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# Edmund Heier

# Comparative Literary Studies: Lermontov, Turgenev, Goncharov, Tolstoj, Blok - Lavater, Lessing, Schiller, Grillparzer

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#### Vorträge und Abhandlungen

zur

Slavistik

herausgegeben von Peter Thiergen (Bamberg)

Band 39

2000

#### VERLAG OTTO SAGNER \* MÜNCHEN

Il Edmund Heier -<PHONE_NUMBER>140

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# **Edmund Heier**

# **Comparative Literary Studies: Lermontov, Turgenev, Goncharov, Tolstoj, Blok - Lavater, Lessing, Schiller, Grillparzer**

PVA 2001**.** 3458

# T A B L E OF CONTENTS

#### PREFACE

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# PREFACE

The bulk of this publication appeared earlier in somewhat different format as articles in various books and periodicals. I am most grateful to the copyright holders (editors and publishers) for kindly granting permission to reproduce in this collection the following studies:

*Slavica. Studies in Honour o f Zbigniew Folejemki* (Ottawa, 1981), pp. 53- 69 (University o f Ottawa Press).

I also wish to thank the University o f Waterloo and Humanities Research Council o f Canada for their grants in aid which made the original publication o f these studies possible. I am deeply indebted to Dr. Maren Kasulke for her editorial skills and for her patience in preparing these essays for publication. My profound appreciation and gratitude go to Professor Dr. Peter Thiergen for accepting these studies in his series *Vorträge und Abhandlungen zur Slavistik.*

Edmund Heier

Waterloo November 2000 00051990

## **I. The Literary Portrait as a Mode of Characterization**

The term "literary portrait" or "portrait littéraire" has come to mean different things to different people. Indeed, it has assumed such a variety of meanings, dependent upon fluctuating literary orientations and styles, that it is practically impossible to justify all the concepts which it has come to embody. The essence o f portraiture is to point out the major features which characterize a personality as is indicated from its derivation: Latin "protrahere" and old French "pourtraire" — to draw forth. The realization, however, o f the drawing forth of the characteristic features o f a literary figure can be accomplished in a variety of manners. Small wonder then, that the lack o f a well-defined formal concept of the literary portrait as a device of characterization has frequently led to misconceptions.

Although the literary portrait aimed at delineating character has been employed as early as Homer, the cultivation of the literary portrait in modern times is customarily ascribed to seventeenth-century France. It suffices to refer to the collection o f the *Divers Portraits* (1659), G. de Scudery's *Le grand Cyrus* (1649-1653) featuring an entire gallery o f portraits. Here each portrait encompasses a full-length biography. This form of the literary portrait was so assiduously cultivated that it emerged as a literary genre in itself.1 Apart from these full-length biographies, the term "literary portrait" is used to denote a character's psychological entity, a practice which has triumphed in modern times. Henry James' novel *The portrait o f a Lady* (1884) and James Joyce's *A Portrait o f the Artist as a Young Man* (1916) are two striking examples. Also the term "literary portrait" is applied to collections o f literary critical essays on various writers as we find them in G orkij's *Literatumye portrety* or in Saint-Beuve's *Portraits littéraires* (1862-64). Consequently one ought not to be surprised when one looks for a definition of the "literary portrait" in a dictionary of literary terms to encounter instead simply a reference to Saint-Beuve's *Portraits littéraires.2* A comparable incompleteness and confusion is the identification of the literary portrait with the Theophrastian or the La Bruyèrian character-sketch so popular in sixteenth and seventeenth century France and England.3

The literary portrait o f our concern is a device o f characterization within a literary work the function of which is to delineate character via external appearance. It is a portrait drawn in words — one in which the writer consciously introduces his characters by way of exterior description in order to suggest or reveal inner qualities. The presentation o f the bodily appearance o f a character, particularly if it is accompanied by an interpretation, becomes

then the application o f physiognomy, the art o f revealing character traits via the physical features. As in a successful portrait painting, the physical features in the literary portrait must reveal definite character traits for otherwise what is the purpose o f the exterior description? Since the countenance is that part o f man's appearance by which he reveals himself to others and most clearly shows his character traits, the face receives particular attention in the portrait. By isolating a personality and so to say framing him momentarily within a novel, a writer allows his reader to obtain a clearer picture o f the object portrayed. The definite impression which is thereby created, aided possibly by commentary o f interpretation, leads the reader to envision the character as he, the author, wishes him to be conceived. Goethe's words on this point are memorable: "the important person whom we otherwise conceive in the midst o f his environ presents himself here [in the portrait] singularly or as detached as before a mirror. "4

Because o f the great affinity of the literary portrait and portrait painting one should theoretically be able to establish a parallel evolution. In practice, however, this is neither possible nor is it the aim o f this brief discourse. The problem o f parallels lies in the fact that the historical style-concept, the categories o f portraiture in painting and literature have not always evolved with the same speed and at the same time.5 Moreover, strictly speaking one can not speak of a historical development of the literary portrait. Already in Homer we encounter the great variety of portraiture, the detailed physiognomic description down to meagre suggestion, types all of which subsequently reoccurred in European literatures of every epoch. Thus one should speak o f a fluctuation o f the various types o f literary portraiture rather than o f its historical development. Nonetheless a comparison in general terms may reveal how the aesthetic norms o f portrait painting were upheld in the literary portrait and how at a given period one type was more fashionable than the other. For example, the gradual transition from prim itive presentation in painting and the plastic arts of the Middle Ages to highly sophisticated portraiture with distinct features during the Renaissance can be observed also in the literary portraiture of that time. Similarly the comparable flowering of the realistic portrait painting of the nineteenth century found its parallel in the "votaries o f realism, the grandsons o f Balzac", to use a Henry James expression.6 And when the technique o f abstraction finally became fashionable among modem painters this kind of portraiture (although skilfully drawn with only a characteristic line or two) also became the fad in literature. But with this method the literary portrait as a direct meaningful device o f characterization loses its function.

00051990

Since the advent o f the novel, the literary portrait, as a device of characterization has manifested itself in a variety o f forms which in turn gave rise to many differing definitions of its essential nature. These various manifestations depended not only on the currently popular literary genres, literary movements, and styles, but even more so on the writer's intention, his power o f observation, his art of literary expression, and the relative popularity o f physiognomy in his time. Consequently, one finds highly sophisticated detailed descriptions running to several pages in the works o f Balzac and Dickens or simply meagre suggestions as in the works o f the symbolists and other modernists.7

But when we reach the stage of mere signals and meagre suggestions by which the portrait is to take shape, the reader depends on his own aesthetic sensitivities; he is left with his own imagination to complete the full portrait. Although this manner may initiate a highly sophisticated aesthetic process in the reader's mind, one no longer is dealing with the portrait created by the author. I f the literary portrait is a meaningful art o f the presentation o f men then as such it demands the full attention and concentration both of its creator and perceiver and should not be left to a possible felicitous accidental completion by the reader. True, the reader, as well as the author, has full freedom in the creation of the character. But in the case of limited presentation where the author's contribution is but a suggestion, the portrait is basically derived from the reader's own personal idea. Under these conditions at any rate the author cannot claim the portrait as his own; it is neither a measure o f his descriptive powers nor can he expect uniform reactions. But this is the author's choice and depends on his intention, the merits o f which he attaches to the aesthetic reading in relation to fu ll and partial portrayal o f character, i.e. whether he wishes to create a specific image o f a figure or leave this creation to the reader's imagination.

In contrast to the direct overt portrait which aims to create a specific visual impression, one may speak of the literary portrait produced by indirect means. These may involve the delineation of character through action, exposition, confession, dialogue, contrast, opinion of others, dramatic situations, elements which are essential in creating psychological verisimilitude in the character portrayed. Although this depiction may be highly artistic and, indeed, quite successful in exposing the psychological and moral traits o f a character — the ultimate goal of any characterization — this method once again leaves specific inference to the reader. Strictly speaking, the literary portrait requires the depiction o f both moral and physical traits; it is, so to say, a portrait produced in one sitting. If one were not to accept this principle, one would encounter

the literary portrait in any form o f literature which involves human beings. From the various elements of characterization any reader could and, indeed, does compose his own mosaic-like portrait o f the character. This may be what the author, after all, desires. But then again, the portrait is not a conscious stylistic creation o f the writer and as such does not constitute a literary portrait as a direct device o f characterization.

Those who readily apply the term literary portrait to such indirect devices o f characterization have failed to consider that literary portraiture has a tradition: that writers in the past have viewed themselves as painters with words; and that the original designation "portrait" in painting was applied to exterior portrayal. The primary aim o f external depiction both in painting and in literature was to capture permanent characteristics which tell us something o f the inner qualities o f the person portrayed. As such the portrait was simultaneously the reproduction o f the external physical appearance and a character sketch. Whatever the manner of presentation one ought not to forget that the literary portrait with its visual imagery should not become an aim in itself; it is only a means of character depiction whereby the external description is only of secondary importance.8

The portrait becomes meaningless at the moment the external presentation is devoid o f any hints as to the inner qualities o f the subject. The moment the description o f a figure lacks the essential ingredient, the elements of physiognomy, it ceases to function as a portrait in the true sense o f the word. The expository device for the presentation of character was systematically and effectively used in their historical narratives by Tacitus and Plutarch, and especially by Suetonius in his *De Vita Caesarum.*  In antiquity the literary portrait was clearly defined and demanded the depiction of physical and moral traits to be executed in the manner o f a set piece. To avoid the stereotyped static portrait, Plutarch, for example, employed in his description pathognomy: mimicry, gesture, speech and voice o f the characters. He defended the physiognomic concept o f the constant interaction o f the inner and the outer man and held that the outer features reflect inner qualities: "It is the souls which fabricates its body". This principle o f the total unity of man's existence is also to be observed in Suetonius' description of his emperors when by emphasizing certain aspects of physique both the virtues and the vices o f a character were revealed. The numerous allusions to physiognomy among the classical authors and the widely circulated handbooks o f physiognomy, regular manuals containing laws o f interpretations of character from physical appearance, are testimony that

physiognomy enjoyed a far greater appeal within the Roman Empire than has popularly been granted to it.9

Although the portrait in the historical narrative retained its link with physiognomy, the use of physiognomy as an essential component of portraiture in "belles-lettres" fluctuated greatly. The application of physiognomic principles which by and large determined content and form of the literary portrait was no doubt the result of the prevailing concept o f man as a harmonious unity. The belief in the constant interaction between the physical and the spiritual and that the physical is capable o f revealing inner disposition was one o f the major causes for the us of it in the description of character. It stand to reason that in a period when the tenets o f physiognomy were in vogue writers are more inclined to use it. This proclivity may be observed when the physiognomic theories of Aristotle, Dalla Porta10 and J. C. Lavater were most fashionable. Of special interest are the efforts o f the Swiss physiognomist Lavater who set forth his view in his four volumes of *Physiognomische Fragmente...* (1775-1778). He not only reversed the declining interest in physiognomy but exerted a definite influence on the manner o f character portrayal in the writings o f such authors as M. G. Lewis, Dickens, Lermontov, G. Sand, Stendhal, E. T. A. Hoffmann, Balzac, Goncharov, Tolstoj, Turgenev, to mention only a few ." Along with M. G. Lewis and Balzac, Senancour defends Lavater's system as "the only true science for recognizing character".12 Physiognomy provided the novelists with a device which enabled them to create distinctive realistic personalities and not merely types. Indeed, in physiognomy the novelists found a tangible support for their realistic art.

Conversely, whenever physiognomy became suspect the presentation of man through physical description declined and with it the literary portrait in its traditional use.  Two writers of the same period, when physiognomy was much in vogue, Lermontov and Pushkin, may be contrasted. Lermontov used direct physiognomic descriptions in presenting his heroes, Vadim and Pechorin.13 Pushkin, who owned two French editions of Lavater's physiognomic studies, rejected direct descriptions and employed instead the indirect means of characterization. The versatile Voltaire was not only suspicious of physiognomy but questioned any writer's ability to describe directly so complicated a manner as a man's character, a position the very opposite of Saint-Simon's who in his *Mémoires* had revived the physiognomic portrayal o f the Roman historians.  Owing chiefly to a lack o f skill in the observer, Fielding asserts: "the truth o f the matter is, nature doth really imprint sufficient marks in the countenance, to inform an accurate and discerning eye: but as such is the property o f few ...." Accordingly Fielding does not require his readers excessively to search for the correct physiognomic and pathognomic meaning in his characters as does for example his contemporary Tobias Smollett. To Fielding the more reliable guide to the knowledge of men is action: "By their fruits you shall know them is a saying of great wisdom ...."14

Since physiognomy is intimately linked with traditional portraiture, the problem o f tracing its use is present with every writer who indulges in the method o f characterization by description. Who can deny that Chaucer's pilgrims, especially the miller and the wife o f Bath are not drawn with a conscious use o f physiognomy?15 But even if one encounters a detailed physical account one cannot state with certainty that a writer has been influenced by a specific physiognomic theory. Though a writer may be acquainted with a particular theory, it is unlikely that he would ever adhere strictly to the stereotype formulae in a physiognomic handbook. Since physiognomy is based on observation, keen as it may have been, there is nothing to prevent the creative writer from adding his own physiognomic data. And if a writer does select from physiognomic stock that which fits his purpose he seldom gives his reader a chance to peek into his laboratory.

