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The aim of this article is to explore the policy of the St. Petersburg Jewish community in the course of its building activities, which started in the 1860s and continued until the outbreak of the World War I in 1914. It would be expected that during the course of half a century the approaches would be changed and the outlooks altered. However, as this article will show, certain principles continued to influence the building activities of the community during all those years. It is not especially surprising since the community itself was an elitist institution which included only two to three hundred well-to-do Jews, and its leadership was held during the whole period by three families—the Gintsburgs, Poliakovs and Var-shavskys. All this fostered a high degree of continuity in the viewpoints and the establishment of a tradition.

Although Jewish building activity in St. Petersburg—mainly the erection of a grand synagogue and the chapel in the Jewish cemetery—seem to be an isolated phenomenon, it has significance for the history of Russian Jewry as a whole and is an important part of European Jewish history. On the one hand, the dilemmas and choices which the Jews in the capital of the Russian Empire faced were, of course, not unique; the same dilem-mas were dealt with in all European countries. On the other hand, the reactions of the Russian authorities to the Jewish community’s building initiatives were much more hostile than the usual responses in Europe and clearly reflected their anti-Jewish attitudes. Thus, the case of St. Petersburg is both a typical and an atypical example of the architectural development of a Jewish community in a great European city.

The history of the building activities of the St. Petersburg Jewish com-munity is in a significant degree a dialogue with the city, which developed in political, cultural, aesthetic and architectural contexts. This dialogue can be divided into five acts, which spanned a period of fifty years: each one with its own message, directed towards the non-Jewish environment. Sometimes the reaction to those messages was explicit, expressed in official documents, and sometimes it was implicit in the general development of the city.

Th e ST. Pe T e r S b u r g Je w i S h

Co m m u n i T y a n d T h e Ca P i T a l

o f T h e ru S S i a n em P i r e:an ar C h i T e C T u r a l di a l o g u e

Vladimir Levin

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The Jews in the Russian Empire lacked equal civil rights and could dwell only in several Western provinces, known as the Pale of Settlement, which did not include the capital. Only after 1859 some privileged groups of Jews (rich merchants, Jews with university degrees, learned craftsmen and the soldiers from the time of Nicolas I) were allowed to settle permanently outside the Pale and the Jewish population of St. Petersburg began to grow rapidly, from approximately one thousand Jews in the late 1850s to thirty-five thousand Jews counted in the 1910 census.1 By 1859, the capital of the Empire had already existed some 150 years and its imperial architectural outlook was completely formed by then. Therefore, when the heads of the Jewish community decided to build a synagogue and other communal buildings, they had to deal with the question of the relation-ship between their buildings and the surrounding architecture.

Although the Russian Orthodox Church was the only privileged church in the Empire, St. Petersburg was known for tolerance towards other Chris-tian denominations. Since its establishment in 1703, many non-Ortho-dox churches were built in the city; for example, on its main street—the Nevsky Prospect—were four non-Orthodox churches (Armenian, Catho-lic, Lutheran and Calvinist) and only two Orthodox ones. Many non-Or-thodox churches were important architectural monuments, although they usually yielded to the Orthodox temples in their size and prominence. Thus a multi-religious environment already existed, and the erection of a synagogue was not a question of religious tolerance but a part of the “Jewish question” in Russia.

1 St. Petersburg, competition project for the synagogue, arch. L. Bakhman and I. Shaposhnikov, 1879 (Reprinted after Zodchii, 1881, courtesy of Benyamin Lukin)

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The heads of the St. Petersburg community had hopes of civil emanci-pation and so they envisioned the future synagogue as a calling card of Russian Jewry toward the higher administration of the Empire living in St. Petersburg and toward Russian society as a whole. As a Russian-Jewish weekly put it, “what can better serve the familiarization [of the non-Jewish officials with the genuine spirit of Judaism] than God’s temple, open to all, than public worship?”2 A Hebrew weekly proclaimed that the projected “Temple” “will be the center for our religion, which would receive respect in the eyes of the people and the ministers.”3 The grand synagogue had to secure the place of the Jews in Russian society as a “cultured,” “civilized” people, no different than other subjects of the Empire, citizens deserv-ing immediate emancipation (in the words of the same Russian-Jewish weekly, a “monument of the belonging of Jews to the general family of Russian citizens”4). But the reaction of the authorities to the community’s plans was highly antagonistic and restrictive. They stated, implicitly and explicitly, that the Jews had no civil rights, and that their settlement in St. Petersburg was only temporary and their presence should not be too prominent.5

In the first act of the dialogue the main question was the location of the synagogue. It was an especially painful and complicated issue, because the heads of the community wanted their synagogue built in the center of St. Petersburg, in a prominent and respectful place, visible to city dwellers in general and especially to the members of the government. The famous maskil, Hebrew poet and secretary of the St. Petersburg Jewish community Yehuda-Leib (Lev) Gordon put the problem in this way:

Place a Jewish synagogue on Nevsky Prospect and the common Russian, pass-ing by, will take off his hat and cross himself: “Must be, well, holy, if they put it here.” But hide it [in a suburb], and he not only will regard the banished synagogue as something foul, but will infer that it is pleasing to God and the authorities to throw out all the yids.6

Therefore the community looked for plots on central streets, where the future building could become a high profile presence in the St. Petersburg cityscape. The authorities had other ideas: they wanted the synagogue to be placed in a remote corner of the city, far from the eyes of “high society.” The whole saga of the purchase of a plot continued for a decade, from 1869, when Tsar Alexander II gave his permission to build a synagogue, until 1879, when the permission to purchase the actual plot was granted. This plot was situated in a poor neighborhood (Kolomna), on a narrow side street (Bol’shaia Masterskaia St., later renamed Lermontovsky Av-enue), mainly hidden from the eyes of the people. Even the official report of the Community Board, written in an optimistic tone, called this place “relatively decent.”7 It is clear that the Jewish community lost the first

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round of the dialogue and thus the first part of an ambitious plan to estab-lish visual representation of “enlightened” Judaism failed.8

The second act of the dialogue dealt with the size of the synagogue and its religious character. The community leaders already spoke in 1869 about a synagogue, which “in its size would be fitting to the size of the Jewish pop-ulation in Petersburg and in its architectural form would be seemly to the Capital of the Empire.”9 As all three competition projects of 1879 showed, both the community leaders and the architects had a grand synagogue in mind—a large and magnificent building crowned by several domes. The large number of cupolas was not only part of the Oriental style (to be con-sidered below), but, more important, it was a clear sign of the religious, sacral character of the building.

However, once again the ideas of the communal leadership came into con-flict with the authorities’ concept. The official opinion of City Governor General Alexander Zurov was clear and explicit:

I think that the facade of the synagogue draws too much attention by its splen-dor. The building of the synagogue constructed in this fashion would over-shadow all non-Orthodox temples in the capital and even some of the Russian Orthodox churches. But the existing laws pertaining to Jews allow their settle-ment in the capital only as an exception; permission to build a synagogue was given to the Jews only after long solicitation and as a special mercy. Under such conditions, the first synagogue in the capital should have a more modest out-look which would fit the situation of Jews in our motherland.10

No wonder that after such an opinion was voiced, the project was rejected by the tsar, who ordered: “Redo the project in more modest dimensions.”11

A new and exhaustive process of changes began. First, the architects tried simply to diminish the size of the building (from 950 seats for men and 650 seats for women to 665 and 375 seats respectively),12 but Minister of Inte-rior L. S. Makov demanded that all cupolas be removed. To justify the use of domes, the architects insisted that the tsar’s permission of 1869 explicitly spoke about a synagogue, not a prayer house. In the end, the new minister Count M. T. Loris-Melikov agreed on one cupola and the final version of the project was approved by the new tsar Alexander III in May 1881.13

Thus, in this second round of dialogue the Jewish community was more successful than in the first one: although reduced in size and splendor, the synagogue still had a tower and a cupola that gave the building a clearly religious character.

