century British History 20, 2 (2009), 198-226.

Lavinia Edna Walter & Frederic de Haenen, Peeps at Many Lands: Russia (London, 1910). 010026.g.1/26.

 

 

26 August 2015

Mystic musings and Thomas Cook: Esper Ukhtomskii in the Orient

August 26th is the anniversary of the birth of Esper Esperovich Ukhtomskii, Russian orientalist scholar, collector, journalist and poet. His most famous and lasting work is Puteshevestvie na vostok Ego Imperatorskogo Vysochestva Gosudaria Naslednika Tsesarevicha, 1890-1891, highly competently translated into English as Travels in the East of Nicholas II, Emperor of Russia when Cesarewitch, 1890-1891.

Portentous title apart, the book is readable and beautifully written, a cross between a lush evocation of tropical travel and a manifesto for his pupil, the young Nicholas II. Ukhtomskii accompanied Nicholas on his educational “grand tour” as an informal tutor, and the book expounded both foreign and domestic policy. Ukhtomskii was as convinced as Nicholas was that Russia could only thrive under the Tsar’s autocratic rule, and both men believed that this gave their country a mystical link to Asia. “[Russians have] a totally different character from the spirit of the average modern European, stifled as it is by rational materialism,” Ukhtomskii writes. “Countless times has Asia flooded Russia with her hordes, crushed her with her attack, transforming her into something akin to Persia and Turkestan, India and China. To the present day, beyond the Caspian, the Altai Mountains and Lake Baikal, we cannot find a clearly defined border … beyond which our rightful land ceases to be.”

PamiatPamiat Azova, the Russian cruiser which carried the imperial party from destination to destination

His “Asianist” views coloured his perception of every country they visited. The party passed through Greece before setting sail for North Africa, and Ukhtomskii was notably unimpressed by the remains of classical civilization: “our imagination still sleeps. It does not see the majesty of bygone days, nor has the dry list of ancient names anything to say to it.” His ennui was probably at least in part because he did not think that Russia had any classical roots.

In British-run Egypt, he sat on the deck of their Nile cruiser dreaming of “hundreds of ships, bearing to Thebes the treasures of the south and of the east” - only to be rudely interrupted by “the unsightly outline of one of [Thomas] Cook’s narrow two-storied steamers, bearing a party of foreign tourists, who with feverish haste attempt to ‘do’ Upper Egypt.” Herein lies an irony, for Ukhtomskii’s own lush writings are quite similar to the guidebooks that the other foreign tourists consulted as they swarmed the decks of Cook’s steamers and rode donkeys into the desert in search of ruined temples. All are preoccupied with oldness and exoticism, with colours and smells; all talk nostalgically, as visitors have done since the dawn of time, of the days when sites were less crowded and true travellers not forced to share their holidays with groups of ignorant trippers!

PyramidNicholas’s party climb the pyramids at Giza, where, like many less exalted tourists, they scratched their names

In India, where he was closely watched by a British agent, Ukhtomskii dismissed “the supposed brotherhood between the Anglo-Saxon and the Aryan race of India,” as “no more than a sentimental fiction,” before claiming that Russia’s village communes were remarkably like India’s. Yet, just like other mystically-inclined Europeans of his age, he revelled in the mythology of Rajputana, "a civilization which has survived many and many a revolution, retaining the purity of its blood and of its spirit....That real, almost prehistoric India, of which each one of us has had his unconscious daydreams as he read extracts from Ramayana and Mahabharata.”

AlwarThe princely city of Alwar, Rajasthan

As the convoy of ships bearing the imperial party steamed on across the Indian Ocean, he immersed himself in the scenery. “The nights! What words can describe the phosphorescent glow on the stormy horizon. The silver crests of the waves rise with a measured motion out of the impenetrable gloom beneath it; furrows of sparks spread, like a diamond fan, in the wake of the frigate. The whole of the Milky Way seems to be reflected in the mysterious blue depths beneath us and above us, while in the distance the lightnings blaze and flash.”

MathuraThe ancient Indian city of Mathura, birthplace of Krishna

Ukhtomksii most enjoyed the countries which were not under colonial rule, notably Siam. In China, he was saddened by the degeneration of the great civilization, but heartened to think that the Mongols provided a cultural and religious link between Russia and China. Here, he decided (in this nation whose territory happened to be useful to her trans-Siberian railway project!), Russia would play her vital role as the empire which straddled eastern and western civilizations. “Who and what can save China from dismemberment and the foreign yoke? Russia alone, I am inclined to think.”

His view of Japan was less benevolent, and more nuanced than his opinion of some other eastern nations. He found it a country with “a very peculiar past and a very problematic future…a rooted tendency to exalt in their most secret thoughts and feelings their ancient world, while carrying the imitation of contemporary Europe and America to the greatest extremes…despising the stranger in their hearts yet submissively learning of him.”  Nicholas followed an eastward-focused foreign policy in the early part of his reign which would culminate in a disastrous war with this nascent modern power.

SailorsOne of the less formal illustrations: Pamiat Azova’s sailors take a rest from tropical heat 

Janet Ashton, WEL Cataloguing Team Manager, Metadata Creation Programmes

References/further reading

Ukhtomskii, E. E. Puteshevestvie na vostok Ego Imperatorskogo Vysochestva Gosudaria Naslednika Tsesarevicha, 1890-1891 (St Petersburg, 1893-6). Two copies at 1790.a.11 and X 691

Ukhtomskii, E. E. Travels in the East of Nicholas II., Emperor of Russia, when Cesarewitch, 1890-1891, translated by R. Goodlet (London: 1896-1900).Two copies at Tab.439.a.7. and Wf1/0786

 

13 August 2015

Was Stalin "The Monster Cockroach"?