Although traditional physiognomy has fallen into ill repute and has become part o f the study of physiology, practical physiognomy and its use in portraiture is as much in vogue today as ever. It suffices to note that upon meeting a stranger we are immediately impressed either favourably or unfavourably by what we conjecture his temper and talents to be. In fact, practical physiognomy, born of natural principles long before a specific term for it was coined,16 is man's common property and when coupled with an author's power o f keen observation, provides him with sufficient knowledge to produce a literary portrait full of physiognomic tags. Unscientific as this procedure may be, we nonetheless are led to judge character by bodily appearance. Indeed, just how scientific is Shakespeare when he uses some two thousand animal comparisons in the portrayal o f his characters?17 Though "unscientific", animal physiognomy has been popular among men since the time o f the ancients and has been a fruitful device for revealing human character. Whatever the origin of physiognomy in literary portraiture may be,

it is meaningful only if it is based on the principle o f constant interaction between the inner and the outer man; only if there is a correlation between the action and behaviour and the inner qualities revealed or suggested by the external appearance. As such it is a conscious effort on the part o f the writer to reveal psychological disposition via exterior features. It is possible, however, that the writer employs intentionally the inverse method o f characterization in which our first opinion of a character is soon radically altered; here then there is no harmony between appearance and subsequent behaviour.

Although physiognomy is viewed here as a major factor in the shaping o f the literary portrait, one should make at least a cursory reference to other significant aspects which determined the function, form and content o f literary portraiture. In a comparative survey of the literary portrait from the ancients to the modern, one may distinguish basically two types: the idealized and the realistic portrait. In either case the scheme consisted o f the physical appearance, one in idealized — the other in realistic — individualized form. Moreover both aim at disclosing disposition and aptitudes o f character. The success and verisimilitude of such presentations of disposition in the portrait are determined by the concept of the human being as a harmonious entity, by the credibility of physiognomy, by contemporary taste and by the cult o f a specific ideal o f beauty. In seventeenth century France, for example, the literary portrait reflected the idealized moral concept o f beauty o f the new society. Hyperbolic metaphors and comparisons predominated.

The transfer o f the techniques of painting to the literary medium or, rather, the attempt to achieve the effects o f paintings in words initiated a lasting debate over the process o f metamorphosis among the fine arts. Although Horace's formula "ut pietura poesis" continued to enjoy considerable measure o f success and caused Diderot to proclaim "in every painter one can discover a poet and in every poet a painter", some critics periodically questioned the validity of word painting. Word painting and extensive descriptions, the very essence of the literary portrait, were the object of attacks by Vasari, L. da Vinci, Pope and especially Lessing. Lessing defined the boundaries o f painting and poetry in his famous *Laokoon* (1766), which can be read as a

discussion o f the aesthetic principles governing full detailed portrayal as opposed to mere suggestions.19

In outlining the province o f painting, Lessing asserts that the painter's task is to create a visual image, a picture in which everything is said simultaneously. The poet on the other hand has to contend with time; each descriptive element has to follow another. In order to achieve an effect similar to that achieved by the painter, the poet must attempt to say everything at once. This total instantaneous impact can be approximated only by avoiding successive description and concentrating on one striking quality, one significant aspect o f a character. The selection o f this all-important aspect suffices to trigger our fantasy which in turn completes the suggested image. "The elements of fantasy for which the poet is to create do not need exact and detailed descriptions."20 Lessing refutes the application o f the principle o f word painting and cites the lengthy description o f the enchanting Alcine from Ariosto's *Orlando Furioso* in order to show the visual ineffectiveness o f the enumerative description of the literary portrait. Conversely he refers us to Homer's beautiful Helen, whose beauty is actually never directly described, least o f all did he attempt to present her in portrait form. Homer, instead, relates the effect which her beauty had upon the Trojan men at the moment she stepped into their midst. It is this kind of portrayal, portrayal through effects, through psychological reflex, which is, in the opinion o f Lessing, the proper domain o f literature. A similar idea is expressed by George Meredith when he has Diana say in *Diana of the Crossways*: "The art o f the pen (we write in darkness) is to rouse the inward vision instead of labouring with the drop-scene brush, as if it were to the eye; because our flying minds cannot contain a protracted description. That is why the poets, who spring imagination with a word or a phrase, paint lasting pictures." Although Meredith attempted to adhere to his theory, in actual practice he resorted to the drawing o f lengthy portraits with the most minute particulars.

Although Lessing's protest against excessively detailed description in European literature provoked a re-examination o f poetic practices, a strict adherence to his principles would have meant the deathblow to any direct literary portraiture. In outlining the sphere of poetry and painting as rigidly as he did he unwittingly imposed certain restrictions upon the creative process. Lessing who had formulated his theory on the practice o f Homer could have pointed out that Homer employed also a variety o f other modes of depiction. The method employed by Homer in presenting Helen was to him at the moment, and for his purpose, the most effective. On other occasions he must have felt that the descriptive method, the portrayal o f external

appearance, was more effective as in the case o f Thersites whose physical characteristics are described in detail. Indeed, a close reading reveals also that Homer employed here a physiognomic description, that there is a definite correlation between the ugly physical appearance and the evil behaviour o f the Greek soldier. Thus, the choice o f method of presentation should remain a matter for the poet to decide. In the words o f Victor Hugo "in literature we recognize no rules and no models, or to be more correct, there are no rules other than the laws of nature which alone govern the arts."21

W hile Lessing's treatise questioned the literal interpretation o f Horace's formula, for many writers word painting remained a favourite device. The works o f the great novelists of the nineteenth century like Walter Scott, Victor Hugo, Balzac, Dickens, E. T. A. Hoffmann, Turgenev and Tolstoj amply illustrate that the great experiment of borrowing from the other arts remained a continuous process particularly when they sought to create the effect of visualization. Among many writers, especially those who were also talented in painting, the boundaries between the two arts had become so vague that W illiam Hogarth, the painter poet of the previous century with his visualized literary themes on canvas could have served as a model.

The creation of a picture easily comprehended by the eye was and remained the primary concern in the representation of men. The value o f the sense of sight continued to receive proper recognition as a major source of imagination and aesthetic appreciation. In the words o f G. C. Lichtenberg "where there is no clear image there can be no imagination" or "only ignorant people do not judge from exterior appearance; the real mystery o f life is to be found in the things we see and not in the unseen."22 In principles of this kind we find the reason why the emphasis is placed on the visual image. To create, however, a picture in clear perceptual form, one easily comprehended by the eye, the artist not only has to apply the principle o f framing but he also has to select the most propitious moment. Neither the painter nor the writer can exhaustively present a body in all its minute details. The craftsman has to sift and sort from masses of material — he has to choose features and present them in such a manner so as to establish identity by visual means without smothering the reader's imagination. Thus the detailed portrayal is abandoned for the sake o f a depiction of characteristic elements which are typical and readily observable. A case in point in an extreme form is the symbol which leads to the recognition o f the general via the specific. In the selection and presentation of symbolic minutiae we encounter the basic creative process of any art, and with it the major principle o f portraiture. Within this framework the writer, like the painter, may emphasize

characteristic features and thus produce the specific which he wishes his character to display. What varies, however, is the manner o f execution, the means to achieve the effect of painting which in tum accounts in part for the great diversity as to content and form within literary portraiture.

With the flourishing of the novel form, and the desire to portray man in his totality in a realistic individualized way, the descriptive method was indeed the most suitable one. Description in novelistic character portraiture o f the nineteenth century was, however, not a perpetuation o f the conventional methods o f the previous centuries. It is true that in both styles we find the enumeration o f exterior parts; however, there is a major difference. The mere enumeration o f exterior details does not necessarily create a more concrete image o f a personality. It suffices to cite the beginning o f the portrait o f Joseph Andrews as an example of non-individualized portraiture: "He was o f the highest degree o f middle stature. His limbs were put together with great elegance and no less strength ... His hair was of a nut brown colour, and was displayed in wanton ringlets down his back.  His nose a little inclined to the Roman. His teeth white and even. His lips full, red, and soft. His beard was only rough on his chin and upper lip ...".  The fact remains that it is a stereotyped description which tells us nothing of the character.

This type of conventional idealized portrayal can be encountered in most European literatures. It is created according to a codified pattern and suits many a personage. It is pictorial indeed, but hardly individualized and without any characteristics o f a realistic appearance, at least not in comparison to later developments. The visual ineffectiveness o f this type o f static portraiture the content o f which is but a catalogue of human parts is aptly summarized by the painter Delacroix. In speaking of the limitation o f the w riter's medium in relation to that of the painter, he stated that to write the word "hand" is not the same as to see a hand either in painted or sculpted form. To convey, however, the image o f the hand of the painter, the writer had no other choice but to resort to the description of colour, shape and form and the effect these exert. But even then his creation cannot evoke the same response as the painter's.23

The literary portraits of writers like Balzac, Dickens and Tolstoj do not only contain distinctive visual qualities but also the elements o f effect which the features o f the character produce, an interpretation and commentary which differentiate them from the stereotyped descriptions o f the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Tolstoj, one of the great masters o f the literary portrait

which contains both physical and psychological traits o f his characters revealed his own approach when he stated that "it seems to me that one should not only describe a person's appearance but also the effect it has upon us."24 The effect, however, is the result of a physiognomic analysis o f the physical appearance o f the literary figure.

The ultimate achievement of word painting is to be found in the literary portrait by Balzac. In his attempt to achieve the effect of the painter, Balzac sought the most visual and plastic words possible for the presentation o f his characters. Balzac recognized the advantage of the portrait painter who can convey the totality instantaneously while he, the writer, is forced to present his portrait in a temporally isolated succession of details. "The painter has colours for his portraits, colours which cannot be conveyed by any words. The essence o f the face, its expression — this in itself is a mystery which can only be fully apprehended by the eye."25 Thus it is the desire to create a visual image which accounts for the long description o f his portraits. The lengthy descriptions, however, are constantly interspersed with commentaries, with explanations o f why a certain expression prevails on a given face, and why the particular effect. His are physiognomic portraits, in that he reveals inner qualities via the physical parts. An example from *The Blind Clarinet Player* may illustrate Balzac's method as contrasted to that o f Fielding:

Imagine a plaster mask of Dante, lit up by the red glow of the *quinquet* lamp and crowned with a forest of silverwhite hair. The bitter, sorrowful expression of this magnificent head was intensified by blindness, for thought gave a new life to the dead eyes; it was as if a scorching light came forth from them, the product o f one single, incessant desire, itself inscribed in vigorous lines upon a prominent brow, scored with wrinkles, like the courses o f stone in an old w a ll.... There was something great and despotic in this old Homer keeping within himself an Odyssey doomed to oblivion.

 The whole was overshadowed by grizzled eyebrows which cast into shade the deep hollows beneath; one trembled lest one should see the light o f thought reappear in them, as one fears to see brigands armed with torches

and daggers come to the mouth of a cave. A lion dwelt within that cage o f flesh, a lion whose rage was exhausted in vain against the iron o f its bars. The flame of despair had sunk quenched into its ashes, the lava had grown cold; but its channels, its destructions, a little smoke, bore evidence to the violence o f the eruption and the ravages o f the fire. *These ideas revealed in the man's appearance were as burning in his soul as they were cold upon his face.* [ital. mine].

Reacting against Lessing's idea with regard to the limitation o f word painting in literature, Balzac in his attempt to rival the painter has indeed gone to the other extreme. Whether the lengthy portrait descriptions add aesthetically to his work is another question. The fact remains, however, that he had a lasting impact on the literary portrait of subsequent novelists. It has to be noted, however, that few imitated slavishly his lengthy description. What emerged in European literature was rather a portrait which oscillated between the two extremes o f Lessing's concept and that o f Balzac. In the final analysis what emerged was a portrait in moderate form. But no matter what method prevailed, the overall concern was the visual presentation; to create a concrete visual image in clear perceptual form. Here then we have again the application o f the principles o f the visual arts to the literary medium.

This principle o f specific personal portrayal of an individual with all his virtues and faults reached its zenith in the novel of the nineteenth century. By reintroducing the portrayal from a physiognomic point o f view as practised among the ancients the literary portrait changed its content in that it moved from the idealized sketch of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to a more realistic objective presentation. The great masters of the realistic period no longer adhered to an ideal but rather endeavoured to depict distinct personal physical traits with an obvious psychological concomitant. And should one not look for the acme of the literary portrait among the recognized masters o f this device: Dickens, Balzac, Flaubert, Zola, Tolstoj, and even more so for a possible definition o f the literary portrait?

Guy de Maupassant's observation on the art of literary portraiture is based on the achievements o f the great masters o f his time. His concept coincides with that o f the ancients as he demands that appearance be described and the inner man either suggested through external traits or by direct expository statement. He says o f Flaubert's teaching in the prefatory essay to *Pierre et Jean:* "Show me that grocer or that door-keeper, their pose, their entire

physical appearance together with their facial expression and moral nature in such a manner that I could not possible mistake them for another grocer or another door-keeper. " Only in this spirit — the spirit of organic unity o f inner and outer man — can the literary portrait function as a meaningful device of characterization. And there is no reason to deviate from the original concept o f the ancients. Plato has Socrates say at the end of *Phaedrus*, "Beloved Pan ... give me beauty in the inward soul", but he also adds "and may the outward and inward man be at one."26

# NOTES

1. P Ganter, *Das literarische Porträt in Frankreich im 17. Jahrhundert* (Berlin, 1939); G. Lanson, *L 'Artde la Prose* (Paris, 1909); A. Le Breton, *Le roman au 17e siècle* (Paris, 1890); A. Franz, *Das literarische Porträt in Frankreich im Zeitalter Richelieus und Mazarins* (Leipzig, 1905); V. Cousin, *La Société française au 17e siècle* (Paris, 1905).

