Why Pashkov House Is Attributed to Bazhenov: Documents and the Legend of Its Façade

Pashkov House on Vagankovsky Hill is usually associated with Vasily Bazhenov. Researchers have found no signed design or building contract from the time of its construction. A letter written by Prince Nikolai Yusupov in 1827 helps explain why Pashkov House is attributed to Bazhenov: it names the architect as the building’s creator. This supports the attribution, but the letter was written several decades after the house was built and does not reveal the source of its information. The Russian State Library therefore notes the lack of documentary evidence specifically for the design.

What is known about the commission and the construction dates?

The client was Pyotr Yegorovich Pashkov; the Russian State Library and a 2025 state historical and cultural expert assessment dates construction to 1784–1786. The Great Russian Encyclopaedia gives a wider span of 1784–1788. The sources therefore differ on when the work ended. The assessment is cautious about the designer’s identity: it attributes the building to Bazhenov.

The site lay opposite the Kremlin, on a hillside above Mokhovaya Street. Pashkov acquired the property in 1783. For a wealthy private patron, it was an exceptional location: the house rose above the street on a natural elevation and became part of the Kremlin panorama. The house was experienced differently from each side: its silhouette was visible from Mokhovaya Street, while visitors approached it from Starovagankovsky Lane.

The estate comprised a central building, side pavilions, galleries, a formal courtyard, service buildings and a garden on the slope. A Russian State Library study of the façades and the entrance courtyard describes a riding hall and stables on either side of the courtyard. The view of the house from the lane therefore cannot be explained solely by the architect’s relationship to the Kremlin: the layout of the estate and the route from the entrance gates also matter.

The history of the building and the question of its designer rest on different kinds of evidence. The dates, client and location are supported by historical records of the property. Attributing the design to a particular architect requires another kind of evidence: a named drawing, a contract, correspondence, a payment record or a convincing chain of indirect evidence. The studies examined contain no signed document connected with the design of Pashkov House. Yusupov’s letter is a separate written account from a later period and must be assessed on its own terms.

Pashkov’s plot sloped steeply down to Mokhovaya Street; the designer had to address both the approach from the lane and the view from the city. The Great Russian Encyclopaedia notes the high rusticated base, side wings and belvedere on the central axis. These visible features allow us to discuss the ensemble’s design regardless of whose name appears in a photograph’s caption.

How did the attribution of Pashkov House develop?

The earliest written reference found dates from 1827: in a letter to Pyotr Mikhailovich Volkonsky, Prince Nikolai Borisovich Yusupov described Pashkov House on Mokhovaya Street as having been built by Bazhenov. The document became widely known after Z. Krylova published it in the journal Architecture of the USSR in 1955. The evidence thus dates from 1827, while its introduction into scholarly discussion dates from 1955. Ivan Snegiryov’s printed reference appeared after the letter was written, although researchers learned of it earlier.

The subject of those negotiations matters. Yusupov was discussing a possible state purchase of the house and clarifying which property he meant: the building on Mokhovaya Street with a belvedere. The negotiations concerned the price, not the architect’s work. Mentioning Bazhenov therefore shows that an educated official associated the house with him in 1827; it tells us neither whether Yusupov was involved when the design was created nor whether he had seen the building records. The Tsaritsyno Museum-Reserve also cites this correspondence as evidence of authorship in its encyclopaedia.

The Pashkov family owned several properties near Mokhovaya Street. The reference to the belvedere helps ensure that the evidence is not mistakenly applied to another family house. For a historian, it is a more reliable identifier than a later caption reading ‘Pashkov House’ without an address: the street, the distinctive upper structure and the subject of the purchase negotiations all match. But identifying the building precisely establishes only which property Yusupov’s remark concerned. The source of his information remains unknown.

The next important link is Ivan Mikhailovich Snegiryov’s Monuments of Moscow Antiquity, published in the 1840s. In his list of Bazhenov’s works, he placed Pashkov House alongside the houses of Yushkov, Dolgov and Prozorovsky, and the bell tower of the Church of Joy of All Who Sorrow. In a 2023 study, Alexei Yakovlev calls this list the earliest known compilation of Bazhenov’s buildings and notes its enduring authority. But the entry for the house cites no building contract, drawing or informant.

