Fyodor Bruni. THE FOUNDER OF THE DYNASTY

The Tretyakov Gallery's permanent exhibition features, alongside the works of Karl Bryullov, a gripping male portrait. It was painted by an apprentice of ugrcat Karl”, Fyodor Moller (Theodor von Moller), and features a hazel-eyed, brownhaired man with bushy hair and fluffy whiskers. The pale face is set off by a white starched dress shirt, while the black silk necktie highlights the model's elegance. A gold chain and the insignia of the Order of St. Stanislaus indicate the holder’s wealth and position in society, while an overcoat flung over the shoulders lends a certain romantic casual look to the model.[1] Who is the subject?

The portrait is of the artist Fyodor Antonovich Bruni, “a prominent exponent of the academic style”，as the formal histories characterize him. “Fidelio”，as he was called by his family, was the son of a Swiss citizen of Italian origin, Antonio Baroffi-Bruni (1767-1825). As an officer in the Austrian army, Bruni pere participated in Alexander Suvorov's Swiss expedition; the brave soldier was wounded during a battle on the Devil's Bridge, or Teufelsbrucke, in 1799. We know what he looked like thanks to his self-portrait from the 1800s, now held in the Russian Museum, which the artist's descendants had previously kept in their family collection for many years. Antonio depicted himself in the uniform of a Swiss public servant: on his chest hangs the badge of distinction “For Virtues and Merits”，awarded in 1804, and a Gold Medal of Honour, received from a Swiss canton for a painting that he had made.

In 1807, or early in 1808, Antonio Bruni moved to Russia, first settling in Tsarskoye Selo, where he painted murals at the Alexander Palace and restored paintings. From 1811 onwards, he taught at the Imperial Lyceum: family legend had it that the lyceum's young student Alexander Pushkin visited his teacher's home on several occasions.

Antonio Bruni, a craftsman “employed by the stucco, painting and sculpture workshop at the Tsarskoye Selo palaces”，founded a dynasty of artists in St. Petersburg. In the late 18th and early 19th centuries several such artistic “corporations” existed in Russia, in which senior members traditionally taught artistic skills to the younger ones; among them were those uniting the Scotti and the Bruleau families. Such “firms” had operated in Italy since the Middle Ages and prospered during the Quattrocento. The medieval division of labour within guilds involved an intricate system of narrow specialization: thus, some artists painted mostly landscapes or were primarily ornamentalists, while others were first-rate masters of multi-figure compositions. At the same time, each of the artists possessed a wide range of painting and decorating skills. In addition, these painters had at their disposal an original and time-tested “palette” of ready-made formulae and stock images, as well as an elaborate associated iconography, which afforded them a certain creative freedom.

Antonio Bruni worked in close cooperation with his fellow Italian artists, such as Barnaba Medici, Antonio Vighi, Fridolino Torricelli and Giacomo Ferrari. Together they received lucrative commissions for decorating the interior of the Imperial palaces, including St. Michael's Castle (the Mikhailovsky, or Engineers’ Castle) for Paul I, and the Pink Pavilion at Pavlovsk. The Italians would often sign collective agreements with the Department of Court Affairs. Thanks to his friends' assistance, in 1815 Antonio Bruni was granted the title “appointee for two painted compositions”, and later the title of Academician for “paintings representing Job's suffering”. In 1817, the painter moved to Moscow, where he worked on compositions commissioned by the Kurakin and Baryatinsky princely families. In 1820, Antonio Bruni started teaching drawing classes at a university-affiliated boarding school for the children of the nobility. The last document relating to the artist is dated March 1825, when he was granted a two-month leave to paint in the Lgovsky uyezd, or province, of the Kursk Governorate, where it seems that he was working at Prince Baryatinsky's Maryino estate. (One of the artist's works from his time there, a group portrait of the Baryatinsky family - known in Soviet years as “The Harvest” - is kept in the Kursk Museum of Regional History. The decorative grisaille panel “Cupids” was transferred from Maryino to the Tomsk Regional Art Museum.)

