Nicholas Roerich
Princess Tenisheff
Throughout the history of mankind, periods of destruction and denial have always been succeeded by those of construction. In these latter the “constructors” of all ages and nations have found themselves on the same side.
Men destroyed, squandered, with nothing to substitute for what they laid waste. But it is said: “Do not destroy the temple unless you can erect a new one in its place.”
The names of the squanderers and of the destroyers have either been swallowed in the darkness of oblivion or have become dreadful phantoms, terrifying new generations.
But in times of reconstruction the names of those who took up the task of building anew, mindful of the future, will be linked together in one endless chain. And humanity will always look back at them with a sigh of refuge in the hope for evolution. Varied are their names, far divided are they by countless centuries, diverse are the fields on which they wielded their invincible weapons for the progress of humanity; yet in spite of all these differences, they possess the same qualities.
Indefatigability, fearlessness, thirst for knowledge, tolerance and a capacity for enlightened labor—such are the qualities of the seekers for truth. There is still another quality which unites more closely these varied phenomena —that difficulty of attainment, inherent in all progressive movements, falls to the lot of these toilers whose aim is to bring spiritual light to the universe.
It is a custom to speak lightly of the “martyrs of science, the martyrs of creative work, the martyrs of constructive work, the martyrs of the seeking spirit.” These words are uttered as calmly as a discussion of one’s daily diet or conventional habits, as though this martyrdom had become indispensable and immutable. The adherents of coarseness and vulgarity warn their children, “Why should you become martyrs, when, thanks to our efforts, we can offer you an easy life, and an appetite unspoiled by burdensome thoughts. See how hard it is for the seekers for truth: only a very few of them walk unwounded along the precipice of life. You are our children and therefore you must assume the same undisturbed position in the cemetery which we have earned by our desire for tranquility.”
Yet, beyond all question, it is this very tranquility which comprises the most terrible death, because that which lives never demands quiescence, but on the contrary lives in an eternal pulsation of self-perfection.
Maria Klaudievna Tenisheva—a “constructor” and a collector—has left us.
Her life could have been calm and untroubled. Conforming to the established standards, she could have safely invested her capital in various countries and found herself, in the end, among those who take no part in the violent commotions of humanity and live peacefully until a natural death overtakes them.
But a longing for knowledge and for beauty, an irresistible urge to create and to build, kept Maria Tenisheva away from the still waters. She never experienced the deadly tranquility. She yearned to know, to create, to go forward.
Perhaps those who only met Maria Tenisheva amidst the conventional smiles of social life, would disagree with me. For the spirit of seeking was so tense and so deeply rooted within her that its essence came to the surface only on rare occasions. To know that side of her character one had to meet her at work and even then in the bright moments of creative work. Then Maria Tenisheva would irresistibly blaze forth with the sacred fire of creating, building, collecting and preserving the treasures by which the Spirit of man endures.
Indeed, she strove whole-heartedly and untiringly to safeguard the valuable shoots of art and knowledge. Every collector knows how zealously one should protect all constructive effort against the vise-like grasp of those who aim to destroy it.
Let us sum up all that Maria Tenisheva has accomplished!
To the city of Smolensk she gave a splendid museum, many canvases which would arouse the envy of any metropolitan museum.
To the Russian Museum she donated a marvelous collection of water-colors where, side by side with the Russian painters, were represented some of the best foreign masters. But the Museum Administration of that time did not comprehend the wide reach of such a gesture and refused to accept the foreign masterpieces. It appears as though we were unable to think beyond dead molds.
Let us remember another case of rank injustice. The diocese of Smolensk—with the benediction of its bishop— had placed and sold at auction sacred utensils from the Smolensk Cathedral Sacristy. Maria Tenisheva, wishing to preserve these valuable artistic pieces for the city of Smolensk, commissioned the curator of her museum, Mr. Borstchevsky, to purchase them at the auction. But instead of gratitude for an action which benefited the city of Smolensk, Maria Tenisheva was attacked in the papers by a certain General V. for “pillaging the Smolensk Sacristy.” The affair went to court and the slanderer was put to shame. But this goes to show the state of affairs in Russia of that time and the manner of attacks that the collector had to suffer in the interests of the people.
Many museums are indebted to Maria Tenisheva.
