Chapter X: Alexander I, Mystic and Humanitarian (1)

Heaven grant that we may one day attain our aim of making
Russia free and of preserving her from despotism and
tyranny. This is my unique desire, and I willingly sacrifice
all my labours and my life to the aim that is so dear to
me.--ALEXANDER I.

THE COMPLEX CHARACTER OF ALEXANDER I

[Sidenote: [1801-1825 A.D.]]

In the preceding chapter, we followed the history of the external affairs of Russia during fourteen years of the reign of Alexander I. Now we shall witness the incidents of that monarch’s later years, and, in particular, shall consider the internal condition of Russia during the reign of one of the most interesting of sovereigns. Clearly to appreciate the complex character of the reigns, we may follow Shilder, partly by way of recapitulation, in dividing it into three periods, each of which seems to represent a phase of the mental evolution of Alexander.[a]

The first period embraces the time between the years 1801 and 1810, and is usually designated as the epoch of reforms, but as we penetrate more deeply into the spirit of that period, we come to the conclusion that it might more justly be termed the epoch of vacillations. Actually, at this time, that is from 1801 to 1810, ceaseless vacillations took place in the governmental life of Russia, both in regard to the outward as well as the inward policy of the empire; throughout every branch of the administration of the state an entire instability of views and brusque changes from one political system to another were to be observed. All these manifestations were conditional exclusively on the personality of the emperor Alexander, who possessed the characteristic of not unfrequently vacillating at short intervals between two entirely opposed frames of mind, without reference to the direction he had elected to follow.

The second period is continued from 1810 to 1816 and in its inner signification is entirely concentrated in the struggle with France. This period in contrast to the preceding, is distinguished by the pursuit of one ruling idea, carried out with remarkable consecutiveness to the end, an instance which is almost unique in the whole reign of Alexander. Unexpectedly to all, to the astonishment of the whole world, in 1812, he showed himself immovable and decided to be or not to be. Meanwhile Napoleon, preparing himself for the invasion of Russia, had based his political and military calculations upon the imaginary weakness of Alexander’s character, and in this respect the conqueror’s hidden thoughts corresponded with the secret calculations of his allies, Metternich and Hardenburg. All these three enemies of Russia were however destined to experience complete disenchantment. The ruling idea of Alexander, which he then steadfastly followed, consisted in the overthrow of Napoleon. [These two periods we have covered in the preceding chapter, but we shall have occasion to revert to certain phases and incidents of their development.]

The third period, beginning from the year 1816, finishes with the death of the emperor Alexander in 1825. Historians usually call it the period of congresses and of the preservation of order in Europe established by them. It would be more exact and nearer to the truth to call this last decade the period of reaction.

After the overthrow of Napoleon the emperor Alexander appears as a weary martyr, wavering between the growing influence of Araktcheiev and his own personal convictions which he had adopted in the days of his youth. Amongst the reactionary measures which commenced in 1816 there can still be traced bright gleams of the enthusiasms and dreams of his youth. The speech pronounced in 1818 by the emperor at the opening of the Polish diet testifies to this. But from the year 1820 a complete vanishing of all the previous ideals to the realisation of which he had once aspired with sincere enthusiasm, is to be observed. To this moral condition was also united an incurable weariness of life, the signs of which had already been observed in the emperor Alexander by Metternich at the congress of Verona in 1822.

As we enter upon a closer analysis of the three periods into which we have divided this reign, we remark another curious feature in the development of Alexander. Metternich calls this phenomenon that of the periodic evolutions of the emperor’s mind (_les évolutions périodiques de son esprit_). The phenomenon was repeated with striking regularity about every five years of his reign. Assimilating to himself any idea with which he was inspired, Alexander gave himself up to it, unhesitatingly and with full enthusiasm. The incubation required about two years, during which the idea acquired for him the importance of a system; the third year he remained faithful to the system chosen, he became more and more attached to it, he listened with real enthusiasm to its upholders and at such a time was inaccessible to any influence that might shake the justness of the views he had adopted. The fourth year he grew disturbed at the consequences which might possibly arise; the fifth year there became observable a medley of the old and vanishing system with some new idea which was beginning to take birth in his mind. This idea was usually diametrically opposed to the one that had left his horizon. After that, when he had assimilated the new convictions, he did not preserve any remembrance of the ideas he had abandoned, beyond the obligations which bound him to the various representatives of the former views.[b]

MINISTERIAL INFLUENCES; SPERANSKI AND ARAKTCHEIEV

[Sidenote: [1801-1815 A.D.]]

