Chapter X: Alexander I, Mystic and Humanitarian (2)

However, at the epoch of which we now speak, individuals were able to agitate in various ways, but without the least result. But if such a thing as an organised secret society did exist, how is it I did not know of it--I who knew many of those called liberals? I will give convincing proof of what I here maintain; I quote the words of Pestel, a man sent to the scaffold by the government not because he had committed some political crime but because he was considered as the most influential of those who were supposed to belong to secret associations. Pestel was in St. Petersburg just as my departure was decided on. He came to see me and spoke with regret of the dissolution of the Bien Public Society. “As for us” (the 2nd army), he said, “we have not observed the dissolution. It would be too disheartening. We are believed to be strong and numerous; I encourage the delusion. What would be said were it known that we are but five or six who form the association?” He ended by advising me to renounce my journey, or, at any rate to return as soon as possible and take up the abandoned work again. “I see quite well,” he said, “there is absolutely nothing left here of the old society, but at your house and a few others one can always believe in the existence of the society. Your departure will weaken this belief.”

I explained that my health forced me to leave my affairs, and that, furthermore, I had little faith in the efficacy of secret societies. He seemed impressed by my reasoning and even agreed that I might be right on this last point.

His attention was much occupied with certain social theories that he and some of his friends had formulated. They thought to find in me one proselyte more. But they were disappointed, and Pestel was much surprised and disconcerted. These theories, which so many ardent imaginations had adopted, were no doubt excellent in intention, but they hardly promised great results. The genius, or something akin to it, in a Fourier, the zeal of an Owen, the utopianism of many others, might make proselytes and excite admiration; but the dreams of such men remained but dreams although they sometimes touched on the sublime. Only, in default of possible realisation, these theories might help humanity by directing the attention and effort of serious men towards certain things of which they had sufficiently appreciated the importance and utility. But to ensure that result more imagination was required. One of the fundamental points in the theory of Pestel and his friends was a universal distribution of territory, its cultivation to be determined by a supreme authority. At least they wanted to divide vast crown lands among those who had no property. What Elizabeth had guaranteed to all Englishmen--the right of being supported by the poor rates in default of other means of subsistence--they wanted to guarantee by means of the possession or at least the enjoyment of a certain quantity of land free for cultivation.

I tried to the best of my power to refute their arguments. It was not easy. The refutation of certain theories is difficult, and there are some whose very absurdity makes them unassailable. At last I came to think that Pestel and his friends were far more discontented with my opposition to their social theories than with my opinions on secret societies.[d]

LITERARY ACTIVITY OF THE PERIOD

The awakening of the Russian spirit was not manifested in political conspiracies alone. In science, in letters, and in art the reign of Alexander was an epoch of magnificent achievement. The intellectual like the liberal movement no longer bore the exotic and superficial character that had been apparent during the reign of Catherine; it penetrated to the deepest layers of society, gained constantly in power and extent, carried away the middle classes, and was propagated in the remotest provinces. The movement started in 1801 had not yet ceased, although the government failed to support the efforts it had itself aroused, and Alexander, embittered and disillusioned, had come to mistrust all intellectual manifestations. The increased severity of the censorship had not availed to prevent the formation of learned societies; literary journals and reviews continued to multiply.

During this period the Besieda, a literary club representing the classical tendencies, was formed, and the romanticists, Jukovski, Dachkov, Ouvarov, Pushkin, Bludov, and Prince Viazemski founded the Arzamas. At St. Petersburg appeared the _Northern Post_, the _St. Petersburg Messenger_, the _Northern Messenger_, the _Northern Mercury_, the _Messenger of Zion_, the _Beehive_, and the _Democrat_, in which latter Kropotkov inveighed against French customs and ideas, and in the _Funeral Orison of my Dog Balabas_ congratulated the worthy animal on never having studied in a university, or read Voltaire.

Literary activity was, as usual, greatest at Moscow, where Karamzine was editing the _European Messenger_, Makarov the _Moscow Mercury_, and Glinka the _Russian Messenger_. In his journal Glinka endeavoured to excite a national feeling by first putting the people on their guard against all foreign influence, but more particularly that of France, and then arming them against Napoleon, teaching them the doctrine of self-immolation, and letting loose the furies of the “patriotic war.” When the _Russian Messenger_ went out of existence after the completion of its task, the _Son of the Soil_, edited by de Gretch, took up the same work and carried the war against Napoleon beyond the frontiers. “Taste in advance,” it cried to the conqueror, “the immortality that you deserve; learn now the curses that posterity will shower on your name! You sit on your throne in the midst of thunder and flame as Satan sits in hell surrounded by death, devastation, and fire!” The _Russian Invalide_ was founded in 1813 for the benefit of wounded and infirm soldiers. Even after the war-fever had somewhat subsided, and considerations less hostile to France were occupying the public mind, the literary movement still continued.

