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1 ANCESTRY AND CHILDHOOD 1799–1811

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Lack of respect for one’s ancestors is the first sign of barbarism and immorality.

VIII, 42

A LEKSANDR PUSHKIN was born in Moscow on Thursday 26 May 1799, in a ‘half-brick and half-wooden house’ on a plot of land situated on the corner of Malaya Pochtovaya Street and Gospitalny Lane.1 This was in the eastern suburb known as the German Settlement, to which foreigners had been banished in 1652. Though distant from the centre, it was, up to the fire of 1812, a fashionable area, ‘the faubourg Saint-Germain of Moscow’.2 On 8 June he was baptized in the parish church, the Church of the Epiphany on Elokhovskaya Square.* And that autumn his parents, Sergey and Nadezhda, took him and his sister Olga – born in December 1797 – to visit their grandfather Osip Gannibal, Nadezhda’s father, on his estate at Mikhailovskoe, in the Pskov region. Most of the next year was spent in St Petersburg. The Emperor Paul, coming across Pushkin and his nurse, reprimanded the latter for not removing the baby’s cap in the presence of royalty, and proceeded to do so himself. In the autumn they moved back to Moscow, where they were to remain for the duration of Pushkin’s childhood.

Pushkin was proud of both sides of his ancestry: both of his father’s family, the Pushkins, and of his mother’s, the Gannibals. However, the two were so different from one another, antipodes in almost every respect, that to take equal pride in both required the reconciliation of contradictory values. In Pushkin the contradictions were never completely resolved, and the resulting tension would occasionally manifest itself, both in his behaviour and in his work. The most obvious difference lay in the origins of the two families: whereas the Pushkins could hardly have been more Russian, the Gannibals could hardly have been more exotic and more foreign.

On 15 November 1704 an official at the Foreign Office in Moscow passed on to General-Admiral Golovin, the minister, news of a Serbian trader who was employed by the department. ‘Before leaving Constantinople on 21 June,’ he wrote, ‘Master Savva Raguzinsky informed me that according to the order of your excellency he had acquired with great fear and danger to his life from the Turks two little blackamoors and a third for Ambassador Petr Andreevich [Tolstoy], and that he had sent these blackamoors with a man of his for safety by way of land through the Walachian territories.’3 The boys had just arrived, the writer added; he had dispatched one to the ambassador’s home, and the other two, who were brothers, to the Golovin palace. The younger of these was in the course of time to become General Abram Petrovich Gannibal, cavalier of the orders of St Anne and Alexander Nevsky: Pushkin’s maternal great-grandfather.*

Golovin had acquired the two boys as a gift for the tsar, to whom they were presented when he came to Moscow in December 1704. Peter had the elder brother baptized in the Preobrazhensky parish in Moscow, when he was given the name Aleksey, and the patronymic Petrov, from the tsar’s own name. He was trained as a musician and attached to the Preobrazhensky regiment, where he played the hautboy in the regimental band. Unlike his younger brother Abram, he then vanishes from the pages of history.

Abram was from the beginning a favourite of the tsar. On 18 February 1705 the account-book of the royal household notes: ‘to Abram the negro for a coat and trimming were given 15 roubles 45 copecks’.4 In the spring of 1707 Peter began a campaign against the Swedes. That autumn he celebrated a victory over Charles XII in the Orthodox Pyatnitskaya church in Vilna and simultaneously had his new protégé baptized, acting as his godfather and giving him, like his brother, the patronymic Petrov. And a document of 1709 notes that ‘by the tsar’s order caftans have been made for Joachim the dwarf and Abram the blackamoor, for the Christmas festival, with camisoles and breeches’.5