Born in December 1801 in Milan, “Fidelio” Giovanni Bruni showed a facility for drawing at an early age.[2] Following tradition, he learned basic artistic skills from his father before enrolling at the Imperial Academy of Arts as a student “sponsored by” Giulio Renato Litta (Julij Rene Pompeevic Litta). The Italian count, who had been a high-ranking officer in the Austrian army, readily helped the son of Antonio Bruni, his fellow soldier and countryman. At the Academy's historical class Bruni, whose first name was Russified to Fyodor, received an excellent education under the mentorship of professors Grigory Ugryumov, Vasily Shebuyev, Alexei Yegorov and Andrei Ivanov; it was there, too, that he met the Bryullov brothers - Fyodor, Alexander and Karl, the last of whom became what might be called Bruni's life-long rival.

It was at that time that the artist created his first self-portrait (1813-1818, Russian Museum), in which the young painter depicted himself holding brushes in his hand, with all attention focused on the face. We see a youth who looks very much like his father: Fidelio is depicted with a high brow, a noble contour to the nose, and the plump lips of an adolescent. The emphatic classical neatness of his facial features, the contour of the head, and the treatment of the hair framing the face like a crown have a hint of self-admiration about them: the piece reveals a romantic idea about the artist as creator.

In 1818, Fyodor Bruni sat a competition examination for the gold medal. However, his work “Samson and Delilah” was not sufficiently appreciated, and it was Karl Bryullov who received the gold medal. “I feel sorry for Bruni,” his fellow artist, the landscapist Sylvester Shchedrin wrote. “Why it had to happen that there's no luck in anything.”[3] As a result, in 1819 the young Fidelio, on moving to Italy to study art, had to subsist on the meagre funds provided by his father. Without an academic stipend, he was permanently in need of paid work. Once in “the homeland of his ancestors”, Bruni worked with zeal, but it transpired that he was not paid anything for his first large historical composition “The Death of Camilla, Horace's Sister”（1824), nor for his second, “St. Cecilia”（1825, both at the Russian Museum). In 1825 the elder Bruni died, and the artist again faced money problems. He continued working, copying Raphael's frescoes “The Triumph of Galatea” and “The Expulsion of Heliodorus from the Temple” (both completed in 1827, and now held at the Research Museum of the Academy of Arts). The emerging artist was patronized and assisted by a high-society beauty, Zinaida Volkonskaya, at whose home Bruni attended frequent social gatherings.

Only after three years did the wheel of Fortune finally turn in his favour. Early in 1828, Nicholas I issued an edict to the effect that he “had the grace to order to keep the artist Bruni in foreign lands for five years with the purpose of improving his painting skills and to grant him, during this period, 300 chervontsy per annum from the State treasury”.[4] “I'm profoundly gratified,” Sylvester Shchedrin wrote, “that the Lord has taken pity on our dear Bruni.”[5]

One would have thought that the stars had begun to align auspiciously for the artist, when Bruni suddenly fell in love with a young Roman girl. As family legend goes, he caught a glimpse of a 16-year-old Italian girl standing on a balcony of the fashionable Hotel London on the Piazza di Spagna.[6] It was a case of love at first sight, and the attachment would last for life. Angelica Serni, the daughter of a wealthy French hotelier and a Roman beauty, had inherited her good looks from her mother, and was in addition intelligent and well-educated. Although she liked Bruni, there was no way that she could secure her parents' consent to her marriage to a poor artist from Russia, one who was also her senior by 12 years. But Fidelio - his name, after all, meant “loyal” - would not give up his dream, wooing her with compositions that he dedicated to her.

At that time the enamoured artist was producing compositions focused on stories from Ancient Greek and Roman mythology, such as “The Awakening of the Graces” （1827, Tretyakov Gallery) and “A Bacchante Giving Cupid a Drink” (1828, Russian Museum). Bruni is partial to the goddesses' sensual beauty, their delicate and sweet bodies, and the relaxed poses of the Graces. The passionate sensuality of the priestesses who provoked but did not feel love was in accord with the heartbroken artist's own mood. Bruni intended to introduce his “Bacchante” to the Roman public at a show in the Capitol in the spring of 1830, but faced censorship. As Stepan Shevyryov wrote in a review: “The chaste rules of the society that organized the exhibition limited the number of Russian pieces to be shown. Bruni wanted to display his charming Bacchante, who is soon to appear in the capital city upon the Neva: if she had been accepted, this Bacchante alone could have proven that the young Russian brush is quite a threat for the seasoned fame of Romans and the French. But she was rejected for being semi-naked, and as a token of respect for Lent.”[7]