From 1806 to 1812 the preponderating influence over Alexander I was that of Speranski. Son of a village priest, educated in a seminary, and afterwards professor of mathematics and philosophy in the seminary of Alexander Nevski, Speranski became preceptor to the children of Alexis Kurakin, thanks to whom he quitted the ecclesiastical for a civil career, and became secretary to Trochtchinski, who was then chancellor of the imperial council. Later, after he had become director of the department of the interior under Prince Kotchubei, Speranski rose to the position of secretary of state and gained the complete confidence of the emperor. The favourites of the preceding period had all been imbued with English ideas; Speranski, on the contrary, loved France and manifested a particular admiration for Napoleon. These French sympathies, shared at the time by Alexander I, formed a new bond between the prince and the minister which was not severed until the rupture with Napoleon. “We know,” said Monsieur Bogdanovitch, “Alexander’s fondness for representative forms and a constitutional government, but this taste resembles that of a dilettante who goes into ecstacies over a fine painting. Alexander early convinced himself that neither Russia’s vast extent nor the constitution of civil society would permit the realisation of his dream. From day to day he deferred the execution of his utopian ideas, but delighted to discourse with his intimates upon the projected constitution and the disadvantages of absolutism. To please the emperor, Speranski ardently defended the principles of liberty, and by so doing exposed himself to accusations of anarchy and of having conceived projects dangerous to institutions that had received the consecration of time and custom.” Painstaking, learned, and profoundly patriotic and humane, he was the man best able to realise all that was practicable in the ideas of Alexander.

Speranski presented to the sovereign a systematic plan of reform. The imperial council received an extension of privileges. Composed as it was of the chief dignitaries of the state, it became in a measure the legislative power, and had the duty of examining new laws, extraordinary measures, and ministerial reports; it was in reality a sketch of a representative government. After the interview at Erfurt, during which Napoleon had showed him marked attention, Speranski entered into relations with the French legal writers, Locré, Legras, Dupont de Nemours, and made them correspondents of the legislative commission of the imperial council. The Code Napoleon was not adapted to any but a homogeneous nation emancipated from personal and feudal servitude, with a population whose members all enjoyed a certain equality before the law. Thus to Speranski the emancipation of the serfs was the corner-stone of regeneration. He dreamed of instituting a third estate, of limiting the number of privileged classes, and of forming the great aristocratic families into a peerage similar to that of England. He encouraged Count Stroinovski to publish his pamphlet, _Rules to be Observed between Proprietors and Serfs_. As early as 1809 he had decided that the holders of university degrees should have the advantage over all others in attaining the degrees of the _tchin_. Thus a doctor would at once enter the eighth rank, a master of arts the ninth, a candidate the tenth, and a bachelor the twelfth.

Like Turgot, the minister of Louis XVIII, and the Prussian reformer, Stein, Speranski had aroused the hostility of everyone. The nobility of court and ante-chamber, and all the young officials who wished to rise by favour alone were exasperated by the ukase of 1809; proprietors were alarmed at Speranski’s project for the emancipation of the serfs; the senators were irritated by his plans for reorganisation which would reduce the first governing body of the empire to the position of a supreme court of justice; and the high aristocracy was incensed at the boldness of a man of low condition, the son of a village priest. The people themselves complained at the increase in taxation, all those whose interests had been set aside united against the upstart; he was accused of despising the time-honoured institutions of Moscow and of having presented as a model to the Russians the Code Napoleon when the country was on the eve of war with France. The ministers Balachev, Armfelt, Guriev, Count Rostoptchin, Araktcheiev, and the grand duchess Catherine Pavlovna, sister of the emperor, influenced Alexander against him. Karamzin, the historian, addressed to the emperor an impassioned memoir on _New and Old Russia_, in which he stepped forth as the champion of serfdom, of the old laws, and of autocracy. Speranski’s enemy even went to the length of denouncing him as a traitor and an accomplice of France. In March, 1812, he was suddenly sent from the capital to Nijni-Novgorod and afterwards deported to a distant post where he was subjected to close surveillance. He was recalled in 1819, when passions had somewhat cooled, and was appointed governor of Siberia. In 1821 he returned to St. Petersburg, but did not recover his former position.

A new epoch now set in. The adversaries of Speranski, Armfelt, Schichkov, and Rostoptchin attained high positions, but the acknowledged favourite was Araktcheiev, the rough “corporal of Gachina,” born enemy to progress and reform and apostle of absolute dominion and passive obedience. He gained the confidence of Alexander, first by his devotion to the memory of Paul, next by his punctuality, his unquestioning obedience, his disinterestedness and habits of industry, and lastly by his ingenuous admiration for the “genius of the emperor.” He was the most trustworthy of servitors, the most imperious of superiors, and the most perfect instrument for a reaction. His influence was not at once exclusive. After having conquered Napoleon, Alexander looked upon himself as the liberator of nations. He had set Germany free; he dealt leniently with France and obtained for it a charter; he granted a constitution to Poland, with the intention of extending its benefit to Russia. Though the censorship of the press had recently forbidden the _Viestnik slovesnosti_ to criticise, “the servants of his majesty,” Alexander had not entirely renounced his utopian ideas. English Protestant influence succeeded to the influence of France; French theatres were closed and Bible societies opened.