The Museum of the Society for the Encouragement of Fine Arts, the Museum of the Stieglitz School Society, the Museum of the Moscow Archaeological Institute and many others contain donations from Maria Tenisheva.
Many schools were founded by her and others supported by her. And finally there was the art nucleus at Talashkino where Maria Tenisheva tried to assemble the best men of art for the revival of artistic principles.
Let us remember the artistic work-shops organized in Talashkino. Let us remember the inspiring plays. Let us remember the art students who were sent abroad to study —to that same studio where later Maria Tenisheva herself found refuge. Let us remember all the measures taken by Maria Tenisheva to increase the production of artistic handicraft and embroidery among the peasants of the Smolensk province. Let us remember “Rodnik”—the art-craft store in Moscow. Let us remember the exceptional care with which Maria Tenisheva surrounded painters. Let us remember the fairy-like “teremki”* of Maliutin. Let us remember the excavations in the Kremlin of Novgorod made possible through the support of Maria Tenisheva. Let us remember the archaeologists Prachov, Borstchevsky, Ouspensky… Let us remember the exhibitions organized by this remarkable woman to show the importance of Russian art. Let us remember the musicians and the writers, both Russian and foreign, who came to Talashkino. Stravinsky wrote a passage from his “Sacred Spring” upon the balustrade of one of Maliutin’s “teremki” Let us remember that it was Maria Tenisheva again who came to Diaghilev’s aid and helped to organize the splendid magazine Mir Iskustva (The World of Art) which proved to be the domain of new conquests of art.
One must keep in mind that it was not an easy task, in the end of the nineties of the last century, to break the bonds of “academism” and enter the ranks of the new art. Such a deed was never crowned by official laurels. On the contrary every movement in that direction brought forth an avalanche of enmity and slander. But Maria Tenisheva had no fear of it. Besides, indifference to calumny also proves to be one of the characteristics of selfless seeking for truth. There is no doubt that a weaker spirit than that of Maria Tenisheva could have found many reasons to give up the fight and to justify a withdrawal. Tenisheva, instead, turned into new spheres of activity. During the last years spent by her in Talashkino, she was attracted by the thought of building a church. We decided to call this church “The Temple of the Spirit.” The central place in it was to be occupied by the painting of the Mother of the World.
Our common work, which had bound us previously, was now more crystallized by our common thoughts about the temple. All ideas about the synthesis of iconographic presentations gave great joy to Maria Tenisheva. Many things were planned for the church in our intimate conversations.
The first tidings of the war reached us while we were at work in the church. The plans came to a stop and were never completed. But if the greater part of the temple’s walls has remained unpainted, the fundamental thought of this undertaking, nevertheless, has been expressed, and this crowning bequest of Maria Tenisheva in Talashkino showed how true she has remained to her original tendency to build and believe in the future and in new ideas.
Later years held new wanderings for Maria Tenisheva, a complete change of her outward life and a revaluation of many people. I am sorry that I haven’t with me, here in the Himalayas, one of her last letters, which should be quoted fully whenever an attempt to characterize her is made. In this remarkable letter she expresses the fullness of her understanding of contemporary events. Leaving aside her personal feelings, passing by national and other considerations, Maria Tenisheva without the slightest bitterness transports her thought into the future, speaking in still more unifying tones.
Having only her working table, a small studio and a tiny villa in the environs of Paris (I used to call it “Small Talashkino”) Maria Tenisheva found herself again free in her thoughts. She took no time for the appraisal of men’s characters but spoke of the future—the future that is Knowledge. The problems of art’s heritage, expressed in the traditions and ornaments of the Far East not only had not faded in her eyes but had acquired an added brilliancy. Yet she did not become a theorist. No shocks could tear her away from life. She was working, filled as before with the desire to give people the joys of art.
Of the various kinds of art, Maria Tenisheva had chosen for herself the most difficult and the most monumental. Her enamels, founded upon the principles of the ancient, age-old industry, are spread widely throughout the world. Her symbolic birds, Syrin, her white cities, her flowery glazes, her images of recluses indicate clearly the direction of her thoughts and creative work. The Fire Bird —of the enchanted country of the future—captivated and lifted her above everyday life. Here lay the source of her inviolable buoyancy of spirit and devotion to knowledge.
