“<…> In the winter of 1871-1872”, - Repin writes “upon the commission of the builder of the “Slavic Bazaar” A.A. Porokhovshchikov1, I was working on a painting which presented a group of Slavic composers: Russian, Polish and Czech. V.V. Stasov (1824–1906), with whom I had just become acquainted, took the idea of this painting very close to heart, and expressed pure Platonic joy at its elaboration; he procured for methe indispensable portraits of musical figures who have long since passed from the scene and deceased, wherever he could, with great sacrifices for himself, and provided me with the necessary acquaintance with all the musicians that were present on my list, so that I could paint them from life.
The enormous painting, intended to hang at a rather large distance from the floor, was supposed to have been painted ornately, i.e. broadly, “to be seen from a distance,” whereas the payment for it turned out to be modest – a thousand five hundred rubles – and the deadline for finishing was short.
The experienced painters could not suppress their disdain for me, an upstart: “You are merely upsetting the prices! Well, how could you manage with such an immense size? After all, you have never painted large paintings, have you? Why don’t you have a try?... You should charge at least fifteen thousand for such a painting”… etc., etc.
Notwithstanding all of this petty unpleasantness and meager terms, Vladimir Stasov and I came to love this painting and exerted all efforts to make it artistic and significant.
The most serious reproaches I had to bear from painters with names. Porokhovshchikov first turned to Makovsky with this commission2, but the latter requested twenty five thousand rubles.
Porokhovshchikov frankly confessed to me that this entire business was new for him, and that he could provide only fifteen hundred rubles for the painting, out of the sum intended for the entire magnificent decoration of the concert hall, and if I would not set to work for this sum, he would cover the painting with drapery – that would be all… The enormous hall “Beseda,” as he explained to me, has Russian design in every nook, along with all the fanciful carving of the columns, furniture and frames on the portraits of the Russian activists in all he spheres of culture, of which there are nearly a hundred,. <…>
I shall frankly confess: for me, as a competitor, who has just completed a course at the Academy of the Arts, the price set for the painting seemed to be enormous, and I kept my happiness about this generous commission in check merely out of decorum.
In what a wondrous light all the evening life of the large gatherings, the large theatrical foyers began to glitter before me! In the hall of the Nobility Assembly I reveled in the effective illuminations of living groups of the public and new images, by morning being ablaze already from new motives of light and combinations of figures, and was impatiently hastening towards the Academy of the Arts.
Often Stasov, having just stepped through the threshold of my academic studio, following his major custom, before even closing the door, cried out candid and loud endorsements to me, while still at a distance from me. His mighty rapture roused me, and I rushed to his briefcase, where, I was certain, there were new portraits of faces which I did not have yet, or new variations of the old snapshots, daguerreotypes, old lithographs or what not, which he dug up from somewhere.
– But you see, it is necessary for you to place into the picture two more aces (from the “Mighty Handful”) – Musorgsky and Borodin – Vladimir Vasil’yevich tells me.
I agree with him fully. Everybody loved Borodin: he was contagiously handsome and novel, whereas Musorgsky, though not appreciated by all, aroused general astonishment by his boldness and vitality, and nobody could withstand from a loud peel of laughter when listening to performances, especially those carried out by himself, of his comic types and the unexpectedly vivacious characteristic recitatives.
Ah, it is impossible to remember without languor even now that Vladimir Vasil’yevich did not have the fortune of living up to our time of recognition by all of Europe of our own genus of Russian music – Musorgsky! In those days all of our guardians of musical tastes, brought up strictly in the narcotic-sweet sounds of Romanticism, did not even take the trouble of remembering the name of the genius from their own country, whose fame has already been established. And even such a favorite and popular writer as Saltykov-Shchedrin answered a question posed by admirers of Musorgsky, – who expressed their interest in his attitude towards the composer and who presumed that he would feel in the sounds of the creator of the new comic music something akin to his own nature, – with an acrid caricature of his satirical pen. All of St. Petersburg read this pasquinade on the young talent, cringing from laughter; it was recounted in a comic way how a certain celebrated aesthetician presented his crude talent to the judgment of connoisseurs, and how this talent, after barely sobering up, mumbled his new aria on a social theme of a cabman who lost his whip3. Nevertheless, I still turned to Porokhovshchikov with the request to permit me to add Musorgsky and Borodin to the group of Russian musicians.