In 1928, Vladimir Zgura considered Snegiryov’s entry, with the qualification ‘apparently’, the first printed attribution to Bazhenov. His conclusion remains valid for published sources: Yusupov’s letter was written earlier but was not published until the mid-20th century. This distinction resolves the apparent conflict between the dates and shows how the historical attribution can draw on two strands of evidence: official correspondence and Moscow historiography.

Why is the 1827 letter no substitute for a signed design?

Yusupov’s letter shows that he regarded Bazhenov as the builder of the house, but it does not establish the architect’s role in preparing the drawings. About forty years passed between the building’s construction in the 1780s and this account. Yusupov’s position may have given him access to information about Moscow’s architecture, but in the published passage he does not identify the source of his statement. A historian may regard him as a well-informed witness to the attribution; his knowledge cannot be taken as proof that he had seen a contract that is now lost.

A building record would carry a different weight as evidence. A signed plan would link a name to a particular design, a contract to the commission and the scope of duties, and an invoice or payment record to work done in specific years. Even such documents would require careful reading: an architect might have conceived the design and delegated its execution to an assistant, or supervised construction from someone else’s drawings. But they would distinguish these roles far more precisely than the phrase ‘built by Bazhenov’ in a letter about a sale.

It is also useful to consider what can be learned from omissions in the records. In publishing sources on Matvey Kazakov, Yakovlev shows that the official service records of staff at the Kremlin Building Office chiefly listed government commissions. Private houses were usually absent. Pashkov House’s omission from such a record therefore does not prove that Kazakov could not have been involved. Nor does the absence of a list of Bazhenov’s buildings compiled during his lifetime disprove the traditional attribution: according to Yakovlev, the architect left no such list, and his collection of drawings was destroyed at his Glazovo estate.

Why did art historians disagree about the architect?

Doubts arose because the traditional attribution was not supported by a design document. Zgura reports that Ivan Bondarenko initially wrote cautiously about the building, then considered the possibility that it had been designed by Matvey Kazakov or a foreign architect. Igor Grabar also considered Kazakov’s possible involvement at one stage. These proposals reflect the state of the debate, rather than a list of equally well-established architects, as can be seen from Zgura’s study.

In a publication on the restoration of Pashkov House cites a discovery by Vyacheslav Tyutin: a record of the house’s foundation ceremony in May 1785 states that Matvey Kazakov was present ‘for the inspection and laying of the foundations’. The publication gives no archive reference, so it cannot serve as a basis for reconstructing the full sequence of work. If the account is accurate, it sharpens the question: Kazakov may have taken part in an official building procedure, while written sources attributed the design to Bazhenov. The account does not establish that the two names refer to the same role.

Bondarenko changed his assessment without the discovery of a signed drawing by another architect: the survey cited here reports no such find. Researchers interpreted the building’s classical architecture differently, compared it with known works by other architects and weighed the reliability of the longstanding attribution. The same method of comparison could point to different names for the same building, especially after alterations.

Zgura argued for Bazhenov much more firmly than his predecessors. He considered it important to bring Snegiryov’s early account together with a formal analysis of the building. In his 1928 book, he compared Pashkov House with the Prozorovsky house, which he also attributed to Bazhenov, and identified shared architectural features. His conclusion was categorical, but his method of proof remained comparative.

Two points are worth keeping in mind when considering the debate. Snegiryov’s account cannot simply be dismissed: it records an established attribution from an earlier period. Yet it does not, by itself, tell us who drew the plans, who supervised construction or whether other architects took part. The words ‘designed’, ‘built’ and ‘attributed to’ make different claims here. The sources do not yet allow one to be substituted for another without qualification.

How did Nicolas Legrand become part of the debate over the architect?