Nevertheless, this first period of favour for Araktcheiev soon became an epoch of sterility; though reaction had not yet set in there had at least come a decided pause. The reforms interrupted by the war of 1812 were not to be again resumed. The code of Speranski had come to an end and all efforts to compile one better suited to Russian traditions were of no avail.[f]

EDUCATIONAL ADVANCES; THE LYCÉE AND THE LIBRARY

On the 23rd of January of the year 1811 was promulgated the statute of the lycée of Tsarskoi Selo, which had been definitely worked out by secretary of state Speranski. The aim of the establishment of the lycée was the education of young men, and chiefly of those who were destined to fill the most important posts of the government service. The following circumstance was the primary cause of the foundation of this higher educational establishment: although the emperor did not interfere in the matter of the education of his younger brothers, the grand dukes Nicholas and Michael Pavlovitch, which was entirely left to the empress, Marie Feodorovna, a case soon presented itself where the emperor recognised the necessity of departing from the rule he had established. The widowed empress desired to send her sons to the university of Leipsic for the completion of their studies; this was, however, firmly opposed by the emperor, and instead he had the idea of establishing a lycée at Tsarskoi Selo, where his younger brothers could assist at the public lectures. A wing of the palace connected by a gallery with the chief building, was adapted to this purpose, and the solemn opening of the Tsarskoi Selo lycée took place on the 31st of October, 1811, in the presence of the emperor Alexander. It commenced with a thanksgiving service in the court chapel of Tsarskoi Selo, after which those present accompanied the clergy who made the tour of the edifice, sprinkling it with holy water. At the conclusion of the ecclesiastical ceremony, the imperial charter given to the lycée was read in the hall of the building, and the speeches began. Amongst them that of the adjunct professor Kunitzin earned the special approbation of the emperor for the art with which it avoided generalisations and dwelt on the beneficence of the founder. In conclusion, Alexander inspected the premises allotted to the students, and was present at their dinner table.

The year 1811 was also signalised by the completion of the building of the Kazan cathedral, the first stone of which had been laid by the emperor Alexander on the 8th of September, 1801. The constructor of the cathedral was the Russian architect Andrew Nikivorovitch Voroniknin. The building committee was under the direction of the president of the Academy of Arts, Count Alexander Stroganov. The building of the cathedral took ten years, and on the 27th of September, 1811, on the anniversary of the emperor’s coronation, the solemn consecration of the new cathedral took place in the presence of the emperor. Count Stroganov was that day elevated to the dignity of actual privy councillor of the first rank. He was not destined to enjoy for long the completion of his work: ten days later he died.

In the very thick of the preparations for war, and amidst such agitating political circumstances as had been unknown till then, the emperor Alexander continued to labour for the enlightenment of his subjects. Notable among his acts at this time was the foundation of a public library. Catherine II’s idea of founding in the capital a library for general use, and of rendering it accessible to all, was only brought to fulfilment by Alexander. A special edifice was built with this object; its construction had been already commenced during Catherine’s reign. By 1812 all the preliminary work in the building of this library was completed, and on the 14th of January the emperor honoured the newly constructed library with a visit, and examined in detail all its curiosities. Following on this the “draft of detailed rules for the administration of the Imperial Public Library” was ratified by his majesty on the 7th of March.

The events of 1812, however, deferred the actual opening of the library: soon measures had to be thought of to save its treasures. The opening ceremony took place, therefore, two years later, in 1814, on the 14th of January, the anniversary of the day on which the emperor Alexander made his gracious visit to the library, on the memorable occasion of its founding.

A great many festivities took place at the Russian court upon the occasion of the marriage of the grand duke Nicholas Pavlovitch with the princess Charlotte of Prussia (July 13th, 1817). About the same time (July 31st, 1817), a modest festival was celebrated at Tsarskoi Selo--the first distribution of prizes to students of the lycée. On that day the emperor Alexander, accompanied by Prince A. N. Galitzin, was present in the conference hall of the institution he had founded; he himself distributed the prizes and certificates to the pupils, and after having announced the awards to be given to them and their teachers he left, bidding a fatherly farewell to all. The poet Pushkin was amongst the students who took part in the festival.

EXPULSION OF THE JESUITS FROM ST. PETERSBURG

The year 1815, which had been filled with a series of unexpected events, terminated with an important administrative measure which no one had foreseen. On the 18th of January, 1817, an imperial ukase was issued ordering the immediate expulsion of all the monks of the order of Jesuits from St. Petersburg, and at the same time forbidding their entry into either of the two capitals. In the middle of the night they were provided with fur cloaks, and warm boots, and despatched in carts to the residence of their brethren at Polotsk.[60] It was enjoined in this ukase that the Catholic church in St. Petersburg should be “placed on the same footing that had been established during the reign of the empress Catherine II and which had endured up to the year 1800.” This expulsion put an end to the pedagogical activity of the Jesuits in St. Petersburg. The words of N. J. Turgeniev, spoken in the year 1812 and addressed to his successor Gruber, the Berezovski Jesuit, were, in fact, realised for the order in the most unpleasant way. He said: “This is the beginning of the end; you will now do so much that you will be sent away.” The government was compelled to have recourse to decisive measures in view of cases of conversion to Catholicism amongst the orthodox pupils of the Jesuit school in St. Petersburg; besides which the influence of Jesuit propaganda was spreading in a remarkable way amongst the ladies of the high society of St. Petersburg.

This measure, however, did not put a limit to the misfortunes that descended upon the Jesuits during the reign of Alexander. A few years later (on the 25th of March, 1820) the order was given that the Jesuits should be expelled finally from Russia, adding that they were not under any aspect or denomination to be allowed to return; and at the same time the Polotsk academy was suppressed, as well as all the schools depending on it.

