The great Russian artist Ilia Repin was always in love with Ukraine. There is ample evidence that his admiration of this land, history, and culture remained with him to his dying day at the age of 86.
Here is an eloquent example. In 1928, the 82-year-old painter, then in Finland where he had immigrated after the Russian Revolution, received a parcel from his friends, containing a copy of the book, Two Trips to the Zaporozhzhian Sich by Yatsenko-Zelensky, a Monk in a Poltava Monastery, in 1750-51, written by Dmytro Yavornytsky, Ukraine’s greatest historian of the Cossacks. The topic would seem meant only for an expert in that narrow field, yet Repin’s response was different. In a letter to Kornei Chukovsky, dated August 18, 1928, he wrote, “This is marvelous. You must read the brochure as soon as possible. It is a literary masterpiece! That monk Yatsenko was an expressionist in our literature, and you will enjoy his book immensely. His grammar is not flawless, dating from the Catherine epoch, yet it portrays Zaporozhzhia so incredibly colorfully. I am sure that you, just like me (an old man), will dance with joy from Yatsenko-Zelensky’s writing.”
Learning Ukrainian history anew, even at that age, Repin had a better idea about the people, the land where he had been born and grown up.
He was born in 1844, in Chuhuyiv, a small town in Kharkiv oblast. His father was not poor. He was conscripted and sent to a military settlement (Tsar Nicholas I’s pet project) and shortly afterward the family experienced poverty with all the unpleasant consequences.
Thanks to kind-hearted people, Ukrainians and Russians (Repin would remember them with gratitude the rest of his life), the gifted boy could receive an education. He wanted to paint at an early age, studied first at a land-surveying school, then with icon-painters, and still later continued his artistic education in St. Petersburg. This road led him to world fame, but he would never forget his native Chuhuyiv (he would frequently visit it with his family when working on Zaporozhzhian Cossacks in the 1880s-1890s, but we will return to this later). Some sources point to his desire to be buried atop the Chuhuyivska Hora Hill.
More importantly, even as a boy he became strongly convinced (and this conviction would stay with him the rest of his life) that, “The common man is now my judge, so it is necessary to reproduce his interests. This helps me a great deal, because everybody knows that I am a muzhik, son of a retired soldier who served in Nicholas I’s army for 27 years” (From old Repin’s conversation with friends).
Also, note Repin’s words about the author of the book, that he “portrays Zaporizhzhia in such an incredibly colorful way.” He could have said the same about his picture of the Cossacks composing a letter to the Turkish sultan. With reason! It took him thirteen years to finish the canvas (1878-1891) and there are 150 sketches. Experts believe that many are almost as precious as the final canonical version and that the artist put into it his heart, mature talent, and understanding of the people’s soul (one can sense the beauty of those tough, coarse, but cheerful people, because they were free and fearless). Also, the author was keenly aware of the dramatic turns in Ukrainian history. In a letter to Russian writer Nikolai Leskov he wrote, “I had an idea worked into my Zaporozhzhian Cossacks. Zaporizhzhia captivates me with its freedom, its elevated knightly spirit.”
Before starting work on the monumental Cossack painting in 1878, Repin studied all the available sources dealing with Cossack history in depth. As a result, he arrived at certain conclusions and he laid them down in a letter to Vladimir Stasov: “Before this knightly order of the people was founded, tens of thousands of our fellow countrymen were herded into slavery and sold like kettles at the markets of Trabzon, Istanbul, and other Turkish cities. And then they told the Turks, ‘Enough! We are settling down the Dnipro rapids and from now on you will get to our brothers and sisters only over our dead bodies’... And then that handful of brave souls grew in strength, so much so that they could not only defend all of Europe against the eastern predators, but also threatened their civilization, quite strong at the time, and laugh at the top of their voices at their enemy’s Oriental haughtiness.”
Take a closer look at the grand canvas. So many different characters, faces, several dozen! Among them are familiar historic figures (interestingly, Repin chose Vladimir Giliarovsky, a noted Russian journalist and writer, as the prototype for his Otaman Ivan Sirko), and ordinary Cossacks never mentioned in any documents. Yet they are all united by one thing. Laughter. Laughter coming from free men, not slaves, people who simply could not be frightened by the Turkish sultan, albeit a formidable and powerful enemy, because they despised him, because in their eyes he was a slave to his own power, while they lived in a way best described by the celebrated Cossack Colonel Ivan Bohun who said, “I shall never bend low before anyone except the Lord God and only of my own free will.”
And the Cossack letter to the sultan deserves separate notice. From history we know that in 1676 or thereabouts Sultan Muhammad IV, whose 100,000 had previously laid waste Podillia and the territories adjacent to Kyiv and Cherkasy, sent a letter to the host which read, in part: “I, Sultan Muhammad, Brother of the Sun and the Moon, Grandson and Vicar of God, Ruler of Kingdoms, Outstanding Knight, and Invincible Warrior, hereby order you Zaporozhzhian Cossacks: do obey my will unquestioningly and never again dare bother me with your raids!” (The quote and the text of the Cossack response are courtesy of Mykola Arkas). At the time a message like that was meant as a formidable threat. The sultan had destroyed tens of thousands of people; he had a huge army, and Europe would stop fearing him only in 1683, after the devastating Turkish defeat at Vienna, at the hands of a Polish- Austrian army. As it was, the Cossacks led by the intrepid Ivan Sirko (in the center of the picture) replied fearlessly, with a sense of juicy humor and dignity: “You are the secretary of Lucifer! (the mildest of the epithets addressed to Muhammad IV — Author). The devil if you are a knight! You are not worthy of having any Christian sons under your rule! We are not afraid of your troops and we shall fight you on land and sea.”
That way the Cossacks laughed in the face of what could well have been their death. That was perhaps why Ilia Repin felt such affection for the Ukrainian people. Several other canvases are dedicated to this land, among them Vechornytsi (Dosvitky — literally, until dawn, meaning a winter or autumn evening party of village young people, originally for some common work, such as spinning), Zaporozhzhian Sich (unfinished), Black Sea Freemen, and Hopak (a traditional Ukrainian dance). Yet his Zaporozhzhian Cossacks remains an undying hymn in praise of the free, cheerful, and valiant Ukrainian people of the seventeenth century. precisely, Flowers on the Balcony.