The enamels of Maria Tenisheva in French museums and in various private collections will be a living memory to her remarkable life and her strivings toward the Fire Flower—Creative Work.
At a time when great masses of people were in the tumult of contemporary questions, forgetting the future in the froth of current events, Maria Tenisheva was interested in the migration of peoples and the Gothic heritage and asked me to find, in the depths of Asia, the necessary data for her problems, repeating: “It is absolutely necessary to find it. These enamels and this flowery ornament must be confirmed.”
Maria Tenisheva learned about our departure for Central Asia when she was lying sick in her Small Talashkino.
“Well, Father Nicholas,” she greeted me at our last meeting, “it seems as though you have really decided to build a temple.” Her face bore an austere expression and she reminded one of an Old Believer as she lay in bed, covered with a shawl. As we were leaving Small Talashkino my wife said to me: “She is a true Martha Possadnitza.* What strength, what austerity!”
I can imagine how glad Maria Tenisheva would have been to learn now, after our expedition, that her conjecture about the migration of peoples was entirely correct. And her joy would have been boundless could she have seen some of the ornaments, ascertained the analogy between Tibetan antiquities and those of Scythia and of Alan, seen Tibetan swords and fibulae which remind one of the so-called Gothic antiquities.
No one can say that Maria Tenisheva did not follow the right way.
Let us cite the names of those who at one time or other have collaborated with her and whom she held in high esteem. They were Vrubel, Nesterov, Repine, Serov, Levitan, Diaghileff, Alexander Benois, Bakst, Maliutin, Golovine, Somov, Bilibine, Naumov, Zioglinsky, Yakuntchikove, Polenova and also many others who had worked in Talashkino and in other studios and undertakings of Maria Tenisheva.
These names represent a brilliant epoch in Russian art; that epoch which brought Russia out of the narrow, national understanding and created her well-deserved reputation for her art, which it now holds. And Maria Tenisheva, by choosing precisely this group of artists pursuing daring and diverse ideals, showed thereby the correctness of judgment.
Maria Tenisheva loved the old Russian church painting and valued it very highly.
At the time when Russian church painting was still within the boundaries of the history of art and of iconographic investigations, Maria Tenisheva had already grasped the future artistic significance of this particular art. In her appreciation of the icons, as we now see, Maria Tenisheva had also followed the right road.
In promoting education and raising the level of the lower classes of Smolensk Maria Tenisheva accomplished a timely work, for the necessity of it was indeed evident. The correctness of her actions in this direction is incontestable.
Today a large street in the city of Smolensk bears the name of Tenishevskaya Street. Indeed, many were the people who had walked along Tenishevskaya Street to receive enlightenment and still more are bound to go seeking predestined cultural possibilities.
In enriching the museums by the best examples of creative ability, Maria Tenisheva wanted to point out the importance for future culture of furthering the understanding of art and the esteem for this type of creative work. One can always admire those who strive to lay the foundations of the future life.
About what has already been accomplished we speak briefly and lightly: Let us remember all the schools, workshops, museums and the efforts to promote education. It can be expressed in few words, yet think of all the labor, care and obstacles that each of these undertakings contain.
In turning to a broad understanding of religious principles it can be stated that here, too, Maria Tenisheva possessed opinions devoid of prejudices or superstitions, which were adequate to the demands of the near future.
Opinions, keen and to the point, can sometimes irritate small minds; but is not keenness of judgment an attribute of culture and civilization?
I look back on the work done by Maria Tenisheva with a feeling of joy. We must highly value people who are able to arouse in us such feeling of joy. May it follow her into the regions where she has departed, this feeling of joy, from the realization that she had yearned for a beautiful future and that her place is among those who are laying the steps of the coming culture.
Maria Tenisheva was a great woman—a true Martha Possadnitza.
Many years ago, when making excavations in the province of Tver, we visited the grave of Martha Possadnitza and heard the innumerable legends in which the people enshroud the name of this remarkable woman of Novgorod.
And I can now clearly visualize how gratefully the people of Russia will remember the name of Maria Tenisheva.
Many legends will be woven in Tenishevskaya Street and the name of Maria Tenisheva will be engraved among those of the true “constructors.”
Himalayas, February, 1929.