LIBERATION OF THE PEASANTS OF THE BALTIC PROVINCES (1816-1818 A.D.)

[Sidenote: [1816-1818 A.D.]]

The nobility of Esthonia had in 1811 announced their desire of giving up their rights of servitude over their peasants. In the year 1816 this intention led to the confirmation of the establishment of the Esthonian peasants upon a new footing, according to which the individual right of servitude was abolished. The nobility kept the land as their property, and the relations between the peasants and the landowners were from thenceforth based upon mutual agreement by free will contracts conformable with rules determining essential conditions; a period of transition was appointed for bringing in the new order of things. After the first trial, the individual, landless liberation of the peasants spread throughout the Baltic provinces and in other governments--namely, in Courland in 1817 and in Livonia in 1819. The introduction of the new order of things was everywhere accomplished without any particular difficulty.

In expressing to the Livonian nobility his satisfaction upon the occasion of the reform effectuated, the emperor Alexander said: “I rejoice that the Livonian nobility has justified my expectations. Your example deserves imitation. You have acted in accordance with the spirit of the times and have understood that liberal principles alone can serve as a basis for the happiness of nations.” From these words it is evident that the emperor entertained, according to Shishkov’s expression, an unfortunate prejudice against the right of servitude in Russia, and it appeared to many that in other parts of the empire words would be followed by deeds.[61]

From the year 1816, the peasant question began to occupy society. The aide-de-camp of his majesty, Kisselev, even presented a memoir to the emperor which bore the title _Of the Gradual Abolition of Slavery in Russia_. The memoir began with the words: “Civic liberty is the foundation of national prosperity. This truth is so undoubted that I consider it superfluous here to explain how desirable it is that the lawful independence of which serfs and agriculturists, are unjustly deprived, should be established for them throughout the empire. I consider this measure the more needful now that the progress of enlightenment and our closer contact with Europe, which hourly increases the fermentation of minds, indicate to the government the necessity of averting the consequences which may follow, and whose menace it would be already difficult or impossible to deny. The blood in which the French Revolution was steeped bears witness to this.” In what manner the emperor Alexander regarded the memoir presented by his aide-de-camp, and what fate overtook this production of his pen has remained unknown.

P. D. Kisselev was not the only nobleman who recognised the urgent necessity of the government’s occupying itself with the peasant question. The following circumstance serves as a proof of this: in this same year, 1816, many of the richest landowners of the government of St. Petersburg, knowing the emperor’s moral aspirations to better the lot of the peasant serfs, decided to turn them into obligatory settlers upon the basis of the then existing regulations. The act was drawn up and signed by sixty-five landowners; it only remained to take it to be ratified by the emperor, and for this purpose the general aide-de-camp J. V. Vasiltchikov was chosen. Those who had taken part in the signature of the act supposed that the emperor knew nothing of the meetings that had taken place on the occasion and were convinced that he would receive graciously a proposition, which was in accordance with his manner of thinking. But the emperor Alexander was aware of the determination of the nobles and hardly had Vasiltchikov, after requesting permission to present himself to his majesty, begun to speak of the matter, when Alexander, interrupting him, inquired: “To whom, in your opinion, does the legislative power belong in Russia?” And when Vasiltchikov replied: “Without doubt to your imperial majesty as an autocratic emperor,” Alexander, raising his voice, said, “Then leave it to me to promulgate such laws as I consider most beneficial to my subjects.”

The emperor’s reply gave little hope of a favourable solution of this important question. In the then existing state of affairs, the matter could not avoid passing through the hands of Araktcheiev. This indeed actually happened. In February, 1818, before the departure of the emperor Alexander from Moscow for Warsaw to open the first Polish diet, Count Araktcheiev announced that his majesty had deigned to issue an edict for the liberation of landowners’ peasants from the condition of serfdom, with the stipulation that the edict should not in any of its measures be oppressive to the landowners, and especially that it should not present anything of a violent character in its accomplishment on the part of the government: but, on the contrary, that it should be accompanied by advantages for the landowners and awaken in them a desire to co-operate with the government in the abolition of the conditions of serfdom in Russia, an abolition corresponding to the spirit of the times and the progress of education, and indispensable for the future tranquillity of the possessors of serfs.

THE EMPEROR AND THE QUAKERS

In 1814, at the time of the emperor Alexander’s stay in London, the famous philanthropist Quakers, De Grelle de Mobillier,[62] and Allen, had been inspired with the idea of taking advantage of a favourable occasion, and instilling into the minds of the allied sovereigns the conviction that the kingdom of Christ is a kingdom of justice and truth. With this object they first set off to visit the king of Prussia, who received them and praised the Quakers living in his dominions, but expressed his conviction that war is indispensable for the attainment of peace. The emperor Alexander showed them more sympathy; he visited a Quaker meeting and received a deputation. The emperor assured the Quakers that he was in agreement with the greater part of their opinions, and that although on account of his exceptional position his mode of action must be other than theirs, yet he was in union with them in the spiritual worship of Christ. In taking leave of the Quakers, Alexander invited them to come to see him in Russia and said: “I bid you farewell as a friend and brother.”