Bruni would suffer the pains of love for many years before he could marry Angelica Serni, and his woes were now complicated by the anguished jealousy of the artist-creator. When in 1833 Karl Bryullov completed his composition “The Last Day of Pompeii”, his work was met with huge enthusiasm among the European public. Bruni was contemplating a huge composition “The Brazen Serpent”. In 1834, “in consideration of his known achievements in the art of painting, as well as the excellent copies and original works held in Russia”, the artist was awarded the title of Academician. Finally, 1835 saw his long hoped-for wedding, attended by the Russian stipend-holders in Rome, among them the architect Fyodor Richter, the painter Alexander Ivanov, and the engraver Fyodor Iordan. The Brunis lived a long and happy life, and are buried together at the Vyborgskoe Roman Catholic cemetery in St. Petersburg.[8]

In Spring 1836, at the Emperor's behest, Bruni had to return to Russia, and his dear young wife came with him. Alexander Ivanov, who usually treated ladies with a degree of scepticism, wrote to his father: “As for his spouse, I wish my little sisters will meet her. Please tell this to Katerina and Maria Andreyevna. They will see she is a well-mannered and obliging woman. And on top of everything, they will always have the pleasure of seeing an example of Roman beauty. She sings and plays the piano admirably.”[9] In St. Petersburg the couple settled in a house belonging to the Academy, and Fyodor Antonovich, now a professor of the 2nd degree, began teaching. He contributed to the creation of murals for the church of the Winter Palace, and in the tragic days of 1837 it was Bruni who created the image of Alexander Pushkin in his coffin, which would gain international renown as a print.

In August 1838, Bruni again travelled to Italy with his wife. This time the artist's situation was different: he was now wealthy, favoured by the Emperor, and working on a huge composition “The Brazen Serpent” that had the potential to become an international masterpiece. In the absence of Bryullov, Bruni became a leader of the colony of Russian artists in Rome.

In December 1838 Grand Duke Alexander Nikolayevich, the heir to the throne, arrived in Rome; his programme of cultural visits included a tour of the Eternal City, inspecting curiosities in antique shops, and visiting painters' and sculptors' workshops. The painter Alexander Ivanov wrote to his father in St. Petersburg: “The heir to the throne visited the studios of Bruni, Haberzettel, myself, Markov and Moller, and asked to have the rest of the works displayed at an exhibition. All were displayed. The heir was satisfied. Vasily Zhukovsky explained through Bruni that the heir wanted to commission a variety of projects. At the end, everybody's project was approved.”[10]

Indeed, in Rome's international artistic community11 it was usual for such art exhibitions to coincide with visits by important European royalty.[12] The December 1838 show was the first time that the Russian artists had organized such an exhibition, as attested to in a travel diary and in the letters of Alexander Nikolayevich. “9/21 December. His Imperial Majesty vouchsafed to visit the studio of the Russian painter Bruni. The worship of the serpent in the desert, according to connoisseurs, is a composition bound to bring fame to the artist. The Royal Heir also took a fancy to the image of the Mother of God with the everlasting infant on which Bruni is presently working.”[13]

The composition “The Mother of God with the Infant Standing in front of Her” was commissioned in 1834 by the senator Grigory Rakhmanov.[14] An article in the March 1837 issue of “Khudozhestvannaya gazeta” (Arts Newspaper) read: “In Bruni's workshop, there are now four large compositions commissioned by the senator Rakhmanov for a Greek Russian church, and three of them are already completed: ‘The Mother of God with the Infant', ‘Saviour in the Garden', and ‘Saviour in Heaven'.”[15] “The Mother of God with the Infant Standing in front of Her” is one of the first compositions in the so-called “Byzantine style”，of which one of the main characteristics is a golden background.

After his visit to Bruni's workshop, Alexander Nikolayevich wrote to his father, the Emperor: “I also saw in his workshop a Madonna, which I liked very much.”[16] In Bruni's obituary, Andrei Somov recounted his biography and confirmed that the royal heir had indeed purchased “The Mother of God” from Bruni.[17] The treatment of Mary's image is revealing: she is a delicately built young woman with narrow sloping shoulders, an elegant oval face, large eyes and a small mouth. As a true graduate of the Imperial Academy of Arts, Bruni took great pains to make the gestures of his figures expressive and sublime. As if anticipating his destiny, the infant halts in his path and, with a frightened look, catches his mother by her left thumb. Family legend had it that this compositional formula was suggested to the artist by the sight of his fiancee Angelica Serni and her younger brother as he stood in front of her on the balustrade of a balcony.[18] Like Raphael in “The Sistine Madonna”, Bruni skilfully used the gesture of movement towards the people for highlighting Mary's distinctive features, and heightened the motif of estrangement. The image of the Mother of God is strictly full-face; she neither embraces her son, nor tries to demonstrate any ties of affection between them - she seems to anticipate his destiny, and resolves to follow her own dolorous path.