Almost all the writers of the day took part in the crusade against Gallomania and the belief in Napoleon’s omnipotence. Some had fought in the war against France and their writings were deeply tinged with patriotic feeling. Krilov, whose fables rank him not far below La Fontaine, wrote comedies also. In the _School for Young Ladies_ and the _Milliner’s Shop_ he ridiculed the exaggerated taste for everything French. Besides his classical tragedies Ozerov wrote _Dmitri Donskoi_, in which he recalled the struggles of Russia against the Tatars, and in a measure foretold the approaching conflict with a new invader. In the tragedy named after Pojarski, the hero of 1812, Kriukovski made allusions of the same order. The poet Jukovski put in verse the exploits of the Russians against Napoleon in 1806 and 1812, and Rostoptchin did not await the great crisis before opening out on the French the vials of his wrath.

Viewed in general, the literature of Alexander’s period marked the passage from the imitation of ancient writers and French classicists to the imitation of French and English masterpieces. The Besieda and the Arzamas were the headquarters of two rival armies which carried on in Russia a war similar to that waged in Paris by romantic and classical schools. Schiller, Goethe, Byron, and Shakespeare were as much the fashion in Russia as in France, and created there as close an approach to a literary scandal. While Ozerov, Batiuchkov, and Derjavine upheld the traditions of the old school, Jukovski gave to Russia a translation of Schiller’s _Joan of Arc_ and of Byron’s _Prisoner of Chillon_; and Pushkin published _Ruslan and Liudmilla_, _The Prisoner of the Caucasus_, _Eugene Oniegin_, the poem _Poltava_, and the tragedy _Boris Godunov_.

As in France the romantic movement had been accompanied by a brilliant revival of historical studies, so in Russia a fresh impulse was given to letters, and dramatists and novelists were inspired with a taste for national subjects by Karamzin’s _History of the Russian Empire_, a work remarkable for eloquence and charm [as our various extracts testify] though deficient in critical insight. Schlötzer had recently edited Nestor, the old annalist of Kiev and father of Russian history.[f]

_Alexander I as a Patron of Literature_

Protection and encouragement were shown to literature by Alexander I. Storck[i] writes as follows: “Rarely has any ruler shown such encouragement to literature as Alexander I. The remarkable literary merits of persons in the government service are rewarded by rises in the official ranks, by orders and pensions, whilst writers who are not in the government service and whose literary productions come to the knowledge of the emperor not unfrequently receive presents of considerable value. Under the existing conditions of the book trade, Russian authors cannot always count on a fitting recompense for large scientific works, and in such cases the emperor, having regard to these circumstances, sometimes grants the authors large sums for the publication of their works. Many writers send their manuscripts to the emperor, and if only they have a useful tendency he orders them to be printed at the expense of the cabinet and then usually gives the whole edition to the author.”

In view of the desire manifested by Karamzin to devote his labours to the composition of a full history of the Russian Empire, the emperor by a ukase of the 31st of October, 1803, bestowed upon him the title of historiographer and a yearly pension of 2,000 rubles.

During the reign of the emperor Paul, Alexander, in a letter to Laharpe dated September 27th, 1797, expressed his conviction of the necessity of translating useful books into the Russian language, in order “to lay a foundation by spreading knowledge and enlightenment in the minds of the people.” When he came to the throne, Alexander did not delay in accomplishing the intention he had already formed when he was czarevitch, and actually during the epoch of reforms a multitude of translations of works appeared, which had the evident object of inspiring interest in social, economic, and political questions and of communicating to Russian society the latest word of western science upon such questions.

