Starskoye Selo: A Symbol of Survival

Russia’s former imperial capital on the Neva River, St. Petersburg, is a contradictory city. Peter the Great’s grand scheme remains in low buildings and fortifications; empresses Elizabeth and Catherine the Great’s palaces — the Russian Rococo Winter Palace and the two Hermitages, all museums now — stand in splendor across an enormous plaza from the semicircular Ministry of Defense. All look beautiful on the outside, especially when dramatically lit at night.

   But inside, these buildings are dirty, in need of paint and repair. The grand spaces in the Winter Palace are empty monuments to grandiosity, so different from the refinement of the exterior. Of course the paintings in The Hermitage are astonishing. But they are poorly hung and lighted, often badly framed and in need of cleaning.

   Only with the stunning Impressionist and early 20th-century works does light flood paintings in pristine condition.

   By the time you are allowed to reach the great paintings, however, you will have walked well over a mile and a half through small and large galleries of furniture — not all good — and silver and porcelain. Finally, you realize you are in the first of two crowded galleries made of temporary walls heavy with Rembrandts.  The same constricted space includes the seductive “Danaeâ€� and the superlative “Return of the Prodigal Son,â€� as well as numerous haunting portraits. None have room to breathe.

   The Impressionists can knock your socks off. Van Gogh’s works, admittedly before the final frenzied uber-masterpieces in the Museum of Modern Art, include a melancholy “Memory of the Garden at Etten.â€� Cezanne’s great self-portrait, Bonnard’s lovely “Early Spring, Little Faunsâ€� and Degas’ “Seated Dancerâ€� with billowing skirt are all in the same room.

   And the Picassos, cubist works you can actually love, are nearly overwhelming.

   But leave the city and its crowded streets, efficient but dirty subway, disgustingly smoke-smelly minibuses and head 16 miles south to Tsarkoye Selo, the enchanting complex of palaces and gardens and parks that was the imperial family’s country retreat.

   Here the Russian Rococo is alive: outside in ocean-blue walls emphasized by white and gold trim: inside, where grand reception galleries blaze from intricately carved, gilded wood and plaster in complicated but delicate and refined designs.

   This wondrous, bucolic place was heavily damaged by both German and Russian bombing during World War II. In a 30-year effort, hundreds of construction workers, carvers, craftsmen and artisans rebuilt and reconstructed the palaces.

   Catherine’s famous Amber Room was recreated from thousands of pieces of the semi-precious stone from Estonia. The spectacular, floor-to-ceiling stoves were hand built and covered in reproduced Delft blue-and-white tiles. The Alexander Palace, home of the domestic Nicholas and Alexandra and their five doomed children, was lovingly restored, too. Happily, the charming pet cemetery in the garden survived the war.

   Tsarkoye Selo is a symbol of the survival of the Russian people. It is wonderful — like no other place in St. Petersburg.