Nicolas Legrand’s name entered the scholarship on Pashkov House, although no design signed by him has been found. Architectural historian Yulia Klimenko studied Igor Grabar’s archival papers and, in a 2015 monograph, traced the development of his conclusions: in a draft assessment of the house prepared on 4 August 1947, he named the French architect, while in the published text of 1951 he named Bazhenov. This change of opinion does not establish who originally designed the house; that requires evidence from the time of construction.

Klimenko specifically examines the claim that Grabar presented drawings of Pashkov House bearing Legrand’s signature. According to her, a transcript of his talk that has since been found does not support the story. The distinction matters: a researcher’s bold attribution is one thing; a drawing bearing the architect’s signature is another. Without a surviving original to substantiate the story of a ‘discovered drawing’, it cannot be repeated as evidence against Bazhenov.

In Klimenko’s study gives the date of Grabar’s second draft assessment, 4 August 1947, and an archive reference for the manuscript in the Tretyakov Gallery’s Department of Manuscripts: collection 106, inventory 1, file 1315. Grabar explicitly leaves the search for more convincing evidence to future researchers. This is the language of a provisional attribution, not a report that a drawing signed by Legrand had been found. Later categorical accounts of his theory erased his own qualification.

Klimenko offers an explanation for the story of the ‘signed drawings’: during his talk, Grabar showed images of a neighbouring property belonging to Alexander Ilyich Pashkov from Kazakov’s album while discussing a possible connection with Legrand. Listeners may have confused two houses owned by the same family. This is the book’s author’s hypothesis about how the mistake arose, not an established account of what every listener thought. For assessing the evidence, the firmer conclusion is enough: the transcript contains no presentation of a design for Pyotr Yegorovich Pashkov’s house signed by Legrand.

The appearance of Legrand’s name in the historical literature shows why stylistic similarities do not rule out another attribution. Moscow architects in the second half of the eighteenth century worked within shared professional traditions and could use similar forms. But the case for Legrand requires positive evidence specific to this house. The publications examined present no documents establishing that he designed Pashkov House. Klimenko recounts how Grabar changed his mind and how the story of the signed drawings was debunked.

Which details did Zgura consider evidence for Bazhenov’s authorship?

Zgura compared the façades of two houses and the architectural forms they shared. He drew attention to the pilasters dividing the walls, the design of their bases, the treatment of the second-floor windows, the profiles of the horizontal mouldings and the motifs of the decorative frieze. He compared some of these elements with the Prozorovsky house and others with Bazhenov’s model of the Kremlin Palace. Details appear on pages 122–125 of his study.

This analysis shows why the attribution might have seemed convincing to a specialist. Pashkov House is composed as a coherent whole: its central block rises above the galleries, the side pavilions anchor its long horizontal line, and the belvedere crowns its silhouette. Zgura described how these parts relate to one another and explained how the hillside setting heightens the building’s impact.

The limits of this argument are also clear. A similar cornice profile or façade arrangement may support the hypothesis that the same architect designed both buildings, but cannot by itself establish who that architect was. In the late eighteenth century, shared training, borrowed techniques and the work of assistants all mattered. Moreover, the comparison is only as reliable as the attribution of the second building. Zgura’s details should therefore be read as evidence for a hypothesis, not as the equivalent of a discovered design.

In 1928, Zgura stated his conclusion more confidently than the Russian State Library does in its published historical account. He set out his reasoning and identified specific similarities. His categorical conclusion goes further than the surviving documentary evidence allows.

Zgura’s comparison offers another useful connection: it links the private house to the model of the grand Kremlin Palace on which Bazhenov had worked earlier. He saw similarities in certain cartouches, garlands and window treatments. These are specific details, not similarities of scale: the monumental scheme for the Kremlin and the city mansion served different purposes. The more precisely a motif is defined, the easier it is to check against an early image, and the less tempting it becomes to treat any resemblance as an architect’s signature.

Was the house really built with its ‘back’ to the Kremlin because Bazhenov felt slighted?