The third act of the dialogue was on the architectural style of the syna-gogue. This time the issue was not with the Russian authorities but with

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the relationship of the synagogue building to the architectural character of St. Petersburg. The idea to use the Moorish style for the new synagogue building was spelled out by the famous Russian art-critic Vladimir Stasov in 1872, when first steps were taken to acquire a plot.14

In his essay Stasov wrote that

we are living in an age of the awakening of nationalities. Each nation [narod] and tribe [plemia] would like … to find and to express, on every meaningful occasion, its very own distinctive make-up of lifestyle, originality and beauty…. Dispersed as it is in Europe, the Jewish tribe itself could not remain apart from the general movement and [it] could not wish not to have synagogues in genu-ine Jewish style everywhere.15

This demand to build in “genuine Jewish style” suited Stasov’s activities concerning the creation of a national Russian style in art, in architecture and in music, based on Russian folk-motives. But which architectural forms should be considered as “genuine” Jewish? The folk-art of East-Eu-ropean Jewry had not yet come to the attention of artists and was per-ceived, if at all, as a wicked deviation, in the way the spoken language of those Jews—Yiddish—was perceived as a broken jargon. Stasov, as well as his contemporaries (and, on the other hand, as the Jewish Enlighten-ment movement in general), did not conceive traditional Jewry of his own time as a national/ethnic collective possessing any virtues worthy of being developed into higher forms of art (music or literature), in contrast, for example, to the Russian peasant.

Therefore, Stasov looked for the “Jewish style” in the remote past and in his analysis Arabic architecture was the closest to the original, authenti-cally Jewish one. He argued that Jews influenced the architecture of Arabs, a kin Semitic people, already in Arabia, but especially in North Africa and on the Iberian Peninsula. Proof can be found by the “anatomical research and comparison” of Arabic architecture with other Oriental architectures and with the “doubtless Jewish” Toledo synagogues, both of which are of “Arab-Moorish character.” The features missing in “other Oriental styles” but found in Moorish architecture could be explained, according to Sta-sov, by comparing “preserved remnants of ancient Jewish buildings [i.e., ruins from the first century CE in Palestine] with their architectural sculp-ture and ornamentation.”16

All his fine theoretical constructs ultimately came to justify the contem-porary use of the Moorish style in European synagogues.17 Stasov exten-sively quoted architects who explained the choice of the Oriental style in synagogue buildings and fully agreed with them.18 As the most promi-nent example he singled out the New Synagogue in Berlin and advised the St. Petersburg community to follow in its path.19

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Already during the summer of 1869, as noted by Yvonne Kleinmann, even before the permission to build a synagogue was granted, a Russian-Jewish newspaper reported that “the synagogue would be built in pure Moorish style, and in its interior finishing … would be completely similar to the Alhambra.”20 That the current European fashion of the Moorish style in-fluenced the St. Petersburg community became even more evident from the first Jewish building in the Russian capital, which was not the syna-gogue which had been postponed until the purchase of a plot, but a chapel in the new Jewish cemetery, quite a distance from the city.21 It was built in 1873–74 by architect Ivan Shaposhnikov, who later would design, along with Lev Bakhman, the Choral Synagogue.22 The wooden chapel showed some Moorish motifs taken from the Alhambra palace in Granada, which would later appear in the synagogue. In the mid-nineteenth century the splendid Alhambra palace complex in Granada became a common source for the Moorish stylizations all over Europe; several albums showing its courts and rooms were published in Paris and London, thus facilitating access to the lexicon of Alhambra’s forms and ornaments.23

The cemetery chapel was probably the first building in St. Petersburg to make use of the Moorish style, taken from the Alhambra. However, the second Moorish stylization in the city, built at the same time, was not con-nected to Jews. It was an apartment building of Prince Alexander Muruzi (24 Liteinyi Avenue), designed by a young architect Alexei Serebriakov in collaboration with Petr Shestov and Nikolai Sultanov.24 Here again,

2 St. Petersburg, first cemetery chapel, arch. I. Shaposhnikov, 1873–74 (After Zodchii, 1876, courtesy of Benyamin Lukin)

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the choice of style was not accidental but stressed the “Oriental” origin of the prince25 and ornamentation closely followed the Alhambra model (it was even said that the architect was sent to Granada to learn the style in situ26). Nonetheless, this apartment building remained the only one in the city designed in the Moorish style: in the second half of the nineteenth century in St. Petersburg, the Oriental forms remained confined to Jew-ish sacral buildings alone, until the erection of the magnificent mosque in 1910.27 Thus one of the basic ideas of historicist architecture of the nineteenth century, that different historic styles are suitable for different types of buildings, found its full expression here. Besides the “Russian” style of numerous Russian Orthodox churches, and the “Gothic” and “Ro-manesque” styles of quite a few Catholic and Protestant churches built in the second half of the nineteenth century, the “Moorish” style singled out Jewish sacral buildings.

Notwithstanding that the first Jewish building in the Moorish style already existed, not everybody agreed with Stasov on the Moorish appearance of the synagogue. As Benjamin Nathans has noted,28 Stasov’s protégé and friend, the great sculptor Mark Antokolsky,29 disagreed with him on the matter of style. In a private letter of 1879, he claimed that

the Moorish style is less suitable to the spirit of Jewish religion.… This style is too light, too coquettish; there is in this style magic luxury, in which fairy kings live, but in no way is there anything that fills it with fear and adoration [blagogovenie].30

3 St. Petersburg, Muruzi House, arch. A. Serebriakov with P. Shestov and N. Sul-tanov, 1874–77, detail (Photo by author, 2005)

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Antokolsky suggested Egyptian or Assyrian styles: “Here there is the most of the heavenly, of severity, of might, and at the same time very much of the Biblical character.”31 More important from the historical perspective is, however, Antokolsky’s suggestion to use the Great Synagogue of Vilna (Vilnius), which he described to Stasov in detail, as a model. It seems that Antokolsky was the first to articulate the idea that synagogue architecture of the seventeenth century could be used “not as a style but as a concept”32 for creating new works of art, devoid of imitations.33 As it becomes clear in Antokolsky’s second letter, Stasov definitely insisted on the Moorish style, and Antokolsky had no choice but to relent, speaking in general against the usage of styles of the past while at the same time demanding the cre-ation of “something independent, individual.”34

The most serious opposition to the Moorish style came from the secretary of the community, Yehuda-Leib Gordon. In 1879, when the plot was purchased and it seemed that construction would soon begin, he argued publicly that the Jews lacked an authentic architectural style and pointed out that they generally used the styles of the epoch and the place, “be-cause they were completely indifferent as to what external appearance their temple would have.” “For the synagogue in our time, the Moorish style is obligatory to the same degree as the Arabic language, in which Spanish Jews of those times wrote, is obligatory for contemporary Jewish writers.”

