Throughout European history the aristocracy has been involved in reform movements which undermined either ecclesiastical or monarchical power structures. Thus the nobles of southern France in the twelfth century granted protection to the Cathars, and in fourteenth-century England lords and knights offered aid to the Lollards. The support of German princes and knights for Lutheranism is well known, as is the instrumental role played by the French aristocracy in initiating the constitutional reforms which gave birth to that nation's eighteenth-century revolution. The fifteenth-century Hussite reform movement in Bohemia similarly received aid from the noble class. Here, when the Hussites were under attack in 1417 from the authorities, especially the archbishop, sympathetic lords protected Hussite priests on their domains.

It is quite natural that the study of history in Latvia could not be established on a firm scientific basis before Latvia achieved its independence. As soon as the Latvian State University was founded in 1919, historical and archaeological departments were established in it. Young scientists were trained by their elder colleagues in all auxiliary sciences, such as paleography, diplomatics, sphragistics, numismatics, etc. A Committee for the Preservation of Historical and Cultural Monuments was created, which established in the vicinity of Riga an open-air museum, where certain ethnographically rare farm buildings, old wooden chapels, and other architectural antiques were placed. Other archaeological items not transferable to the open-air museum were taken over by the Committee and proclaimed of national importance, such as old Latvian burial pits and tombs, ritual oak trees, certain old Latvian castle mounds, ruins of castles of Latvian rulers of the early medieval era (such as: Tervete, Bauska, Koknese, Gercike), and numerous ruins of castles of the Prince-archbishop and the Livonian Order of the Terra Mariana (1207-1562).

The recently published correspondence of maxim gorky and leonid andreev reveals many hitherto hidden aspects of the relationship between these two writers. In a graphic way, the letters show the rise of this significant personal and literary friendship, the strains and stresses which led to a cooling of attitudes, and finally the vain efforts, especially on the part of Andreev, to keep alive a relationship doomed to failure.

Studies of witchcraft belief and persecution in Russia have been profoundly, and to a significant degree mistakenly, shaped by European understandings of witchcraft as fundamentally demonic and integrally linked to the power of the devil. Gary Morson and Caryl Emerson's concepts of “prosaics” and “semiotic totalitarianism,” derived from their readings of M. M. Bakhtin, offer a productive way to set imported preconceptions aside and to comprehend the specificities of Muscovite witchcraft beliefs. Pre-Petrine ideas about witchcraft conformed to no uniform, overarching ideological or explanatory schema, satanic or otherwise. Muscovite witchcraft operated instead as a diffuse, resolutely prosaic collection of beliefs and practices, whereas the more demonologically inflected European beliefs approached the imposed uniformity of “semiotic totalitarianism.” In this article, Valerie Kivelson and Jonathan Shaheen propose a corrective to a widespread propensity for reading Russian material through European paradigms and analyze Russian beliefs on their own, prosaic terms.

Founded in 1765, the St. Petersburg Free Economic Society was one of imperial Russia's first and most prestigious public associations. Historians have long recognized the society's significance for the empire's agrarian history, but only recently have scholars begun to pay attention to its contributions to Russian public culture. Focusing on the society's daily activities and public practices under Catherine II, this article argues that the organization's dependence on royal and elite protection transformed it into a patronage network that mirrored the hierarchies found in state service. Despite its egalitarian rhetoric, courtiers such as Fedor Angal't wielded the greatest influence by virtue of their elite status while rank-and-file members like Andrei Nartov assumed responsibility for the organization's dayto- day operations. The lived experience of the society underscores the persistence of traditional power relationships in the empire's nascent public culture and illuminates the survival tactics devised by the first generation of Russia's educated public.

The death of a poet is a theme Marina Tsvetaeva addressed frequently both in poetry and in prose. The list of poets whose deaths underwent Tsvetaeva’s artistic scrutiny is varied and includes Aleksandr Pushkin, Aleksandr Blok, Sergei Esenin, Rainer Maria Rilke, Vladimir Maiakovskii, Maksimilian Voloshin, Andrei Belyi, and Nikolai Gronskii. A number of notable lyric cycles and some of Tsvetaeva’s finest prose essays emerged as homage to deceased poets. The function of these works extends beyond commemoration and entails the elaboration of Tsvetaeva’s definition of lyric poetry and her exploration of poetic responsibility.

As a part-time observer of the Soviet literary scene, I am gratified to see my tentative generalizations endorsed by men as knowledgeable and authoritative in the field of Soviet literature as George Gibian and Max Hayward. I am also glad that my attempt at diagnosis has provided an occasion for an illuminating companion piece and a thoughtful reassessment of what is undoubtedly one of the most significant works of recent Soviet fiction.

I have no quarrel whatsoever with the main body of Professor Gibian's perceptive and amply documented analysis, which supplements admirably my sketchy survey of trends and issues. The only portion of his article which may call for a brief rejoinder or clarification is the extended footnote. To take issue with what Professor Gibian himself calls "minuscule objections" is a somewhat picayune undertaking. But, just to be conversational, let me offer a few counter-cavils.