Little attention has been paid in Yugoslav historiography to the relationship between social structure and the character of the national movements of the various Yugoslav peoples. Enough data are available, however, to compile a list of the problems that should be studied in any systematic comparison of these national movements. The purpose of this paper is to examine some aspects of the interaction of social structures and national movements among the Yugoslav peoples for the twenty-year period before the First World War. The paper is primarily focused on urban society, which took the leading role in national movements

The problem of abolishing serfdom preoccupied Russian social thinkers long before the Emancipation in 1861. In spite of more than a century of scholarship devoted to analyzing the peasant question, however, historians have reached no consensus on such fundamental issues as the origins and political implications of abolitionist thought. Did advocacy of peasant emancipation by members of the landed nobility spring from liberal altruism or from a selfish desire to defend seigneurial interests against revolutionary peasants and the peasants’ spokesmen, the so-called “revolutionary democrats”? Can Slavophilism and westernism be classified simply as varieties of liberalism, which, whatever their minor differences, agreed on the necessity of avoiding peasant revolution and regarded Russian radicals as pernicious enemies? Before emancipation were Russian liberals sharply differentiated ideologically from more radical intellectuals, such as Aleksandr I. Herzen and Nikolai G. Chernyshevskii—a differentiation traceable to attitudes toward the peasant emancipation? Or did the definitive split between liberalism and radicalism come after the Emancipation? Scholars bring to these questions such disparate conceptions of Russian politics and of the nature of historical proof that achieving consensus may be impossible. Nevertheless, the Soviet historian Vera F. Zakharina has argued convincingly that certain facets of the larger questions can be illuminated by investigating the ideological assumptions in the letters and programmatic works of major social thinkers and especially by observing how these assumptions changed over time.

Does a centralized system of direct controls necessarily provide the most effective method of control? A case study of the postwar Yugoslav banking system raises serious doubts on this score. The Yugoslav National Bank has not lost any control and may even have established a firmer control over the country's monetary system since 1954. At that time, it moved closer to the traditional central bank role of exercising indirect control over independent banks instead of performing all its functions through its own branches, over which it had direct control.

How did the reading material enjoyed by Nicholas I differ from that of one of his stokers? This article focuses on the novels enjoyed by a broad spectrum of readers at the court of Nicholas I, from the tsar himself and the members of the imperial family to their servants, shedding new light on certain mechanisms of court culture. Based on archival sources such as the loan registers and the correspondence of the tsar's and the palace staff's libraries, this paper shows how, despite social and cultural differences, these two communities of readers actually often ended up reading the same authors and novels. What distinguished them was less their consumption of different texts than the way in which they read and interpreted the same books and, more generally, the different purpose that they attributed to reading. Based on their position at court and what they experienced in the Winter Palace—a political cabinet in which state ideology was discussed, a place in which courtiers felt suffocated by hierarchies and etiquette, or a place where servants could find otherwise unobtainable books—reading novels could constitute either a form of social control, escapism, or a school of good taste and proper behavior.

The final stage of Muscovy's subordination to the Tatars is a murky topic in Russian history. In the first half of the fifteenth century, the Golden Horde fragmented and new political entities emerged: the Great Horde, the Nogai Horde, the Khanates of the Crimea, Kazan', and Astrakhan'. The Great Horde claimed the same supremacy as the Golden Horde, and the khans of the Great Horde demanded the tribute and the submission which Muscovy formerly had given the khan of the Golden Horde. As the power of the Great Horde in turn weakened, Muscovy was able to emerge from its submission to the Tatars and function as an independent state.

Modernist prose forms often present the reader with the paradox of cerebral, structurally complex works which express an irrational or antirational content. These works seek an almost geometric perfection of form while simultaneously rejecting intellect as a totally inadequate means of conceiving contemporary experience. Strikingly often it is a witch of a rather special breed who provides the essential thematic and narrative elements without which the intellectual pattern of the novel could not crystallize out. That voyantes and sorceresses should people the prose of Western surrealists such as Andre Breton is not too surprising, but it is surely a nice problem that two of the most self-consciously modernist Soviet novels, Fedin's Cities and Years and Bulgakov's Master and Margarita, should depend for both their compositional and moral energies on witches.

In his article “Kaufman of Turkestan: An Assessment of His Administration, 1867-1881” in the Slavic Review (June 1967, pages 265-85) Professor David Mac- Kenzie appears to have been unduly sensitive to any critical contemporary comment concerning General Kaufman. In his protective zeal he has sought to undermine the reputation of Eugene Schuyler, one of the most capable American diplomats of that period, whose diplomatic and literary careers were distinguished by perceptive and candid reporting.

Nothing in Eugene Schuyler's writings justifies the generous use of depreciatory language in Professor MacKenzie's article. To claim that Schuyler was “unfair or malicious,” “misrepresented” Kaufman's work, and presented a “distorted picture“ of his regime is unwarranted by the record.

The leading german social democrats of the nineteenth century expressed opinions at various times concerning the perennial Eastern Question. These opinions are not without interest, revealing sharply conflicting viewpoints among the socialists, as well as perceptive interpretations concerning the origins and nature of the Eastern Question.

Marx and Engels have been accused of racism and anti-Slavism because they frequently attacked the revolts of the Balkan peoples for independence. This hypothesis will be tested by ascertaining precisely what positions the two socialist pioneers took on the Near Eastern Question between the 1848 Revolutions and the Balkan Crisis of 1875-78.