2. With the exception o f the Russian *Literatumaja Entsiklopedija* (Moskva, 1935), X I, pp. 152-155, no dictionary of literary terms defines the literary portrait as a device of characterization. They either omit it or link it with the character-sketch — but even the Russian definition fails to mention the essential elements in the portrait.

3. B. Boyce, *The Theophrastian Character in England* (Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962); La Bruyère, *Les Caractères* (Paris, 1894); E. Ch. Baldwin, "La Bruyère's Influence upon Addison," *PMLA* XIX (1904), 479- 495.

4. E. Werner, *Das Literarische Porträt in Frankreich im 18. Jahrhundert* (Leipzig, 1935), p. 11; Compare also A. Franz, "Die literarische Porträtzeichnung in Goethes Dichtung und Wahrheit und in Rousseau's Confessions", *Deutsche Vierteljahr, f. Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte*, 6. Jahrgang (1928), IV , pp. 492-512.

5. R. Wellek and A. Warren, *Theory of Literature* (New York, 1949), pp. 125-134. L. Hautecoeur, *La littérature et peinture en France du XVII au XX siècle* (Paris, 1963); K. Pigarev, *Russkaja literatura i izobrazitel'noe iskusstvo*

(Moskva, 1966); M . Kircheisen, *Die Geschichte des literarischen Porträts in Deutschland,* vol. I (Leipzig, 1904), pp. 3-6.

6. H. James, *Partial Portraits* (Westpoint, 1970), pp. 300-306.

7. A. Maurois, *Prometheus: The Life o f Balzac* (London, 1965), pp. 103-105; Ph. Bertault, *The Human Comedy* (New York, 1963), pp. 33-130; St. J. Gendzier, "L 'Interprétation de la Figure Humaine chez Diderot et chez Balzac", *L 'Année Balzacienne* (Paris, 1962), pp. 181-193; J. H. Hunt, "Portraits in 'La Comédie Humaine' ," *The Romanic Review,* X LIX (1958), pp. 112-124; W. Dibelius, *Charles Dickens* (Leipzig, 1926), pp. 336-387.

8. V. Galanov, *Iskusstvo portreta* (Moskva, 1967), pp. 10-40; M. O. Gabel, "Izobrazhenie vneshnosti lits," in A. I. Beletskij's *Izbrannye trudy po teorii literatury* (Moskva, 1964), pp. 149-169.

9. I. Bruns, *Das literarische Porträt der Griechen, im fiinfien und vierten Jahrhundert vor Christi Geburt* (Berlin, 1896); E. C. Evans, "Roman Descriptions o f Personal Appearance in History and Biography", *Harvard Studies in Classical Philology,* X LV I, pp. 63-74; J. Fürst, *Die literarische Porträtmanier im Bereich des griechisch-römischen Schrifttums* (Leipzig, 1903); B. Bates, *Literary Portraiture in the Historical Narrative o f the French Renaissance* (New York, 1945), pp. 1-31.

10. Aristotle, *Physiognomies in Minor Works* (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1955), pp. 83-137; G. P. Dalla Porta, *De humana physiognomonia* (1591).

11.J. Graham, "Lavater's Physiognomy in England", *Journal o f the History o f Ideas,* X X II (1961), pp. 561-572; F. Baldensperger, "Les théories de Lavater dans la littérature française", *Étude d 'histoire littéraire* (Paris, 1910), pp. 51-91; H. Kindermann, *Goethes Menschengestaltung* (Berlin, 1932), pp. 274-276; N. Gudzij, "Elementy fiziognomiki v tvorchestve L 'va Tolstogo", *Problemy sravnitel'noj filologii* (Moskva, 1964), pp. 354-362; E. Heier, "Lavater's System o f Physiognomy as a Mode o f Characterization in Lermontov's Prose", *Arcadia,* V I (1971), Heft 3, pp. 267-282; J. Graham, "Character Description and Meaning in the Romantic Novel", *Studies in Romanticism,* V (1966), pp.208-218.

12. H. Balzac, *Physiologie du manage*, "Méditation", p. XV; Graham, "Character Description ...,p p . 213-216; Senancour, *Obemann* (Paris, 1931), II, Lettre 51, p. 41.

13. Heier, pp. 267-282.

14. H. Fielding, "An Essay on the Knowledge o f the Characters o f Men", *The Work o f Henry Fielding* (London, 1882), pp. 332-337; S. S. Hesgreen, *Literary Portraits in the Novels o f H. Fielding* (Northern Illinois University Press, 1972), pp. 3-44.

15. Compare L. Haselmeyer, *Chaucer and Medieval Verse Portraiture,* unp. diss. (Yale, 1937); J. Graham, *The Development o f the Use o f Physiognomy in the Novel,* unp. diss. (John Hopkins University, 1960), pp. 33-34.

16. P. Mantegazza, *Physiognomy and Expression* (London, 1890), pp. 1-3.

17. A. Yoder, *Animal Analogy in Shakespeare's Character Portrayal* (New York, 1947), pp. 27-29.

18. Ganter, pp. 23-43; Cousine, p. 366ff; Le Breton, p. 182; G. Lanson, *VArt de la Prose* (Paris, 1908), pp. 113-133.

19. Compare also Irving Babbitt's 7*be New Laokoon: An Essay on the Confusion o f the Arts* (New York, 1910).

20. R. Gottschall, *Poetik* (Breslau, 1858), pp. 36-48; Wellek, pp. 125-126.

21. Compare also W. M. Myers' *The Later Realism: A Study of Characterization in the British Novel* (Chicago, 1927), pp. 94-121.

22. A. Langen, *Anschauungsformen in der deutschen Dichtung des 18. Jahrhunderts* (Darmstadt, 1965), p. 11.

23. N. Dmitrieva, *Izobrazhenie i slovo* (Moskva, 1962), p. 49.

24. Dmitrieva, pp. 39-40.

25. O. Bal'zak, *Sobranie sochinenij* (Moskva, 1952), p. 218.

26. Since the publication of this paper in the *Neophilologus,* 60 (1976), additional information on the subject has been published in my book *Literary Portraiture in Nineteenth-Century Russian Prose.* Bausteine zur Slavischen Philologie und Kulturgeschichte. Editor K. Gutschmidt, H.-B. Harder, H. Rothe. Böhlau Verlag (Köln, Weimar, Wien, 1993).

### **П. Physiognomy in Lermontov's Prose**

It is generally asserted that Lermontov's literary portrait evolved from that o f Pushkin: "he developed and perfected Pushkin's devices, his realistic method in the delineation o f his own characters."1 While it is true that Lermontov could not have avoided Pushkin's influence, it is equally true that the fu ll portrait executed by Lermontov, in which he systematically reveals character traits through physical features is in direct opposition to Pushkin's practice. Not a single physical feature of Lermontov's literary figures remains without interpretation. In doing so, Lermontov was able to create both a concrete visual image and a character sketch o f his heroes. Pushkin neither desired a physical account of his literary figures, nor did he employ physiognomy as a device to reveal their psychological disposition. Thus, Lermontov's psycho-physiological portraits must have had an origin other than Pushkin.2

When reviewing Lermontov's prose works, *Vadim* (1834), *Princess Ligovskaja* (1837) and *A Hero of Our Time* (1840)3 we are faced repeatedly with different methods o f delineating character. In depicting the personality o f his heroes he uses characterization by action, contrast, dialogue, opinion o f others, thoughts, exposition, self-confession, and direct observation by the author and narrator. The employment of a variety of modes of characterization was, no doubt, an experiment for Lermontov, just as he had to experiment with the entire structure of the novel. Russian literature at the time could not yet provide the novelistic form or the manner of characterization which would have enabled the author to lay bare the innermost psychological and moral nature of his characters.4

O f all the methods o f characterization utilized by Lermontov, one o f the most intriguing is that based on a system of physiognomy. It involves an initial detailed description o f the physical side of the hero, followed by a judgement and interpretation of the facial and bodily appearance from which the character traits, the moral and psychological make-up, are deduced. The careful reader w ill have taken notice of the author's extraordinary powers of observation and the detailed description of the countenance o f his main characters. This in itself does not yet arouse the reader's curiosity. But what follows the outward description — namely, a display o f the art o f judging character on the part o f the author and of his penetrating insight into human

nature, long before the character has been given a chance to reveal himself through his actions and behaviour in the course o f the novel — is, indeed, a device which was unique in Russian literature at the time. The use o f physiognomy in Lermontov's literary portrait was so assiduously cultivated that the portrait assumed a function far beyond anything hitherto encountered in Russian fiction. Indeed, Lermontov elevated it to a regular mode o f characterization, similar to that encountered in the works o f Balzac.

In Lermontov's prose we may trace a definite progression o f characterization which culminates in the sophisticated practice o f predictive physiognomy. Character traits are judged not only by facial expressions, but by hands, the manner o f walking, and even the hair. Lermontov had recourse to the physiognomic method of characterization in his first prose work, the historical novel *Vadim* (1834). It has been demonstrated by several Lermontov critics that the main character o f the novel had a long line o f literary ancestors; among them are Byron's Arnold in *The Deformed Transformed* (1824), Quasimodo in Victor Hugo's *Notre-Dame de Paris* (1831), and Elshie in Walter Scott's *The Black Dwarf(* 1818).5 While it is difficult to ascertain to what degree Lermontov was imitative in creating his own deformed hero Vadim, it is apparent that Vadim's literary ancestors were all endowed with a grotesque physical deformity which had a striking correlation with their demonic, frequently unrestrained evil and vengeful behaviour.

Lermontov introduces his hunchback Vadim as early as the third paragraph o f the novel.  From this general account which emphasizes the interpretive physiognomic approach, Lermontov proceeds with a delineation o f his hero:

Among the group of beggars was one who was hunchbacked and bowlegged, but his limbs seemed to have been strong and accustomed to bearing the burden o f his miserable condition; his face was long and dark-complexioned, he had a straight nose and curly hair; his wide forehead was yellow like the forehead o f a learned person; it was gloomy like the cloud covering the sun on a stormy day; a blue vein crossed its irregular wrinkles; his thin pale lips were being stretched and condensed through a kind of convulsive movement and in his eyes there glittered an entire

future; his companions did not know who he was; but the power o f the soul is reflected everywhere; they were afraid o f his voice and glare ... he was ugly and repulsive, but o f this they were not afraid; in his eyes there was so much fire and wisdom, so many demonic qualities that they were afraid to believe in them. ... On his face he displayed a constant bitter sneer;

... the beggar stood with folded arms and observed the image of the devil on the gates of the monastery; he thought, if I were the devil I would not torture the people — I would despise them; is mankind worthy of being tempted by the one who was exiled from paradise, the rival o f God! ... his eyes glittered under the restless brows, and his cheeks began to be covered with red spots. In his face everything was in accord: one passion dominated his heart, or better, he was the master of only one passion. ...6

In depicting Vadim, Lermontov unquestionably subscribes to a system of physiognomy, i.e., he not only describes in detail his hero's facial expression and body, but also discloses from the very start the disposition o f his mind. True, it is not a systematic interpretation, but it is rather sporadic. Although Lermontov does not yet reveal the nature of this single passion which dominates his hero, the reader can strongly surmise that it is not a pleasant one.

The primary aim o f Lermontov's hero is to revenge himself upon the landlord Palitsyn, who was the cause of his fam ily's impoverishment and his father's death. This passion to avenge his family by killing Palitsyn dominates Vadim's mind, and causes him to scheme and obtain a position in Palitsyn's household. Whether Vadim's cause for avenging his family is justified or not is another matter — he emerges at the end as the arch villain, and thus lives up to the reader's expectation. Admittedly, Lermontov makes him in actuality a greater agent of evil than expected, i.e., than indicated through his physical account at the beginning. Later he also has him display incestuous interests toward his sister. Vadim allies himself with the peasant revolt only to accomplish his vengeance, while, in his soul, he despises the people around him. Persecuted by destiny and insulted by men, he breaks the barrier of human norms; he kills and encourages killing. To paraphrase Kotljarevskij's words — his ugly appearance corresponds to his ugly feelings and

behaviour.7 While delineating Vadim's physical appearance, Lermontov makes an interesting statement which seems to confirm further that he w ilfu lly aimed at presenting his hero in such a manner that there is a correlation between his emotion and his countenance. More important that this is the conclusion that the author firm ly believed in a correlation o f the inner with the outer, i.e., that the outer make-up is the extension o f the inner self, for Lermontov says: "The power o f the soul is reflected everywhere."  This is also the basis o f Lavater's system, namely that the soul, the symbol o f one's moral and psychological condition, is reflected in one's physical appearance.