4 St. Petersburg, Choral Synagogue, arch. L. Bakhman and I. Shaposhnikov, 1879–93 (Photo 1912 reprinted from Evreiskaia Entsiklopedia, vol. 13 [St. Petersburg, 1912].)

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Gordon thought that the style of the Russian churches, devoid of special Christian elements, would be better suited for the new synagogue.35 Thus Gordon not only gave a new expression of his famous maxim “Be a man in the streets and a Jew at home,” but also, knowingly or unknowingly, repeated the polemics which at that time had developed on the style of German synagogues. Stasov wasted little time in attacking Gordon’s views and again stressed the necessity for Moorish stylization.36 However, unre-lated, external circumstances resolved the argument between Stasov and Gordon. As a result of a conflict between the “enlightened” leadership of the community and the Habad Hasidim over the appointment of a new rabbi, Gordon was arrested and exiled,37 while Stasov became a member of the commission for the examination of projects submitted to the competi-tion. All three projects submitted were in the Moorish style, as well as the final project, prepared by architects Lev Bakhman (the first Jew to study at the St. Petersburg Academy of Art38) and Ivan Shaposhnikov. After the above-mentioned alterations demanded by the authorities were made, their project was carried out in 1883–93 by architect Aleksei Malov, who altered it several times, in the way that only the main façade, approved by the emperor in 1881 was left untouched.39

Although Stasov’s opinion was definitely and easily successful in St. Pe-tersburg, the Moorish choice was not a matter of course. The Choral Syna-gogue in Russia’s “second” capital, Moscow, was built in 1886–88 in the Neo-Classical style (arch. Semion Eibushits).40 The Moscow Synagogue clearly followed the example of the Neo-Classical “Progressive” synagogue on Tłomacka St. in Warsaw (the third largest city in the Empire), built in 1872–78 by Leandro Marconi.41 Only after the consecration of the St. Petersburg Choral Synagogue in 1893 did the Moorish trend (based on the Alhambra patterns) appear in other synagogues in the Russian Em-pire, mainly the “choral” ones, for example in Elizavetgrad (Kirovohrad) (1895–97), Łódź (1897–1900), Vilna (Vilnius) (1902), Minsk (1906), Samara (1908) etc. However, the Moorish style did not become the “de-fault” one: the exterior of the Brodsky synagogue in Kiev (1895–98), for instance, was decorated with “Russian style” ornaments.42

The main source of Moorish stylistic elements in the St. Petersburg syna-gogue was the Alhambra palace. The use of Alhambra motifs in synagogue architecture was widespread in mid-nineteenth-century Europe, the most famous example was the Oranienburger Straße Synagogue in Berlin (1866), highly recommended by Stasov in 1872 as the model for the St. Peters-burg synagogue. This synagogue also impressed the chief activist of the St. Petersburg community, David Feinberg, and in 1868 a rumor spread that Alexander II had visited the Berlin synagogue and expressed a wish to have a similar one in St. Petersburg.43 The publication of an album

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with Eduard Knoblauch’s drawings in 1867 made its design accessible to all.44 The influence of the Berlin synagogue on St. Petersburg’s, apart from the ornamentation, was tremendous. The program for the competition, prepared in 1879, closely followed the arrangement of the premises in the Knoblauch synagogue.45 Governmental prohibition of the central cupola (the existence of cupola dictated a centralized character of the prayer hall), enabled the building of a rectangular hall, as in Berlin, with women‘s gal-leries on three sides, supported by metal columns. The eastern apse with its gallery for the choir and a ciborium in front of the Torah ark were also clearly modeled on Knoblauch’s design.46

However, architects Bakhman and Shaposhnikov did not limit themselves exclusively to using the Alhambra decorations. Rachel Wischnitzer has al-ready noted that the tower of the St. Petersburg synagogue was fashioned on Mamluk mausoleums in Cairo, illustrations of which were widespread in Europe by that time.47 (The St. Petersburg tower, in turn, was copied in the corner towers of the Choral Synagogue in Elisavetgrad [Kirovohrad], 1895–97, by Alexander Lishnevskii.)

Stasov himself, in an unpublished letter on “the artistic style” of com-petition projects, suggested that besides “Arabic style, in which the old-est synagogues in Europe—namely in Spain—were built,” the architects should use “proper Jewish ornamental forms.” He specified that the forms should be “botanic” and “geometrical” and the appropriate models “could

5 St. Petersburg, Choral Synagogue, the small prayer hall, ceiling, sculptor M. Anolik, 1886 (Photo by author, 2006)

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be found both in Jewish numismatics and in architectural and ornamental remnants” pre-served in Palestine, in the Louvre and in the collection of the Palestine Exploration Fund in London, as well as in the books of “travelers and scientists.”48 Thus in 1879 Stasov‘s interest was drawn exclusively to the archeological and architectural vestiges. He had not yet come to the idea of using the illuminations from He-brew medieval manuscripts for ornamental purposes, that turned to be the unique feature of the St. Petersburg synagogue. Huge collec-tions of Hebrew manuscripts were purchased by the St. Petersburg Imperial Public Li-brary, where Stasov served as a librarian, from Avraham Firkovich in 1862 and 1876.

However, the Firkovich collection of Hebrew manuscripts of the tenth to fifteenth centu-ries, for the most part originating in the Ori-ent, attracted Stasov’s attention in the early 1880s. Together with Baron David Gintsburg he started to prepare for publication an album of ornaments taken from the Hebrew illumi-nated manuscripts: several artists were engaged in copying the ornaments and architect Ivan Ropet produced the frontispiece using the ornaments included in the album.49 And these ornaments began to be utilized for decoration of Jewish objects. For the first time they appeared in 1883, on a silver dish and salt-box presented by the Jewish community to Alexander III on the occasion of his coronation. These artefacts were made according to the sketches of Ropet and “prepared under the guidance of … Sta-sov.”50 In 1888, the ornaments appered on the ner tamid lamp dedicated to commemorate the rescue of the emperor in the Borki train catastrophe: the lamp was placed in front of the Torah ark in the small prayer hall of the St. Petersburg Synagogue, opened in 1886.51 Thus in the 1880s, the “most authentic” Jewish ornaments were used for representing the Jewish community in its relations with the imperial authorities, stressing both its loyalty to the tsar and its distinctiveness.

In the 1890s the ornaments from the album were used in the “interior” Jewish space and appeared on the objects prepared for the inauguration of the main synagogue in December 1893: the Torah ark curtain (parokhet), donated by the women of Baron Gintsburg’s family, and two chande-liers flanking the Torah ark, donated by “St. Petersburg Jewish ladies”.

6 St. Petersburg, Choral Synagogue, eastern apse with the ciborium in front of the Torah ark, the parokhet and chandeliers, 1893 and 1908 (Photo by Z. Radovan, 1992, courtesy of the Center for Jew-ish Art, Hebrew University of Jerusalem)

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(Nevertheless, the brochure containing the ceremonial of the inauguration was decorated with a typical Alhambra band.52) Thus for a long time the manuscript ornaments were used only on objects of the applied arts, but not in architectural works.