The legend about the façade of Pashkov House is not supported by documents. The Russian State Library describes a widespread account: supposedly, Bazhenov, offended by Catherine II’s response to his work at Tsaritsyno, turned the main façade towards the courtyard off Starovagankovsky Lane. The first part of the story assumes his authorship is proven, although the designer has not been firmly identified. The second attributes a motive to the architect for which no historical evidence has been found.

The chronology makes the familiar ‘revenge’ story weaker still. The Russian State Library dates the construction of Pashkov House to 1784–1786, while the Tsaritsyno Museum-Reserve gives the precise date of Catherine II’s inspection of the palace as 3 June 1785. Only after that inspection did the Empress express dissatisfaction with the interior: in a letter dated 8 June, she said the rooms should be altered. If the original layout of the estate on Mokhovaya Street was settled when construction began, it cannot be explained as a reaction to an event the following June. The date when the specific façade design was approved is unknown, so the chronology does not rule out later changes; it does, however, prevent the legend from serving as a ready explanation for the original design. The museum’s analysis of documents from 1785.

The Russian State Library’s description of the house offers another way to assess the story. The façade above Mokhovaya Street was visible across the city and faced the Kremlin; the Starovagankovsky Lane side greeted those entering the courtyard. Both were intended to impress, but their audiences and approaches differed. The phrase ‘back to the Kremlin’ thus works as a later metaphor, but poorly describes the actual layout. The dating of the events at Tsaritsyno and the estate’s layout offer two independent objections to the legend; neither requires speculation about Bazhenov’s personal feelings.

The approach from Starovagankovsky Lane reveals another purpose served by the two façades. The Russian State Library describes gates set at an angle to the courtyard entrance and a drive that widens towards the house. As visitors move from the gateway, the main block gradually comes fully into view; from Mokhovaya Street, by contrast, it is immediately seen against the hillside and the Kremlin panorama. These are two ways of presenting the same estate: the visitor’s route through the grounds and the image offered to the city. Both required careful planning by the architect, whoever that was.

What can early drawings tell us about the architect?

Drawings and engravings show how Pashkov House originally looked, but do not identify its designer. The Russian State Library compares a drawing by Johann Friedrich Anting, an engraving by Friedrich Dürfeld, images by Gérard de la Barthe and a description written in 1795 by the traveller Johann Gustav Richter. These sources are valuable for reconstructing details from before the fire of 1812; they do not serve as a signature on the architectural plans.

Richter described the belvedere with freestanding paired columns, sculptures by the façade and other features that were later altered or lost. The images show a mezzanine with small windows, which were bricked up during repairs in 1839. The Russian State Library also notes the loss of Pashkov’s coat of arms and the statues that decorated the terrace. The more we know about these losses, the more cautiously we should compare the present façade with buildings by the proposed architect.

The debate over the figure on the belvedere’s spire is revealing. The library considers both Mars and Minerva possible identities, without treating either as conclusively established. Supporters of the ‘revenge’ legend see a possible Mars as a symbolic challenge to Catherine, whom her contemporaries associated with Minerva. But if the figure on the spire has not been identified, it certainly cannot prove the architect’s intentions. This is an example of one assumption being used to support another without any new evidence.

Early views do, however, help us assess the attribution. They allow us to compare the restored exterior we see today with the forms witnessed in the late eighteenth century. Yet even a complete understanding of the original decoration would answer ‘what did the house look like?’, rather than directly answering ‘who designed it?’. The two questions are related, but should not be confused.

Friedrich Dürfeld’s etching, based on a drawing made by Johann Friedrich Anting in 1785–1786, is dated to the early 1790s; the Great Russian Encyclopaedia states that the print is held by the Historical Museum. It is neither a photograph of the construction work nor an architectural drawing, but this early view offers a rare basis for comparing the building’s silhouette before the fire. If it records a feature that disappeared in the nineteenth century, we can ask about the original design without automatically attributing every detail to Bazhenov personally.

The image needs to be dated by two events: the creation of the original drawing and the making of the engraving. The engraver may have made changes between the two, while later colouring adds another layer. An early view is therefore most useful for checking broad, verifiable features: the position of the main building and belvedere, the sculptural elements, and the building’s relationship to the slope. A single image cannot support firm conclusions about the exact materials, colours or architect’s intentions.