– What nonsense! You want to sweep all sort of garbage4 into your painting! My list of names of musicians has been made up by Nikolay Rubinstein, and I dare not add any name to the list given to you, nor discard any from it… The only thing I am vexed is that he did not add Tchaikovsky to it. All of us, all of Moscow adores Tchaikovsky5. Thereissomethinginhim. Butwhatcanonedo? I do know Borodin; but you must remember that he is a dilettante in music: he is a chemistry professor at the Medical Surgery Academy… No, please, do not pollute this painting with this garbage! Itwouldbeeasierforyou. Work faster, faster! Make haste with the painting; people are waiting for it…6
In all the large public halls I was struck by the broad light above and the light background. The painting undoubtedly had to be carried out in a Russian style, because Moscow, the Slavic peoples and the “Slavic Bazaar” required this. <…>
Porokhovshchikov held Nikolay Rubinstein in great esteem. In Moscow he promised me a session of painting from life right into the picture, as soon as it would be brought there.
Most of the faces were painted from their portraits. Balakirev, Rimsky-Korsakov – at that time, still a maritime officer – and Napravnik were the only composers whom I painted from life.7. But in order not to be disrupted from the side illuminations of the dwelling rooms, I decided only to draw only the contours of the live faces in my pictures, in order to have the liberty of illuminating them from the light from above, which charmed me so much in other paintings, featuring light backgrounds under evening chandeliers.
– So tell me, how did Mily Alexeyevich (Balakirev) find your depiction of him in the painting? Was he pleased? – Stasov asked me, since he was the one who organized these sessions for me, and so he was extremely curious about everything.
- Mily Alexeyevich did not demonstrate even the least bit of curiosity, nor did he even take the trouble of looking at my drawing of him, – I answer truthfully. – He was very, very gracious, stood before me impeccably in his pose, at a half-face, almost with his back towards me, and we parted on absolutely cordial terms with each other.
Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov likewise could not express any admiration of my dry depiction of the contour of his figure…
It is doubtful that they had ever seen this painting afterwards. At the concert hall of the “Slavic Bazaar” it was placed at a rather high position, over the stage, and was illuminated only during the performances and concerts.
Porokhovshchikov knew Muscovites and was able of arousing them –the lower, as well as the upper strata of society were prone to being stirred by him upon necessity.
– Folks, – he shouted loudly to workers – tomorrow we will have the Grand Duke visiting; try not to sleep all night, go on working, so that towards the morning everything would be completed!
So the sluice broke open, the jack-planes thundered, the saws squeaked, the hammers went around knocking, and soon with the speed of a waterfall already the floor polishers are rushing forth as sea waves… Just as in the fairytales, the work was done ahead of schedule.
And finally, the celebration itself had arrived. The present-day restaurant of the “Slavic Bazaar” was at that time merely an inner yard, which had shops opened in it. Towards the prescribed hour of the opening in the evening the tires of the beautiful new carriages rumbled; there were magnificent Haiduks, liveried gentlemen in high cylinders, dressed up ladies and nobility, nobility without end; everyone had already become elevated to nobility, there was no question whatsoever of “rank;” uniforms, uniforms, uniforms! And there was His Eminence himself. So many dames and damsels of society in ballroom apparel! The aroma of perfume, gloves up to the elbows, beau monde, beau monde! French, and even English could her hear, dazzling dress coats visible!8.
Even some kind of prince from overseas appeared with his entire retinue; he himself was of lengthy height, dresses in a cavalryman’s uhlan uniform.
Porokhovshchikov feels absolurtely triumphant. As if stung by a bee, he rushes about from one high-ranking person, to another, even more high-ranking one.
The illumination is glaring at its highest level.
In the greatly illuminated halls the portraits of distinguished persons are hanging in full splendor in Russian-style frames; small and varied colors of Russian carving, tinkling in a peculiar manner, scatter around in all directions and permeate the hall, merging with the music: there are constant sounds of stately flourishes of trumpets.
The new, fantastic mansions become filled with riches lively and vivaciously… Just like the dream from “Ruslan”…
And, just imagine, for all that, my picture proved to be a particular sensation even here: the “high-born persons” and even foreigners were drawn to it, and it attracted their enlightened attention to itself for a long time. All sorts of idle talk, conversations and questions could be heard and, generally, one could feel a great sense of approbation.
Porokhovshchikov is shining with happiness and sparkling, while reddening in the face; he is looking around sideways – I can see that he is searching for me.
– Where are you? After all, you cannot fathom, how much success you have earned for yourself! Everyone is asking for you, everyone wants to see you; the foreigners even do not believe that the painting was painted in Russia. Come quickly, I want to introduce you… first of all, to His Eminence. Do not forget to come up to him for a blessing…
So it is here that I must tell the truth: the great Creator was not sparing in the acknowledgement of my feasible efforts in my favorite work. I was generously rewarded with fame and success above all measure. And here the triumph was unexpected and conspicuous.