Grelle and Allen arrived in St. Petersburg in November, 1818, during the emperor’s absence. They went to Prince A. N. Galitzin, of whom Grelle wrote: “He is a man penetrated by a truly Christian spirit.” Galitzin received the Quakers with an open heart and informed them that the emperor had sent him a letter telling him of their coming to Russia and requesting that they might be received as his friends. After various questions upon religious matters the Quakers, together with Prince Galitzin, gave themselves up to silent, inward meditation, and this method, writes Grelle, “did not appear at all unknown to the prince. Inspired by the love of Christ, we felt in ourselves, after silent, heartfelt prayer, the beneficent moving of grace. In taking leave of the prince, he offered us free access to all that could interest us--to the prisons, to reformatory institutions, and to refuges for the poor.”

Their visit to the St. Petersburg prisons deeply agitated the pious Quakers; according to Grelle’s observations, some of them were very dirty and overrun with vermin; the odour was unbearable and the air contaminated to such a degree that it affected the heads and lungs of the visitors. The Quakers also inspected a few refuges and schools.

On a subsequent evening the emperor Alexander received the Quakers alone. He called them his old friends, made them sit beside him on the sofa, and called to mind with inward emotion their interview in London in 1814, saying that it had given him the spirit of courage and firmness amidst all the difficult circumstances in which he was then placed. “The emperor then,” writes Grelle, “suggested to us some questions upon religious matters, thus showing his sincere desire to progress in the saving knowledge of truth. He further questioned us as to what we had seen and done in Russia. We took advantage of the opportunity to relate to him the distressing condition of the prisons; and in particular we directed his attention to the wretched state of the prison in Åbo, and told him about an unfortunate man who had been kept in irons there for nineteen years. The emperor was touched by our narrative and said, ‘This ought not to be; it shall not occur again.’” The Quakers also informed the emperor how deeply grieved they had been to see, upon inspecting one of the schools, that the pupils were given books to read that were pernicious to their morals; after which they showed him a specimen of extracts they had made from the Holy Scriptures for the use of schools. The emperor remained wrapped in thought for a moment, and then turning to his companions, he observed: “You have done precisely what I much desired. I have often thought that schools might serve as a powerful instrument for the furtherance of the kingdom of Christ, by leading the people to the knowledge of the Saviour and the principles of true piety. Send me as soon as possible all that you have succeeded in preparing.”

The conversation then touched on Daniel Villers, also a Quaker, whom the emperor had called to St. Petersburg to drain the marshes; Alexander said that he regarded his presence in Russia as a blessing to the people. “It was not the draining of the marshes,” added the emperor, “nor any other material necessity that was the cause of my inviting some of your ‘friends’ to come here; no, I was guided by the wish that their true piety, their probity, and other virtues might serve as an example for my people to imitate.”

In conclusion the emperor said, “Before we separate, let us try to spend some time in common prayer.” “We willingly consented,” writes Grelle in regard to this matter, “feeling that the Lord with his beneficent power was near us. Some time passed in silent, inward contemplation; our souls were humbled, and a little later I felt within me the heavenly breathing of the spirit of prayer and compunction; enfolded by the spirit, I bent my knees before the greatness of God; the emperor knelt beside me. Amidst the inward outpourings of the soul we felt that the Lord had consented to hear our prayers. After that we spent a little while longer in silence and then withdrew. In bidding us farewell the emperor expressed the desire to see us again before we left. We spent two hours with him.”

After this remarkable audience, which so graphically expresses the religious-idealistic frame of mind of the emperor Alexander, the Quakers visited under the patronage of the widowed empress the female educational establishments, the young pupils of which aroused much sympathy in them. Grelle found that some of them had hearts open for receiving evangelical inspiration. These visits were followed by the reception of the Quakers by the empress Marie Feodorovna. They told the empress that they were much pleased at the condition of the institutions under her patronage, but at the same time they could not be otherwise than grieved to see how little attention was paid in St. Petersburg, and in general throughout Russia, to the education of children of the lower classes; they also spoke to the empress of the unsatisfactoriness of the then existing prison accommodations for women, and indicated how advantageous it would be if the prisons were visited by women capable of instructing and consoling the unfortunate prisoners. The empress entirely agreed with these ideas.

Soon the emperor again invited the Quakers to come and see him. “He again received us in his private apartments,” writes Grelle, “to which we were taken by a secret way, avoiding the guard and the court servants. Nobody seemed surprised to see us keeping our heads covered. The emperor, as before, received us with sincere affability. He began by informing us that the chains in which we had seen the prisoners at Åbo had been taken off, that the unfortunate man of whom we had told him had been set at liberty, and that orders had been given that the other prisoners were to be better treated. He then asked us to relate to him openly all that we had noticed in the prisons during our stay in Russia. The governor-general (Count Miloradovitch) had informed him of the changes and improvements which he considered it advantageous to carry out in the gaols, and the emperor entirely approved of the changes that had already been made. He further told us that the widowed empress had spoken to him with pleasure of our visit to her; that she had taken to heart what we had said of the extreme neglect of the education of children of the poorer classes, and that she was occupying herself in searching for the most effectual measures of remedying this defect as soon as possible. The emperor added that he had named a certain sum of money to be used for the establishment of six schools for poor children in the capital, and that the children were to receive there a religious and moral education. He further told us that he had attentively perused the books we had prepared and was delighted with them; that if we had only come to Russia to do this, we had already accomplished a very important work, and that he intended to bring our books into use throughout all the schools of his empire.”