The most impressive use, however, of the ornaments from the Hebrew manuscripts in the St. Petersburg synagogue appear on its iron-work fence. The fence was planned as early as 1898, but the detailed discussions only began in 1903; in 1905 the community architect Boris Girshovich prepared a design for the fence, with no traces of Hebrew ornaments. The stone parapet was built in 1905–08 by G. Brachman, who also created some of the monuments in the Jewish cemetery.53 It was only in 1907 that architect Ivan Ropet—also one of Stasov’s friends, who worked in the “Russian” style54—produced a design for the central gate, based on the manuscript ornaments,55or to be more precise, based on the frontis-piece of Ornementation des Anciens Manuscrits Hébreux, which he drew in 1885. According to sculptor Ilya Gintsburg—a pupil and close friend of Antokolsky as well as protégé and friend of Stasov and Baron Gints-burg—“the community board hesitated for a long time on the question of the style and design of the fence and in the end, in 1905, heeding the advice of V. V. Stasov, it was decided to have the metal grille made in the Jewish style,” based on the Ornementation des Anciens Manuscrits Hébreux album.56 Ropet’s design, following his death in 1908, was executed by the

7 Ornementation des Anciens Manuscrits Hébreux de la bibliothèque impériale publique de St. Petersbourg, frontispiece by I. Ropet, 1886

8 St. Petersburg, gate in the synagogue fence, arch. I. Ropet and A. Shvartsman, 1907–09 (Photo 1990, courtesy of B. Lukin)

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new community architect A. D. Shvartsman, who also designed the lan-terns. The entire work was completed in late 1909.57

At the same time, Shvartsman also directed the work inside the synagogue. In 1893, due to lack of funds, the synagogue was consecrated before com-pletion of all ornamentations (thus underlining the fact that the exterior, as seen by all, was more important than the interior, which was meant pri-marily for Jewish eyes).58 Shvartsman added capitals to the columns in the prayer hall in 1908 and had columns erected in the vestibules.59 Although he was already familiar with Ornementation des Anciens Manuscrits Hé-breux, his additions to the synagogue interior were decorated partly with Alhambra and partly with art nouveau elements.

The synagogue fence and its gate made in forms taken from illuminated Hebrew manuscripts originating in the medieval Orient could be de-scribed as the fourth act of the dialogue. Stasov’s demand for use of a “genuine Jewish style” culminated here. The St. Petersburg synagogue al-lows to trace the development of Stasov’s ideas: in 1872 he stated that the “Jewish style” should be based on Arabic-Moorish architecture; in 1879 he recommended to turn to archeological Jewish ornaments; and in 1905 he suggested the use of the explicitly authentic Jewish source of ornamenta-tion. Thus, the “genuine Jewish” ornaments was now applied to architec-ture and presented to the general public.

9 St. Petersburg, mausoleum of the Kaplun family, after 1904 (Photo by author, 2006)

10 St. Petersburg, Mark Antokolsky’s tombstone, sculptor I. Gintsburg, arch. Ya. Gevirts, 1907–09 (Photo 1910s, courtesy of B. Lukin)

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It seems that the idea to use Hebrew manuscripts as the source for contem-porary decorations was solely Stasov’s and was accepted by the Jewish com-munity only under pressure from Baron David Gintsburg. This is visible in the Jewish cemetery, where several mausoleums were built in the Oriental style: some of them resembling the form of the Choral Synagogue, others closely following the Alhambra style and a few using completely different Oriental motifs. Only one tombstone was influenced by the Ornementa-tion des Anciens Manuscrits Hébreux album—that of the sculptor Mark Antokolsky, described by a contemporary writer as “a tombstone in the ancient Jewish style”.60 Baron David Gintsburg and Stasov were involved in its erection, while the design for the monument and the Antokolsky’s sculptural portrait were made by Ilya Gintsburg (with architect Yakov Ge-virts) in 1907–9.61

The fact that the manuscript ornaments were depicted on the Antokol-sky tombstone is not coincidental; these ornaments were already used in events connected with the sculptor. During the celebration of the twenty-fifth anniversary of his artistic activities in 1896, organized by Stasov, he received a congratulatory address made in the form of a scroll in a case, which closely resembled Ropet’s design on the album frontispiece.62 At Antokolsky’s funeral in 1902, the Choral Synagogue and the cemetery chapel were decorated with medallions “containing the ancient Jewish or-naments, based on the illuminations from the precious ancient Hebrew manuscripts of the tenth and eleventh centuries, belonging to the Imperial Public Library.”63 After the funeral, Stasov “ordered architect Ropet to make a wooden fence in the Jewish style” for Antokolsky’s grave.64 Anto-kolsky was the first Jew to occupy a prominent place in Russian art and he also created works on Jewish topics, thus coming close to Stasov’s ideal that Jewish artists should create their own “national school.”65 Therefore, it seems very consistent that Stasov initiated the use of the most “original” Jewish art known to him in every event connected to Antokolsky. How-ever, the Antokolsky tombstone was probably the last time that illumina-tions from the Hebrew manuscripts were used for decorative purposes in St. Petersburg.66

This fact is illustrated by the last St. Petersburg Jewish religious build-ing—the new cemetery chapel, designed in 1907 by Jewish architect Ya-kov Gevirts and built in 1908–12.67 Gevirts’ competition project showed a magnificent domed building with an entrance flanked by two pylons68—a clear reference to the Jerusalem Temple, as perceived in the early twenti-eth century;69 and it has to be noted that this motif was completely missing from earlier Jewish buildings in St. Petersburg.

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However, in the final project, redone with the participation of S. G. Gin-ger, the central chapel is flanked by two wings and two open galleries, which form a solemn courtyard at the entrance to the cemetery. The wings and the galleries bear clear Oriental forms (pointed arches, muqarnas capi-tals), and the openings in the central chapel also received Oriental pointed shapes. However, these forms were taken neither from manuscripts nor from the Alhambra, but were influenced by the medieval Islamic architec-ture of Central Asia. The appearance of the Oriental motifs, which were lacking in the original project, was supposedly the result of the interven-tion of the community leaders, governed by the idea that a Jewish ritual building had to be Oriental. There can be no ideological explanation why Central Asian Moslem architecture was used as a source for a Jewish build-ing (although it was called “Arab architecture” by some contemporaries70), but only artistic ones—its forms best suited the late art nouveau artistic language in its St. Petersburg variant, known as the “Northern Modern.”71

The same Central Asian forms were used three years later in the building of the St. Petersburg mosque by the architects specializing in the “Northern Modern.” Gevirts used the same stylistic arrangement—Oriental forms with an art nouveau setting—in the project of the Choral Synagogue in Kharkov (1909–13).72 The same solution was applied, for example, by an unknown architect who built the synagogue in Smolensk during these same years, while others found the Egyptian style more suitable for art nouveau, such as architect R. Klein, who created the interior of the Mos-cow Synagogue in 1906, or architects G. Zoiberlikh and B. Neiman in the Peitavas Street Synagogue in Riga (1903–5).73