In the establishment of the ministries the question of censorship was not overlooked; it was transferred to the ministry of public instruction. In consequence of this arrangement a special statute was issued (July 9th, 1804), “not in order to place any restraint,” as is stated in the minister’s report, “upon the freedom of thought and of writing, but solely so as to take requisite measures against the abuse of such freedom.” The entire statute contained forty-seven paragraphs--a circumstance worthy of attention if we take into consideration the fact that the censorship statute presented in the year 1826 by A. S. Shishkov had grown to 230 paragraphs. According to the statute of Alexander I the censorship was designed chiefly to “furnish society with books and works contributing to the true enlightenment of minds and to the formation of moral qualities, and to remove books and works of contrary tendencies.” The censorship was entrusted to the university, constituting in its general jurisdiction the then newly organised department of the ministry of public instruction, which had the chief direction of schools. The basis of the functions of the censorship thus constituted was found in the three provisions following:

(1) Watchfulness that in the books and periodicals published, and in the pieces represented on the stage “there shall be nothing against religion, the government, morality, or the personal honour of any citizen.” (2) Care that in the prohibition of the publication or issue of books and works the committee shall be “guided by a wise indulgence, setting aside all biased interpretation of the works or of any part of them which might seem to merit prohibition; and wisdom to remember that when such parts seem subject to any doubt or have a double meaning, it is better to interpret them in the manner most favourable to the author than to prosecute him.” (3) “A discreet and wise investigation of truths concerning faith, mankind, the position of the citizen, the law, and all branches of the administration, are to be treated by the censorship not only in the most lenient manner, but should enjoy entire liberty of publication, as contributing to the progress of enlightenment.”

Such was the aspect of the censorship and statute which remained unchanged for more than twenty years, that is during the whole reign of the emperor Alexander. It was only from the year 1817, from the establishment of the ministry of public worship and of public instruction, that the censorship acquired a particularly irksome tendency which was in opposition to the liberal spirit of the statute: the most complete intolerance, fanaticism, and captiousness, which had been absent at the commencement of Alexander’s reign, then made their appearance.

In January, 1818 the emperor Alexander came for a short time to St. Petersburg, and Karamzin took advantage of his stay in order to present to him the eight volumes of the _History of the Russian Empire_ which he had just published. “He received me in his private apartments, and I had the happiness of dining with him,” wrote Karamzin to his friend I. I. Dmitriev. “On the 1st of February my _History of the Russian Empire_ was on sale; the edition was of three thousand copies, and in spite of the high price at which the work was sold (55 rubles, paper money, per copy), a month later not a copy was left at the booksellers.”[b]

FAILURE OF THE POLISH EXPERIMENT

The constitution granted to Poland in 1815, based the government on a tripartite division of power; the three estates of the realm being the king, a senate, and a house of representatives--the latter two being comprehended under the name of a diet. The executive was vested in the king, and in functionaries by him appointed. The crown was hereditary; it was the prerogative of the king to declare war, convoke, prorogue, or dissolve the diet. He was empowered to appoint a viceroy, who, unless a member of the royal family, was to be a Pole. The king or viceroy was assisted by a council of state and five responsible ministers, their several departments being instruction, justice, interior and police, war, finance. These five ministers were subordinate to the president of the council. Considering the exhaustion, humiliation, and misery to which Poland had been reduced, such a constitution was apparently a great boon, for it guaranteed civil, political, and religious freedom; but by the very nature of things it was foredoomed to destruction.

The first Polish diet assembled at Warsaw on the 27th of March, 1818. The grand duke Constantine, commander-in-chief of the Polish army, was elected a deputy by the faubourg of Praga, and during the session was obliged to renounce his privilege as a senator, because, by the terms of the constitution, no person could sit in both houses. He was elected by a majority of 103 votes to 6, an evident proof that the new reign had excited the liveliest hopes. The emperor arrived at Warsaw on the 13th of March; he devoted himself laboriously to the examination of state affairs, and on the 27th he opened the diet in person with a speech in the French language. He said, “the organisation which existed in vigorous maturity in your country permitted the instant establishment of what I have given you, by putting into operation the principles of those liberal institutions which have never ceased to be the object of my solicitude, and whose salutary influence I hope by the aid of God to disseminate through all the countries which He has confided to my care. Thus you have afforded me the means of showing my country what I had long since prepared for her, and what she shall obtain when the elements of a work so important shall have attained their necessary development.”

There is no reason to doubt that Alexander cherished these intentions in his own sanguine but impractical way. The enfranchisement of the serfs of Esthonia, undertaken in 1802 and completed in 1816, and that of the serfs of Courland in 1817, exhibit the same principles. And when in 1819 the deputies of the Livonian nobility submitted to the approbation of the emperor a plan to pursue the same course with the serfs of their province, the following was his remarkable reply: “I am delighted to see that the nobility of Livonia have fulfilled my expectations. You have set an example that ought to be imitated. You have acted in the spirit of our age, and have felt that liberal principles alone can form the basis of the people’s happiness.”