While there is no doubt that Lermontov employed here a device o f characterization based on physiognomy, an interesting question arises as to the source o f this method. To begin with, we ought to consider Lermontov the writer, painter, and minute observer, and, in turn, his power o f presentation whether with the brush or the written word. Painting and drawing are intrinsically linked with his literary creativity. He left us eleven oil paintings, fifty-one water-colours, and some three hundred drawings, among which are many portrait sketches. His numerous drawings o f human heads may be looked upon as physiognomic sketches; they reflect definite character traits. To have a portrait m irror a definite personality, especially the one desired by the artist, is indeed a mark o f excellence. This manner o f drawing we find also in his literary works, i.e., he was not content with a mere physical description o f his characters, but also endowed them with a mark o f life and feeling by interpreting their appearance. In this respect one may notice in Lermontov's creative process a definite parallel progression between his painting, drawing and writing. It was the same spirit which created both his literary "drawings" and those found on the canvas. Indeed, certain sketches, drawings and paintings served at times as models for his literary works. Most striking are the drawings on the margins or between the lines of a manuscript, a testimony to simultaneous creation.8 Lermontov was at once painter and writer; he knew how to see and not merely glance at things. Equipped with this talent and a deep psychological insight into human character, Lermontov could have independently derived his system o f presenting literary characters in the physiognomic manner. However, there were other possible external influences.

Apart from Lermontov's own inclination toward physiognomy, it was the fashion o f his era, especially among the upper classes o f European society. The source o f this fascination dates back to the second half of the eighteenth

century, when the interest in physiognomy was actually at its lowest ebb. It was then, in the 1770's, that the Swiss poet, mystic, theologian and physiognomist Lavater set forth his system o f physiognomy, first in a two volume edition *J. C. Lavater von der Physiognomik* (1772), and later in a four volume work entitled *Physiognomische Fragmente zur Beförderung der Menschenkenntnis und Menschenliebe* (1775-1778). Lavater devoted considerable space to the defense o f physiognomy. He postulated a series of premises stating: (a) that all things have an inner and an outer side, a surface and a content; (b) that there is a constant interrelation between the physical and the spiritual side in us; (c) that each segment o f our physical make-up, even the individual hair, is an intrinsic link in an organic whole. Consequently, one should be able to discriminate character even by the mere observance o f a single physical feature. In spite o f all opposition, Lavater's physiognomy became the topic o f the day. His work was reprinted, pirated, imitated and edited in abbreviated form, so that by 1810 there existed some sixteen German, fifteen French and twenty English editions. In Russia itself the ideas o f Lavater were not only transplanted by these foreign publications, but also by three Russian editions 1781, 1809 and 1817, albeit in fragmentary and distorted form which hardly resembled the original Lavater.9

Like Pushkin, Lermontov was educated in a society in which physiognomy had become the fashion o f the time. Lermontov's interests in physiognomy were further intensified within the military circles and especially through his association with Dr. N. V. Majer in Pjatigorsk. Lermontov's biographer P. A. Viskovatyj maintains that not all officers in the m ilitary unit of Vel'jaminov whiled away the time in drinking-bouts and card games. There were also those who were intellectually active, and it was no rarity to find an officer with a book by Lavater or Gall. Apparently, a Russian translation *Lafater damskij...* (Moscow, 1982) from French entitled *Le Lavater des dames ou l 'art de connaître les femmes sur leur physiognomie* (5th edition; Paris, 1827) was very popular among the officers.10

Moreover, by the time Lermontov appeared on the literary scene, he was exposed to a type o f literature, mainly French novels, which manifested the physiognomic mode in two ways. In the first instance, the author visibly practised physiognomy, whereby the physical description is interspersed with the author's interpretation o f the meaning o f certain expressions; he diagnoses character traits by outward appearance. This type of depiction is primarily to be encountered by novelists like Balzac. In the second instance, the author introduces his main characters via a detailed physical description. The physical description remains without interpretation, i.e., he does not yet

disclose the disposition o f his hero on the basis o f the lineament o f the body and facial expression. However, the reader feels that the writer created within the framework o f the concept o f organic unity, i.e., that there is a correlation between the inner and the outer. As an example o f this mode one may cite Victor Hugo's *Notre-Dame de Paris* (1831), in which the author is not much concerned with an account o f his characters' emotions. His main characters, though vivid and striking, are drawn primarily from the outside. There is, on the whole, no attempt at a psychological explanation, explicit or implied, o f their behaviour or thought." Yet, there are indications that Victor Hugo was conscious o f physiognomy in the process o f creating his characters. Only rarely do we find some interpretation o f physical appearance. Even in describing in great detail, though in exaggerated proportions, that "ideal ugliness," the grotesque figure o f Quasimodo, the author tells us only that the overall impression of his hero yields "de ce mélange de malice, d'étonnement et de tristesse ... et, avec toute cette difform ité, je ne sais quelle allure redoutable de vigueur, d'agilité et de courage; étrange exception à la règle étemelle qui veut que la force, comme la beauté, résulte de l 'harmonie." This physiognomie judgement is followed by comments o f minor figures, when the bell-ringer's grimace beams through the broken rose-window, such as: "Oh! le villain singe," or "Aussie méchant que laid."

But apart from this conjectural evidence, and the fact that Lermontov was the first Russian writer who seriously adopted the physiognomic mode o f characterization, we possess more specific evidence as to his knowledge o f Lavater. He not only makes direct references in his literary works to Lavater and Gall, but confirms his interest in these men in a letter to a friend in 1841, saying: I am buying Lavater and Gall and many other books for our mutual use.12 True, this was said after the novels had been written, but he also mentions Lavater in 1837 in the physiognomic description o f the main character in *Princess Ligovskaja,* and in his drama *The Strange Man* (1831) when the character o f the hero, Arbenin, is being discussed.13

While it is difficult to ascertain to what extent Lermontov became acquainted with Lavater's ideas by reading him directly, it is fairly certain that the impulse to use physiognomy as a literary device was derived from the French novels which dominated the Russian literary scene during the 1830s. On the basis o f similarities and parallels in certain passages, characters, settings, narrative motives and even stylistic devices, critics have attempted to link Lermontov's prose to Sénancour's *Obermann* (1803), Chateaubriand's *René* (1805), Constant's *Adolphe* (1816), Vigny's *Servitude et grandeur militaires* (1835), Musset's *La Confession d 'un enfant du siècle* (1835) and

Hugo's *Notre-Dame de Paris.1\** Although Lermontov is indebted to these writers in various ways, not to mention his English and Russian models, it is unlikely that he acquired from them this particular manner o f characterization. Admittedly, these writers employed physiognomy, and Sénancour in his *Obermann* even defends Lavater's system as the only true science for recognizing character,15 but the model for physiognomic characterization could have been provided mainly by Balzac and his pupil Charles de Bernard.

A t the time when Lermontov began his prose-writing, Balzac and the analytical novel were at the centre o f his creation. Balzac figures in the pages o f Lermontov's prose; there are indirect references to *La Femme de trente ans* (1831-34), *Le Contrat de mariage* (1835) and various thematic and textual similarities to *Les Chouans* (1829) and *La Peau de chagrin* (1831).16 It is hardly necessary to cite any specific work in order to demonstrate Balzac's physiognomic method o f characterization, for he applied it systematically to all o f his characters. Thus the reading o f only one single work would have sufficed for Lermontov to become familiar with Balzac's method. Balzac not only used physiognomy but repeatedly defended the system in his works. In *Physiologie du mariage* (1829), for example, he says that one must have made a:

deep study o f Lavater's book and have trained his eyes and his mind to judge and grasp, with surprising rapidity, the slightest physical indications by which a man discloses his thoughts. ... Lavater's physiognomy has created a genuine science. ... since then the famous Dr. Gall has completed the scientific system. ... all those who are the disciples o f these two celebrated men have often had the opportunity to note a great many evident signs by which human thought may be recognized.17

Charles de Bernard was no less adamant in employing physiognomy. He even has Lavater appear in one of his plays, in which the master o f physiognomy triumphantly displays his art of character reading. But it was his novel *Gerfaut* (1838) which seemingly left its deepest traces on Lermontov's ״.work

In Lermontov's second novel, *Princess Ligovskaja*, the use o f Lavater's physiognomy in the Balzacian manner is too vivid to deny.  Lermontov even begins his novel in the fashion o f Balzac: "A t four o'clock on the afternoon o f December 21, 1833, a throng o f people was moving as usual along Vosnesenskaja Street in St. Petersburg. Among them was a young government clerk. " Having singled out the clerk Krasinskij, the author, in accordance with physiognomic characterization, describes his appearance; but soon we are told that the picture has to remain incomplete, for "his features were d ifficu lt to make out — the reason for this being the b ill o f his cap, the collar o f his coat, and the semi-darkness." Only much later does the reader learn from the narrator that he is a young man, tall, blond, and astonishingly good-looking. His large, languid eyes, straight nose, oval Greek face, and his beautiful, naturally curly hair are enough to attract the attention of anyone: "Only his lips, which were too thin and pale in contrast to the colour in his cheeks, might have been found wanting." But face to face with his enemy, Pechorin, the clerk's hands and voice tremble with rage: "The veins in his temples were swollen, and his lips had lost their colour. ...  The facial expression of the clerk is self-evident, and thus remains without interpretation. Lermontov employs pathognomy whenever he wishes to convey a certain momentary state in the character. In attempting to portray the feelings o f his character (anxiety, excitement, impatience, longing and fear, anger), he resorts to an account o f gestures, movements, mimicry, tone of voice, change o f facial colour, or any other visible features that are self-explanatory.19

Throughout the novel there is great concern with the art of reading thought or character, for we find repeated references to this skill. These are made by the narrator himself and by Pechorin, who seems to be versed in physiognomy. In such cases, the essential element for physiognomic characterization is the face. Only the main characters whom the author intends to endow with a distinctive description of their countenance, and then only o f those features like the eyes, the nose, and the mouth which most clearly reflect character traits. Thus in describing Vera Ligovskaja (at certain moments), Lermontov employs such statements as "mute suffering was expressed in her mobile features," or "one could tell from the expression on her face that her moment o f agony had come. " But there were also moments when her facial expression could not be interpreted: "Vera gave him [Pechorin] a meaningless smile — the kind o f smile one sees on the face o f a ballerina who has just completed a pirouette. ... It is strange, he [Pechorin]

thought. ... There was a time when I could read all o f her thoughts on her face, just as clearly as my own handwriting." On another occasion we read, "George Pechorin watched her closely, trying in vain to surmise her innermost thoughts."

 She was not a beautiful woman, although her features were regular. ... The constant m obility o f her physiognomy, apparently incompatible with her rather sharply defined contours, was such that she did not at all times appear attractive to everyone. And yet a person accustomed to following these rapid changes o f expression could have discerned in them an unusually spirited temperament and a constant nervous excitability, promising much pleasure to a perceptive lover. Her figure was supple, her movements unhurried and graceful. Seeing her for the first time you would have said, if you were an experienced observer, that she was a woman o f firm , and resolute character, rather cold, who had the strength o f her own conviction. ... But if you would have seen her in a moment o f passion or excitement you would have said something different. Or perhaps, you would not have known at all what to say.21

The constant references to facial expression and the ensuing interpretation reveal a conscious effort by Lermontov to read character traits via the physical expression. Indeed, the face is the major source o f characterization in the novel, for whenever the author is unable to observe the face he is at a loss. The picture o f the clerk is incomplete due to the inability to see his countenance clearly. When Pechorin sits down in his armchair and covers his face with his hands, the author comments: "It is precisely for this that I cannot tell you anything at all about his thought, although I am very good at reading in people's faces what is happening in their souls."22

Lermontov's use of physiognomy as a mode o f characterization is most vividly demonstrated in the portrayal o f his main hero. Again the author has

to see him fully. Thus the description starts with:

Now, that he has taken o f his overcoat... and gone into his study, we are free to follow him and describe his appearance, which unfortunately was not at all attractive. He was short, broad in the shoulders, and in general rather ungainly. He seemed to have a powerful constitution, incapable of sensitivity or irritation. His gait was rather cautious for a cavalryman. His gestures were abrupt, although they sometimes displayed that indolence and indifference which are now modish and in the spirit of the times. ... But the man's real nature frequently broke through this cold exterior. It was evident that he did not follow the general fashion, but kept his thoughts and feelings tightly closed within himself, either from mistrustfulness or from pride. His voice was sometimes deep, sometimes sharp, depending upon the influence of the moment. When he wanted to say something pleasant, he would begin to stammer, and then break o ff abruptly with an acid witticism in order to hide his own embarrassment. ... His face was swarthy, with irregular features, but very expressive.

Having described Pechorin, Lermontov makes direct reference to Lavater and thereby confirms his knowledge of Lavater's theory o f physiognomy: "It would have been very interesting to Lavater and his followers, who would have found in it deep traces o f the past and marvellous promise for the future.  Pechorin's character is thus drawn in harmony with his living room and study. The detailed description, which is in itself revealing, is interspersed with interpretive comments like "the gleaming oak doors with their fashionable knobs, and the oak window frames, showed that the owner was a respectable and orderly person;" or "the sharp contrast o f colours in the room indicated a certain love for the unusual and originality." Pechorin's belongings in the room thus reveal further features o f his rather complex personality.24 As such they become part o f Pechorin's character, confirming and adding to what the reader already knows from the physiognomic portrait. Like Balzac, and before him Lavater, Lermontov seems to have embraced the concept o f constant interaction between the physical and the spiritual, between

the outer and the inner.

 In its structure, i.e., five independent narratives joined by a single dominant character, the novel is reminiscent of Balzac's *La Femme de trente ans* among others.25 A ll events in the novel, all characters, and all devices of characterization are skilfully manipulated in pursuing the ultimate aim, to present a detailed character analysis o f his hero, Pechorin, or, to use Lermontov's own words, to draw "a portrait composed o f all the vices of our generation in the fullness of their development."26 Thus, as the ordeals o f the principle character unfold, we meet a strong talented young man, yet one who is full o f disharmony, misunderstood and doomed to lead an aimless existence and who, by his own admission, brings only tragedy to others.