11 St. Petersburg, competi-tion project for the new cem-etery chapel, arch. Y. Gevirts, 1907 (Reprinted from Ezhegodnik obshchestva arkhitectorov-khudozh-nikov 3 [1908], courtesy of Evgenii Kotliar)

12 St. Petersburg, new cem-etery chapel, arch. Y. Gevirts, 1907–12 (Reprinted from a postcard, 1912)

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The abandonment of Alhambra ornamentation and the adoption of new models more suitable for the architecture of the art nouveau ran parallel to the development of the “Russian style” in Russian architecture. Here again, the highly ornamented Moscow buildings of the seventeenth century were renounced and the architects’ attention turned to the less decorative but more monolithic forms of Russian medieval architecture, especially that of Novgorod and Pskov, which served as an inspiration for the “Neo-Rus-sian” trend in the neo-romantic art nouveau period.74

The Gevirts’ chapel represents the fifth and the final act of the architectural dialogue of the Jewish community with the city of St. Petersburg. Since it was situated far from the city (in the early twentieth century the cemetery could be reached only by train), it was hidden from the view of the major-ity of people in St. Petersburg who were not even aware of its existence (the mosque, on the contrary, was built in the center of the city). Notwith-standing the distance of many kilometers between the Choral Synagogue and the cemetery chapel, both buildings form an architectural ensemble, in which the Oriental forms express the special identity of Jewish religious architecture. This ensemble addresses itself mainly to Jews visiting both places, as the general public was hardly able to get to see these buildings. Thus, what started to a significant degree as an architectural representation of Judaism towards its non-Jewish environment ended fifty years later as an ensemble forming an “interior Jewish space”.

This discussion would not be comprehensive without a reference to the 1912 competition projects for a new synagogue in the St. Petersburg neigh-borhood of Peski. Among the six projects submitted to the competition, only two were devoid of Oriental motifs and used the neo-baroque forms then in fashion in St. Petersburg architecture and which were conceived as suitable to the baroque-style city initially built by Peter the Great. Four others made use of several Oriental elements—either of Moslem or Byzan-tine origin—in a modern setting; two of them additionally included forms

13 St. Petersburg, project of the community house near the Choral Synagogue, arch. B. Girshovich, 1896

14 St. Petersburg, community house, arch. B. Girshovich, 1896–97 (Reprinted from a postcard, between 1898 and 1905, courtesy of the Center “Petersburg Judaica”)

The St. Petersburg Jewish Community and the Capital of the Russian Empire: An Architectural Dialogue 205

15 The building in the Jewish cemetery, arch. Ya. Gevirts, 1911 (Photo by author, 2006)

reminiscent of the Jerusalem Temple—a new language proposed by Gevirts in his cemetery chapel project.75

The Oriental forms were applied only to the Jewish cult buildings (and to several mauso-leums in the cemetery), while the civil Jewish edifices lacked Oriental character. The com-munity building situated next to the synagogue was designed in 1896 by community architect Boris Girshovich with numerous Oriental de-tails on the façades, to make it compatible with the synagogue.76 However, as can be seen on the preserved photograph, in reality only very modest Oriental ornamentation was included in the building’s frieze. Another community building, 140 Canal Griboedova, with a mikveh and a low-price canteen, built by Girshovich in 1902, com-pletely lacked Oriental details. The same holds true of the buildings of in-dependent Jewish institutions: the orphanage (1881, arch. I. P. Zalevskii) and the home for the aged (1911, arch. Ya. Gevirts). The only Jewish secu-lar building in St. Petersburg bearing Oriental forms is the house of the cemetery attendants, built in the cemetery by Gevirts (1911). Similar to the cemetery chapel, the house is not part of the St. Petersburg cityscape, but merely refers to the Oriental forms of the cemetery chapel.

The use of a special style for Jewish sacral architecture, especially a style uncommon in the surrounding architecture, reflects the views of the com-munity’s leadership as to the place of Jews in Russian society. As historian Benjamin Nathans noted, “St. Petersburg Jews exhibited both remarkable adaptation to their new surroundings and abiding separateness.”77 In other words, Jewish building activity in St. Petersburg demonstrated a desire for emancipation and integration combined with the wish to preserve a sepa-rate identity, as expressed in the Oriental forms. In contrast, the capital of the multi-national Russian Empire was not ready to accept this separate Jewish identity; it curtailed its full expression and sought to keep it mod-estly hidden.

Vladimir Levin206

1 On the Jewish population of St. Petersburg see Benjamin Nathans, Beyond the Pale: The Jewish Encounter with Late Imperial Russia (Berkeley, 2002), pp. 83–122; Yvonne Kleinmann, Neue Orte —neue Menschen: Jüdische Lebensformen in St. Petersburg und Moskau im 19. Jahrhundert (Göttin-gen, 2006), pp. 136–53.

2 [Adolf Landau], Editorial, Nedel’naia khronika Voskhoda, 1885, no. 3, January 20, p. 59.3 Hamelits, no. 16, April 17 (29), 1869, p. 112.4 [Adolf Landau], Editorial, Nedel’naia khronika Voskhoda, no. 9, March 1, 1887, p. 227.5 For the excellent studies of St. Petersburg Jewish community and its place in the Russian-Jewish

history see Benjamin Nathans, “Conflict, Community, and the Jews of Late Nineteenth-Century St. Petersburg,” Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 44 (1996), pp. 178–215; Nathans, Beyond the Pale, pp. 123–164; and Kleinmann, Neue Orte—neue Menschen, pp. 174–205.

6 L. Gordon, “K istorii poseleniia evreev v Peterburge” [On the History of Jewish Settlement in St. Petersburg], Voskhod, 1881, no. 1, p. 118. The English translation by Nathans, Beyond the Pale, p. 160.

7 Otchiot Pravleniia S.-Peterburgskoi evreiskoi obshchiny za 1878 i 1879 gg. [Report of the Board of the St. Petersburg Jewish Community for 1878 and 1879] (St. Petersburg, 1880), p. 2.

8 For details on purchasing the plot see Vladimir Levin, “Istoria stroitel’stva peterburgskoi khoral’noi sinagogi” [The History of the Building of the St. Petersburg Choral Synagogue], Ami—Narod Moi (St. Petersburg), 1992, no. 17(46), pp. 2–5; Nathans, Beyond the Pale, pp. 158–60; V. Yu. Gessen, K istorii Sankt-peterburgskoi evreiskoi religioznoi obshchiny: ot pervykh evreev do XX veka [On the His-tory of the St. Petersburg Jewish Religious Community: From the First Jews to the 20th Century] (St. Petersburg, 2000), pp. 74–83; Kleinmann, Neue Orte—neue Menschen, pp. 323–26.