“Such,” says Schnitzler, “was constantly, during nearly twenty years, the language of Alexander. He deeply mourned the entire absence of all guarantees for the social well-being of the empire. His regret was marked in his reply to Madame de Staël, when she complimented him on the happiness of his people, who, without a constitution, were blessed with such a sovereign: ‘I am but a lucky accident.’” After 1815 he was no longer even that.

A year had hardly elapsed from the time when Alexander had addressed the words we have quoted to the diet at Warsaw, ere the Poles began to complain that the constitution was not observed in its essential provisions; that their viceroy Zaionczek had but the semblance of authority, whilst all the real power was in the hands of the grand duke Constantine, and of Novosiltzov the Russian commissioner. The bitterness of their discontent was in proportion with the ardour of their short-lived joy. Russian despotism reverted to its essential conditions; the liberty of the press was suspended; and in 1819 the national army was dissolved. On the other hand, the spirit of opposition became so strong in the diet, that in 1820, a measure relating to criminal procedure, which was pressed forward with all the force of government influence, was rejected by a majority of 120 to 3. Thenceforth there was nothing but mutual distrust between Poland and Russia.

CONSTITUTIONAL PROJECTS

The institutions which Alexander had given to Poland worked no happy results, and those which he designed for Russia would have been little better. He failed to accomplish even the good which he might have effected without organic changes. But he felt himself arrested by innumerable difficulties. He often wanted instruments to carry out his will, oftener still the firmness to support them against court cabals. The immense distances to be traversed, which, according to Custine, the emperor Nicholas feels to be one of the plagues of his empire, presented the same obstacle to Alexander. Again, his desire to exercise European influence distracted his attention from his proper work at home, and the empire sank back into its old routine. Discouraged at last, and awakening as he grew older from some of the illusions of his youth, he gave way to indolence more and more. He saw himself alone, standing opposed to an immense festering corruption; in despair he ceased to struggle against it; and in the latter portion of his reign he grievously neglected the care of his government.

The helm thus deserted by the pilot passed into the hands of General Araktcheiev, a shrewd, active man, devoted to business, perhaps also well-intentioned, but a Russian of the old school, without the necessary enlightenment, without political probity--arbitrary, imperious, and enthralled by qualities and notions inimical to progress; governed, moreover, by unworthy connections of a particular kind. Under the rule of Araktcheiev the censorship became more severe than ever. Foreign books were admitted with difficulty, and were subject to tyrannical restrictions; many professors of the new university of St. Petersburg were subjected to a despotic and galling inquisition; others were required most rigidly to base their course of instructions upon a programme printed and issued by the supreme authority. Freemasonry was suppressed. Foreign travellers were surrounded with troublesome and vexatious formalities. Many rigorous regulations, which had been long disused and almost forgotten, were revived. In short, Araktcheiev exercised with intolerable severity a power which he derived from a master who carried gentleness to an extreme of weakness--who loved to discuss the rights of humanity, and whose heart bled for its sufferings.

THE MILITARY COLONIES (1819 A.D.)

[Sidenote: [1819 A.D.]]

It was by the advice of Araktcheiev that military colonies were established in Russia in 1819. The system was not new, for Austria had already adopted it on some of her frontiers; but its introduction into Russia was a novelty from which great results were expected, and which neighbouring states regarded with much uneasiness. The plan was to quarter the soldiers upon the crown-peasants, build military villages according to a fixed plan, apportion a certain quantity of field to every house, and form a statute-book, according to which these new colonies should be governed. The plan at once received the approbation of the czar. It was the intention of Araktcheiev, by means of these colonies, to reduce the expense entailed by the subsistence of the army, and to compel the soldier to contribute to his own maintenance by cultivating the soil; to strengthen the ranks by a reserve picked from among the crown-peasants, equal in number to the colony of soldiers; to furnish the soldier with a home, in which his wife and children might continue to dwell when the exigencies of war called him away; and to increase the population, and with it the cultivation of the soil, in a land where hands only are wanting to change many a steppe into a garden, many a scattered village into a thriving town.

