writers, or the luxurious living so fully described by the French chronicler. Baldassare Castiglione's Cortegiano, which stands nearest, chronologically speaking, to the Domostroï, introduces us to a society in which life, even among artisans, and in the close quarters of the workshop, takes on a certain elegance and artistic distinction; and an abyss instantly yawns between the two pictures on which we gaze. As Monsieur Pypine has justly observed ('Hist. of Russian Literature,' ii., p. 211), one direct link only is discoverable between the Muscovite work and the literary productions of other countries, and this connects it with that Greek literature which has left its mark on all the Russian thought of that period, and which supplied most of the writers who were Sylvester's contemporaries and fellow-countrymen with materials, or inspired them.
The impression produced by this book, which had dropped into oblivion, and was only disinterred, in 1849, by one of the leaders of the Slavophil school, was most curious. Ivan Akssakov began by rising in revolt. How could a work so absolutely contrary to the national spirit have been conceived and written on Russian soil? 'I would hunt a teacher who dared to suggest such lessons to me to the other end of the world!' But, thinking it over, he recollected habits and customs he had himself noticed among the Moscow merchants. What! did the Domostroï still live on among them? And forthwith, one discovery leading to another, Akssakov remembered certain chapters of Tatichtchev's book on 'Rural Administration' (1742), and his own indignation at the idea that they constituted a proof of the influence of Germany on the national habits and customs. 'How deep it went!' he had said to himself. And then the Domostroï opened his eyes; in its pages he found, identically reproduced, the very features which had so offended him ('Works,' p. 270, etc.; 'Letters,' 1850).
I have said nothing concerning the style of Sylvester's book. There is nothing to be said about it. The author had no artistic quality at all. But was there such a thing as art in the Russia of those days?
IV.—Art.
Secular literature was scarcely known there till the writings of Ivan IV. and Kourbski appeared. And until that period, art, too, remained essentially religious in character. Its chief exemplifications were churches, the ornamentation of religious books, and ikons. What was the value of these productions, and in what measure did they constitute an expression of the national genius?
The artistic aptitudes of the Russian people cannot be
