Do you too want to separate yourself from the rock that holds you, as some of your mad sons have separated themselves from the soil? Do you want to separate yourself from the rock that holds you, and hang, bridleless, suspended in air, and then plunge down into the chaos of waters? Or, could it be that you want to hurtle through the air, cleaving the mists, to disappear in the clouds along with your sons? Or having reared up, have you, oh Russia, fallen deep into thought for long years in the face of the awesome fate that has cast you here, amidst this gloomy north, where even the sunset itself lasts many hours, where time itself in turn pitches now into frosty night, now into diurnal radiance? Or will you, taking fright at the leap, again set down your hooves and, snorting, now out of control, carry off the great Horseman, out of these illusory lands into the depths of plain-flat spaces?
May this not come to pass!
-Bely
And now for a topic that will no doubt bore you, but since I haven’t talked about pretty much the most important symbol of Petersburg here’s a post all about equestrian monuments. Excited?
When you’re in Petersburg it’s difficult not to be aware of monuments and their social, political, and aesthetic meanings. If you’re unfamiliar with Russian culture or literature, the Bronze Horseman (monument to Peter the Great) has had an enormous impact on Petersburg mythology and literature, when it first captured Pushkin’s imagination in his poem “The Bronze Horseman.” Pushkin gives a mixed reading of the Peter the Great, as both a great man and as a violent oppressor who crushes the little man (represented by Evgeny, who is chased throughout Petersburg by the Bronze Horseman). Depending on different writers’ feelings and approaches toward this monument, one can gauge their relationship toward Peter, Petersburg, and even Russia and where they stand on certain issues that have plagued Russia’s history.
A little Pushkin for you:
“The lions, and the square, and him
who, motionless and without pity,
lifted his bronze head in the gloom,
Whose will, implacable as doom,
Had chosen seashore for his city.
Fearful he looked in that half-light!
Upon his forehead, what a might
Of thought, what strength of concentration!
What fire, what passion, and what force
Are all compact in that proud horse!
He gallops—to what destination?
On the cliff-edge, O lord of fate,
Was it not you, O giant idol,
Who, pulling on your iron bridle,
Checked Russia, made her rear up straight?”
It was interesting to look at how the different equestrian monuments interacted with each other throughout the city, something we talked about a lot (an intersculptural polemic).
Each work has a semiotic, political, and mythical significance that is interesting to trace between the different works and how these places of national memory and significance have changed in meaning over time (from threatening, to laughable, to awe inspiring, to mere places of tourism).
Equestrian monuments have always been symbols of power, take Marcus Aurelius for example (a friendly chap who adorns my own campus).
Yay for Lincoln Field!
Such equestrian monuments are emblems of imperial authority. But depending on the rider’s relationship with his horse, his posture, his gaze, his gesture, how the horse is standing, whether it is calm, stubborn, or wild, much can be read about its potential meaning. And I have not encountered so many different interpretations of a single equestrian monument as I have with the Bronze Horseman.
The Bronze Horseman, created by Falconet, is set on the senate square where the Decembrist revolt took place. It faces the admiralty (which I mentioned earlier) and away from St Isaac’s Cathedral. Therefore, by virtue of its physical placement within the city, it has a semiotic relationship with various emblems of power--the economy, government, and religion.
Falconet’s monument borrows the pose of Marucs Aurelius--the idea of the regal rider, the slight elevation of the right hoof, and the arm outstretched, but only to a degree. Regal, calm rider doesn’t quite fit with Peter, instead there is the sense of charging forward, of spirit and passion. The idea is Peter the Great as reformer.
So the common interpretation is that the horse is Russia and that Peter is trying to control this wild, unruly beast as visionary (with his arm outstretched toward the future). (I did make an idiot of myself when I forgot what the Bronze Horseman is called in Russian and so reverted to charades and tried to mimic Peter’s pose and ended up looking like I was making a nazi salute, to the brief horror of my host parents).
