It's a Small World

It is always interesting to learn how the lives of great Russians crossed. For when we study this or that great Russian writer or composer, we tend to look at them as a singular phenomenon. But Pushkin lived in the same era as Alexander Griboedov and the composer Mikhail Glinka. Nikolai Gogol rubbed shoulders with the artist Karl Bryullov when both were in Italy. Anton Chekhov sipped tea with Leo Tolstoy ... In fact, Russian writers, composers, poets and artists often knew one other and usually expressed mutual admiration.

So when the editorial plan for this issue indicated a story on the poet Alexander Blok (due to the 120th anniversary of his birth), I wondered if Blok’s life crossed that of any other figure we were covering in this issue. Originally, we had planned a story on the prolific painter Nikolai Roerich in this issue (but space considerations have required us to move the story back to January), and both lived at the same time. But no, I told myself, this mystical painter could scarcely have crossed paths with our great romantic poet.

And yet, to my great surprise, I discovered that, in 1910, after Blok had already become famous, the editorial board of Apollon magazine ordered an illustration from Roerich of Blok’s cycle of poems, Italian Verses. Moreover, Roerich gave Blok a painting titled, “City on the Hill.” Blok hung the painting in his room and later visited Roerich frequently.

The world of Russian masters is indeed small. Not because there are so few, but because there are so many, and their lives are bound to intersect. So we are sorry we could not, in the end, include the two unlikely friends—Blok and Roerich—in the same issue. But then other anniversaries and events compounded: we wanted to pay tribute to the poet Konstantin Simonov on his 85th birthday (page 52), give credit to our new Olympic heroes (page 20), continue William Brumfield’s series, East Across Siberia (page 44) and hail the winners of our first-ever Reader Photo Contest (page 54).

And of course there was our late-breaking lead story on the young tennis star Marat Safin (page 18), which brought to mind Blok’s poetic lines (from his masterful “On Kulikovo Field”):

O, My Rus! Wife of mine! Our road
Lies painfully clear ahead!
Our road has pierced our breast
With an arrow of the ancient Tatar will.

The Tartar yoke indeed played a fateful role for Russia. But Tartars have since been integrated into Russian society. Now they are an inalienable part of Russia.

So, when, 92 years after Blok wrote these lines, Marat Safin (a Tartar by birth) won the US Open, President Vladimir Putin sent him a congratulatory telegram, praising his triumph  as a Russian victory. A victory such as this brought pride to all the peoples of Russia, be they ethnically Tartar, Karelian, Buryat or Russian. In fact, it would have been as pointless to argue over the provenance of Safin as over the origin of vareniki (page 50)—Russia or Ukraine. In a larger sense, both of these joys are “nashi” (ours), and we are happy to share them with you.

Enjoy the issue!