Before their departure for Moscow the emperor received his old friends a third time, and on this occasion he related to them various details of how he had himself been educated under the supervision of his grandmother, the empress Catherine. “The persons attached to me,” said he, “had some good qualities, but they were not believing Christians and therefore my primary education was not united with any profound moral impressions; in accordance with the customs of our church, I was taught formally to repeat morning and evening certain prayers I had learned; but this habit, which did not in any wise satisfy the inward requirements of my religious feelings, soon wearied me. Meanwhile it happened more than once that, when I lay down to rest, I had a lively feeling in my soul of my sins, and of the various moral deficiencies of my mode of life; thus penetrated by heartfelt repentance I was moved by a desire to rise from my bed and in the silence of the night to throw myself upon my knees and with tears ask God for forgiveness and for strength to preserve greater watchfulness over myself in future. This contrition of heart continued for some time; but little by little, in the absence of moral support on the part of the persons who surrounded me, I began to feel more seldom and more feebly these salutary movings of grace. Sin, together with worldly distractions, began to reign more and more within my soul. Finally, in 1812, the Lord in his love and mercy, again called to me, and the former movings of grace were renewed with fresh strength in my heart. At that period a certain pious person[63] advised me to take to reading the Holy Scriptures and gave me a Bible, a book which until then I had never had in my hands. I devoured the Bible finding that its words shed a new and never previously experienced peace in my heart, and satisfied the thirst of my soul. The Lord in his goodness granted me his Spirit to understand what I read; and to this inward instruction and enlightenment I owe all the spiritual good that I acquired by the reading of the divine Word; this is why I look upon inward enlightenment or instruction from the Holy Ghost as the firmest support in the soul--saving knowledge of God.”

The emperor then related to his companions how deeply his soul was penetrated with the desire to abolish forever wars and bloodshed upon earth. “He said,” writes Grelle, “that he had passed many nights without sleep in strained and intense deliberation as to how this sacred desire could be realised, and in deep grief at the thought of the innumerable calamities and misfortunes that are occasioned by war. At that time when his soul was thus bowed down in ardent prayer to the Saviour the idea arose in him of inviting the crowned heads to unite in one holy alliance, before the tribunal of which all future disagreements that should arise should be settled, instead of having recourse to the sword and to bloodshed. This idea took such possession of him that he got up from his bed, expounded his feelings and aspirations in writing with such liveliness and ardour that his intentions were subjected on the part of many to unmerited suspicion and misinterpretation--‘Although,’ added he with a sigh, ‘ardent love for God and mankind was the sole motive that governed me.’ Thoughts of the formation of the Holy Alliance again arose in him during his stay in Paris. After we had spent some time in conversing on this important subject, the emperor said to us: ‘And thus we part, in this world, but I firmly trust that we, being separated by space, will however remain by the goodness of the spirit of God forever united through inward spiritual fellowship, for in the kingdom of God there are no limitations of space. Now, before we part, I have one request to make to you: let us join in silent prayer and see if the Lord will not consent to manifest his gracious presence to us, as he did the last time.’

“We gladly consented to fulfil his desire. A solemn silence followed during which we felt that the Lord was amongst us; our souls were reverently opened before him and he himself was working within us through his grace. Somewhat later, I felt, through the breathing of the love of Christ, the lively desire of saying a few words of approbation to our beloved emperor in order to encourage him to walk with firm steps in the Lord’s way and to put his whole trust, unto the end of his earthly journeyings, in the efficaciousness of the divine grace; in general I felt the necessity of guarding him from evil and strengthening him in his good intention of ever following the path of truth and righteousness. The words that I said produced a profound impression upon the emperor and he shed burning tears. Then our dear Allen, kneeling, raised a fervent prayer to God for the emperor and his people. The emperor himself fell on his knees beside him and remained a long while with us in spiritual outpourings before the Lord. Finally we solemnly and touchingly took leave of each other.”

SECRET SOCIETIES UNDER ALEXANDER I

After the year 1815, when the emperor Alexander already appeared as a weary martyr, immersed in mystic contemplation and wavering between the evergrowing influence of Count Araktcheiev and the convictions he had himself formed in the days of his youth, the events of 1812 were reflected in a totally different manner upon the movement of social ideas in Russia. The war of the fatherland was accompanied in Russia by an unusual rising of the spirit of the nation and a remarkable awakening of the public conscience. The continuation of the struggle with Napoleon beyond the frontiers of Russia had led Alexander’s troops to Paris. This enforced military exploit widened the horizon of the Russian people; they became acquainted with European manners and customs, were in closer contact with the current of European thought, and felt drawn towards political judgment. It was quite natural that the Russian people should begin to compare the order of things in their own country with political and public organisation abroad. An unrestrainable impulse to criticise and compare was awakened; thenceforth it was difficult to become reconciled to the former status of Russian life and the traditional order of things.