Look at the pedestal of Peter the Great vs the others. It is in the shape of a wave, like nature, and has a sense of movement to it (not so sturdy, stable, steady, or stagnant). As Svetlana put it, the violence of the material’s movement transcends its stability. The pedestal is to show that Peter as reformer tsar is a master of stone and water—land and sea.
There is something unsettling in Peter’s pose and in the horse’s movement—something whose meaning is debated. It appears as though Peter is leaping into a void, or chasm; or some have said he is charging toward the west, toward enlightenment and prosperity. It is interesting and little known, but Svetlana showed us a picture of the square and how it used to look, which changes to a degree how the monument is read. There used to be a bridge right across from the statue, instead of now just water. The bridge connected the two banks, the left bank which was the official part of the city, and the right which was where the commoners lived. The bridge gives the sense that the Horseman is about to charge onto the bridge, instead of into a chasm. It was removed in 1850, which means Pushkin would’ve known of the bridge when he wrote his poem, interestingly enough. The bridge of course adds the idea of bridging two worlds, of Russia itself (a class thing perhaps) and of Russia to the West.
Some of course view the horseman as apocalyptic rather than as a symbol of reform and bridging gaps. It is also interesting to note how Petersburg (and thus the horseman) was viewed in different centuries: in the 18th the city it was seen as a symbol of commerce, commodity, and civilization, while in the 19th the city it was seen in a more negative light (like many cities) as the cost of modernity.
So now for more sculptures that relate to Peter.
This is Nicholas I, who represents the corrosion of Peter’s legacy. He is very close to Peter’s monument, on the other side of St Isaac’s, facing the cathedral—literally following in the footsteps of Peter, but with this big cathedral in the way.
So the monument represents the idea of legacy, but there is a gap and barrier between them. The statue is more conventional (more like the Marcus Aurelius type). Nicholas is also dressed like a military man—the despotic ruler who crushed the Decembrist Revolution in the very square where the Bronze Horseman is.
Svetlana saw Nicholas’ monument as a parody of the Bronze Horseman, in that it looks like a parade or prancing horse, rather than a horse charging forward. She also saw the monument to Nicholas as a taming of the Bronze Horseman, a calming of Russia, with a more backward motion felt in the monument—rather than a forward and confident leap.
Here is the exact semiotic opposite to Peter’s
Alexander III (1909)
Look at the difference in hand gestures (outstretched vs fist clenched into his body). His gesture is one of refusal, but is commanding, a little threatening, masculine, authoritarian, one of brutal force, as if he is ready to crush anything. His gesture, according to Svetlana, undoes the Bronze Horseman’s--undoes Peter’s heritage and legacy.
The horse is stable, stubborn even, as if it has just come to screeching halt, digging its hooves into the ground. It looks like a sturdy, muscular workhorse (broad-legged, heavy, with a clipped tail) rather than a nimble and powerful steed. He literally refuses to carry his rider forward. If the horse is an emblem of Russia, its spine is literally breaking beneath the weight of its rider. Also, look at the block like pedestal compared to Peter’s.
Svetlana felt that Alexander represents the corrosion of imperial power, crushing his own horse beneath his weight. And she felt him to be an ominous caricature of Peter the Great, with a poor attitude toward the direction of Russia, a kind of mutation of the Bronze Horseman into a symbol of political oppression and of Russia closing her window on the west.
We saw him in the courtyard of the marble palace, where he seems cooped up, as if people wanted to forget him. He used to be where Moskovsky Vokzal is (where my Vostaniya metro stop is). Here he had stood with his back toward the Neva and the Bronze Horseman, and facing Moscow (Russia’ historical heart). The monument is also rather prophetic, considering not too long after its erection Russia did turn her back on the west by symbolically moving the capital back to Moscow.
So if Nicholas followed behind the Bronze Horseman, even if slow, Alexander completely turned away.
It’s nice to see that the Bronze Horseman is such a popular site, even it has lost some of its awe inspiring glory by becoming primarily a tourist draw for foreigners or one of the many sites couples stop by post wedding, or where all students go after graduation (it’s good luck to walk around it three times). Here are some graduation girls walking around Peter:
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