However, I could not avoid remembering at that grandiose minute the words of writer Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev (1818-1883) who spurned my painting.
It happened just the way Porokhovshchikov promised – I drew Nikolay Rubinsten from life: he was the only composer whom I painted from life, right onto the painting itself – in addition to the drawing made of him directly.
At that time the Conservatory was situated on Myasnitskaya Street9; the painting was delivered there, and I was conversing pleasantly with N.G. Rubinstein during the session.
All of a sudden I received the announcement: “Turgenev”…
My painting was situated in its entirety in a small hall taken up by two pianos, with not too much light falling it, but this was still not the whole problem. Turgenev was fatigued and – I could feel this – not entirely disposed towards me. Glancing over it in a dissipated manner, Ivan Sergeyevich spoke with vexation, without bothering to hear my explanation through about the faces and the goal of the painting:
What is this, Repin? What an absurd idea it is to connect the living with those who are long dead? – and having dumbfounding me so unexpectedly, remained with this negative impression from my picture.
– The conception of the painting is not my fault – I exonerated myself – this list of composers was given to me by the customer who ordered it, and I dared not digress from the contingent of the figures I was depicting.
– So what? So much the worse it is for you. I cannot stand this connection of the dead with the living!
– But, after all, the living musicians are also not everlasting, Ivan Sergeyevich, – I mumbled confusedly. – Just remember the semicircle of the Paris Academy of the Arts10: it brings together faces of artists who lived during the course of three different centuries from the Middle Ages; in addition to that, there are Ancient Greek figures from the time of fifteen centuries earlier sitting above the artists in the positions of saints. And all of this is present on one painting.
– Indeed, but I still cannot bear this: this is cerebral art… literature.
During the festivity of the opening I can see the magnificent gray-haired Russian head of Turgenev from afar, towering over everybody: I squeeze through towards him and find him in the midst of a throng of people standing in front of my painting.
– Oh, is it you? – he shakes my hand affectionately with his hand covered with a white glove – gently, in an aristocratic fashion. – You see? You are having success…
– Yes, – I answer confusedly, – but you did not change your opinion of my painting from my success?
– No, no, my friend: my opinion is my own, and I cannot come to terms with the concept of this painting (…).
As a smart and an extremely practical person, Porokhovshchikov took care of attracting the press – a great and powerful force – to this event. To be sure, all the influential and reputable people valued the opinion of the “Moskovskiye vedomosti” newspaper above all. Likewise, here, in the “Slavic Bazaar,” this “university-based” paper (as it still was, back then) brought forth its judgment and its high authority. I was especially criticized for the half-tint on the faces and figures in the forefront and the light effects from the half-opened door reflected on the parquet.
The half-tints which I am so fond of applying to my paintings were spoken about with vexation: “He spoiled the entire painting. If asked whether we have seen Mr. Repin’s painting, we will say: ‘We saw it, and even enjoyed it, but not a single face, so carefully thought out in the conception of the patrons who commissioned the work, could be seen on it: they have been drawn as black silhouettes against a light background, and no matter how hard we tried to examine them, it was impossible to do so and, hence, it is unthinkable to judge them and determine the extent of their likenesses to the actual people. Thereby the most important aspect of the painting has been lost. And even though Mr. Repin was attempting to get away by means of the small patches of light from the adjacent room, reflected on the parquet near Chopin’s feet, these trifles vex in an unpleasant way the unsatisfied wishes of the gazers and impede the perception of the main essence of the painting’”.
All of this I am relaying in my own words and, obviously, in an imprecise way: almost forty years have passed since that time11!
Stasov was ranting impetuously in my defense, comparing the writers who reasoned in the like manner with patrons, who demand that the painter remove the shadow from under their nose in their portraits to some other spot.
About fifteen years ago, when I was in Moscow, having breakfast in the restaurant “Slavic Bazaar” with one friend, I told him that there is a painting situated here, which I had painted; he expressed the desire to see it, and I myself was not averse to having a look at it after twenty five years. The waiter said that it was necessary to find the key from the main hall, and that he would try to do this.
The painting was very poorly illuminated in the daytime, but we were also surveying the entire hall carefully. Having thanked the waiter who accompanied us, I asked him whether he knew who had drawn this painting.
– I have no idea, – he answered. – It was painted somewhere abroad.