Russian colonies were thus established in the governments of Novgorod, Mohilev, Kharkov, Kiev, Podolia, and Kherson; that is to say, in the neighbourhood of Poland, Austria, and Turkey. Political and military considerations had combined to fix the choice of localities for these colonies. In consequence of the vast dimensions of the Russian Empire, troops raised in the north and west can only reach the southern provinces after long intervals; and if, on any emergency, Russia should wish to concentrate a large part of her forces in the neighbourhood of the southern and western frontiers, such a concentration, it was thought, would be greatly facilitated by the fact of military colonies, with a large population, being already on the spot. The villages destined for the reception of military colonies were all to be inhabited by crown-peasants; these people were now relieved from the duties they had been accustomed to pay to the government, in consideration of their quartering men in their houses. All peasants more than fifty years of age were selected to be so-called head colonists, or master-colonists. Every master-colonist received forty acres of land, for which he had to maintain a soldier and his family, and to find fodder for a horse, if a corps of cavalry happened to be quartered in the village. The soldier, on his part, was bound to assist the colonist in the cultivation of his field and the farm labours generally, whenever his military duties did not occupy the whole day. The soldier, who in this way became domiciliated in the family, received the name “military peasant.” The officers had the power of choosing the soldiers who were to be quartered upon the master-colonists. If the colonist had several sons, the oldest became his adjunct; the second was enrolled among the reserve; the third might become a military peasant; the others were enrolled as colonists or pupils. Thus, in the new arrangements, two entirely different elements were fused together, and one population was, so to speak, engrafted upon another.

The labour of these agricultural soldiers is of course dependent upon the will of the officers, for they can only attend to agricultural work when freed from military duty. The man himself continues half peasant, half soldier, until he has served for five-and-twenty years, if he be a Russian, or twenty years if he be a Pole. At the expiration of this time he is at liberty to quit the service, and his place is filled up from the reserve. Beside the house of each master-colonist stands another dwelling constructed in exactly the same manner, and occupied by the reserve-man, who may be regarded as a double of the soldier. He is selected by the colonel of the regiment from among the peasants, and is generally a son or relation of the master-colonist. The reserve-man is instructed in all the duties appertaining to the soldier’s profession, and is educated in every particular, so that he may be an efficient substitute. If the agricultural soldier dies, or falls in battle, his reserve-man immediately takes his place. The colonist now takes the place of the reserve-man, who in his turn is succeeded by the pupil. The master-colonist, peasant-soldier, and reserve-man, may all choose their wives at pleasure, and they are encouraged to marry. The women, on the other hand, are allowed to marry within the limits of their colony, but not beyond it. The sons of the master-colonists, soldiers, or reserve-men, between the ages of thirteen and seventeen, are called “cantonists.” They are drilled like soldiers, and occasionally attend schools. The children between the ages of eight and thirteen visit the school of the village in which their parents dwell, and are exercised in the use of arms on alternate days. Like the cantonists, they wear uniforms, and are looked upon as future soldiers. All male children are sent to school, where, by the method of reciprocal education, they are taught to read, write, and cipher, alternately with their military studies. They are taught to recite a kind of catechism, setting forth the duties of the soldier; they learn the use of the sabre; are practised in riding, and, when they have attained the age of seventeen years, are mustered in the headquarters of the regiment, and divided into corps, those who distinguish themselves by attention and diligence being appointed officers. The several component parts of a colony are as follows:

1. The head colonist--the master of the house and possessor of the estate. 2. His assistant, who joins him in the cultivation of his farm. 3. The military peasant, who likewise takes part in agricultural labour. 4. The reserve-man, who supplies the place of the soldier in case of need. 5. The cantonist, between the ages of thirteen and seventeen. 6. The boys, from eight to thirteen years old. 7. Male children under the age of eight years. 8. The female population. 9. The invalids.

The colonies in the south of Russia comprise 380 villages in the provinces of Kherson, Kharkov, and Iekaterainoslav. The crown has here 30,000 peasants. Every village contains two or three squadrons, according to its size; thus they contain altogether 80,000 men. These military districts, as the regions are called in which the colonies occur, are so strictly divided from the remaining portions of the provinces, that no man can enter them without a special passport, granted by the military authorities. Their constitution is entirely military, even the postal service being executed by soldiers. At every station a subaltern receives the order for post-horses and inspects it; another soldier harnesses the horses; a third greases the wheels; and a fourth mounts the box as coachman. As soon as the military coat appears in sight, every peasant on the high-road stops, plants his hands stiffly against his sides, and stands in a military attitude of “attention.”