It is very touching to find a copy of your first book in the National Library of a different country. Many people of my generation who were brought up in the Soviet Union might remember the 1967 edition of Korney Chukovsky’s poems and fairy tales. Of course, my copy looked much  more ‘lively’ – it was well read all over, torn and glued together again, and significantly thicker than this BL copy that no child ever touched, because the pages were heavily thumbed and soiled. I then read the same poems and stories to my younger sister, and later  to my sons. I hope the book is still somewhere in my parents’ flat in Moscow and that  I will be able to bring it over here to read to my – as yet hypothetical! – British middle-class grandchildren.

Cover of Chudo-derevo, black type and small gold decorations on a red backgroundKornei Chukovskii. Chudo-derevo. Serebrianyi gerb. Moskva: Detskaia literature, 1967. X.990/1514)

The poem Tarakanishche, translated into English as ‘The Monster Cockroach’ or ‘Cock-The-Roach’, was written by Chukovsky in 1921 and was one of the first editions was illustrated by Ilya Repin’s student and a younger member of The World of Art movement Sergey Chekhonin.

Cover of Tarakanishche, with an illustration of different animals bowing down to a giant cockroach

Kornei Chukovskii. Tarakanishche, illustrated by Sergei Chekhonin (Petrograd, 1923) (Image from RARUS'S Gallery)  

One of the first Soviet animated cartoons for children was also based on this fairy tale (1927; director Aleksandr Ivanov, 1899-1959). The Russian Jewish poet  Elizaveta Polonskaya who in the early 1920s attended the literary studio where Chukovsky taught creative writing, later wrote in her memoirs how Tarakanishche came into being. Chukovsky initiated writing, together with his students, a funny book for children. He didn’t say what it should be about, but suggested that it should start with a scene of total chaos where animals are rushing and moving about somewhere for no apparent reason. Each of the students formulated a funny line and Chukovsky put them together reciting: 

Bears went to the hike
A-riding on a bike.
Then came Tom-the-Cat,
Back-to-front he sat.
Spry mosquitoes drifted by
In a big balloon on high. (etc. )

Later Chukovsky turned it into a story where a Cockroach appears in the middle of this funny anarchy and becomes a dictator who demands sacrifices. The animals, including bears, wolves and elephants, surrender and only an innocent sparrow, who has not heard about the new regime, accidently eats the dictator. Written according to all the rules of Greek tragedy – the chorus of animals, the deus ex machina (impersonated by a sparrow) and catharsis – this fairy tale, of course, could not have been meant to point the finger at Joseph Stalin, who had not even seized the Communist Party throne by that time.  Chukovsky certainly didn’t escape party criticism for inappropriate creativity which was initiated by Lenin’s widow Nadezhda Krupskaia in 1928, but he didn’t want to disguise a political satire aimed at a certain person under funny verses. In response to this criticism Chukovsky publically promised to write a children’s book ‘The merry little collective farmers’, but instead stopped writing for children until the 1940s. 

However, much later, the link was bound to be made. The features of a dictatorial Cockroach were firstly applied to Stalin by Osip Mandelshtam in his satire Kremlevskii Gorets (‘The Kremlin Highlander’) in 1933:

His fingers plump as grubs.
His words drop like lead weights.
His laughing cockroach whiskers.
The gleam of his boot rims.  (Translated by Darran Anderson)

  Black and white photograph of Osip Mandel’shtam, Kornei Chukovsky, Benedikt Livshits, Iurii Annenkov seated in a row with linked armsLeft to right: Osip Mandel’shtam, Kornei Chukovsky, Benedikt Livshits, Iurii Annenkov (photo by Karl Bulla, 1914 from Wikimedia Commons)

In the imagination of people who lived through the Stalin era Chukovsky’s story about a monster became associated with the regime. In her memoirs Evgeniia Ginzburg described how it was happening:

‘And the cockroach became the victor and the master of the seas and forests. The animals bowed and scraped before Mr Whiskers, hoping the wretch would perish’. Suddenly I started laughing. Anton simultaneously started laughing. Yet Krivoshei became deadly serious. The lenses of his glasses flashed and sparkled. ‘What is it you’re thinking?’ he exclaimed with unusual emotion ‘… surely not! Surely Chukovsky would not have dared!’ Instead of answering, I read on, putting more expression into it: ‘And he went around among the animals, stroking his gilded breastplate…’ (Ginzburg, p.  341).

Even those who didn’t read this book can guess by now that certain Krivoshei who was so worked up about this story was a KGB informer, and laughing at the cockroach’s moustaches cost the memoirist her job. 

Now I know what I’ll tell my – as yet hypothetical! – British middle-class grandchildren when I’m going to read them funny fairy tales about the monster cockroach and other animals.

A montage of illustrated editions of Chukovsky's story of the cockroach  Various Russian and English-language editions of Tarakanishche from the British Library’s collections

Katya Rogatchevskaia, Lead Curator East European Collections

References/Further reading:

Vospominaniia o Kornee Chukovskom / Sostaviteli i avtory kommentariev, Elena Chukovskaia i Evgeniia Ivanova.  (Moscow, 2012) YF.2013.a.18834

M. Tskokotukha. Eshche raz o Tarakanichshe, in Nezavisimaia gazeta (23.11.2000): http://www.ng.ru/izdat/2000-11-23/8_tarakan.html

K. Chukovskiĭ. Diary, 1901-1969. Edited by Victor Erlich ; translated by Michael Henry Heim. (New Haven, Conn., 2005) YC.2007.a.1240

Evgenia Ginzburg, Within the Whirlwind, translated by Ian Boland. (London, 1989) YC.1989.a.1567

Kornei Chukovsky, Cock-the-Roach, translated by Tom Botting. (Moscow, 1981) X.992/5087

 

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