Romanov Riches: Russian Writers and Artists Under the Tsars

Gorky’s Lenin is secretive (“He, like no one else, knew how to keep quiet about the secret storms of his soul”) and cruel: “ ‘What do you want?’ he would ask in surprise and anger. ‘Is humanity possible in such an unprecedented, fierce fight? Where is there room for soft-heartedness and magnanimity?’ ”

Gorky stressed Lenin’s “untrusting, hostile” attitude toward intellectuals. For Gorky, Lenin is a “strict teacher,” and the leader’s words remind him of “the cold sparkle of iron filings.” Then Gorky makes an about-face and, commenting on Lenin’s hidden pride in Russia and Russian art, which he had noticed, calls Lenin a “great child.” The errant student finally put his late teacher in his place. The writer had the last word.

Gorky’s unusual portrait of Lenin is the only psychologically perceptive depiction of the revolutionary leader made from life. It is worth comparing it to the no less unusual portrait of Nicholas II painted by one of the great Russian artists, Valentin Serov, in 1900.

Like Gorky, Serov was a masterful portraitist. His picture of Nicholas is important because of the artist’s unprecedented closeness to the model: for the first time in the history of the Romanov dynasty, the monarch posed obediently for many hours and days, fulfilling all the painter’s demands. (In 1920, the artist Natan Altman spent 250 hours in the course of six weeks in the Kremlin, sculpting Lenin’s bust while the Bolshevik leader worked, mostly ignoring Altman.)³²

Serov was called prickly, capricious, and mean—both as a man and as a portraitist. Stocky, clumsy, hands always in pockets, Serov occasionally interrupted his grim silence to utter a gloomy aphorism through gritted teeth clenching a smoldering cigar.

His habits and looks did not keep Serov from becoming the favorite portraitist in prerevolutionary high society, and for almost a decade (1892 to 1901) he was the unofficial court painter of the Romanovs.

Serov was feared for his outspokenness, but he was respected for his honesty and sure mastery. A contemporary noted, “Patience and meekness were needed by anyone wanting to be painted by Serov.”³³

Nicholas II ordered his “private” portrait as a gift for Empress Alexandra. In it, he is seated, leaning forward, his hands clasped wearily on the table, gazing quietly. He wears a shabby military tunic. (Nicholas II was known for wearing old, patched clothing at home.) It depicts Nicholas as a person sympathetically, even as it underscores his main political liability: the lack of energy and leadership.

Both Lenin and Gorky liked to talk—they had verbal diarrhea. While Serov and Nicholas II were famously taciturn, their relationship during work on the portrait turned into a mini-play.

Serov, who hated asking for anything, found himself requesting a subsidy for the art journal The World of Art, published by his friend Sergei Diaghilev. Even more unexpectedly, Nicholas (who, like Lenin, disliked the “decadents,” considering Diaghilev chief among them) agreed to give 15,000 rubles of his personal funds to support the journal. Nicholas later extended the subsidy for another three years.

The sovereign agreed to yet another request from Serov: he ordered the release from prison of Savva Mamontov, a railroad magnate and patron of the arts, who was under investigation for alleged embezzlement. However, the emperor and the artist found themselves in conflict over Serov’s work.

Empress Alexandra, who considered herself a fair painter, came in during one of the sessions and started telling Serov how to improve the portrait. In response the artist, infuriated by this inappropriate art lesson, handed her his palette with the words, “Well, then, Your Majesty, you should do the painting, since you draw so well!”

Alexandra blew up, turned on her heel, and left; Nicholas, caught in the middle, ran after her and returned with an apology: the empress “went a bit overboard.”

The scene was unpleasant and humiliating for all the participants. Serov announced that he would no longer continue as court artist and demanded 4,000 rubles for the portrait, double the amount Nicholas had offered.

Nicholas had a courtier scold Serov for “taking advantage of the situation and setting a too high fee,” basically calling him a rip-off artist. Insulted, Serov asked for an apology.

Nicholas retreated and paid the demanded sum, but after that privately referred to the artist as “terribly insolent.” This was yet another farcical situation, not at all commensurate with previous ideas of what the relationship between monarch and subject should be in Russia.