Volume six of the 1961 History of Russian Art reproduces a general plan of the house that the editors attribute to Bazhenov, but dates the drawing itself to the first half of the nineteenth century. This distinction matters: a later copy may preserve the layout of the property, while the reproduction’s caption reflects the attribution accepted by the editors. On that evidence, the document cannot be regarded as an original drawing by the architect from the 1780s.

How much did the fire and subsequent alterations change what we are comparing?

The house we see today retains its main volumes, but not every detail of the building erected in the 1780s. The wooden belvedere was destroyed and the interiors were damaged in the fire of 1812; restoration work in the early nineteenth century was carried out by a team led by Osip Bove. The Russian State Library’s chronology dates the restoration to 1815–1818. The building’s present upper section therefore cannot be assumed, without further investigation, to represent the first architect’s design exactly.

The Russian State Library’s article on the belvedere explains the difference between the original and restored structures: the original paired columns were freestanding, while the later half-columns adjoined the wall. The library also does not identify the order of the colonnade with certainty. Zgura, by contrast, was confident that the Corinthian order had been replaced by the Ionic after the fire. Comparing the two texts shows where a scholarly claim needs a qualification.

The Great Russian Encyclopaedia names Ivan Tamansky and Sergei Melnikov among those involved in the restoration and notes that substantial state funds were allocated. These names matter when attributing the forms visible today: the building’s appearance after the fire was a collective achievement, and a resemblance between a present-day detail and another building may belong to a later phase rather than to the 1780s.

Changes in the house’s use also left their mark on its spaces. In 1839, the state bought the property for the Moscow Noble Institute; from 1852 to 1861, it housed the Fourth Moscow Gymnasium; it then became part of the Rumyantsev Museum and its library. In 1913–1915, architect Nikolai Shevyakov created a large double-height hall in the main building. The layout of today’s interiors therefore cannot serve as direct evidence of how Bazhenov, or another architect, arranged the space for the Pashkov family.

Yulia Klimenko presents a reconstruction of the original layout by the restorer Sergei Demidov: above an oval room on the lower level, with a central support, there may have been a spacious formal room of the same shape. This is the result of research into the surviving structure, rather than an original architect’s plan from the 1780s. It helps us understand how different the arrangement of the rooms may have been before the double-height reading room was created. When comparing architects, such a measured survey is more valuable than the present layout, but it does not itself reveal the designer’s name. Reconstruction drawings in Klimenko’s study.

The view of the building from Mokhovaya Street has changed too. According to the Great Russian Encyclopaedia, part of the garden was cut away and most of the wrought-iron fence destroyed when the street was widened in the 1930s; three sections survive on the Znamenka Street side. This is more than a minor detail of the streetscape when considering the original design: the garden and fence established the distance between the façade and passers-by. Today’s view from the pavement cannot simply be projected back onto a visitor in the late eighteenth century, who saw the building through a different foreground.

Why do official accounts describe the building’s authorship differently?

Because the texts serve different purposes, while the limits of what is known remain the same. The Russian State Library’s history page notes the absence of documentary evidence and says that many specialists favour Bazhenov. The 2025 expert report uses the wording ‘the design is attributed to’. Both formulations are compatible: they acknowledge a strong tradition without claiming that an original drawing by the architect survives.

In July 2026, the Russian State Library announced a new illustrated edition of Nikolai Yanchuk’s Old Vagankovo and the Former Pashkov House. The library notes that the book was based on a lecture delivered in 1897 and names Bazhenov as the house’s architect in its announcement. This announcement shows that the tradition of using his name continues. The republication of an older work does not in itself mean that a new contract or drawing has been found.

When discussing the building, it helps to distinguish between a brief museum label, a historical study and an expert assessment. The first aims to identify the building and its generally accepted architect quickly. The second should present the arguments and objections. The third records the evidence with the degree of caution required for an official document. If their wording differs, the question is whether any of the publications cites a new source. None of the materials examined provides such evidence for the architect of the building.