Although we learn much of Pechorin's "strange character" in the first narrative *Bela*, none o f it is based on the interpretation o f his physical appearance. The reason for this is that the professional soldier, the army captain Maksim Maksimych, is telling the exterior narrator the story while travelling through the Caucasus. It would have been unrealistic to endow the simple army captain with the art o f character reading from the delineations of the body.27 Maksim Maksimych expresses only amazement at the strange behaviour o f this young aristocrat. He only hints at the dichotomy in Pechorin's character, but cannot explain it when he says: "He might spend, for instance, the whole day hunting in the rain, in the cold; everybody would get chilled through and exhausted but not he; and some other time he'd be sitting in his room and just a gust o f wind would come, and there he would be, insisting that he had caught a cold; or if the shutter banged, he'd start and grow pale; yet I had seen him take on a wild boar all by himself. ... Yes, sir, there were many odd things about him. ..."2\*

Having aroused the reader's interest in Pechorin, the narrator draws a detailed physiognomic portrait o f the hero in the second narrative, *Maksim Maksimych.* But this is possible only after the narrator accidentally meets Pechorin who is travelling on the same road. In fact, the second tale seems to have as its major function the task o f bringing the narrator face to face with Pechorin in order to observe him.29 Pechorin's portrait reveals a complex character which is not easily deciphered. The inconsistencies and oddities hinted at by Maksim Maksimych find their reflection in his physical appearance.  His half-opened jacket permits one to see his clean linen which testifies to the habits o f a gentleman. The narrator points out his small, aristocratic hands, but he is surprised when Pechorin takes o ff his glove to notice how thin his pale fingers are. "His gait was loose and indolent, but I observed," the narrator continues, "that he did not swing his arms — a sure sign of a certain reticence in his character." Aware that these interpretations may be questioned, he addresses the reader: "However, these are my private notes based on my own observations, and by no means do I expect you to believe in them blindly."  The allusion here is to Balzac's *La Femme de trente ans.*

From general observations the narrator passes on to a more detailed description o f Pechorin's countenance:

There was something childish about his smile.

The inconsistencies we notice in Pechorin's description, i.e., the sturdy constitution and then the nervous debility and feminine features, seem to reflect on Lermontov's ability to draw a portrait with definite character traits. But it is precisely the disharmony, the unusual — elegance and brutality, delicacy and ruthlessness — o f Pechorin's character which the reader discovers in his facial expression. This account, then, is in keeping with Lermontov's intention — to reveal the inner dichotomy in the appearance o f his hero. Even more revealing are Pechorin's eyes. As always the eyes receive special attention, for they reflect the feelings of the soul and Pechorin's disharmonious personality:30

In the first place, they never laughed when he was laughing! — Have you observed this bizarre trait in some people? This is either a sign o f a wicked nature or o f a deep and constant melancholy. From behind half-lowered lashes, they shone with a kind o f phosphorescent glitter, if I can put it thus. It was not the reflection o f the soul's glow or o f an effervescent imagination; this was a gleam akin to the gleam o f smooth steel, dazzling but cold; his glance, while not lingering, was penetrating and oppressive, it left the disagreeable impression o f an indiscreet question and might have appeared insolent had it not been indifferently serene. ... I shall say, in conclusion, that on the whole, he was rather handsome and had one o f those original physiognomies which especially appeal to high society women.31

With this depiction o f Pechorin's personality, the travelling author and physiognomist has completed his task. The remainder o f the novel constitutes Pechorin's own journal which merely further confirms and accents, by means o f self-confession, what had already been made known o f his character traits. Now it is Pechorin, as the author of the journal, who displays skill in delineating character on the basis of the physical aspect. Indeed, not a single character escapes his judgement. Here are only a few examples. In *Taman*', the third story of the novel, Pechorin relates how on his travels he was forced to seek lodging in a miserable hut, the inhabitants o f which were engaged in smuggling. Upon entering he met a boy:

I lit a sulphur match and brought it close to the lad's very nose; it illuminated two white eyes. He was blind, totally blind from birth. ... I began to examine his features. I confess, I have a strong prejudice against those who are blind, one-eyed, deaf-mute, legless, armless, hunchbacked, and so forth. I have observed that there always exists some strange relationship between the appearance of a man and his soul, as if with the loss o f a limb, the soul lost one o f its senses. And so I began to examine the blind lad's face, but what can one read in a face that lacks eyes.32

While this passage is self-explanatory, it is interesting to note that the narrator expresses here Lermontov's conviction and seems to advance the hypothesis o f organic unity which is the basis o f Lavater's and Balzac's physiognomy. Pechorin's prejudice against those who have lost a limb echoes the

physiognomic theory "that nothing can be added or removed from an organic unity without causing deformity and disharmony."33

Another lengthy physiognomic description is devoted to the buoyant and mermaid-like young maiden in *Taman* '. But more intriguing in this connection is the narrator's reference to "Young France," a French literary school of young writers o f the 1830's: "Really, I had never seen such a woman! She was far from beautiful, but I have my preconceptions in regard to beauty, too. She revealed a good deal o f breeding ... and breeding in women, as in horses, is a great thing; this discovery was made by Young France. It [i.e., breeding] ... is most visible in the gait, in the hands and feet; the nose is especially significant.и34

In the subsequent story, *Princess Mary,* Pechorin not only figures as the physiognomist, but uses his skill in character reading to manipulate others. Only Dr. Werner, who "has studied all the live strings o f the human heart," emerges as an equal to Pechorin.    " In spite o f these physical contradictions, there is a correlation with his psychological portrayal. He is a materialist and poet, who possesses enormous knowledge but cannot use it to his advantage; he has a sharp tongue and pokes fun at his patients, yet he can cry at the bedside o f a dying soldier. In describing Werner, Pechorin admits that appearance may be deceitful, for he says o f him: "His appearance was o f the kind that, at first glance, impresses one unfavourably but attracts one later, when the eye has learned to decipher in irregular features the imprint o f a dependable and lofty soul.35

In adhering to the cult o f physiognomy, the physiognomist invariably also accepts a measure o f determinism or fatalism. As such, Pechorin, the physiognomist, is able to go beyond ordinary character reading and enters the realm o f predicting the destiny o f others. In the *Fatalist,* Pechorin relates an episode in which the problem o f determinism is discussed. He seems to notice the im print o f an early death in the facial expression o f a young officer. Here is how Pechorin saw him: "Lieutenant Vulich's appearance corresponded perfectly to his character.  Having depicted his personality by description, Pechorin comments: "I looked fixedly in his eyes; but he met my glare with a calm and steady gaze while his pale lips smiled. But despite his coldbloodedness, I seemed to decipher the sign o f death on his pale face; I

had observed, and many a seasoned soldier had confirmed my observation, that often the face o f a man who is to die within a few hours bears the strange im print o f his inescapable fate, so that experienced eyes can hardly mistake ״.36it

Although Pechorin's observations proved to be correct, since on the same day Vulich is killed by a drunken cossack, the entire problem o f predetermination remains unsolved.37 It is interesting to note, however, that the problem o f fatalism emanated primarily from France at the beginning o f the nineteenth century and that Pechorin's ideas on predetermination are reminiscent o f those o f Balzac, when the latter says: "la fatalité met sa marque au visage de ceux qui doivent mourir d'une mort violente quelqonque."3\* It would be presumptuous to speak here o f Balzac's direct influence, for the idea o f fatalism was a widely discussed topic o f the time. But fatalism in our context is intimately connected with the physiognomic concept o f Pechorin, and it is no accident that Lermontov had his hero, after a physiognomic diagnosis of the young officer, recognize the imprints of death on his face.

The use o f physiognomy as a mode of characterization enabled Lermontov to create more life-like characters. His keen sense o f observation and, in turn, the detailed description resulted in regular portraits with distinct individual character traits. In this manner Lermontov introduced greater verisimilitude and bridged the transition from Romanticism to Realism.39 Moreover, the physiognomic device o f characterization enabled him to reveal stock character traits within a minimum narrative time, especially since he selected the shorter novelistic form. As a consequence, Lermontov's literary portraits either disclose further who the literary characters are or confirm what the reader is led to expect o f them.40

Whether Lermontov's use o f physiognomy and the ensuing detailed description, which resulted in full portraits, is aesthetically less pleasing than Pushkin's laconic portrayal is a matter o f individual taste. Although Lermontov was definitely admired by the novelists o f the next generation, there exists no evidence that he had a specific influence on their use o f the physiognomic mode o f characterization. By the end o f the 1840's, this practice o f character portrayal was widely spread and had become a standard device for the depiction o f their protagonists in verbal portraits as we find them in the works o f Turgenev, Dostoevskij, Goncharov and Tolstoj. It was ultimately Balzac who became the greatest disseminator o f Lavater's ideas and in so doing provided the European novelists with a distinct method of portrayal.41

# NOTES

1. N. N ikitin, "Portret u Lermontova," *Literatura* v *shkole,* 7-8 (1941), 40.

2. Compare В. V. Nejman, "Portret v tvorchestve Lermontova," *Uchenye zapiski MGU* (Moscow, 1948), II, 73-90; R. I. A l'betkova, "Izobrazhenie kharaktera v proizvedenijakh Lermontova," *Moskovskij obi. ped. inst. im. N. K. Krupskoj,* LXXXV (1960), 13-42; "Portret," *Lermontovskaja entsiklopedija,* ed. V. A. Manuilov (Moscow, 1981), 427-28.

3. M . Ju. Lermontov, *Sobranie sochinenij* in 4 vols. (Moscow: ANSSSR, 1962), IV , 7-474.

4. J. Mersereau, *Mikhail Lermontov* (Southern Illinois University Press, 1962), 76-80.

5. B. Tomashevskij, "Proza Lermontova i zapadno-evropejskaja literatumaja traditsija," *Literatumoe nasledstvo 43-44* (Moscow, 1941), 468-84; S. I. Rodzevich, *Lermontov как romānist* (Kiev, 1914), 1-37; Mersereau, 39-46.

6. Lermontov, IV , 8-9.

7. N. Kotljarevskij, *Mikhail Lermontov* (St. Petersburg, 1909), 108; E. M. Mikhailova, *Proza Lermontova* (Moscow, 1957), 91-128.

8. N. Pakhomova, "Zhivopisnoe nasledstvo Lermontova," *Literatumoe nasledstvo 45-46* (Moscow, 1948), 55-222.

9. For references as to the physiognomic awareness in Russia see footnote 41.

10. M . Gershenzon, "Doktor Verner," *Obrazy proshlogo* (Moscow, 1950), 310-20; V. A. Manujlov, *Roman M. Ju. Lermontova ,Geroj nashego vremeni.* ' *Kommentarii* (Moscow, 1966), 185-87; М. M. Umanskaja, "Iz istorii literatumykh otnoshenij Lermontova i Martinova," *Stranitsy istorii russkoj literatury* (Moscow, 1971), 408.

11. V. Hugo, *Notre-Dame de Paris* (New York, 1971), see the criticism and interpretation o f the novel, 9-20.

12. See the letter to A. I. Bibikov in Lermontov, IV , 626; and in the references to Bibikov and Lavater in *Lermontovskaja erusiklopedija* (Moscow, 1981), 59, 240.

13. It is interesting to note that in the drama *Maskarad* (1835) Lermontov has his two main characters, Arbenin and Kazarin, emerge as physiognomists. Whenever a stranger appeared in the hall the two would combine their physiognomic knowledge and compose his portrait. In this manner a gallery o f lesser characters is introduced, all of whom confirm subsequently through their action the earlier analysis by Arbenin and Kazarin. See V. V. Osnovin, "O nekotorykh osobennostjakh psikhologicheskogo analiza v dramakh L. N. Tolstogo i M. Ju. Lermontova," *Arzamasskij gos. ped. inst. int. A. P. Gaidara. Uchenye zapiski,* 77 (Gor'kij, 1967), 10-15. *Dramaticheskoe iskusstvo Uva Tolstogo* (Jaroslavl' , 1972), 140-41.

14. Rodzevich, 37-97; Tomashevskij, 496-516; J. Mersereau, "Lermontov and Balzac," *American Contribution to the Fifth International Congress o f Slāvists* (The Hague, 1963), 234-56.

15. E. P. de Sénancour, *Obermann* (Paris, 1931), II. Lettre 51, 41.

16. Lermontov, IV , 646, 654; Tomashevskij, 471-80; A. V. Fedorov, *Lermontov i literatura ego vremeni* (Leningrad, 1967), 336-56.

17. H. Balzac, *Physiologie du mariage,* "Méditation," XV.

18. Tomashevskij, 507-09, 516 — note 24; V. Vinogradov, "S til' prozy Lermontova," *Literatumoe nasledstvo 43-44* (Moscow, 1941), 522-23; F. Baldensperger, "Les Théories de Lavater dans la litt, franç.," *Et. d 'hist. litt.* (Paris, 1910), 51-91.

19. Compare Vinogradov, 554-61; Mikhailova, 1957.

20. Mikhailova, 180-81.

24. Compare Mersereau, 56-57.

25. J. Lavrin, *Lermontov* (London, 1959), 81; Tomashevskij, 508.

26. Lermontov, IV , 276,

27. Compare Tomashevskij, 509.

28. See N. Nabokov's translation o f M. Lermontov, *A Hero o f Our Time* (New York, 1958), 10-11; Lermontov, IV , 284-85.