The laws are administered in the first instance by a detachment from every squadron, one of the officers acting as president. From the decision of this tribunal an appeal can be made to the regimental council, which is composed of the colonel, two captains, and six deputies from among the colonists. The judgments of this court are laid before the commandant-in-chief of the colonies, against whose decision neither soldiers nor colonists may protest, officers alone having the privilege of appealing to the emperor. In the headquarters of every regiment a copy of the code of laws is kept, and in most military villages churches are to be found, where a priest, who belonged to the church before the village was transformed into a military colony, performs the service.

The success of the military colonies in Russia fell far short of the expectations of their founders. To the unfortunate crown serfs they brought an intolerable aggravation of their wretchedness, by making them feel their slavery even in their homes and their domestic affections. The consequence was seen in the madness of their revenge on several occasions when they broke out into rebellion, as for instance at Novgorod, in 1832. “Nothing,” says Dr. Lee, “could be sold without the knowledge of the officers in these military colonies. It is said that when a hen lays an egg, it is necessary to make an entry of the fact in a register kept for this and other equally important purposes. I was told that when a priest was speaking to some of these peasants about the punishments of hell, they answered they dreaded them not, because a worse hell than that in which they were doomed to pass their whole lives here, could not possibly exist.

“The military colonies,” Lee continues, “please one at first sight from the order and cleanliness everywhere prevailing in them; but their population is said to be wretched in the highest degree. When the emperor Alexander was here, some years ago, he went round visiting every house; and on every table he found a dinner prepared, one of the principal articles of which consisted of a young pig roasted. The prince Volkhonski suspected there was some trick, and cut off the tail of the pig and put in his pocket. On entering the next house the pig was presented, but without the tail, upon which Prince Volkhonski said to the emperor, ‘I think this is an old friend.’ The emperor demanded his meaning, when he took out the tail from his pocket and applied it to the part from which it had been removed. The emperor did not relish the jest, and it was supposed this piece of pleasantry led to his disgrace. A more effectual, though bold and dangerous method of exposing to the emperor the deceptions carried on throughout the military colonies under Count Araktcheiev could not have been adopted than that which Prince Volkhonski had recourse to on this occasion. From that time Count Araktcheiev became his bitter enemy.”

ALEXANDER AND THE GREEK UPRISING

[Sidenote: [1822 A.D.]]

We have now touched upon all that is worthy of note in Alexander’s home policy during the last ten years of his reign. That portion of his life was spent in perpetual motion and perpetual agitation to little or no good purpose, whilst his proper functions were delegated to Count Araktcheiev, whose name was a word of terror to everyone in Russia. Absorbed by affairs foreign to the interests of his empire, Alexander was consistent or persevering in nothing but his efforts to enforce the dark, stagnant policy of Austria, which had become that of the Holy Alliance. He was present at the congresses of Aix-la-Chapelle, Troppau, Laibach, and Verona, and zealously participated in all the repressive measures concerted there. He was the soul of the deliberations held at the latter place in 1822, and whilst he refused aid to the Greeks in their rebellion against their “legitimate sovereign,” the sultan, he was all but inclined to use constraint to his ally, France, to compel her, in spite of the opposition of England, to take upon herself the execution of the violent measures resolved on in behalf of the execrable Ferdinand of Spain. A speech made at this congress to Châteaubriand, the French plenipotentiary, has been praised by some of the emperor’s biographers for its “noble sentiments.” To us it seems well worthy of record for its unconscious sophistry and signal display of self-delusion.

“I am very happy,” said the emperor to Châteaubriand, “that you came to Verona, because you may now bear witness to the truth. Would you have believed, as our enemies are so fond of asserting, that the alliance is only a word intended to cover ambition? That might have received a colour of truth under the old order of things, but now all private interests disappear when the civilisation of the world is imperilled. Henceforward there can be no English, French, Russian, Prussian, or Austrian policy; there can only be a general policy, involving the salvation of all, admitted in common by kings and peoples. It is for me, the first of all, to declare my appreciation of the principles on which I founded the Holy Alliance. An opportunity presents itself; it is the Greek insurrection. Certainly no event appeared more adapted to my personal interests, to those of my subjects, and to the feelings and prejudices of the Russians, than a religious war against Turkey; but in the troubles of the Peloponnesus I saw revolutionary symptoms, and from that moment I held aloof. What has not been done to dissolve the alliance? Attempts have been made by turns to excite my cupidity, or to wound my self-love; I have been openly outraged; the world understood me very badly if it supposes that my principles could be shaken by vanities, or could give way before resentment. No, no; I will never separate myself from the monarchs with whom I am united. It should be permitted to kings to form public alliances, to protect themselves against secret associations. What temptations can be offered to me? What need have I to extend my empire? Providence has not placed under my command eight hundred thousand soldiers to satisfy my ambition, and to conserve those principles of order on which society must repose.”