Bruni's artistic legacy also includes other variants of the iconography of the Mother of God with the infant, such as “The Mother of God with the Infant, Resting on the Flight into Egypt” (1838) and “The Mother of God with the Infant in Roses”（1843, both at the Tretyakov Gallery). The origin of his imagery of the Madonna can be traced to Italian compositions of the Renaissance. “The artist strove to achieve the same detachment,” one of Bruni's contemporaries wrote, “the same sacramental calmness of face that distinguishes Raphael's Madonnas.”[19]

It is worth noting that these works reached the Tretyakov Gallery only in the Soviet period. The relationship between Pavel Tretyakov and Fyodor Bruni has not been thoroughly researched, and deserves further examination. Considering Bruni's unwavering commitment to academicism, Tretyakov as a collector was understandably not greatly interested in his work, while Tretyakov's artist-contemporaries also had a rather sceptical attitude to Bruni. For instance, Mikhail Scotti wrote from Rome to Nikolai Ramazanov in February 1858: “So, have you received the rest of the pieces in the Cathedral of the Saviour? Is it true that all the painting assignments have been taken by Neff and Bruni? Aren't the old men feeling ashamed, that damned greed, and the poor and talented youths - what should they do, I've talked about it at Grigorovich's and criticized the old men, and he finally agreed with me.”[20]

The negative attitude of the Academy's youth to Bruni as rector - he had held that post since 1855 - became especially clear at the funeral of Alexander Ivanov. “When Bruni took the coffin's handle,” Mikhail Botkin wrote from Moscow to Sergei Ivanov in Rome on July 27 1858, “they went into a rant against the Academy and the people who were dishonestly pressurizing others to write dishonest articles for money. They thus made Bruni run away feeling ashamed.”[21]

Tretyakov took an interest in Bruni's art in the late 1860s. The Department of Manuscripts holds the artist's only letter to the collector, dated January 11 1867: “My good sir, Pavel Mikhailovich! Your wish will be granted - the composition ‘The Image of the Saviour' will be shipped to your address in Moscow without delay. And, in the meantime, please accept the assurances of my sincere gratitude for your attention. As for your wishes to have my drawing for your album, I will send it to you with great pleasure.”[22] It is not now clear which drawing was under discussion, since Bruni gifted two drawings to the Gallery in that year, “Christ Surrounded by the Apostles” and “Caught by the Storm in the Desert”.

Although Bruni did not share Tretyakov's views on art, the collector nevertheless understood the painter's significance for Russian painting. In the winter of 1871, on a visit to St. Petersburg, he secured Fyodor Bruni's consent to sit for a portrait and assigned the piece to Apollinary Goravsky. It was precisely in the late 1860s and early 1870s that Tretyakov began to intentionally acquire or commission portraits of “those whom the nation holds dear to its heart”. Unfortunately, the editor of the volume about Tretyakov's gallery of portraits did not include Goravsky's image of Fyodor Bruni in it.[23] However, Goravsky's letters to Tretyakov, with a detailed description of the process of the assignment, have survived. His first communication is dated February 20 1871: “Dear Pavel Mikhailovich! Immediately after your departure I preoccupied myself with Fyodor Antonovich Bruni's portrait and have already spent three sittings drawing with charcoal because there has been a change of location. Now the turn and the lighting are in his study from the right, that is the way you envisaged, and there were also three sittings with paints.”[24] The painter's evidence that Tretyakov not only assigned the portrait but also personally created a draft-outline for it is of considerable importance. Working towards the goal set by his client, in his composition Goravsky blended ceremonial and “chamber” elements. The size of the piece (105.4 by 78.5 cm), the three-quarter-figure image of the sitter, dressed in his usual attire - all this was in accord with other portraits from the series as envisaged by Tretyakov.

