Cursed & Cultured

Russia stands at the border between West and East, and therefore our culture is a vibrant and eclectic mix of Europe and Asia. The best example of this is the Yusupovs, who took the best from both worlds. Art&Reviews decided to find out how this family influenced our culture — and to discover how the family’s history was cut short by an ancient curse.

Picture this: 1883, February. Numerous guests had gathered in the vast, luxurious palace: women in sumptuous dresses, men in expensive suits, and a host of servants. It was a grand celebration — the famous noble couple had just welcomed their firstborn child. Every guest was joyous, offering warm congratulations and gracious speeches. Only the parents stood apart, their faces shadowed by dread: they knew their happiness might be short-lived. Their fear proved well founded, for that very heir, born in February 1883, would be killed in a duel in 1908, his life cut short at twenty-five.

The family in question was that of the Princes Yusupov, and the misfortune that haunted them was an ancient family curse bestowed long ago. But who had placed this curse on these great patrons of the arts — and why? The answer lies in their descent from Nogai princes who entered the service of Tsar Ivan the Terrible. To serve at the Russian court, the Yusupovs’ ancestors converted to Orthodoxy, renouncing Islam and removing the crescent moon from their coat of arms. Legend held that henceforth only one son in each generation survived past his twenty-sixth birthday — and it is quite possible that this very curse claimed the life of Nikolai Feliksovich.

Yet the Yusupovs were not defined solely by misfortune. They never forgot their roots; they celebrated them. Many family members assembled collections of Oriental antiquities and rare manuscripts.

Here’s an example. In 1810, Prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov acquired the historical chronicle Shahnameh by Firdawsi — an invaluable monument of Persian literature — rescuing it from General Jean-Baptiste de Beaupré’s troops, who had looted the Safavid court during the Napoleonic Wars. He paid one thousand roubles, or roughly twenty-five million roubles in today’s money. Even greater pride, however, lay in his Turkic-Persian diplomas from the era of the Golden Horde — medieval charters now virtually extinct (even online they are nearly impossible to find), making them truly priceless.

Another hallmark of the Yusupov legacy was the fusion of European and Eastern cultures. This blend appeared everywhere: from the decoration of their homes to their family crest. Their mansions paired classical columns and bas-reliefs with richly patterned Oriental carpets, sofas, and tables crafted in the Eastern manner.

In 1829, it was in the Yusupov Palace on the Moika that a reception was held for Shah Fath-Ali, who had come to Russia to apologize for the murder of Ambassador Alexander Griboyedov. The authenticity and precision of the Oriental motifs so impressed the Persian ruler that he exclaimed during the reception, “Oh, it’s just like home!”

Even the Yusupovs’ heraldry reflected their dual heritage: for many years, the family emblem bore a crescent moon alongside Christian symbols.

Yet their most dazzling purchases extended beyond Eastern treasures. Among them was the La Peregrina pearl, bought from the Spanish royal family for tens of thousands of gold roubles. Its name — “wanderer” in Spanish — spoke of centuries without a permanent owner. Such an acquisition elevated the family’s status and cemented its ties to Europe.

This was another splendid example of East-West synthesis: antique carpets and the poetry of great Persian poets Hafiz and Saadi combined organically with some of Europe’s most exquisite jewelry in the collections of these illustrious Russian patrons of the arts — whose lineage began with a fierce Nogai chieftain.