In 1716 Peter made a second journey to Europe. Abram was one of his retinue, and was left in France together with three other young Russians to study fortification, sapping and mining at a military school. They returned to Russia in 1723, when Abram was commissioned as a lieutenant and posted to Riga. Peter died in February 1725, but his wife, Catherine, who succeeded him, continued his favours to Abram: he was employed to teach the tsar’s grandson – the short-lived Peter II (1715–30; tsar 1727–30) – geometry and fortification. About this time he is first referred to as Gannibal. The acquisition of a surname was a step up the social ladder, differentiating him from the serfs and others known only by Christian name and patronymic; while that he should have called himself after the great Carthaginian general implies no lack of confidence in his own abilities.* His fortunes changed after Catherine’s death: under a vague suspicion of political intrigue he was posted, first to Siberia, then to the Baltic coast. It was not until the accession of Elizabeth, Peter the Great’s younger daughter, that his situation improved. In December 1741 she promoted him major-general from lieutenant-colonel, and appointed him military commander of Reval. The following year she made him a large grant of land in the province of Pskov: this included Mikhailovskoe, the estate where Pushkin was to spend two years in exile, from 1824 to 1826. In 1752 he was transferred to St Petersburg, promoted general in 1759, and, in charge of military engineering throughout Russia, oversaw the building of the Ladoga canal and the fortification of Kronstadt. That a black slave, without relations, wealth or property, should have risen to this position is in the highest degree extraordinary: so remarkable, indeed, as to argue a character far beyond the common, one that was more than justified in appropriating the name and reputation of the great Carthaginian. Elizabeth’s death in 1761 put an end to his career; he was retired without promotion or gratuity, and lived for the rest of his life in his country house at Suida, near St Petersburg, where he died on 20 April 1781.

In 1731 he had married Evdokiya Dioper, the daughter of a Dutch sea captain. When she gave birth to a child, who was plainly not his, he divorced her (though bringing up the daughter as his own), and married the daughter of a Swedish officer in the Russian army, Christine von Schöberg. Of his seven children by Christine (three more died in infancy) the eldest son, Ivan, was a distinguished artillery officer who reached the rank of lieutenant-general. Petr, the second son, in old age lived in Pokrovskoe, some four kilometres from Mikhailovskoe, where he occupied himself with the distillation of home-made vodka. ‘He called for vodka,’ Pushkin wrote after visiting him there in 1817. ‘Vodka was brought. Pouring himself a glass, he ordered it to be offered to me, I did not pull a face – and by this seemed to gratify extraordinarily the old Negro. A quarter of an hour later he called for vodka again – and this happened again five or six times before dinner.’6 He visited him again in 1825, when he was thinking of composing a biography of Abram, a project which later turned into the fictional Blackamoor of Peter the Great. ‘I am counting on seeing my old negro of a Great-Uncle who, I suppose, is going to die one of these fine days, and I must get from him some memoirs concerning my great-grandfather,’ he wrote on 11 August.7 He carried out the intention a week or so later, bringing back with him to Mikhailovskoe not only the manuscript of Abram’s biography, written by his son-in-law, Adam Rotkirch, but also a short, unfinished note composed by Petr himself, outlining his and his father’s careers.8

Osip, Abram’s third son and Pushkin’s maternal grandfather, was a gunnery officer in the navy, reaching the rank of commander. Careless and dissolute, he ran up large debts, which his father in the end refused to pay and forbade him the house. At the beginning of the 1770s he was posted to Lipetsk, in the Tambov region, where he met and, in November 1773, married Mariya Pushkina.* Mariya was generally held to have thrown herself away; her Moscow cousins made up an epigram on the marriage:

There was once a great fool,

Who without Cupid’s permission

Married a Vizapur.

The last line is a hit at Osip’s complexion; it is a reference to the ‘swarthy Vizapur’, Prince Poryus-Vizapursky, an Indian and a well-known eccentric.9

Abram forgave the newly-married Osip; he was allowed to return home, and his daughter Nadezhda, Pushkin’s mother, was born in Suida on 21 June 1775. However, Osip found his father overbearing and family life excruciatingly boring. Leaving a note to say he would never return, he fled to Pskov, where he met a pretty young widow, Ustinya Tolstaya. Having received – so he said – a mysterious message announcing his wife’s death, he married Ustinya in November 1778. Mariya, who was far from dead, lodged a complaint against him; after years of petitions and counter-petitions the marriage to Ustinya was annulled, and the estate of Kobrino outside St Petersburg (which he had now inherited, together with Mikhailovskoe, from his father) made over in trust to Nadezhda. Osip retired in dudgeon to a lonely existence at Mikhailovskoe, where he died in 1806, leaving the estate encumbered with debt.

After the separation Mariya moved to St Petersburg, spending the summers in Kobrino, some thirty miles from the capital. Nadezhda was therefore brought up in far from provincial surroundings. She was well-read, spoke excellent French, and through Mariya’s relations in the capital gained entrée into society, where she became known as ‘the beautiful creole’.10 Here she met Sergey Pushkin; the couple – the poet’s father and mother – were married on 28 September 1796 in the village church at Voskresenskoe on the Kobrino estate.