9 Central State Historical Archives of St. Petersburg (hereafter TsGIA SPb), fond 422, opis’ 1, delo 157, list 4v.

10 Russian State Historical Archives in St. Petersburg (hereafter RGIA), f. 1293, op. 113, d. 41, ll. 1-2.

11 RGIA, f. 1293, op. 113, d. 41, ll. 1-2; TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 7, l. 43.12 Explanatory notes by Bakhman and Shaposhnikov [March 1881], RGIA, f. 1293, op. 113, d. 41,

l. 5.13 Bakhman and Shaposhnikov to the Community Board, June 1, 1881, TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1,

d. 7, ll. 46–47. RGIA, f. 1293, op. 113, d. 41, ll. 4–12. For the tsar’s approval on May 15, 1881, see RGIA, f. 1293, op. 170, d. 41, l. 9. The controversy about the cupola of the Moscow Syna-gogue in 1888 ended with the order to remove it, since the cupola was perceived as an element of the Christian cult buildings; see Ivonne Kleinmann, “Zdanie kak religioznyi i politicheskii simvol: Predystoriia Moskovskoi khoral’noi sinagogi (1869–1906)” [Building as Religious and Political Symbol: Pre-History of the Moscow Choral Synagogue (1869–1906)], in 100 let—Moskovskaia khoral’naia sinagoga [100 Years—The Moscow Choral Synagogue] (Moscow, 2006), pp. 20–22; Kleinmann, Neue Orte—neue Menschen, pp. 340–44.

14 On Stasov’s key role in the development of the concept of Jewish art see Mirjam Rajner, “The Awakening of Jewish National Art in Russia,” Jewish Art 16/17 (1990/91), pp. 106–9. On his influence on Russian architecture see E. I. Kirichenko, Russkaia arkhitektura 1830–1910-kh godov [Russian Architecture of the 1830s–1910s] (Moscow, 1982), pp. 124–9; Kirichenko, Arkhitek-turnye teorii XIX veka v Rossii [Architectural Theories of the 19th Century in Russia] (Moscow, 1986), pp. 210–27; V. G. Lisovskii, “Natsional’nyi stil’” v arkhitekture Rossii [“National Style” in the Architecture of Russia] (Moscow, 2000), passim, especially pp. 109–67.

15 V. Stasov, “Po povodu postroiki v Peterburge sinagogi” [On the Erection of a Synagogue in St. Pe-tersburg], Evreiskaia biblioteka 2 (1872), p. 439. The theoretical part of this article is published in the English translation in Olga Vasilieva and Boris Zaikovsky, Hebrew Manuscript Ornament (Moscow, 2003), pp. 41–52.

16 Stasov, “Po povodu,” p. 452.17 On synagogues in Oriental style in Europe see Rachel Wischnitzer, The Architecture of the European

Synagogue (Philadelphia, 1964), pp. 198–214; Carol Herselle Krinsky, Synagogues of Europe: Archi-tecture, History, Meaning (Cambridge, 1985), pp. 81–85; Harold Hammer-Schenk, Synagogen in Deutschland: Geschichte einer Baugattung im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Hamburg, 1981), pp. 251–309; Hannelore Künzl, Islamische Stilelemente im Synagogenbau des 19. und frühen 20. Jahrhunderts (Frankfurt/Main, 1984); Dominique Jarrassé, L’age d’or des synagogues (Paris, 1991), pp.134–49; Jarrassé, Une histoire des synagogues françaises: entre Occident et Orient (Bordeaux, 1997), pp. 213–58; Jarrassé, Synagogues: Architecture and Jewish Identity (Paris, 2001), pp. 171–201; Ivan Davidson Kalmar, “Moorish Style: Orientalism, the Jews, and Synagogue Architecture,” Jewish Social Studies 7 (2001), no. 3, pp. 68–100; Eleonora Bergman, Nurt mauretański w architekturze synagog Europy Środkowo-Wschodniej w XIX i na początku XX wieku [Moorish Trend in the Architecture of Syna-gogues in Central Eastern Europe in the 19th and Early 20th Centuries] (Warsaw, 2004).

The St. Petersburg Jewish Community and the Capital of the Russian Empire: An Architectural Dialogue 207

18 Stasov (“Po povodu,” pp. 449–50) quoted following articles: E. Bürklein, “Synagoge in Heiden-heim,” Allgemeine Bauzeitung, 1854, p. 390; O. Simonson, Der neue Tempel in Leipzig (Berlin, 1858); A. Hirsch, “Temple consistorial israélite de Lyon,” Revue générale de l’architecture et des travaux publics, 1865, p. 219; W. Lübke, “Die neue Synagoge in Berlin,” Zeitschrift für Bauwesen, 1866, p. 6.

19 Stasov, “Po povodu,” pp. 452–53.20 Den’, no. 12, August 1, 1869, p. 190; Kleinmann, Neue Orte—neue Menschen, p. 318.21 For the study of Jewish cemetery chapels see Ulrich Knufinke, Bauwerke jüdischer Friedhöfe in

Deutschland (Petersberg, 2007), especially pp. 135–259.22 V. M. Lukin, “Evreiskoe kladbishche (Prospekt Aleksandrovskoi fermy, 66-a)” [Jewish Cemetery],

in Istoricheskie kladbishcha Peterburga [Historical Cemeteries of St. Petersburg], eds. A. V. Kobak and Yu. M. Priyutko (St. Petersburg, 1993), p. 452. Cf. also TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 252, f. 1; Gessen, K istorii, pp. 159–61.

23 E.g., Girault de Prangey, Souvenirs de Granada et d’Alhambra (Paris, 1837); de Prangey, Essai sur l’architecture des Arabes et des Maures en Espagne, en Sicilie et en Barbarie (Paris, 1841); O. Jones, Plans, Elevations, Sections and Details of the Alhambra (London, 1842); Jones, Details and Orna-ments from the Alhambra (London, 1845).

24 For basic information see V. G. Isachenko, Arkhitektura Sankt-Peterburga [Architecture of St. Pe-tersburg] (St. Petersburg, 2004), p. 194.

25 The Greek family originated in twelfth-century Byzantium; it played an important role in the Mol-davian and Walachian principalities under the Ottoman rule in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, and fled to Russia in 1821. See Novyi Entsklopedicheskii slovar’ [New Encyclopaedic Dic-tionary], vol. 27 (Petrograd, 1915), p. 536.

26 Stasov to the Community Board, September 19, 1879, TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 7, f. 23.27 Architects N. V. Vasil’ev, A. I. Gogen, S. S. Krichinskii. For basic information see Pamiatniki ar-

chitektury Leningrada [Architectural Monuments of Leningrad] (Leningrad, 1975), pp. 468–69; Isachenko, Arkhitektura, p. 276. The Buddhist Temple, built in St. Petersburg in 1909–15 by architect G. V. Baranovskii, was designed in forms characteristic of Far East architecture and it therefore exceeds the bounds of this essay.

28 Nathans, Beyond the Pale, p. 157.29 On Antokolsky as “the first Russian Jewish artist” see Rajner, “The Awakening,” and Hillel Ka-

zovsky, “Jewish Artists in Russia at the Turn of the Century: Issues of National Self-Identification in Art,” Jewish Art 21/22 (1995/96), pp. 20–24. A monograph on him see E. V. Kuznetsova, M. M. Antokol’skii: zhizn’ i tvorchestvo [M. M. Antokolsky: His Life and Œuvre] (Moscow, 1989).

30 V. V. Stasov, ed., Mark Matveevich Antokol’skii: ego zhizn’, tvoreniia, pis’ma i stat’i [M. M. Antokol-sky: His Life, Works, Letters and Articles] (St. Petersburg, 1905), p. 386.

31 Ibid., p. 387. Antokolsky also added: “Do you know what now comes to my head? That Jews have most of all rights to claim the Egyptian style for themselves, because during the 400 years of slavery all of them were engaged solely in building and there is no doubt that they created a lot of grandiose things” (Ibid.).