For over a century scholars have been intrigued by one of history's most famous apocryphal works, the “Political Testament of Peter the Great.“The central theme—a warning of the danger Russia represents to all her neighbors —has always been a relevant topic for discussion. However, a satisfactory explanation of the document's genesis is yet to be given. One thing is clear: the “testament” is a forgery, an attempt to “frame” Peter I. But who is the culprit? The question has aroused the instincts of the detective in many historians and set them on the miscreant's trail.

Suspects were not lacking. Initially, circumstantial evidence pointed to Napoleon as the author or inspirer of the fabrication, since it was in 1812 in France that the first published version of this document appeared. Soon, however, suspicion fell on C. L. Lesur, one of the emperor's propagandists and the author of the work which contained the published text.

Vodka was big business in nineteenth century Russia, was it is in the Soviet Union today. In the 1850s, the total turnover of the trade was at least 200 million rubles, or more than 20 percent of the value of all internal trade. In 1859, the government's share of this huge turnover exceeded 120 million rubles, which accounted for more than 40 percent of all ordinary revenues. As Nikolai Ogarev pointed out, this huge sum was enough to cover most of the peacetime expenses of the army on which Russia's status as a great power depended. Figures for 1859 were certainly unusual; nevertheless, liquor revenues averaged 32 percent of ordinary revenues throughout the period from 1805 to 1862. Vodka was the single most important source of government revenues in this period, and the government had, therefore, a huge stake in the success and expansion of the trade.

Because it is a “most favored” nation, and one sensitive to distress in parent lands of the many population strands woven into its life pattern, the United States has a firmly established reputation for international philanthropy.

This tradition for world-wide generosity is well maintained today. The President's War Relief Control Board has a war relief agency registered for virtually every one of our fighting or Axis-occupied allies, and even for one erstwhile enemy, Italy. Other organizations cut across national lines to aid the refugees, war prisoners and other dislocated groups of the entire continent of Europe.

In his 1876 Writer’s Diary, novelist Fedor Mikhailovich Dostoevskii wrote a series of three journalistic articles parodying both the contemporary movement of modern spiritualism and its principal critic in St. Petersburg, noted chemist Dmitrii Ivanovich Mendeleev. This article explores Dostoevskii’s views on spiritualism and examines the rhetorical strategy he developed to help persuade Russians away from what he perceived as a dangerous mystical fad. Mendeleev had similar goals, but the two differed on the urgency of the problem—and hence the proper rhetoric for the task—and thus both spent as much time fighting the other as the movement they deplored. This article endeavors both to analyze a Russian scientific text alongside works traditionally considered more “rhetorical“ and to explore in detail the specific involvement of Dostoevskii the journalist with contemporary issues in Russian culture.

Polish-Russian relations have from their very beginning been characterized by intense political rivalry and military confrontation. This is no surprise, since after the Polish-Lithuanian union (1386, 1569), Poland was drawn into the conflict between the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and the great Muscovite principality over hegemony in Eastern Europe. Struggles between Lithuania and Muscovy were thus transformed into wars between the Russian state and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. During the reigns of Polish kings Stefan Batory (1576–86), Zygmunt III (1587–1632), and Wladyslaw IV (1632–48), the commonwealth gained a military advantage over its eastern neighbor. This was especially evident during the Time of Troubles (smutnoe vremia), when the Polish army occupied Moscow (1610–12) and when Wladyslaw IV defeated the Russians in the War of Smolensk (1632–34).

Tolstoy the man, whose awe-inspiring personality haunts us still, poses an enormous obstacle to those who wish to write about his work. One frequently encounters interpretations of the novels, plays, and short stories based on Tolstoy's aims in creating them and on what his consciously held values were or are believed to have been. Unfortunately for anyone who attempts this kind of evaluation, Tolstoy, one of the most complex and baffling men who ever lived, is notorious for his self-contradictions. Although we have some good biographies, Tolstoy deserves the attention of a scholar—probably not a literary critic—with a sophisticated view of human personality and the relationship between the individual and society, who will write an analytical account of his problems comparable to Erik Erikson's widely admired Young Man Luther.

Since the Russian language until lately has been neglected far more than Western European languages, one might expect publishers to exercise more than usual care with translations of Russian works otherwise widely inaccessible. Unfortunately, unusual care was not exercised in the preparation of the English version of Mikhail Sholokhov's Silent Don. Published originally by Putnam and Company in England and reprinted without alteration in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, the novel appeared between 1934 and 1941. (In the Soviet Union it appeared serially and in four separate volumes between 1928 and 1940.) Evidently with the approval of Sholokhov's agents in Moscow, the English editor omitted over a hundred pages of Russian text, altered the sequence of the narrative, and introduced new chapter, section, and paragraph divisions. Presumably this was done with no thought for politics or ideology but solely on the basis of aesthetic or practical considerations, the aim being to make the novel less expensive and to improve it by rejecting superfluous descriptions and characters.

Americans have paid relatively little attention to the history of higher education in the United States, and Russian specialists have neglected the history of their own field, even though our foundations strongly affect our qualities as scholarteachers and the circumstances in which we work. One of the most important founding fathers of Russian studies in the United States was Archibald Cary Coolidge, a member of the Department of History at Harvard University from 1893 until his death in 1928, who launched teaching and research concerning Russia and Eastern Europe at Harvard and in many other colleges and universities through those whom he helped train.