This was not the language of “noble sentiment,” but of an intellect narrowed by sinister influences, perverted to the views of a most sordid policy, and flattering itself on its own debasement with the maudlin cant of philanthropy.

We may well conceive that it was not without inward pain and self-reproach that the benevolent Alexander stifled in his heart the voice that rose in favour of the Greeks, and resisted the wishes of his people, who were animated by a lively sympathy for their co-religionists. That sympathy was manifested as strongly as it could be under this despotic government, where every outward demonstration is interdicted, unless when specially commanded or permitted by authority. They could not see without surprise the head of the so-styled orthodox church enduring the outrages of the infidels, and looking on unmoved whilst one of her chief pastors was hung at the porch of his church, and multitudes of her children were massacred. These Greeks had of late been regarded as under the protection of Russia; she was their old ally--nay, more, their accomplice, who had more than once instigated them to break their chains. The supineness of the emperor under such circumstances mortified the nobility, shocked the clergy, and was a subject of sincere affliction to the people, for whom, in their debased condition, religious sentiments held the place of political emotions.

High and low obeyed, however; murmurs were suppressed; but the Russians failed not to attribute to the wrath of God the misfortunes which befel Alexander, amongst which was the malady with which he was afflicted in 1824. It began with erysipelas in the leg, which soon spread upwards, and was accompanied with fever and delirium. For a time his life was in danger, and the people, who sincerely loved him, believed that they saw in this a punishment from on high because he had abandoned an orthodox nation.

THE GREAT INUNDATION OF 1824

[Sidenote: [1824 A.D.]]

Another misfortune was a frightful calamity which befel St. Petersburg in 1824. The mouth of the Neva, opening westward into the gulf of Finland, is exposed to the violent storms that often accompany the autumnal equinox. They suddenly drive the waters of the gulf into the bed of the river, which then casts forth its accumulated floods upon the low quarters on both its banks. It may be conceived how terrible is the destruction which the unchained waters make in a city built upon a drained marsh, on the eve of a northern winter of seven months’ duration. There were terrific inundations in 1728, 1729, 1735, 1740, 1742, and in 1777, a few days before the birth of Alexander; but the worst of all was that which occurred on the 19th of November, 1824, a year before his death. A storm blowing from the west and southwest with extreme violence, forced back the waters of the Neva, and drove those of the gulf into it.[e]

At eight o’clock in the morning the waters began to rise rapidly and had soon submerged all the lower parts of the town. On the Nevski Prospect the water had reached the Troitski Perenlok, and by twelve three parts of the town were submerged, owing to a southwesterly wind which rose to a violent tempest. At a quarter to three the waters began suddenly to subside. The emperor was profoundly moved by the awful calamity which took place before his eyes, and in the gloomy frame of mind that had possession of him he regarded it as a punishment for his sins. As soon as the water had so far subsided as to make it possible to drive through the streets he set off for the Galernaia (in the lower part of the town). There a terrible picture of destruction was unfolded before him. Visibly affected he stopped and got out of the carriage; he stood for a few moments without speaking, the tears flowing down his cheeks: the people, sobbing and weeping, surrounded him: “God is punishing us for our sins,” said someone in the crowd. “No, for mine,” answered the emperor sorrowfully, and he himself began to give orders about arranging temporary refuge and affording assistance to the sufferers. On the next day, the 8th (20th) of November, Count Araktcheiev, Alexander’s favourite, wrote the following letter to the emperor:

“I could not sleep all night, knowing what your state of mind must be, for I am convinced how much your majesty must be now suffering from the calamity of yesterday. But God certainly sometimes sends such misfortunes in order that His chosen ones may show in an unusual degree their compassionate care for the unfortunate. Your majesty will of course do so in the present case. For this money is necessary and money without delay, in order to give assistance, not to the well-to-do but to the poorest. Your subjects must help you, and therefore I venture to submit my idea to you.