32 Ibid.33 Ibid., p. 393.34 Ibid., pp. 393–94.35 Lev Gordon, “V kakom stile dolzhna byt’ postroena sinagoga v Peterburge?” [In Which Style

Should the Synagogue in St. Petersburg Be Built?], Rassvet, no. 5, October 11, 1879, pp. 188–91.36 V. Stasov, “Otvet g. L. Gordonu” [Answer to Mr. L. Gordon], Rassvet, November 15, 1879, no. 10,

pp. 383–85.37 On Gordon’s arrest and exile see L. Gordon, “Tiur’ma i ssylka” [Jail and Exile], Perezhitoe, vol. 4

(St. Petersburg, 1913), pp. 1–45; Michael Stanislawski, For Whom Do I Toil? Judah Leib Gordon and the Crisis of Russian Jewry (New York, 1988), pp. 129–45.

38 According to the Academy archives, Bakhman, born ca. 1830, came from Kishinev and began to study in 1850. He finished his studies in 1865 and tried to pass the final examinations, but only succeeded, after several attempts and a serious illness, in 1871. In 1869 he was involved, probably as the only Jewish architectural student, in the consultations on the future synagogue. He was still alive in 1894 when he presented the original drawings of the synagogue to the Community Board (RGIA, f. 789, op. 14, d. 22-B; TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 157, l. 4; d. 49, l. 6). See also S. N. Kondakov, Yubileinyi spravochnik Imperatorskoi Akademii Khudozhestv [Jubilee Reference Book of the Imperial Academy of Art] (St. Petersburg, 1914), p. 291. “Bakhman L.,” Evreiskaia entsiklopedia [The Jewish Encyclopedia], vol. 3 (St. Petersburg, 1909), p. 920; R. M. Kulisher, Itogi [The Results] (Kiev, 1896), p. 38.

39 For the detailed study of the history of the building see Levin, “Istoria stroitel’stva;” Gessen, K is-torii, pp. 96–117. There are several publications in West-European languages dealing with the

Vladimir Levin208

architecture of the Choral Synagogue, most of them containing errors as first-hand data was not available to the authors: Wischnitzer, The Architecture, pp. 208–9; Krinsky, Synagogues of Europe, pp. 217–20; Künzl, Islamische Stilelemente, pp. 421–23; Michael Beizer, The Jews of St. Petersburg: Excursions Through a Noble Past (Philadelphia, 1989), pp. 26–34; Jarrassé, Synagogues, pp. 199–200; Shimon M. Iakerson, The Grand Choral Synagogue in St. Petersburg (St. Petersburg, 2006).

40 M. and N. Shatin, “Stroenie pod literoi ‘A’: iz istorii moskovskoi khoral’noi sinagogi” [Edifice Marked by the Letter ‘A’: From the History of the Moscow Choral Synagogue], Vestnik Evreiskogo universiteta v Moskve 2 (6) (1994), p. 97. See also A. Katsenel’son, “Iz martirologa moskovskoi obshchiny (Moskovskaia sinagoga v 1891–1906 gg.)” [From the Martyrologue of the Moscow Community (The Moscow Synagogue in 1891–1906)], Evreiskaia Starina 2 (1909), reprinted in Evrei v Moskve: sbornik materialov [Jews in Moscow], eds. Yu. Snopov and A. Klempert (Jerusalem, 2003), pp. 321–34; Kleinmann, Neue Orte—neue Menschen, pp. 335–47, especially pp. 339–40.

41 On the Warsaw synagogue see, e.g., Ewa Małkowska, Synagoga na Tłomackiem [The Tłomacka Square Synagogue] (Warsaw, 1991), and especially Eleonora Bergman, “Bol’shaia sinagoga na Tlo-matskoi v Varshave” [The Great Synagogue on Tłomacka Square in Warsaw], in 100 let—Moskovs-kaia khoral’naia sinagoga (Moscow, 2006), pp. 274–84.

42 On synagogues in the Russian Empire see Michael Beizer, Our Legacy: The CIS Synagogues, Past and Present (Moscow, 2002), especially pp. 15–26. On the Łódź synagogue see Bergman, Nurt mauretański, p. 132. On the synagogue in Kiev see Natan Meir, “The Jews in Kiev, 1859–1914: Community and Charity in an Imperial Russian City” (PhD diss., Columbia University, 2004), pp. 98–118.

43 David Feinberg, “Zikhronot” [Memoirs], Heavar 4 (1956), pp. 24, 26.44 G. Knoblauch and F. Hollin, eds., Die neue Synagoge in Berlin, entworfen und ausgeführt von Eduard

Knoblauch, vollendet von August Stüler (Berlin, 1867; Reprint: Berlin, 1992).45 See the letter by Bakhman and Shaposhnikov, February 13, 1879, TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 7,

ll. 1–4v.46 The Berlin ciborium was almost completely copied in 1872 in the Choral Ohel Yaakov Synagogue

in Kovno (Kaunas). The joint influence of the Berlin and St. Petersburg ciboria heavily influenced the ciborium in the Taharat Kodesh Synagogue in Vilna (Vilnius), built in 1902 by D. Rozen-gauz. On both synagogues see Marija Rupeikienė, Nykstantis kultūros paveldas: Lietuvos sinagogų architektūra [A Disappearing Heritage: The Synagogue Architecture of Lithuania] (Vilnius, 2003), pp. 127–28, 138–39.

47 Wischnitzer, The Architecture, p. 209. For depictions of Cairo see, for example, Pascal Coste, Ar-chitecture arabe ou Monuments du Kaire, mesurés et dessinés de 1818 à 1825 (Paris, 1839); David Roberts, Egypt & Nubia (London, 1849).

48 Stasov to the Community Board, September 19, 1879, TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 7, l. 23.49 Vladimir Stasov and David Günzburg [Gintsburg], Ornementation des Anciens Manuscrits Hé-

breux de la bibliothèque impériale publique de St. Petersbourg (St. Petersburg, 1886; in fact, Berlin, 1905)—reprint with introduction and new descriptions by Bezalel Narkiss, Illuminations from He-brew Bibles of Leningrad (Jerusalem, 1990).

50 According to the detailed description of the dish and salt-box, “All decorations and drawings are taken exclusively from the illuminations in the Oriental Hebrew manuscripts of the 10th–12th cen-turies, which are held in the Imperial Public Library … in the second Firkovich collection. The choice of the patterns from the above-mentioned manuscripts was made by … Baron D. G. Gints-burg and … Stasov, and the verses engraved on the dish and the salt-box were chosen by Dr. … A. Ya. Harkavi.” Otchiot pravleniia S.-Peterburgskoi evreiskoi obshchiny za 1882 god [The Report of the Board of the St. Petersburg Jewish Community for 1882] (St. Petersburg, 1884), p. 7.

51 Vladimir Stasov and David Günzburg [Gintsburg], L’Ornement Hébreu (Berlin, 1905), p. 6, re-printed in Narkiss, Illuminations, p. 104. For English translation see ibid., p. 79; Vasilieva and Zai-kovsky, Hebrew Manuscript Ornament, p. 33. David Gintsburg, “V. V. Stasov v ego otnosheniiakh k evreiskomu iskusstvu” [V. V. Stasov in His Relation to the Jewish Art], Voskhod, 1895, no. 2, 2nd pagination, pp. 22–23. Protocols of the Community Board, TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 18, ll. 15–20; d. 33, l. 47; d. 37, ll. 18–19. Cf. Gessen, K istorii, pp. 140–141, 144.