Though Pushkin claimed to be able to trace his ancestry on the paternal side back to the times of Alexander Nevsky,* the first to bear the family name was Konstantin Pushkin, born in the early fifteenth century, the younger son of a Grigory Pushka. There is a direct line of descent from him to the poet. From this time to the seventeenth century the Pushkins were a minor boyar family whose members never wielded great influence or occupied high positions in the state. They played, however, a lively part during the Time of Troubles (1584–1613), when one Gavrila Pushkin was a prominent supporter of the Pretender Dmitry. Pushkin put him into his historical drama Boris Godunov, remarking, ‘Finding in history one of my ancestors, who played an important role in that unhappy epoch, I brought him on the stage, without worrying about the delicacies of propriety, con amore, but without aristocratic conceit.’11 But a decline in importance set in during the reign of Peter the Great. By the Table of Ranks, promulgated in 1722, an hierarchical system of rank, consisting of fourteen grades, was imposed on the military, civil and court services. Those in the first eight grades automatically became gentry: henceforth, therefore, social position was to be determined not by birth, but by rank. The more powerful aristocratic families were little affected, but the less important, such as the Pushkins, were submerged in the influx of the newly ennobled. During the eighteenth century no member of the family achieved distinction in any field, though family tradition erroneously maintained that Aleksey Fedorovich Pushkin, Mariya’s father, had been voevoda (governor) of Tambov.

Lev Pushkin, the poet’s paternal grandfather, served in the artillery, reaching the rank of major, before retiring in 1763. He settled in Moscow, in a large house on the Bozhedomka (now Delegatsky Street), in the northern suburbs. The grounds covered nearly fifteen acres, running down to an orangery and large fish-pond, formed by damming up the Neglinnaya River. By his first wife he had three children, and his second, Olga Vasilevna (née Chicherina), was to give him four more: Anna, Vasily, Sergey, and Elizaveta. As was the custom, Vasily and Sergey were entered for the army at a very early age: Vasily was seven and Sergey six when their names first appeared in the list. Actual service with the regiment – the Izmailovsky Life Guards – began much later: for Sergey at the end of the 1780s. He was promoted to ensign in 1794, to lieutenant in 1796, and in 1797 transferred to the chasseur battalion with the rank of captain-lieutenant. Both brothers left the army in the autumn of 1797. Neither was cut out for military service, but it is likely that their retirement was brought about by the changes introduced by the Emperor Paul, who had come to the throne the previous year. A military tyrant and pedant, he forced a tight Prussian uniform on the army; would arbitrarily consign officers to Siberia for a minor fault on parade; and repeatedly threatened to banish fashionable regiments such as the Izmailovsky from St Petersburg to the provinces. The brothers, together with their young wives, both metropolitan beauties, all of whom adored the social whirl, would have viewed with horror the prospect of exile to some dull provincial backwater.

In 1834 Pushkin, looking back with nostalgia on the Moscow of his childhood, before the fire of 1812, wrote:

At one time there really was a rivalry between Moscow and Petersburg. Then in Moscow there were rich nobles who did not work, grandees who had given up the court, and independent, carefree individuals, passionately devoted to harmless slander and inexpensive hospitality; then Moscow was the gathering place for all Russia’s aristocracy, which streamed to it in winter from every province. Brilliant young guardsmen flew thither from Petersburg. Every corner of the ancient capital was loud with music, there were crowds everywhere. Five thousand people filled the hall of the Noble Assembly twice a week. There the young met; marriages were made. Moscow was as famous for its brides as Vyazma for its gingerbread; Moscow dinners became a proverb. The innocent eccentricities of the Muscovites were a sign of their independence. They lived their own lives, amusing themselves as they liked, caring little for the opinion of others. One rich eccentric might build himself on one of the main streets a Chinese house with green dragons and with wooden mandarins under gilded parasols. Another might drive to Marina Roshcha in a carriage covered with pure silver plate. A third might mount five or so blackamoors, footmen and attendants on the rumble of a four-seat sleigh and drive it tandem along the summer street. Alamode belles appropriated Petersburg fashions, putting their indelible imprint on them. From afar haughty Petersburg mocked, but did not interfere with old mother Moscow’s escapades. But where has this noisy, idle, carefree life gone? Where are the balls, the feasts, the eccentrics, the practical jokers? All have vanished.12

