The question before us is to what stage of social and economic development—or, to borrow a term from geology, to what socio-political formation—Kievan Russia belongs.

Chronologically, as we know, the Kievan period included the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries. Those three centuries witnessed the rise and blossoming of feudal institutions in western and central Europe; they represent what may be called the feudal age par excellence. It seems only natural that one should be inclined to place Kievan Russia in the same category and characterize its sociopolitical regime as feudal. Yet until recently Russian historians have been reluctant to do so. They did not raise any definite objections to the study of feudalism in Russia: they simply ignored the problem.

One of the problems confronting early Bolshevist theory was that of minority nationalism in the Russian Empire. If the Bolsheviks were to be the champions of downtrodden workers everywhere, then certainly they had to stand up for the rights of the man oppressed, not only for class reasons, but also for national reasons. It was precisely because of this twofold oppression within the Russian Empire after the 1880s that so many revolutionists came from among national minority groups. The Bolsheviks had no desire to disassociate themselves from this powerful revolutionary current. Discontent from whatever working-class quarter of the imperial structure was grist for Lenin's mill. The problem lay in how to reconcile the nationalist revolutionary sentiment, which, in the final analysis, meant the break-up of Russia into independent and nationally minded (bourgeois) states, with the Marxian slogan: “Workers of the world—unite” (i.e., one great working class state or social order).

Soviet jurists are engaged in the task of drafting new codes of law for the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The Constitution of the U.S.S.R., adopted in 1936, initiated the activity. It altered the principle incorporated in the first Constitution of the U.S.S.R. that codes of law were the concern of the constituent Republics. The federal government's powers were limited by the first Constitution of the U.S.S.R. to “establishing principles of judicature and legal procedure as well as principles of civil and criminal legislation for the Union;” “enacting basic labor laws” and “establishing general principles for the development and use of the soil as well as the exploitation of the mineral deposits, forests, and bodies of water throughout the entire territory of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.”

A letter from I. I. Panaev dated February 10, 1847, brought to Turgenev, then in Berlin, much literary gossip and some news concerning the Contemporary. Panaev, together with Nekrasov, had recently taken over the magazine. The January and February issues included the first short stories by Turgenev. They were well received, wrote Panaev. He thought that the third issue also, then in preparation, “would not be too bad.” It would include, among other contributions, the first part of a novel by Gončarov. “Gončarov,” added Panaev, “beams and quivers with delight while reading the proofs, but tries very hard to look indifferent.” The novel was Gončarov's first published work, The Usual Story. According to Belinskij's testimony, the novel had an “unprecedented success” and “made a sensation in Petersburg.”

From the very beginning of his literary career, Andrej Belyj (pseudonym of Boris Nikolaevič Bugaev, 1880-1934) had assumed the role of a daring experimenter and innovator, because his individualistic nature could not be satisfied with any established form of prose or poetry. Believing that he was one of the new generation of man, Belyj felt that the traditional forms of prose and poetry were too limited to satisfy the creative urge of a modern spirit, one who has broken with the heritage of his fathers.

Belyj's third “symphony,” The Return, first published in 1905, typifies Belyj's literary art. Like his first book of verse, Gold in Azure, and his first two symphonies, The Return exemplifies the adventurous spirit of its creator and his remarkable sense of rhythm. Like the rest of Belyj's works, it reflects also his dualistic concept of the world.