52 Chin i obriad osviashcheniia sinagogi v S.-Peterburge 8 dekabria 1893 goda [The Ceremonial of the Inauguration of the Synagogue in St. Petersburg on December 8, 1893] (St. Petersburg, 1893), frontispiece.

53 TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 67, l. 5v; d. 80, l. 2; d. 85, l. 7; d. 91, ll. 23, 34v, 39; d. 97, l. 39; f. 513, op. 102, d. 3645, ll. 108–111.

54 On Ropet’s architecture see Kirichenko, Russkaia arkhitektura, pp. 134–40 and bibliography there.

55 I. Ropet to Baron D. Gintsburg, April 4, 1908, Manuscripts Department of the Russian National library in St. Petersburg, f. 183, d. 1031.

The St. Petersburg Jewish Community and the Capital of the Russian Empire: An Architectural Dialogue 209

56 I. G. [Ilya Gintsburg], “Ograda u khoral’noi sinagogi v S.-Peterburge” [Fence of the Choral Syna-gogue in St. Petersburg], Novyi Voskhod, no. 10, March 11, 1910, pp. 25–26.

57 TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 97, l. 47; d. 108, ll. 50–50v, 56-59, 76; d. 116, l. 25. Gintsburg, “Ograda.”

58 One weekly reported in 1893 that except for the Torah ark, “the interior decoration is very modest” (Niva, no. 51, December 18, 1893, p. 1182), while another one wrote “Das Innere frappirt durch seine puritanische Einfachheit” (Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums, no. 2, January 12, 1894, p. 4). The most detailed report on the inauguration of the synagogue complained that “everything [in the interior] is made in haste and shortcoming of money” (Hatsfira, no. 271, December 14, 1893, p. 1195).

59 TsGIA SPb, f. 422, op. 1, d. 97, ll. 39, 50–50v.60 Arkadii Press, “Gintsburg, Ilya Yakovlevich,” Evreiskaia entsiklopedia, vol. 6 (St. Petersburg, 1910),

p. 535.61 Ilya Gintsburg, “K otkrytiiu pamiatnika M. M. Antokol’skomu” [On the Opening of the Tomb-

stone of M. M. Antokolsky], Evreiskii mir, no. 11–12, 1909, 2nd pagination, pp. 78–80. See also Svoboda i ravenstvo, no. 38, August 2, 1907, p. 9; no. 42, August 31, 1907, p. 16. Der Fraynd, no. 153, July 12, 1907, p. 3; no. 175, August 7, 1907, p. 3. Rassvet, no. 47, November 22, 1909, p. 7; no. 49, December 6, 1909, pp. 9, 31–33.

62 Vasilieva and Zaikovsky, Hebrew Manuscript Ornament, plates 159–160. The scroll is mentioned in Stasov and Günzburg [Gintsburg], L’Ornement Hébreu, p. 6. On Stasov’s involvement see Kuznetsova, Antokol’skii, p. 245.

63 Novosti, July 6, 1902, reprinted in Stasov, Antokol’skii, p. LII. Quoted also in Lukin, “Evreiskoe kladbishche,” p. 457.

64 Gintsburg, “K otkrytiiu,” p. 79.65 V. Stasov, “Posle vsemirnoi vystavki” [After the World Exhibition], Evreiskaia biblioteka 7 (1879),

pp. 272–81.66 Apparently, the idea to use the ornaments from the album for ornamentation purposes was dis-

cussed for the last time during the preparation of a magnificent fifteen-volumes work on Jewish his-tory by the publishing house „Mir“ in Moscow in the 1910s. See the letter of Yulii Gessen to Moisei Fiterman, September 24, 1912, Russian State Archive of Literature and Art (RGALI), f. 597, op. 1, d. 358, l. 2.

67 Lukin, “Evreiskoe kladbishche,” pp. 453–55. Beizer, The Jews of St. Petersburg, pp. 175–79. On Gevirts see Evgenii Kotliar, “Istoriia odnoi arkhitektury: evreiskie proekty Yakova Gevirtsa” [The History of One Architecture: Jewish Projects of Yakov Gevirts], Geula (Kharkov), 2005, no. 93–94, pp. 18–19; Kotliar, “Riga–Sankt-Peterburg–Khar’kov: istoki i vzaimosviazi ‘evreiskoi arkhitektu-ry’ Yakova Gevirtsa” [Riga–St. Petersburg–Kharkov: Sources and Interconnections of the ‘Jewish Architecture’ of Yakov Gevirts], in Evrei v meniaiushchemsia mire. Materialy 5-i mezhdunarodnoi konferentsii, Riga, 16–17 sentiabria 2003 g., eds. G. Branover and R. Ferber (Riga, 2005), pp. 162–70.

68 Ezhegodnik obshchestva arkhitektorov-khudozhnikov [Yearbook of the Society of Architects-Artists], 3 (1908), p. 31. I am grateful to Evgenii Kotliar for bringing this source to my attention.

69 See Sergey R. Kravtsov, “Reconstruction of the Temple by Charles Chipiez and Its Aplications in Architecture,” Ars Judaica 4 (2008), pp. 25–42.

70 Peterburgskaia gazeta, September 25, 1912, quoted in Lukin, “Evreiskoe kladbishche,” p. 454.71 On the stylistic changes of the early twentieth century in cemetery chapels in Germany see Knu-

finke, Bauwerke jüdischer Friedhöfe, pp. 230–38.72 On the Choral Synagogue in Kharkov see Evgenii Kotliar, “Stranitsy material’noi kul’tury evreiskoi

obshchiny Khar’kova” [Pages of the Material Culture of the Jewish Community in Kharkov], Novyi Kovcheg (Kharkov), 1 (2002), pp. 226–27, 236–38.

73 On the Peitavas Street Synagogue see Rita Bogdanova, Latvia: Synagogues and Rabbis, 1918–40 (Riga, 2004), pp. 158–60.

74 The term “Neo-Russian” to distinguish the architecture of the early twentieth century from the “Russian” style of the 1860s–1890s is used by Kirichenko; see E. I. Kirichenko, Russkii stil’ [The Russian style] (Moscow, 1997), pp. 221–33, 305–21, 347–72. Cf. also V. S. Goriunov, M. P. Tub-li, Arkhitektura epokhi moderna [The Architecture of the Art Nouveau Period] (St. Petersburg, 1994), pp. 99–100, 132–33, 138–39, 154–57; Lisovskii, Natsional’nyi stil’, pp. 239–346.

75 Zodchii, 1913, no. 20. I am grateful to Evgenii Kotliar for bringing this source to my attention.76 For the project see TsGIA SPb, f. 513, op. 102. d. 3645, ll. 81–90, 123–26.77 Benjamin Nathans, “Mythologies and Realities of Jewish Life in Pre-Revolutionary St. Petersburg,”

in People of the City—Jews and the Urban Challenge, ed. Ezra Mendelsohn (Oxford, 1999), p. 134.