He could have mentioned, too, the classically laid-out Yusupov garden, open to the ‘respectable public’, with its alleys and round pond, marble statues and grotto, where he played as a child; the private theatres with troupes of serf actors; or the ‘magic castle’, the Pashkov mansion on Mokhovaya Street, whose garden, full of exotic birds at large or in gilded cages, was known as ‘Eden’: at night it was lit by lanterns, and a private orchestra played there on feast-days.13

For Pushkin’s parents social life was infinitely preferable to the tedium of domesticity. Nadezhda was the dominant partner. Beautiful, charming, frivolous and – outwardly at least – always good-humoured, she was strong-willed and could be despotic, both to her husband and her children. She was cool towards Pushkin, preferring first Olga, then his younger brother Lev. When angry, she sometimes would not speak to him for weeks, or even months. Once, annoyed by his habit of rubbing his hands together, she tied them behind his back and starved him for a day; since he was always losing his handkerchiefs, she sewed one to the shoulder of his jacket like an epaulette, and forced him to wear the garment in public.

She was incurably restless: never satisfied with her surroundings, she drove the family from lodging to lodging, or, if a move was impossible, continually moved the furniture and changed the wallpapers, turning a bedroom into a dining-room, a study into a drawing-room. On returning to Moscow they lodged in P.M. Volkov’s house on the corner of Chistoprudny Boulevard and Bolshoy Kharitonevsky Lane: here Pushkin’s brother Nikolay was born on 27 March 1801. A year later they moved up the lane into a wooden house on Prince N.B. Yusupov’s property, where they stayed for a year and a half; then, forfeiting six months’ rent, in the summer of 1803, they moved down the lane again into accommodation belonging to Count A.L. Santi. ‘It is difficult to understand,’ one historian writes, ‘how the Pushkins managed to fit into the cramped confines of Santi’s court; Santi had up to sixteen house serfs, Sergey Lvovich from four to thirteen; besides them in the court lived the civil servant Petrov and the district surveyor Fedotov, while another of Santi’s serfs, the women’s dressmaker Berezinsky, squeezed in somewhere.’14 Nevertheless, the Pushkins remained there over two years; here Lev was born on 9 April 1805. But, before Pushkin left for boarding-school in 1811, they would move eight more times, criss-crossing Moscow from east to west and back again.

Sergey, Pushkin’s father, was short and stout, with a nose like a parrot’s beak. He was a weak character, easily dominated by his more forceful wife, and inclined to lachrymose emotional outbursts. At the same time he was hot-tempered and irritable, and would fly into rages at the slightest provocation, with the result that his children feared, rather than loved him. He had a poor head for finances, knew nothing of his estates – he visited Boldino, his property in Nizhny Novgorod province, twice in his lifetime – and refused to have anything to do with their management: everything was left in the hands of inefficient or dishonest stewards. His income was consequently insecure and continually decreased. Though, like his father, he was hospitable to his friends, he showed a remarkable lack of generosity towards his children and took little interest in them. He was fond of French literature, and an inveterate theatre-goer, but his main preoccupation was his social life. He was at his best in some salon, elaborately polite and delicately witty, throwing off a stream of French puns, or inscribing elegant sentiments in French verse or prose in ladies’ albums.

In January 1802, after the death of the Emperor Paul, he had returned to government service, taking up a post in the Moscow military commissariat. In 1812, when Napoleon approached Moscow, he was transferred to Orel, and given the task of organizing supplies for a reserve army under the command of General Lobanov-Rostovsky. The latter, a hot-tempered and ruthless disciplinarian, soon found fault with him, and in February 1813 requested the head of the commissariat, ‘for neglect of duty and disobedience of my instructions, to remove Pushkin from his present position as incompetent and incapable and to reprimand him severely’.15 At this time the Russian armies had begun to move rapidly westwards, and it was not until the following year, when they stood outside Warsaw, that Sergey was relieved of his command: his successor found him reading a French novel in his office. He retired with the rank of civil councillor in January 1817.

