Postcard views of old Vladimir

Through the entire city ran Nobility Street — broad, straight, paved with stone, its houses only here and there disfigured by a signboard. At the center lay the usual spacious square. Upon it stood two ancient cathedrals, the administrative chambers, the noblemen’s assembly hall, the governor’s residence. A boulevard shaded by linden trees encircled the square, descended toward the riverbank, and ended at the steep bluff. Not far away, on Nobility Street, stood the Gostiny Dvor with its arcades.
Sparse in population, without lively trade, factories, or amusements, it was regarded as one of the most insignificant provincial towns. Yet in truth it was the natural, necessary, and vibrant heart of all the Opolye region. Life bustled in the market square and around the inns.

From the memoirs of V.I. Taneev, “The Education of Shumsky…”

Along Bolshaya Street, from the end of the eighteenth century, handsome stone houses began to rise — most of all on Moskovskaya Street. Few have survived intact since that time; others were rebuilt or adorned in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This part of the provincial town stood apart from the rest — more stately, more festive, richer in spectacle and public life. Here lay the true center of the city.
Here were the Great Trading Rows — the Gostiny Dvor with its arcades. Its three wings — the eastern, southern, and western, built in 1787–1790, and the northern, begun in 1792 — enclosed the Trading Square. Within these rows were shops and stalls offering every kind of goods.
The Provincial Nobility Assembly was the most splendid building of old Vladimir. Outside, a classical edifice with colonnades and friezes; inside, richly decorated in the 1860s by architect Nikitin, who had only recently completed the grand adornment of Moscow’s Bolshoi Theatre.
In its great hall, especially on Saturdays and Sundays, concerts were held by many visiting artists, most often from Moscow. Indeed, the hall was magnificent: lofty and spacious, with stuccoed borders along the ceiling, marble-framed walls adorned with gilded candelabra and panels, mirrored windows, side columns, and immense crystal chandeliers. Flooded with electric light, filled with a fashionably dressed audience delighted by the strains of the orchestra flowing from the lofty gallery — the hall seemed almost fairy-tale in its beauty, against the otherwise ordinary backdrop of provincial life.

From the memoirs of M.V. Kosatkin, “Vladimir in an Old Postcard”

In the early autumn of that same year (1903), a joyful event took place at our gymnasium — we took part in planting trees and laying out a square opposite the school building. Before that, there had been only a bare expanse between the cathedrals and the administrative chambers, lined with trees only on the northern side, forming the small linden boulevard “Lipki,” with its alley across from the gymnasium — still surviving today.
The square itself was uneven, pitted with holes, snow-covered in winter, with only two beaten paths leading to the Dmitrievsky Cathedral and the administrative buildings. In summer, recruits drilled there; sometimes itinerant rope-walkers performed, or a Roma troupe would set up camp.
It was then that Governor N.M. Tseimern resolved to transform this space into a city square by planting an alley of poplars, which still stands. Pupils of the gymnasium were invited to assist. I remember as if it were yesterday: a splendid autumn day, the beginning of the new school year. We were led out, two by two, to the square, where pits for the trees had already been dug. Each was given a spade, and under the guidance of gardeners, to the sound of regimental music, we gradually set the young poplars in the ground.

From the memoirs of M.V. Kosatkin, “Vladimir in an Old Postcard”

Within the fortress walls, yards and homesteads lay freely, forming irregular streets — or rather, settlements. The natural landscape, the relief of the land, the nearness of a spring or other benefits — these sensibly and naturally determined the plan. Yet the beauty and meaning of the street were upheld and sanctified by the church, by its placement and its implied supremacy.
A sign of high urban culture was also the special legislation — the “City Law,” or Prokhiron. It reconciled the convenience of each citizen with the vitality of the city as a whole. Simple and wise rules, brought from Byzantine culture together with Christianity — leave gaps between houses, do not crowd courtyards too closely, build only when needed — preserved in the Russian town its beauty, its sense, its naturalness, and gave its people the feeling of being welcome and protected.
In the eighteenth century, urban planning principles changed: the picturesque freedom of the old layouts, once seen as harmonious, now appeared chaotic, giving way to the regularity and linearity of the “prospekt.” This transformation reached Vladimir too, when it became a provincial capital in 1778. By 1781 a regular plan was drawn up: the old capricious web of streets was replaced by a new, geometric one. The Yamskaya settlement beyond the Golden Gates was given over to Nobility Street, while the settlement itself was moved further, beyond Studenaya Hill, onto the Moscow road. According to this plan, the central street was built up with new stone houses. The city’s face changed dramatically. Nothing remained of the old wooden quarters — and fires, over the centuries, had claimed their merciless toll as well.

“Vladimir in an Old Postcard”

The original club building, already decrepit, was dismantled in 1906. In its place rose a tall wooden structure with balconies on the upper floor; to the right, in the southwestern corner, was built a “shell” bandstand, where a brass band often played for promenaders and those feasting in the club. Three times a week the regimental orchestra performed; laughter rang out everywhere. The evenings ended with Bengal lights and fireworks. By midnight the crowd dispersed, and the boulevard fell silent.
This club building burned down in 1921, set aflame by careless boys at play, and was never rebuilt.

“Vladimir in an Old Postcard”