It will be asked what abuses presented themselves to the gaze of the Russian conquerors, who had liberated Europe, upon their return to their country. An entire absence of respect for the rights of the individual was patent; the forcible introduction of monstrous military settlements, the exploits of Magnitski and others of his kind in the department of public instruction were crying shames; and, finally, the cruelties of serfdom were in full activity. The subtile exactions which then prevailed in service at the front completed the development of general dissatisfaction amongst military circles. There is, therefore, nothing astonishing in the fact that the misfortunes which then weighed upon the Russian people should have found an answering call in the hearts of men who were at that time in the grip of a violent patriotic revival.

The natural consequence of this joyless condition of affairs in Russia was a hidden protest, which led to the formation of secret societies. Under the then existing conditions there was no possibility of carrying on reformatory deliberations with the cognisance of the government. Thus a remarkable phenomenon was accomplished; on the one hand Russian public thought was seeking for itself an issue and solution of the questions that oppressed it; while on the other the emperor Alexander, disenchanted with his former political ideals and standing at the head of the European reaction, had become the unexpected champion of aspirations which had nothing in common with the ideas of which he had been the representative during the best period of his life. This circumstance made a break in the interior life of Russia, which imperceptibly prepared the ground for events until then unprecedented in Russian history. “What has become of liberalism?” is a question that one of the contemporaries of that epoch sets himself. “It seems to have vanished, to have disappeared from the face of the earth; everything is silent. And yet it is just at this instant that its hidden forces have begun to grow dangerous.” The time had come when secret societies were in full bloom. The masonic lodges, which had been allowed by the government, had long since accustomed the Russian nobility to the form of secret societies. Officers’ circles, in which conversations were carried on about the wounds of Russia, the obduracy of the people, the distressing position of the soldier, the indifference of society to the affairs of the country, imperceptibly changed into organised secret societies.

It happened that yet another time the emperor Alexander expressed the conviction that the interior administration of Russia ought to be thought of, that it was necessary that means should be taken for remedying the evil; but the sovereign did not pass from words to deeds. In reference to this, the ideas expressed by Alexander to the governor of Penza, T. P. Lubianovski, on the occasion of his visit to that town in 1824 are worthy of attention. The emperor had inspected the second infantry corps there assembled; the manœuvres had deserved particular praise. Observing signs of weariness on the emperor’s face, Lubianovski ventured to remark that the empire had reason to complain of his majesty.

“Why?” “You will not take care of yourself.” “You mean to say that I am tired?” replied the emperor. “It is impossible to look at the troops without satisfaction; the men are good, faithful and excellently trained; we have gained no little glory through them. Russia has enough glory; she does not require more; it would be a mistake to require more. But when I think how little has been as yet done in the interior of the empire, then the thought lies on my heart like a ten-pound weight. That is what makes me tired.”

The profoundly true thought that fell from the lips of the sovereign in his conversation with Lubianovski was not, however, put into application. At that period it was impossible to count upon the amendment of the state edifice through the administrations of the government. The dim figure of Araktcheiev had definitively succeeded in screening Russia from the gaze of Alexander, and his evil influence was felt at every step. Therefore in the main everything led to the sorrowful result that the emperor, as Viguel expressed it, was like a gentleman who, having grown tired of administering his own estate, had given it over entirely into the hands of a stern steward, being thus sure that the peasants would not become spoiled under him.

A few words remain to be said of the fate that overtook the secret societies after the closing of the Alliance of the Public Good. Benkendorf’s[64] supposition that a new and more secret society would be formed after this, which would act under the veil of greater security, was actually justified. The more zealous members of the alliance only joined together more closely, and from its ruins arose two fresh alliances--the Northern and the Southern.

The leaders of the Northern Alliance in the beginning were Muraviev and Turgeniev. Later on, in 1823, Kondratz Bileiev entered the society, of which he became the leader. The aspirations of the Northern Alliance were of a constitutional-monarchic character. In the Southern Alliance, chiefly composed of members of the second army, the principal leader was the commander of the Viatka infantry regiment, Colonel Paul Pestel, son of the former governor-general of Siberia. Thanks to Pestel’s influence the Southern Alliance acquired a preponderating republican tendency; he occupied himself with the composition of a work which he called _Russian Truth_, in which he expounded his ideas on the reconstruction of Russia. Many members of this society inclined to the conviction that the death of the emperor Alexander and even the extermination of the entire imperial family were indispensable to the successful realisation of their proposed undertakings; at any rate there is no doubt that conversations to this effect were carried on amongst the members of the secret societies. Soon the active propaganda of the members of the Southern Society called another society into existence--the Slavonic Alliance or the United Slavonians. In it was chiefly concentrated the radical element from the midst of the future Dekabrists. The members of this society proposed insane and violent projects and insisted chiefly on the speedy commencement of decisive action, giving only a secondary importance to deliberations on the constitutional form of government. Sergei Nuraviev Apostol called them mad dogs chained.