What kind of discovery would really change the answer to the question of who designed it?

The most decisive evidence would be a document from the time the work was commissioned linking a specific design for Pashkov House to a particular architect: a signed elevation or plan, a contract, a payment record, or dated business correspondence describing the work. Yusupov’s letter already proves that the attribution existed early on; another later repetition of Bazhenov’s name would add much less. The distinction between a document contemporary with the construction and a later recollection explains the researchers’ caution.

An archival record containing a name would not necessarily settle the question. One example is a published account of Matvey Kazakov’s presence at the laying of the building’s foundations in May 1785. His participation in that ceremony would establish a connection with the construction, but without the full text of the archival record it would not show whether he drew the elevations, approved the site or performed some other duty. On a large estate, the design, supervision, decoration and landscaping could have been assigned to different people. Any new discovery needs to be assessed against the dates and the particular part of the work it describes.

Similar caution is needed with an architectural survey. It can reveal where original openings lie concealed in the masonry, which walls survived the fire and how the building’s sections connect. This would strengthen comparisons with documented works by Bazhenov, Kazakov or other architects. But a survey cannot, by itself, name the designer. Its value lies in accurately reconstructing the building so it can then be compared with documents and early images.

What can we say with confidence today about the architect of Pashkov House?

As of 30 September 2026, no documentary evidence establishes who designed Pashkov House. The building is traditionally attributed to Vasily Bazhenov, and there are strong grounds for doing so; researchers have not produced a signed design or a contract dating from its construction. Yusupov’s letter of 1827, Snegiryov’s published list and Zgura’s detailed formal analysis explain why the attribution has endured. Other names proposed in historical scholarship show the limits of that certainty. The story that the house was deliberately turned away from the Kremlin remains a legend and cannot make up for the missing design.

The formal courtyard comes into view on entering from Starovagankovsky Lane, while the façade above Mokhovaya Street was visible from the city. Early images and the surviving layout help us understand the estate’s design, although neither identifies its architect.

You can see how Pashkov House relates to the Kremlin on the route ‘Heart of the Capital’: the description of the walk from Slavyanskaya Square to Borovitskaya Square lists it among the places discussed. If you would like to explore both sides of the estate and the history of its attribution on site, you can choose a Moscow guide and mention your interest when planning the walk.

Sources

1. Russian State Library. Pashkov House: A Moscow Legend and a Chronology
2. V. V. Zgura. Questions and Monuments Associated with V. I. Bazhenov, 1928
3. Russian State Library. Was There a Minerva? The Phantom on the Spire of Pashkov House’s Belvedere
4. Russian State Library. Cannon Barrels, a Triumphal Arch and the Cour d’Honneur of Pashkov House
5. Report on the State Historical and Cultural Assessment of the Russian State Library Complex, 2025
6. Russian State Library. Old Vagankovo and the Former Pashkov House, 24 July 2026
7. Radius. ‘Heart of the Capital’ tour route
8. Z. Krylova. New Evidence of V. I. Bazhenov’s Authorship of the Former Pashkov House, Architecture of the USSR, 1955, No. 10
9. Tsaritsyno Museum-Reserve. Tsaritsyno Encyclopaedia: Bazhenov and Pashkov House
10. Alexey Yakovlev. The Architectural Works of M. F. Kazakov According to Written Sources. Part I, 2023
11. Yulia Klimenko. I. E. Grabar and the History of Russian Architecture in the 20th Century, preview excerpt
12. Great Russian Encyclopaedia. Pashkov House
13. History of Russian Art. Volume 6, 1961: Pashkov House and N. B. Yusupov’s Letter
14. The Return of Pashkov House: a published account of V. Tyutin’s archival discovery
15. Yu. G. Klimenko. Architects of Moscow. I. E. Grabar: full text of the study and archival appendices
16. Tsaritsyno Museum-Reserve. Money Is Scarce and Bread Is Dear: Documents on Bazhenov’s Dismissal
17. National Electronic Library. Catalogue entry for V. V. Zgura’s 1928 book