“The portrait is small in size but complicated in execution,” Goravsky wrote. “It will represent a moment of rest, of sitting casually in his customary pose, his arms down and pensively holding a pencil, in his black working coat of velvet and, as usual, his hair in a mess - he is not going to cut it until I finish the portrait. Truth and simplicity, and there is no place for starchiness.”[25]

Goravsky encountered a number of difficulties while working on the portrait. Thus, “on account of the duties of his office some visits were wasted because, irrespective of his [Bruni's - L.M.] wishes, obligations would take him from his home to accompany the Emperor as he examined the monuments and generally took care of all that was art-related.”[26] To make things worse, Bruni fell ill and could no longer sit for the portrait. “After recovery from smallpox, he is already able to leave home,” Goravsky reported to Tretyakov, “and he said, ‘Vernal air gives me a tan, this is going to be even more interesting for the painter.' I thanked him, because in saying that he revealed even more his desire to sit for the portrait.”[27]

In addition to his sitter's personal circumstances, the artist also had to take care of some technical details in the work. Goravsky could not always paint over “a wet priming”，and it took time before the layer of freshly applied paints would dry. He wrote in a letter of March 18 1871: “…the fresh paint sittings still remain.”[28] On April 3, the artist apprised Tretyakov that all that then remained to do with the portrait was “to let it dry throughout under the sun and again return to the face, for the entire flavour of the image is clearer now.”[29] In this letter Goravsky also wrote that he needed five more sittings: the painter asked Tretyakov not to put pressure on him to hurry the work. Late in the year, in his letter of December 28, written “in the evening”，Goravsky disputed with Tretyakov over the fee for Bruni's finished portrait. The patron offered 350 rubles, while Goravsky requested 400.[30]

It is probable that Tretyakov did not greatly like Goravsky's image of Bruni. As the artist himself wrote on February 14 1872 “in the morning”: “I remember your words that the Bruni portrait is not as important for your collection as the Glinka portrait.”[31] In view of this we can understand why the collector also took an interest in the portrait that Moller had created in 1840 in Bruni's studio in Rome, which for a long time had been kept as a treasure by the Bruni family in St. Petersburg. In 1888, Ivan Schoene “an agent of Russian artists”，informed Tretyakov that Bruni's relatives “are not selling Moller's portrait of their father.”[32] However, three years later the painter's younger son was compelled to make contact with the famous collector. “Dear Sir, Pavel Mikhailovich,” Yuly Bruni wrote, “I am writing this to you because circumstances compel me to sell my father's works and portrait. I have a buyer but before I make up my mind I wish to hear from you. I am offered for both items [the portrait and the drawing “The Brazen Serpent” - L.M.] 3,000 rubles but, to my dismay, they are to be taken out of Russia, which is very sad.”[33] Yuly Bruni, who was an architect, suggested he could come to Moscow for further negotiation. Tretyakov, it appears, answered affirmatively but, typically for him, managed to cut the price by 1,000 rubles. A signed bill of sale held in the Gallery archive bears witness to this: “For the works I sell to Pavel Mikhailovich Tretyakov - the drawing executed by my father, Fyodor Bruni, personally (The Brazen Serpent), and my father's portrait, in oil paints, by professor Moller, I received the payment in full to the amount of 2,000 silver rubles. September 4, 1891.”[34]

Yuly Bruni (1843-1911) had inherited his father's artistic talent. He graduated with honours with a degree in architecture from the Imperial Academy of Arts, and in the 1860s he occupied various training positions in France, Italy and the northern and southern regions of Germany. Upon his return to Russia in 1868, Yuly Bruni secured a good post with the government, with the young architect employed by the Ministry of Internal Affairs and assigned to the construction committee. Until 1871 he was a non-tenured architect at the Board of Trustees of the Office of the Institutions of Empress Maria. In 1875, the architect was appointed to the 4th department of His Imperial Majesty's Chancellery. Undoubtedly his father's standing in society and reputation contributed to the architect's rise. Yuly was not only an architect, but was also considered a talented watercolour painter, as well as successful in the field of decorative art and an expert in designing and decorating domestic interiors. His son Georgy chose a different art and became a musician, his granddaughter Tatyana, a stage-designer.

Little is known about Fyodor Bruni's elder son, Nikolai (1839-1873), who died at the age of 33, only two years after his father's death. His portrait, created by his father in the late 1840s, has survived (held in the Tretyakov Gallery). The boy's delicate, angelic visage is skilfully inscribed within an oval, and the subject's delicate outline, soft curly hair down to the shoulders, and plump mouth all lend the image an inimitable sweetness and charm.