The gap left in the children’s lives by the parents’ lack of attention was filled by their grandmother, Mariya Gannibal. At the beginning of 1801 she moved to Moscow and settled close to the Pushkins. She spent most of each day with her grandchildren and from 1805 lived with the family. She took over the running of the house and saw to the education of the children, teaching them their letters, and engaging governesses and tutors for them. In 1800 Nadezhda had sold Kobrino, no longer useful as a summer residence after the move to Moscow. One of the women on the estate, Arina Rodionovna, though freed from serfdom, had preferred to come to Moscow and become Olga’s nurse. She introduced the children to the world of Russian legends and fairy-tales, while Mariya related family history to them:

From my Moscow grandmother I love

To hear stories of ancestors,

And of the distant past.16

In early childhood Pushkin was an excessively plump, silent infant, clumsy and awkward, who hated taking exercise, and, if forced to go for a walk, would often sit down in the middle of the street in protest. His character and physique changed markedly around the age of seven. In November 1804 Mariya Gannibal bought Zakharovo, an estate of nearly two and a half thousand acres with sixty male serfs, situated some thirty miles to the east of Moscow. From 1805 to 1809 the family spent the summers there. Instead of the continual displacement from one rented apartment to another, Zakharovo provided relative permanency; instead of the cramped surroundings of a Moscow lodging, the children had separate quarters, where they lived with the current governess or tutor. And most of all, of course, instead of the Moscow streets or the confined expanse of the Yusupov gardens, there was the countryside, the large park with its lake, its alleys and groves of birches. In these new surroundings Pushkin became an active and mischievous child, at times difficult to control. Here, in the summer of 1807, the six-year-old Nikolay fell severely ill – though he was still able to put his tongue out at Pushkin when the latter visited his sickbed. However, his condition worsened, and he died on 30 July. Pushkin was much affected by the loss: ‘Nikolay’s death’ is one of the few notes relating to this period in a sketchy autobiographical plan he drew up in 1830.17

As was usual at the time, the education of Olga and Aleksandr was entrusted to a series of foreign émigrés, who had in most cases little to recommend them as teachers other than their nationality and whom, for the most part, the children disliked. Their first tutor was the Comte de Montfort, a man of some culture, a musician and artist; he was followed by M. Rousselot, who wrote French verse, and then by a M. Chédel, of whom little is known other than that he was sacked for playing cards with the servants. Miss Bailey, one of Olga’s governesses, was supposed to teach them English, but failed to do so, while a German governess refused to speak any language except Russian. They went to dancing classes at their cousins, the Buturlins, on Malaya Pochtovaya Street, at the Trubetskoys, also cousins, on the Pokrovka, and at the Sushkovs, on the Bolshaya Molchanovka – their daughter, Sonya, a year younger than Pushkin, is supposed to have been the object of his first love. On Thursdays they went to the children’s dances arranged by the celebrated Moscow dancing master Iogel.*

From early years Pushkin had a passion for reading; by ten, according to his sister, he had read Plutarch, the Iliad and the Odyssey in French, and would rummage among his father’s books – mainly consisting of French eighteenth-century authors – in search of interesting volumes. The atmosphere in their house was a cultured, literary one. Sergey read Molière to the children and wrote French verse; his brother, Vasily, was an established poet, published in periodicals, and acquainted with many of the authors of the day, including Karamzin, Zhukovsky and Batyushkov; a more distant relative, Major-General Aleksey Mikhailovich Pushkin, who had translated Molière, was a frequent guest. Among the regular visitors to Nadezhda’s salon were Ivan Dmitriev, the poet and fabulist, Minister of Justice from 1810 to 1814, an unsuccessful suitor for the hand of Sergey’s sister Anna; the ‘pretty, clever and talented’ French pianist Adélaide Percheron de Mouchy, later wife of the émigré Irish composer John Field;18 and the French novelist Count Xavier de Maistre, born in Savoy, who had followed Suvorov back to Russia after the Italian campaign of 1800 and had joined the Russian army.* An amateur artist, he painted a miniature of Nadezhda on ivory.

Perhaps one should not take too literally Sergey’s story that the six-year-old Pushkin abandoned his toys to sit listening to his father’s conversation with Karamzin, not taking his eyes from the visitor’s face, all the more so since Karamzin did not frequent the Pushkins; nor can one accept without reservation the remark of an earlier biographer, that the child ‘listened attentively to their judgements and conversation, knew the coryphaei of our literature not only through their works, but through their living speech, which expressed the character of each, and often involuntarily but indelibly impressed itself on the young mind’.19 But at the very least the atmosphere could not have been more favourable to the formation of the desire to write poetry: Pushkin would never have to struggle with the incomprehension of his family, or the view that the occupation of poet was not one to be taken seriously.

At seven he was found awake in bed late at night; when asked why he was not asleep, he replied that he was making up poems. At ten he improvised little comedies in French and performed them in front of his sister; one was hissed off the stage by the audience, and the author composed a self-critical epigram on the event:

‘Tell me, why was The Filcher

Hissed by the pit?’