29. Mikhailova, 272.

30. Compare N. Kotljarevskij, 204-05; Vinogradov, 586-87; Mikhailova, 272- 73; S. V. Ivanov, *M. Ju. Lermontov, Zhizn' i tvorchestvo* (Moscow, 1964), 306-307. Although Ch. de Bernard's *Gerfaut* (1838) reveals certain passages which are identical to some in *A Hero o f our Time* and Pechorin's physiognomic description is reminiscent o f Gerfaut, the character, it is highly unlikely that Lermontov's mode o f physiognomic characterization dates back to *Gerfaut.* We have seen that Lermontov was aware o f and used this method as early as 1834 in *Vadim.* For details see Tomashevskij, note 24, 516.

31. Lermontov, *A Hero o f Our Time,* 56-57; Lermontov, IV , 331-33; Mersereau, 97-98.

39. Lermontov remained consistent in his manner o f depiction as one encounters several portraits in the unfinished prose work *Shtoss* (1841), Lermontov, IV , 480, 482-83, 485-86, 490.

40.

41. Since the publication o f this article in *Arcadia* (1971) the following works related to the present subject have appeared in print: Helen Goscillo, "Lermontov's Debt to Lavater and Gall," *Slavic and East European Review,* 59, No. 4 (1981), 500-515; E. Heier, *Studies on Johann Caspar Lavater (1741-1801) in Russia.* Slavica Helvetica (Bern, 1991); "The Literary Portrait as a Device o f Characterization," *Neophilologus,* 60 (1976), 321-331 ; *Literary Portraiture in Nineteenth-Century Russian Prose.* Bausteine Zur Slavischen Philologie und Kulturgeschichte. Edited by K. Gutschmidt, H .־B. Harder, H. Rothe (Köln, Weimar, Wien, 1993).

#### Ш . The Second *Hero o f Our Time*

The unanimity with which we recognize the artistic accomplishments in Lermontov's novel *A Hero of Our Time* was not always shared by the readers and critics — least o f all at the time it made its appearance (1840) on the Russian literary scene.1 A great controversy developed over the literary merits o f the novel, and even more so over the interpretation of its hero, Pechorin. Although the object of the discussion was a literary work and thus presupposed an argument of literary-aesthetic nature, in reality it developed into a dispute between two camps diametrically opposed to each other in their social, religious and political concepts.2 However, in their analysis o f Lermontov's *A Hero o f Our Time* both the liberal Westerners and the conservative Slavophiles employed the same socio-moral approach to literature. They demanded from literature a didactic function, neglecting thereby to evaluate the work of art on its own literary merits.

Belinskij reviewed the novel enthusiastically as a realistic presentation of contemporary society.3 Although he admits that Lermontov was not yet fully capable o f detaching himself from the central hero o f the novel and of depicting him objectively, he nonetheless considers Pechorin a true image of the disenchanted generation o f his age.4 In a letter to Botkin (1840), Belinskij once more passes judgment on Pechorin when he says of him: "Ego kharakter — ili reshitel'noe bezdejstvie, ili pustaja dejatei'nost' ." As to Lermontov he adds, "Lermontov velikij poet: on ob"ektiroval sovremennoe obshchestvo i ego predstavitelej."5

Lermontov's novel and Belinskij's favourable reviews were met with strong opposition by the critics of the conservative faction, S. P. Shevyrev, F. V. Bulgarin, N. I. Grech, S. I. Scnkovskij, and particularly S. A. Burachek. Little known today in the history o f literary criticism, in the 1840's these critics dominated the literary-critical journals and thus shared in the moulding o f nineteenth-century Russian intellectual thought. Unlike Belinskij, they denounced Lermontov's novel and viewed its hero, Pechorin, "as completely unreal, un-Russian, or even ... as a libelous portrait of the contemporary man."6

W hile it is not the task here to outline in detail the controversy between Belinskij and these critics, as is sufficiently discussed by N. Mordovchenko and E. Najdich,7 it is essential to point out some o f the man objections to Lermontov's novel by the critic Stepan Anisimovich Burachek. This is a prerequisite for the understanding o f the appearance o f the second *Hero of Our Time* in Russian literature. The novel, written by Lermontov's severest

critic, Burachek, bears the title *Geroi nashego vremeni.* Burachek published his novel in volumes nineteen and twenty o f the journal *Majak* (1845),® an instrument o f the extreme, religiously oriented wing o f the Slavophiles.9 The novel is not a parody or a satire but the exact antithesis of that o f Lermontov, indeed a unique phenomenon in Russian literature. This work is hardly known and, if known, is mentioned by critics only in passing without relating it further to its namesake, or expounding the nature of this new positive hero, a hero who in the final analysis was meant to replace that o f Lermontov.10 And so, as late as 1954, after restating Burachek's negative criticism o f Lermontov's novel, S. A. Andreev-Krivich merely mentions but confirms the above assertion: "Maio izvesten sledujushchij ljubopytnyj fakt. Cherez neskol'ko let Burachok [Burachek] napisał roman, kotoryj on protivopostavil lermontovskomu *Geroju nashego vremeni.""*

As professor of science at the Nerval Academy in St. Petersburg and as the author o f several scientific books, Burachek was highly respected. But as the editor o f the *Majak,* in which he vigorously defended extreme nationalism, orthodoxy, autocracy, and even serfdom, he was as much criticized as praised.12 In his critical articles on Russian literature he has praise only for A. A. Bestuzhev-Marlinskij. A ll other writers, from Karamzin to Lermontov, he simply dismisses as "corruption."13 Gogol' , who otherwise publicly endorsed the views of Burachek, by 1847 took issue with him over his extreme negative attitude toward Russian literature.14 In a letter dated 9 May 1847, to his father confessor, the monk Matvej, Gogol' writes: "... sudja po stat'jam ego [v *Majake*] on [Burachek] dolzhen byt' istinno pochtennyj i verujushchij chelovek, no kotoryj, odnako, slishkom goijacho i bez razbora napal na vsekh nashikh pisatelej, utverzhdaja, chto oni bezbozhniki i deisty potomu toi'ko, chto te ne brali v predmet khristianskikh sjuzhetov."15

With such pronounced convictions Burachek greeted Lermontov' s *Hero o f Our Time.* He considered the novel a product of Western decadent thought and viewed all characters save Maksim Maksimych as cast in the image o f the author himself. Only those, he maintained, in whom the religious spirit is extinct w ill enjoy this immoral hero of our time, despite the fact that he represents a mere aesthetic and psychological absurdity. The essence o f his objections to Lermontov's work is summarized in his words: "... ideja lozhnaja, napravlenie krivoe. ...  Pechorin is true to himself within the novel and does not have to be defended on the basis o f "exterior circumstances."18 Lermontov returns, however, to his true artistic concept when he excludes himself from the circle o f moralizers and states that he merely found it amusing to draw modem man as he understood him and as he met him. More significant yet is the pronouncement at the end o f the preface which Nabokov rendered into English: "Suffice that the disease has been pointed out; goodness knows how to cure it." 19 As if in direct response to Lermontov's statement, Burachek proceeds to outline the cure o f this disease, first in a series of articles in *Majak* between 1840 and 1845, and finally in his own novel. He emphatically demanded from literature the treatment o f Russian national and religious themes as a preventative measure against the emergence of such monstrous, useless, morally deficient, irreligious Western creations as Pechorin and, before him, Onegin.20

The polemics over Lermontov's *A Hero of Our Time* reached their climax in 1845, when Burachek produced a new version o f a hero o f the time in his novel *Geroi nashego vremeni,* created in opposition to Lermontov's novel. The 307-page novel was to portray the true heroes of contemporary society, to show in poetic form the evils of free-thinking, and above all how to counteract these views with a Russian Christian education. It is difficult to ascertain how the novel was received at the time. Belinskij, who refers critically to *Majak* and its editor Burachek more than fifty times in his collected writings, does not mention the work, let alone discuss it. He apparently refrained from giving it free advertisement.

Unlike Lermontov's novel, which is composed of five separate stories, Burachek's work is a unit divided into three parts. Its moralistic didacticism is clearly indicated in the subtitles: I, Perversion, II, Moral degradation, ІП, Good and Evil, and no less in the conclusion (under a separate heading), where the author propounds his final moral message. Although the action revolves around the aristocratic family of Vasilij Ivanovich Panskij, the author introduces a cross section of their friends and acquaintances and thus is able to draw a panorama o f Russian society of the 1830's and 1840's.21 In so doing, Burachek employs a variety of narrative devices. The story, written in the third person, is interspersed with soliloquies and dialogues: these, in turn,

alternate with the diary and the epistolary form. The exchange o f letters and the form o f the diary are employed for the purpose of revealing the psychological state o f the characters, a device to which Lermontov had recourse in Pechorin's diary.

Burachek's novel involves a deep psychological conflict in the main characters. This conflict, caused by embracing temporarily a non-Russian, non-religious, European way of life, leads to the aimless, empty existence we find typified in Lermontov's hero.  These purified young Russians, particularly Petr Vel'min, then become the active positive heroes of their time.

At the very outset o f the novel, the reader is introduced to two basically different groups o f characters, each defending its own concept when discussing such topics as literature, education, religion, Russian nationalism, or the emancipation o f women. Although Burachek does not label the two intellectual factions, it is obvious that they reflect the views o f the Westemizers and Slavophiles of the 1840's. As an extreme right-wing Slavophile himself, the author presents a gloomy picture o f the Westerners; they emerge in the novel as the villains who induce the destruction o f the peaceful religious Russian life by importing poisonous Western thoughts. Western ideas have taught Russian youth to laugh at religion and at everything else which is Russian; free thinking has generated many aimless creatures with no purpose in life. It is hardly necessary to point out that the author alludes to no one else but Onegin and Pechorin, whose creators are repeatedly exposed to mockery by the Slavophile characters. The latter, serving as Burachek's mouthpiece, lament the disunity among Russian intellectuals, the lack of interest in writers such as A. A. Shakhovskoj, M. N. Zagoskin, A. F. Vel'tman, A. S. Khomjakov, M. A. Dmitriev and F. N. Glinka.22

The chief instigators of this fashionable liberal spirit are characters like Gololec, Cveifir and Medved'ka. Medved'ka, the leader of this clique, a journalist and expert on aesthetics and literary criticism, is of special interest, for he unmistakably represents Belinskij, Burachek's arch enemy, portrayed in a distorted manner.23 It is Medved'ka who presides at literary evenings and proclaims the greatness of writers such as Batjushkov, Pushkin and Lermontov. But this praise never remains unchallenged or without ridicule. One of the characters, or the author himself, always points out the corruption and the harm which *Evgenij Onegin* and Lermontov's *A Hero o f Our Time* supposedly have caused among Russian youth. Here is one example

illustrating the evil effects which Lermontov's novel evoked; when speaking o f the sudden disappearance o f a certain young female in Moscow, one of Medved'ka's opponents states: "Ona vljubilas' v priezzhego ofitserika: tot obmanul ее i uekhal; ona stala chitat' *Geroja nashego vremeni* i soshla s urna; da ... ее svezli."24

Burachek has Medved'ka and his associates triumph temporarily. Indeed, with the exception of the old nurse, a "true daughter o f Russia," and the priest, the symbols o f preservation of the old order, all characters become infatuated to some degree with the liberal spirit. They begin to attend masquerade balls, theatres, read Pushkin and Lermontov, begin to lead the life o f Byronie heroes, and neglect thereby their real duty as Christians. The acme o f irresponsibility and selfishness is embodied in Prince Boris who, like Lermontov's Pechorin, is guided only by the lure of passion. Medved'ka was able to instill in all of the "fallen characters" a false image of their ego, namely, that of an independent supreme, personal "I," a psychological state which, according to Burachek could lead only to moral deterioration. Medved'ka has to pay dearly, however, for his fraudulent teaching: his murder at the hand of Viktor Dverin, once his closest pupil, is accompanied by the words: "sobake sobach'ja i smert' !"25

Following the symbolic death of the "irredeemable" Medved'ka, a new phase in the novel begins, the gradual purification of the misled characters. Even Viktor Dverin, the murderer of Medved'ka, is rescued from his futile existence by accepting the spiritual guidance of the church. Prior to this salvation, however, Burachek devotes considerable space to an exposition on the nature o f God-given free w ill and the difficulty in choosing between good and evil if the individual is devoid of a thorough Christian education.26 Here, no doubt, he follows up the recurring theme of fate in Lermontov's novel and more specifically the problem of free w ill and predestination discussed in the story o f "The Fatalist."27 As an advocate of a Christian education, Burachek repudiates predestination and defends the existence o f free w ill. Burachek believes in free w ill, as in essence does Pechorin, even though Lermontov's novel contains many indications which may lead us to conclude that its hero is an agent o f fate. In reality Pechorin's "occasional recourse to a belief in the power o f fate is an act of self-deception, a convenient way to blame an exterior power for the tragic results of the exercise o f his w ill."28 But while Lermontov's hero relies solely on his own superior ego for judgment and guidance, Burachek argues that men with free w ill cannot choose wisely between good and evil and are bound to follow the path of destruction unless they are endowed with a Christian education and with a belief in God.

Pechorin, however, believes neither in God nor in the Devil. He feels an enormous force in himself, but continually wastes his energy and potentialities.  What was the aim o f my life ."