The history of the Bruni family spans a whole century and a number of generations. Although Russia at that time employed many artists of foreign origin, the talented Bruni family occupied a special place in 19th century Russian culture. What is important is that the clan survived through the 20th century in Lev and Ivan Bruni.

1. Markina, L.A. “The Painter Fyodor Moller”. Moscow, 2002. P. 54.
2. The artist's date of birth is a matter of dispute. Bruni's first biographer, A.V. Polovtsev, dated it as June 10 1799. (In: Polovtsev, A.V. “Fyodor Antonovich Bruni. A Biographical Essay”. St. Petersburg, 1907.) Based on the archival documents referenced by A.G. Vereshchagina, the artist is now believed to have been born on December 27 1801. (In: Vereshchagina, A.G. “Fyodor Antonovich Bruni”. Leningrad, 1985. Pp. 8-10, 216. Hereinafter - Vereshchagina).
3. Sylvester Shchedrin letter from Naples to the sculptor Samuil Galberg in Rome, March 26 1826. In: “Italian Letters and Communications of Sylvester Shchedrin. 1818-1830”. The publication prepared by Yevseviev, M.Yu. Moscow, 2014. P. 291. Hereinafter - Shchedrin.
4. Vereshchagina. P. 63.
5. Sylvester Shchedrin letter from Naples to the sculptor Samuil Galberg in Rome, March 13 1828. In: Shchedrin. P. 382.
6. Vereshchagina. P. 86.
7. ‘A Letter from Rome to the Publisher'. In: “Literaturnaya gazeta” (Literary Newspaper). 1830. No. 36. P. 291.
8. In 1936, when the cemetery was closed, their remains, together with the tombstone, were moved to the Tikhvinskoye Cemetery (the Necropolis of Great Artists) at the Alexander Nevsky Monastery.
9. Vereshchagina. P. 239.
10. Botkin, M.P. “Alexander Ivanov. His Life and Letters”. St. Petersburg, 1880. Pp. 112-113.
11. Markina, L.A. ‘Rome: The Academy of Europe'. In: “Khudozhestvenny vestnik”（Messenger of the Arts). St. Petersburg, 2015. Pp. 15-27.
12. Yailenko, E. “The Myth of Italy in Russian Art of the First Half of the 19th Century”. Moscow, 2012. P. 282.
13. Makarov, V. ‘Journal of a Trip Abroad and Some Gatchina Pieces'. A manuscript. February 19 1927. Published, in fragments, in: “Old Gatchina”. 1927. No. 78. Held at Department of Manuscripts, Tretyakov Gallery. Fund 31. Item 2371. Sheet 3.
14. Polovtsev, A.V. “Fyodor Antonovich Bruni. A Biographical Essay”. St. Petersburg, 1907. Pp. 126, 128.
15. “Khudozhestvennaya gazeta”（Arts Newspaper). 1837, No. 6. P. 105.
16. “Correspondence Between the Heir Alexander Nikolayevich and Emperor Nicholas I”. Moscow, 2008. P. 203.
17. “Pchela”（The Bee). 1875. No. 35. P. 426.
18. Vereshchagina. P. 86.
19. ‘Fyodor Bruni's Images of Rome'. In: “Khudozhestvennaya gazeta”（Arts Newspaper), 1837, No. 15. P. 239.
20. Markina, L.A. “The Painter Mikhail Scotti”. Moscow, 2017. P. 282.
21. German Institute of Archaeology in Rome. Mikhail Botkin's unpublished letter to Sergei Ivanov.
22. “Artists' Letters to Pavel Mikhailovich Tretyakov. 1856-1869”. Moscow, 1960. P. 177. Hereinafter - Artists' Letters.
23. “Pavel Tretyakov's Gallery of Portraits of “Persons Dear to the Nation's Heart'”. Moscow, 2014.
24. Artists' Letters. P. 41.
25. Ibid.
26. Ibid.
27. Artists' Letters. P. 44.
28. Ibid.
29. Artists' Letters. P. 49.
30. Artists' Letters. P. 60. This information is at odds with the date on the portrait. There is an inscription on the armchair's arm rest: “A. Goravsky. 20 III 1871”.
31. Artists' Letters. P. 67.
32. Department of Manuscripts, Tretyakov Gallery. Fund 1. Item 4209. Sheet 1.
33. Department of Manuscripts, Tretyakov Gallery. Fund 1. Item 751. Sheet 1.
34. Vereshchagina. Pp. 234-235