‘Alas! it’s because the poor author

Filched it from Molière.’20

A little later, having discovered Voltaire, and read La Henriade, he composed a parodic emulation: La Tolyade, a comic-heroic poem in six cantos, depicting a battle between male and female dwarfs, the hero of which is King Dagobert’s dwarf Toly. Olga’s governess impounded the notebook containing the poem and showed it to the tutor, M. Chédel, who read the first few lines and laughed heartily. Pushkin burst into tears and in a rage threw the manuscript into the stove.

‘I’ve no idea what will become of my eldest grandson: he’s a clever boy and loves books, but he’s a bad student and rarely prepares his lessons properly,’ Mariya Gannibal told her friends.21 His dislike for his tutors was not conducive to diligence in any subject, but he found arithmetic particularly incomprehensible and, his sister recollected, ‘would weep bitter tears over the first four rules, especially that of division’.22 As the calculations scribbled here and there on his manuscripts demonstrate, the rules always remained something of a puzzle to him. Foreign tutors were, it was clear, not the answer to the problem of his education, and it was decided to send him to school. A private Jesuit boarding-school in St Petersburg was chosen, and in February 1811 Sergey and Nadezhda travelled to the capital to enter Pushkin as a pupil there. However, a family friend, Aleksandr Turgenev, suggested that the new Imperial Lycée at Tsarskoe Selo, which was to open in the autumn, might be a more suitable establishment, all the more so as its director was to be Vasily Malinovsky: he and his brothers, Aleksey and Pavel, were well known to the Pushkins; indeed Pavel had been one of the witnesses at their marriage in 1796. These considerations were supported by a more practical one: while education at the Jesuit boarding-school would put a strain on the family’s finances, that at the Lycée would be free. On 1 March Sergey sent a petition to the Minister of Education, Count A.K. Razumovsky, requesting that A.S. Pushkin should be admitted to the Lycée, and stating that ‘he had been educated in his parents’ house, where he had acquired initial knowledge of the grammar of the Russian and French languages, of arithmetic, geography, history and drawing’.23

* Pulled down in 1837; the present church on the same site in what is now Bauman Square was finished in 1845.

* Abram’s origins are obscure. In a petition of 1742 he wrote, ‘I … am from Africa, of the high nobility there, was born in the town of Logon in the domain of my father, who besides had under him two other towns’ (Teletova, 170). And a short biography of Abram, written in German, probably in the late 1780s, by his son-in-law, Adam Rotkirch, asserts that he ‘was by birth an African Moor from Abyssinia’ (Rukoyu Pushkina, 43). Logon has hence traditionally been placed in Ethiopia. Recently, however, it has been identified with Logone, a town in the north-east corner of the present state of Cameroon: a conjecture which is more in agreement with the sparse evidence than the Ethiopian hypothesis (see Gnammankou, 19–26.) Though Pushkin had a translation of the German biography, he never refers to a specific region when writing of his ancestor’s origins, but remarks, for instance, that he was ‘stolen from the shores of Africa’ (VI, 530). However, his friend Aleksey Vulf mentions in his journal that on 15 September 1827 Pushkin showed him the first two chapters of The Blackamoor of Peter the Great, ‘in which the main character represents his great-grandfather Gannibal, the son of an Abyssinian emir, captured by the Turks’ (Lyubovny byt, I, 268).

* There is no h in the Russian alphabet; in transliteration g (or kh) is substituted for it. The assertion in Rotkirch’s biography that Abram’s princely father ‘proudly derived his descent in a direct line from the lineage of the renowned Hannibal, the terror of Rome’ (Rukoyu Pushkina, 43) is plainly ridiculous, though it might have suited Abram for this to be believed.

* This marriage would make Osip’s daughter, Nadezhda, and her husband, Sergey Pushkin, distant cousins, sharing a common ancestor: Petr Pushkin (1644–92), Nadezhda’s maternal great-great-grandfather and Sergey’s paternal great-grandfather.

* Alexander Nevsky (c.1220–63), canonized in 1547, was prince of Novgorod (1236–52), of Kiev (1246–52) and grand prince of Vladimir (1252–63).

* Tolstoy describes one of Iogel’s dances in War and Peace, book 2, part 1, chapter 12.

* Author of A Journey round My Room (1794), and younger brother of the more famous Joseph de Maistre, Sardinian ambassador in St Petersburg 1802–17, best known for his St Petersburg Dialogues [Les soirées de Saint-Pétersbourg] (1821).

Pushkin

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