In 1892, when I was organizing an exhibition of my paintings at the Academy12, I wished to exhibit the “Slavic Composers” there as well, since that painting was taken to St. Petersburg when it had not yet been completed, so St. Petersburg had never really had the chance to see it. But despite all of my efforts and the efforts of many influential people in Moscow, most notably, Pavel Mikhailovich Tretyakov and Savva Ivanovich Mamontov (1841–1918), both of whom had a very sympathetic attitude towards me, I was not able to procure the painting: it was already in possession of all society on a share basis, and in order to obtain permission for my request, I had to gather together an entire assembly, which gathers together from time to time, and nobody would take the responsibility for the public domain.
P.M. Tretyakov wished very much to procure this painting for his gallery, but he was kept back by the enormous price asked for it”.
1 Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Porokhovshchikov (1830–1911) was an entrepreneur and constructor of the hotel “Slavic Boulevard,” opened in 1872 on Nikolskaya Street 17. In 1873 in its courtyard there was a restaurant with the same name open(architect A.E. Weber).
2 Konstantin Georgievich Makovsky (1839–1915) was an artist who created of genre paintings, portraits and historical paintings.
3 Kornei Ivanovich Chukovsky, the editor and commentator to Repin’s book writes: “The second chapter of ‘Unfinished Conversations’ by Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin, which depicts Musorgsky in a caricatured manner, as well as the “criticism of the reformer” (Vladimir Stasov), was published in the November issue of the magazine “Otechesvennye zapiski” (“Notes from the Native Land”) for 1874, i.e. two years after Repin’s completion of his painting “Slavic composers.” Musorgsky is depicted in this satire as Vasily Ivanovich, the author of the “immortal buffoonery,” “the cabman who is trying to find his lost whip in the dead of night.” (cit. from Repin, p.481).
4 A pun on Musorgsky’s name, the beginning of which sounds like the Russian word ‘musor,’ meaning ‘garbage’ (translator’s footnote).
5Chukovsky: “Pyotr Il’ich Tchaikovsky (1840 – 1893) was in the early 1870s a professor at the Moscow Conservatory and had not acquired his fame as a composer yet. Most likely, this explains why Nikolay Rubinstein (1835 — 1881), an inspired performer and tireless proponent of Tchaikovsky’s compositions, did not include his name into the list of composers which Repin was supposed to have depicted in his painting. <…> The beginning of Tchaikovsky’s fame throughout Russia and, simultaneously, throughout the world, occurred approximately in 1878-1879 (with the production of the opera “Eugene Onegin” and Nikolay Rubinstein’s performance of Tchaikovsky’s piano works in “Concerts of Russian Music,” which took place in several countries in Europe, etc.)”. (cit. fromRepin: p. 482).
6 The portraits of Modest Musorgsky (1839-1881) and Aleksandr Borodin (1834 – 1887) were ultimately not included in Repin’s painting.
7 Chukovsky: “The three pencil sketches (during live sessions) from which Repin painted the figures of Rimsky-Korsakov, Balakirev and Napravnik on his canvas are presently located at the Tretyakov Gallery. (citfrom: Repin. p. 482).
8 Chukovsky: “The celebration of the inauguration of the concert hall, or otherwise, the Russian Chambers of the “Slavic Bazaar” took place on June 10, 1872. In N. 144 of the newspaper “Moskovskiye vedomosti” from June 10 we find the following announcement: “Tonight, starting at 8 o’clock in the evening there will be a tour of the Russian Chambers and an exhibition upon evening illumination of the painting by the famous artist from the Imperial Academy Ilya Efimovich Repin. The painting portrays a group of Russian, Polish and Czech composers, as well as certain persons who have rendered special services to the art of music in Russia. During the exhibition the Slavic orchestra will perform under the direction of the well-known zither performer F.M. Bauer. Admissionfee: 50 kopecks”. (cit. from: Repin. p. 482–483).
9 Repin is mistaken: the Moscow Conservatory was leasing the mansion of Baroness Cherkasova on Vozdvizhenka Street from 1866 to 1871.
10 Chukovsky writes: “When he writes ‘Under the semicircle of the Parisian Academy,’ Repin has in mind the enormous 27-meter long fresco by Paul Delaroche, adorning the so-called ‘l’Hémicycle’ – the semicircular assembly hall of the Paris Academy of Arts” (cit. from: Repin: p. 483).
11 Chukovsky: “Repin relayed quite precisely from memory the corresponding place from the short news item by P. Miller in N.161 of the “Moskovskiye vedomosti” newspaper from June 27, 1872 (cit. from Repin. p. 484).
12 Chukovsky: “Repin’s personal exhibition commemorating the twentieth anniversary of his artistic activities (beginning with the date of his completion of studies at the Academy, November 4, 1871) was opened <…> on November 26, 1891” (cit. from: Repin, p. 484).