There yet remained a better means for strengthening the designs of the secret societies--this was to enter into relations with the Polish secret societies. Negotiations with the representative of the Polish patriotic alliance, Prince Tablonovski, were personally carried on by Pestel; but the details of this agreement are even now little known. Such was the dangerous and fruitless path into which many of the best representatives of thinking Russia were drawn: each year the crisis became more and more inevitable; and meanwhile the government became more decisively confirmed than ever in the pathway of reaction, thus indirectly giving greater power to secret revolutionary propaganda.

_Closing of the Masonic Lodges_

In August, 1822, a rescript was issued in the name of the minister of the interior, ordering the closing of all secret societies, under whatever name they might exist--masonic lodges or others--and forbidding their establishment in future. All members of these societies had to pledge themselves not to form any masonic lodges or other secret societies in the future; and a declaration was required from all ranks of the army and from the civil service that neither soldiers nor officials should thenceforth belong to such organisations: “If any person refuses to make such a pledge, he shall no longer remain in the service.”

All the measures drawn up by the rescript of August were, however, put into effect only with regard to the closing of the masonic lodges. As to the secret societies, which had undoubtedly a political aim, they continued to develop in all tranquillity. “At that time,” writes a contemporary, “there was a triple police in St. Petersburg--namely, the governor general, the minister of the interior, and Count Araktcheiev; but that it did not bring forth any advantages is proved by the events of 1825.”

According to the remarks of the same contemporary, card-playing had then spread in St. Petersburg society to an incredible degree. “Certainly in ninety houses out of a hundred they play,” writes Danilevski, “and although the circle of my acquaintances has become very vast this year and I go out a great deal yet I never see people doing anything else than playing at cards. If one is invited to an evening party, it means cards, and I have hardly made my bow to the hostess before I find the cards in my hand. When one is asked out to dinner one sits down to whist before the meal is served. Card-playing occupies not only elderly people but young ones also. I think this has arisen partly from a defect in education which is in general observable in Russia--for when education finishes at seventeen, what store of ideas and knowledge, what passion for science can one expect to find in adults? This condition is further exaggerated by the fact that all political matters are banished from conversation: the government is suspicious, and spies are not unfrequently to be met with in society. The greater part of them are, however, known; some belong to old noble families, are decorated with orders, and wear chamberlains’ keys.”

The closing of the masonic lodges called forth the following deliberations from Danilevski: “As far as I know, masonry had no other object in Russia beyond benevolence and providing an agreeable way of passing time. The closing of the lodges deprived us of the only places where we assembled for anything else besides card-playing, for we have no society where cards do not constitute the principal or rather the only occupation. We are as yet so unversed in political matters that it is absurd for the government to fear that such subjects would furnish conversation at the masonic lodges. With us, notable persons have rarely been masons; at least none such have visited our lodge, which is usually full of people of the middle class, officers, civil-service employees, artists, a very few merchants, and a large percentage of literary men.”[b]

These of course are the words of a partisan and must be taken with a certain allowance. The same remark applies with full force to the testimony of the historian Turgeniev, whose association with the secret unions has already been mentioned, and whose comments on the subject, despite a certain bias, are full of interest. Turgeniev is speaking of the period just following that in which the government had taken action against the societies.[a]

_Turgeniev’s Comment on the Secret Societies._

The government contributed much [he declares] by its suspicions and precautions, to strengthen the reports which were afloat concerning secret societies: to them all was suspect. A species of insurrection having broken out in a regiment of the guards, of which the emperor was head, the government thought they could trace it to the action of some society, whereas it was caused by the brutal and ridiculous conduct of a new colonel they had placed in command. That such was their conviction there was no doubt, because two of the officers of the insurrectionary companies were traduced before a council of war, and condemned, not only without any proof but with no specification of the crime or fault with which they were charged, whereas in reality neither the one nor the other officer had ever belonged to a secret society.

A rash Englishman took it into his head to go round the world and publish an account of his travels. He arrived at St. Petersburg, went over Russia, and thence to Siberia. There he was taken for a spy, and soon an order came from St. Petersburg to conduct him to the frontier. Even pious Protestant missionaries, propagating with their accustomed zeal Christian morals among savage peoples, were suspected by the government. They were hindered in the holy warfare they desired to carry on in the farthest and least civilised regions of the empire. The powers only saw in them emissaries of European liberalism.

The public for their part did not fail to take appearances for reality. That is the common propensity of the crowd in every country. How many times, before and after this epoch, might not men have been seen addressing themselves to those who were supposed to be at the head of such societies, and insistently asking to be admitted. In the army subalterns thus addressed their chiefs, and old generals sought their young subordinates to obtain the same favour. It might have been said with equal truth to both parties that no secret societies existed. Men’s minds, however, were all on the strain for political events. It was thought that some great change was to come soon, and everyone wanted to get an inkling of it. Restless curiosity was not the worst of the inconveniences caused to such associations. Doubtless, the evil was less due to societies than to persons who judged them after their deceitful appearances. Perhaps it was the fault of the political order which made secret societies necessary or, at any rate, inevitable; but it was nevertheless a serious matter which only publicity could remedy. The strong energy of a free man would advantageously replace the trickery and restlessness of a slave.