In contrast to this enigmatic, disenchanted character delineated by Lermontov, Burachek develops his virtuous, exemplary heroes. Burachek devotes particular attention to a young university student, Petr Vel'min. Vel'min, with a firm belief in God, is momentarily distracted from his deep devotion to Christianity while attending the University o f Moscow. But he realizes in time that to follow the fashionable free-thinkers would lead him to the abyss o f nothingness. It is through the wise counselling o f Father Daniil that Petr Vel'min becomes the permanent servant o f the "Tsar on earth and the Tsar in heaven" and thus contributes to the welfare of the Russian nation. Upon graduation from the university, Vel'min devotes his time and effort to the construction and development of a foundry which is to produce the materials for future construction of railroads in Russia. Vel'min recruits the manpower for his project from among the peasants for whom he is building new houses and schools. The remainder of the surplus profits is not wasted on social extravagances, as was the custom among Russian aristocracy, but is donated to the church which is to supervise and disseminate a true Russian national, orthodox education among Russia's youth. Ascetic in his devotion to religion and no less to social service, Petr Vel'min becomes the respected, ideal young man o f his time. This, then, is the active, positive hero, indeed the first one o f his kind in Russian literature, whose practical endeavour was devoted to the improvement of Russian life.29

Burachek has indeed succeeded in producing a novel which is, both in content and form, the direct opposite to that o f Lermontov. In neglecting form, with its various stylistic devices, for the sake of content in his novel, Burachek indirectly imposes a lim it on the study of his work from o f purely artistic point o f view. The novel reveals hardly any unifying principle or specific artistic style which might have been employed for the sake of performing an aesthetic function. Yet it is the stylistic analysis of the various devices in constant interaction which is the most profitable in the study of Lermontov's novel, as illustrated by V. Vinogradov's admirable stylistic investigation.30 Burachek's work discloses a notable absence o f detailed physical descriptions, both of the characters and o f the setting. The application o f various poetic devices, the manipulation o f details in order to create greater verisimilitude, assume a definite secondary position. In contrasting the decadent existence in St. Petersburg and Moscow to the Russian countryside with its simple, natural way of life, as Burachek terms

it, the author fails to produce the magnificent descriptions of nature, an artistic element so prominently featured in Lermontov,s novel.

One o f the most disturbing features in the novel is the frequent evaluation o f the action by the author, rather than allowing the reader to form his own opinion. In other instances the action is not recorded and the reader learns of it only through the author's biased account. While Burachek uses the simplest form o f characterization, i.e., names like Vel'min (from *vel'mozha*) and Medved'ka *(medved')* to contrast personalities, he pays no attention to such an important feature as style of speech, even though the characters represent different classes. Nor does the author spare the reader long expositions on the nature o f psychology,31 on good and evil, or on the merits o f a Christian education. It is in these passages in which the overemphasis o f an idea, by a run o f modifiers or by repetition of both adjectives and nouns, for the sake o f persuasion is most vividly exemplified. Indeed, they read like one of Burachek's earlier critical articles. Here is one example, from many, describing the evil caused by the acquisition of worldly knowledge:32

... znanie stalo ego idolom. Serdtse junoshi ne zametno otstupilo ot Gospoda Boga; serdtse ego sgoraet etim zemnym ognem, ot kotorogo svet — malyj, kratkovremennyj, kholodnyj, a dym i kopot' , — obil,ny, edki, ubijstvenny dlja dykhanija dukha. T 'ma gordosti, samoljubija, samonadejanija — vot eta kopot' i dym, razstilajushchiesja po vsemu sushchestvu cheloveka, strastno uvlekshegosja к idolu zemnogo znanija. Eta t'ma oślepiła bednogo junoshu; dumaja videt' vse, — on ne videt svoego krajnego okhlozhdenija i otdalenija ot Boga, o Kotorom ostalis' v nem tol'ko mertvykh znanija, i pochti bezdykhannaja, bezplodnaja pamjat' .

Burachek's novel could scarcely be linked with the general development o f Russian novelistic prose. For him the central problem was content, the utilitarianism of a work, a theory, however, advocated and employed by most critics o f the time.33 Like Chernyshevskij's utilitarian novel *What Is to Be Done?,* Burachek's novel is artistically weak and unimaginatively written. The exaggerated and mechanical application o f certain stylistic devices, such as comparisons or metaphors, produced a bombastic, polemical style. It is the style o f a journalist and critic turned novelist. From all the indications we can assume that Burachek's main concern was not craftsmanship, but rather the

42

employment o f the novel form as a means o f averting the reappearance in Russian society of such useless elements as those portrayed by Lermontov.

There is no doubt that Burachek has failed to obliterate Lermontov's creation with his hero. No matter how positive, how virtuous, or how benevolent Petr Vel'min is, one can hardly sympathize with him or his cause, since the author does not succeed in presenting him convincingly. Petr Vel'min, at the end o f the novel, leaves one unmoved as he retreats into a protective shelter, lets himself be guided by another force, and practically divests himself o f his own personality. In contrast, Pechorin, the restless searcher for the meaning of life in a stormy world, emerges as a human being who, in spite of his flaws, arouses fear and concern. In the characterization o f his hero, Burachek overemphasized the angelic devotion to religion at the expense o f other vital aspects belonging to actual life. He thus presented us with an ideal hero and an ideal existence, which were the fruits of his own vision. But even an ideal has to remain within the realm o f the probable. And if we admit that Pechorin is representative of the exception rather than the norm o f the 1830's, then Petr Vel'min is a pure fabrication o f fantasy. Burachek's novel is but another example of what happens frequently when the literary medium is utilized to propagandize a specific moral message. Lermontov's novel does not suffer from these defects; and it is precisely for its literary craftsmanship and the absence of moralization that Lermontov's, and not Burachek's, novel has survived.

While Burachek's novel, as an antithesis of that o f Lermontov, is an interesting and rare phenomenon, the views expressed in it were, however, those o f many conservative intellectuals of the time. We only have to recall Gogol's *Selected Passages from a Correspondence with Friends* (1847), which shocked even the extreme Slavophiles and provoked Belinskij's famous letter o f reproach to its author. Indeed, it is in this letter that Belinskij twice castigated Gogol' as a follower of Burachek and company.34 Nonetheless, Burachek's work deserves to be known for the sake o f proper historic perspective, as the novel and its central idea constitute a component o f the Russian literary and intellectual currents of the 1840's.

#### NOTES

1. See N. Mordovchenko, "Lermontov i russkaja kritika 40־kh godov," *Literaturnoe nasledstvo*, vol. 43/44, pp. 745-796.

2. For an excellent characterization o f the intellectual atmosphere o f the 1830's and 1840's in Russia, see N. L. Brodskij, "Poeticheskaja ispoved' russkogo intelligenta 30-40-kh godov," *Venok M. Ju. Lermontova: Jubilejnyj sbomik* (Moskva, 1914), 56-68.

3. V. G. Belinskij, *Polnoe sobranie sochinenij,* 13 vols. (Moskva: 1953- 1959), IV , 145-147, 173-175, 193-269.

4. Belinskij, IV , 265-266.

5. Belinskij, X I, 527.

6. J. Mersereau, *Mikhail Lermontov* (Carbondale, 111., 1962), 153-154.

7. Mordovchenko, 745-796; E. E. Najdich, *"Geroj nashego vremeni* v russkoj kritike," in *M. Ju. Lermontov; Geroj nashego vremeni,* red. B. M. Ejkhenbaum i E. E. Najdich (Moskva, 1962), 163-197.

8. A. S. Burachek, *Geroi nashego vremeni, Majak: zhumal sovremennogo prosveshchenija, iskusstva i obrazovannosti vdukhe narodnosti,* X IX (1845), 1-207; XX, 1-90. A complete set of the *Majak* is in the Yale University Library.

9. Belinskij, X, 225.

10. Critics who mention Burachek's novel are Najdich, 166; S. A. Andreev-Krivich, *Lermontov: Voprosy tvorchestva i biografii* (Moskva: 1954), 9; L. I. Ginzburg, *Tvorcheskij put' Lermontova* (Leningrad, 1940), 212. A ll o f the above critics obtained their information from S. Andreev, "Lermontov i reaktsija," *30 dnej* (1938), 88-90, who was the first to point out in our time the existence o f Burachek's novel.

11. Andreev-Krivich, 9.

12. *Russkij biograficheskij slovar'* (St. Petersburg, 1908), III, 493-495; see also Ja. E. Chemjak, "Pis'mo Belinskogo к Gogolju: Komentarij," *Literatumoe nasledstvo,* 56 (1950), Part II, 600-602.

13. *Russkij biograficheskij slovar',* III, 494; Chemjak, 601.

14. Chemjak, 601; Like Burachek, Gogol1 advocated blind submissiveness to the existing norms, i.e., Russian nationalism and orthodoxy, in his *Selected Passages from a Correspondence with Friends* (1847).

15. N. V. Gogol's *Polnoe sobranie sochinenij,* 14 vols. (Moskva, 1937- 1952), X III, 304.

16. See Burachek's review of Lermontov's novel in *Majak,* IV (1840), Kritika, 210-211; Mordovchenko, 767-768; Andreev-Krivich, 8-9. Two other conservative journals, *Syn otechestvo* and *Biblioteka dija chtenija,* printed negative reviews o f Lermontov's novel. These reviews at first seemed to have had an effect on the sale of the novel. According to one source, Lermontov's grandmother Arsen'eva, without informing the author, paid the critic F. V. Bulgarin 500 rubles for a favourable review of the novel in his popular journal *Severnaja pchela.* For details, see Mordovchenko, 777, and note 70 on pp. 795-796.

17. *A Hero o f Our Time; A Novel by Mikhail Lermontov,* tr. V. Nabokov in collaboration with D. Nabokov (New York, 1958); M. Ju. Lermontov, *Sobranie sochinenij v chetyrekh tomakh,* (Moskva/Leningrad: ANSSSR, 1959), IV , 275-277.

18. See Mersereau, 75-76, 150-154, for a detailed characterization of Pechorin.

19. Lermontov, *Sobranie sochinenij*, IV , 277; Nabokov's translation of *A Hero of Our Time,* 2.

20. Compare Belinskij, IV , 313, 638; IX , 69-70.

21. Inasmuch as the action of Burachek's story takes place in the drawing rooms of St. Petersburg and Moscow and reveals the life o f the aristocracy with all its intrigues, it resembles in its framework the Russian society tale of the 1830's.

22. Ironic as it may seem, these were the writers, indeed popular in their own time, whom Burachek placed above Zhukovskij, Pushkin and Lermontov. The patriotic feelings expressed in their dramas, novels and poems corresponded to Burachek's own advocacy of Russian nationalism and orthodoxy.

23. Andreev-Krivich, 9.

24. Burachek, X IX , 121-122.

25. Burachek, XX, 32. Similar words *(sobakę — sobachja smert*״ (are attributed to Nicholas I upon hearing o f Lermontov's death in 1841. *M. Ju. Lermontov v vospominanijakh sovremennikov* (Pensa, 1960), 172, 207, 338 and footnote 142.

26. Burachek, XX, 1-16.

27. Compare Mersereau, 134-142.

28. Mersereau, 141.

29. One cannot help noticing a certain parallel between Burachek's novel (1845) and Chemyshevskij's *What Is to Be Done?* (1862). Both present heroes who are active, virtuous and fanatic in their endeavour to improve the conditions of human life. But while both pursue the same goal, they differ vastly in their approaches; one advocates a religious, the other a social revolutionary method. It was *What Is to Be Done?* which became the gospel o f the young generation in the second half of the nineteenth century.

30. V. Vinogradov, "S til' prozy Lermontova," *Literatumoe nasledstvo,* 43-44 (1941), 517-628.

31. Burachek, XX, 4-20.

32. Burachek, X IX , 178.

33. L. Radoyce, "Die Probleme des Stils in der russischen Literaturkritik 1850-1880," *Stil- und Formprobleme in der Literatur* (Heidelberg, 1959), IV , 366-371.

34. For details, see Belinskij, X, 216; Chemjak, 591-592.

46

# **ГУ. Principies of Lessing's** *Laokoon* **and Some of its Exponents in Russian Literature**

The diffusion o f the boundaries in the arts had led to many discussions and treatises throughout the centuries, but while this prompted many intriguing theoretical conclusions, in actual practice the issue remains a recurring problem. The aim here is to single out some Russian writers who were not spared to deal with this problem and who in the course o f their creativity were forced to take a stand vis-à-vis that ancient dictum, which had been explicitly expressed in the statement o f Simonides and recorded by Plutarch as: "Poema pictura loquens, pictura poema silens." The idea of Simonides that "poetry is a speaking picture, painting mute poetry" had been further reinforced by various poetics down to the eighteenth century. What came to dominate aesthetic thinking and art theories was the Horatian formula "ut pictora poesis" — "as is painting, so is poetry." This simile, likening poetry to painting, was so assiduously cultivated that by the time o f the Renaissance it became an accepted doctrine that the most famous writers o f antiquity and the Renaissance were also the most eminent of verbal painting, and this because o f the pictorial quality of their landscapes and the protracted detailed description o f their verbal portraits.

Although some lone voices, like that o f Leonardo da Vinci and later Shaftesbury and Abbe Dubos, expressed some caution, the notion that poetry and painting are alike continued unchallenged to guide artistic endeavour way into the second half o f the eighteenth century and, indeed, beyond. While some elevated the Horatian formula "ut pictura poesis" to a regular system,' Count Caylus in France went further and measured the degree o f aesthetic quality o f a writer according to verbal monuments he created in his work.

By the mid 1750s a new phase regarding the relation o f the arts was initiated largely by Winckelmann's work *Gedanken über die Nachahmung der Griechischen Werke in der Malerei und Bildhauerkunst* (1754). It is this work which in turn provoked Lessing to produce one o f the most potent books of the century, namely *Laokoon: oder über die Grenzen der Mahlerei und Poesie* (1766). A t the centre of this treatise was among others an attack against the literal interpretation of Horace's "ut pictura poesis," which had been rampant in European literature and was responsible for the excessive description encountered in poetic practice.

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Lessing demonstrates convincingly the aesthetic disadvantage, when a poet attempts to rival a painter in presenting that instantaneous image, which forces him to describe a succession o f parts in order to derive at the whole:

Gesetzt nun also auch, der Dichter führe uns in der schönsten Ordnung von einem Teil des Gegenstandes zu dem anderen; gesetzt, er wisse uns die Verbindung dieser Teile auch noch so klar zu machen; wie viel Zeit gebraucht er dazu? Was das Auge mit einmal übersieht, zählt er uns merklich langsam nach und nach zu, und oft geschieht es, daß w ir bei dem letzten Zuge den ersten schon wiederum vergessen haben.3

Lessing cites several examples from descriptive poetry to demonstrate the visual ineffectiveness o f excessive detailed description. He singles out the enumerative description in *Orlando Furioso,* in which Ariosto attempts to describe the beauty and charm o f Aicina. In spite o f the minute, long description o f her bodily features, the reader fails to form a definite picture from the various elements laboriously brought together. It is ineffective because the total impression is not conveyed instantaneously, but only in succession.4 What Lessing rejects is word painting, the attempt to achieve the visual effect o f painting, through the cataloguing o f the physical properties of a character. W hile categorically denying the direct description in literature as a means to create an illusion o f reality, Lessing asserts that the image o f a body can be described, but only indirectly through suggestion, through action and change, but most o f all by describing the effect, and the general impression, which the particular object is producing upon others. It is this part o f *Laokoon,* Chapters XX and X X I, in which Lessing illustrates his position from the practice o f Homer, that is the most interesting and certainly the most important exposition which had a lasting value.

Great writers like Homer are not fond o f drawing elaborate detailed pictures. Like the painter who selects "the most fru itfu l," "the most pregnant moment" which allows free play of imagination to see what was before and what was to come, in like manner, Homer selects only one or two appropriate epithets, or a characteristic quality for the sake o f illuminating that sensual image o f the body, which is most desired at that particular moment. It is to arouse through imagination an illusion o f a vivid picture o f reality.

In contrast to the visual ineffectiveness o f the enumerative description of Aicina, Lessing refers the reader to the beautiful Helen in the *Iliad,* over whose beauty a war had started and yet, she is never fully described, least o f

all in portrait form. Homer instead simply tells us that she is lovely, i.e., he conveys the general impression and relates only that she has white arms and fair hair. But most o f all Homer relates the effect which her appearance had among the elders o f Troy at the moment she stepped into their midst. Indeed a sophisticated manner o f depiction, as it gives free play to the reader's imagination.

When Helen appears before the Trojan elders, they say softly to one another: "Small wonder that Trojans and Achaeans should endure so much and so long, for the sake o f a woman so marvellously and divinely lovely."5 To this Lessing reacts with the question — What could produce a more vivid idea o f beauty than making cold old age confess that it is well worth a war which costs so much blood and so many tears? This alone sufficed to evoke the lovely image o f Helen.  By selecting then, that all important dominant feature and describing its effect or impression, this alone suffices to trigger our fantasy, which in turn completes the suggested image. The elements o f fantasy which the poet is to create do not need exact and detailed descriptions.

The importance o f Lessing's publication o f *Laokoon* in 1766 and its impact on German aesthetic thinking and art theories cannot be overestimated. The impression which this work produced upon Goethe and his contemporaries is recorded in *Dichtung und Wahrheit:* "Man muß Jüngling sein, um sich zu vergegenwärtigen, welche Wirkung Lessings *Laokoon* auf uns ausübte.... Das so lange mißverstandene *ut pietura poesis* war auf einmal beseitigt...."8 While the Lessingian principles no doubt had an influence on German letters and discredited descriptive poetry, the extent to which this was actually the case can hardly be measured. It is certainly true when F. Vischer notes in his *Aesthetik* that: "Seit w ir Lessings *Laokoon* besitzen, gehört der Satz, daß der Dichter nicht malen soll, in das ABC der Poesie."9 But it is impossible to assert that with the publication o f the *Laokoon* "war der damaligen 'Schilderungssucht' in der Poesie der Todesstreich versetzt und das alte Horazische Verwerfungsurteil über alle beschreibende Poesie erneuert."10

Although Lessing's doctrine provoked a reexamination o f the poetic practice in Germany in reality the fondness of drawing elaborate pictures, especially direct literary portrayals, remained a characteristic feature among many French and English writers at the close of the eighteenth and beginning o f the nineteenth century. We only need to recall the protracted descriptions o f the characters o f Balzac and Walter Scott, or the portrait o f Lermontov's Pechorin in *A Hero o f Our Time,* to note that this old practice o f drawing in words was not only in vogue among the lesser talented writers, but also among those of prominent," not to mention the votaries of Russian Realism.

The conclusion to be drawn from this is that notwithstanding Lessing's enormous fame in Germany, abroad his *Laokoon* found no immediate response either from the critics or in imaginative literature. But then the *Laokoon* was rather belatedly translated into English in 1837 and into Russian as late as 1859. Judging, however, from various comments related to Lessing's thought by Russian writers, one must assume a definite awareness o f his work especially among writers of the second half of the nineteenth century. But by that time various forces were at work and Lessing's ideas became interwoven with the thought of the age which accelerated the tendency toward a laconic depiction, turning away from the traditional detailed description o f the physical properties of characters in portrait format. Thus also the difficulties in pinpointing direct evidence, as to Lessing's specific impact. And then there is always the talented writer, who may have arrived at the same conclusion. One should also not exclude the indirect influence by great German works which reflected the Lessingian doctrines. In fact, the ideas in a work like *Laokoon* are apt to be transmitted more through imitation than directly. In the absence, however, o f concrete evidence, it is perhaps more appropriate to speak o f conjectural evidence, "Verwandtschaft der Gedanken," which one discovers between the ideas o f Lessing and those expressed or implemented by some Russian writers.

The reception o f Lessing in Russia dealt hitherto mainly with the translations o f his plays, fables, critical works and studies on Lessing produced by Russian scholars,12 i.e., largely with the physical aspect. But the actual absorption o f Lessing's ideas, the effect, if any, on the progress o f Russian letters and the arts, especially with regard to *Laokoon* had been neglected. We are dealing here with the problems o f reception in general, as it was posed recently with regard to Lessing: "Fragt man sich nach der Wirkungsgeschichte Lessings im internationalen Rahmen, so kommt man zu einem uneinheitlichen Bild. Die Frage ist wohl nicht, ob Lessing von den Fachgelehrten in aller Welt geschätzt aufgenommen und verarbeitet wird,

sondern: Wie weit ist er tatsächlich in das kulturelle Leben anderer Nationen eingegangen?"13 And one might add, to what extent he was influential in the creative process and Russian critical thinking? Professor R. Lauer is thus fully justified in suggesting that the book dealing with a fu ll account o f Lessing in Russia, especially the "Wirkungsgeschichte," has yet to be w ritten.14

The only noteworthy study hitherto produced by Russian scholars is that by R. Ju. Danilevskij, a specialist in Russo-German literary relations. However thorough, his effort was limited to the eighteenth century, a period in Russia when the popularity of a Gellert or a Wieland by far overshadowed that of Lessing. Moreover, Lessing the critic and theoretician remained unmentioned, for neither the *Laokoon* nor *Die Hamburgische Dramaturgie* were rendered into Russian during that century. The fact that there were no traces of Lessing' s idea in Russian literary criticism o f the second half o f the eighteenth century was only indicative of its embryonic stage. Theoretically, Russian literature was still heavily dominated by the poetics o f Boileau, Batteux, Eschenburg and Sulzer.

Yet, Lessing' s aesthetic thinking was certainly known within the intellectual circles at the time, among the Masons and especially in that o f Karamzin and his mentor A. A. Petrov, who placed Lessing even above Shakespeare.15 Then there were the former Russian students at the universities o f Kiel, Strasbourg, Jena and the Karlsschule at Stuttgart and even more important, the large scale o f German and Swiss intellectuals, civil servants and tutors and especially writers like Lenz, Klinger, L. H. v. Nicolay, Wiliamów and Elise von der Recke, all of whom were actively disseminating Lessing's new aesthetic ideas within the Russian Empire.

Even though we encounter no reference to Lessing's *Laokoon* by Russia's greatest admirer of Lessing, it is unthinkable that Karamzin was not aware of its aesthetic pronouncements, so beneficial for a budding poet. Yet, in the *Letters o f a Russian Traveller 1789-1790* he describes in detail the statue of Laokoon which he encountered at the A rt Academy in Mannheim. True, we are faced with detailed protracted physiognomic descriptions in both the *Letters* and in his *History of the Russian State —* here he is dealing with historical and real people whom he met. But in his fiction he decidedly refrained from the descriptive technique as a mode o f characterization and delineates character through action as is suggested by Lessing. Here he appeals to imagination and the characters are endowed with only salient features and facial expression, albeit in a sentimental poetic language. In *Natal'ja, the Bojar 's Daughter* (1792), Karamzin expounds on his method and assures the reader "that the description o f the daily activities o f man is the

truest representation o f his heart." But before doing so the reader is told that Natal'ja is the most beautiful maiden o f ancient Moscow.  As to her specific features, we only learn that she has a white face, dark brown hair and dark eyes, and crimson cheeks: "Let the reader imagine the whiteness of Italian marble and the snows o f the Caucasus. He still would not be able to imagine the whiteness o f her face — and fancying the colours of Zephyr's mistress, he still could not fully conceive the crimson o f Natal'ja 's cheeks." But realizing that any further "comparisons from the old stock of poetic similes" would bore the reader and still not yield a complete image o f Natal'ja 's beauty and charm, the narrator resorts to the sophisticated manner o f drawing beauty by relating the effect Natal'ja has upon others: "It suffices, however, to know that most devout elders, seeing the Bojar's daughter at mass, forgot their low bows while praying and the mot biased mothers granted her preference over their own daughters."16 In what more powerful manner could one relate Natal'ja 's charm and beauty than through the effect she had upon the elders and the envious mothers? It is through the portrayal of the effect, the psychological reflexes, practised by Homer and advocated by Lessing. The similarity is too great as not to preclude an awareness o f the Lessingian principles.

Like Karamzin, Pushkin describes in detail only his historical figures like Pugachev, Ermolov and Catherine II, but in all other fictional characters he categorically rejects descriptions in literary portraiture. His main protagonist Onegin is never visually presented, yet there emerges a concrete image on the strength o f indirect portrayal. The portrait o f Ol'ga which Pushkin started out to draw, was soon abandoned, as he found the enumeration o f her features superfluous and contrary to his aesthetic concept. He tells the reader that her full portrait can be found in any novel.17

Not only prolonged description in portraiture, but any long account was contrary to Pushkin's inclination, as can be seen from the narrator's comment in *The Undertaker* (1831). Here he declares: "I w ill not attempt to describe the Russian kaftan o f Adrian Prokhorov, nor the European attire o f Akulina and Daija, thereby deviating in this respect from the approved custom of modem novelists. " In other instances Pushkin relies on the power of a single word or a phrase to evoke an entire image. Of young Dubrovskij, the reader learns only from the narrator that he is pleasant and that he has a "majestic" appearance, and that Masha Troekurova is a "beauty." In both cases the suggestion is so meagre that the reader is free to imagine his own beautiful Masha or the majestic Dubrovskij. Pushkin demonstrates once more in *Dubrovskij* his dislike o f the components demanded in a literary portrait. At

a dinner party o f the Troekurovs, when the guest wanted to know something o f Dubrovskij's appearance, Pushkin had an excellent opportunity to draw a portrait o f his elusive brigand. But all that Pushkin presented were a few stereotyped facts, as related by Dubrovskij's former servants: "He is twentythree years old, of medium height, clean face, shaves the beard, has brown eyes, brown hair, a straight nose. Distinguishing marks: such are not apparent."  And indeed, Pushkin had Troekurov ironically exclaim: "— with such distinguished marks it w ill not be easy to find Dubrovskij. And who is not o f middle height, and does not have brown hair, a straight nose and brown eyes!"1\* By avoiding Horace's formula "ut pietura poesis" or Diderot's credo that in every poet is a painter, Pushkin was seemingly adhering to Lessing's principles as set forth in his *Laokoon*, a work which initiated a lasting debate about the aesthetic principles governing fu ll detailed portrayal as opposed to mere suggestion. As such Pushkin occupies a unique position among the

writers o f the 1830's, when the protracted description o f a Walter Scott and especially that o f Balzac dominated the Russian literary scene. Through his laconic presentation and by avoiding word painting, and by selecting only one all-important feature which triggers our imagination, and by relying on mimic and gesture, on hints and suggestions, impressions conveyed through a single word, he was able to arouse inward vision and lasting impressions. Features o f this kind made him the initiator o f an impressionistic undercurrent in Russian Realism which reached its fu ll expression in the works o f Turgenev and Chekhov.