“The wise dispositions that you made, _batushka_,[65] with regard to my insignificant labours have constituted a tolerably considerable capital. In my position I have not required to use any of this capital even as table money, and now I ask as a reward that a million may be separated from the capital and employed in assisting the poor people. God will certainly give his help in this matter to the benefit of the country and the glory of your majesty, and bring about a still better means for its accomplishment. Batushka, order that a committee may be formed of compassionate people, in order that they may without delay occupy themselves with the relief of the poorest. They will glorify your name, and I, hearing it, shall thus enjoy the greatest pleasure on earth.”

The emperor answered Count Araktcheiev the same day in a few gracious lines, full of heartfelt gratitude: “We are in complete agreement in our ideas, dear Alexis Andreivitch. Your letter has comforted me inexpressibly, for it is impossible that I should not be deeply grieved at the calamity of yesterday, and especially at the thought of those who have perished or who mourn for relatives. Come to me to-morrow so that we may arrange everything. Ever your sincerely affectionate Alexander.”

The emperor sent a note of the following content to Adjutant-General Diebitsch: “In order to afford effectual relief to the sufferers from the inundation of the 7th of November, and on account of the destruction of the bridges and the difficulties of communication between the various parts of the town, the following military governors are temporarily appointed under the direction of the military governor-general, Count Miloradovitch: for Vasili Oetroo, Adjutant-General Benkendorv; for the St. Petersburg side, Adjutant-General Komarovski; and for the Viboz side, Adjutant-General Depreradovitch.”

On the 8th of November the emperor sent for the newly appointed military governors and declared his will to them--that the most speedy and effectual assistance should be given to the unfortunate sufferers from the awful catastrophe. Count Komarovski, in describing the reception given to him and the other military governors, says that tears were observed in the emperor’s eyes. “I am sure that you share my feelings of compassion,” continued Alexander; “here are your instructions, which have been hastily drawn up--your hearts will complete them. Go from here straight to the minister of finance who has orders to give each of you 100,000 rubles to begin with.” According to Komarovski the emperor spoke with such feeling and eloquence that all the assembled governors were deeply touched.

At the time of the inundation in a space of five hours about 5,000 persons perished and 3,609 domestic animals; 324 houses were destroyed or carried away, and 3,581 damaged; besides this pavements, foot ways, quays, bridges, etc., were either destroyed or damaged. Considerable destruction and damage was also occasioned in the environs of the capital, on the Petershov road, in old Petershov, Oranienbaum, and Kronstadt, along the northern shore. More than 100 persons perished in these places, while 114 buildings were destroyed and 187 damaged.

On the 22nd of November the emperor assisted at a requiem service in the Kazan cathedral for those who had perished during the inundation. The historian Karamzin writes that the people as they listened to the requiem wept and gazed at the czar.[b]

THE CLOSE OF ALEXANDER’S REIGN

The czar, deeply affected by the sad spectacles he had witnessed, never recovered from the shock. This increased his disgust of life and the heavy melancholy that had of late being growing upon him. The whole aspect of Europe gave fearful tokens that the policy of the Holy Alliance was false and untenable; it was everywhere the subject of execration, and its destruction was the aim of an almost universal conspiracy, extending even into Alexander’s own dominions. Poland inspired him with deep alarm, and his native country, notwithstanding her habits of immobility, seemed ripe for convulsions. Thus his public life was filled with disappointment and care, and his private life was deeply clouded with horrors.

The diet of Warsaw had become so refractory, that in 1820 Alexander had found it necessary to suspend it, in violation of the constitution given by himself; and though he opened a new diet in 1824, he did so under such restrictions, that the Poles rightly considered it a mere mockery of representative forms.

Russia herself was by no means tranquil. In the year 1824 insurrections of the peasants occurred in several governments, and especially in that of Novgorod, in dangerous vicinity to the first-founded of the military colonies. The latter themselves shared the general discontent, and threatened to become a fearful focus of rebellion, as was actually the case in 1832. There existed also in Russia other centres of disaffection, the existence of which might have been long before known to Alexander, but for his culpable habit of allowing petitions to collect in heaps in his cabinet without even breaking their seals. He, however, learned the fact on his last journey into Poland in June, 1825, or immediately after his return.[66] He then received the first intimation of the conspiracy which had for many years been plotting against himself and against the existing order of things in Russia--a conspiracy which, as many believe, involved the perpetration of regicide. It is a curious fact, but one by no means unparalleled, that in a country where the police is so active, such a plot should have remained for years undetected. In 1816, several young Russians who had served in the European campaigns of the three preceding years, and who had directed their attention to the secret associations which had so greatly contributed to the liberation of Germany, conceived the idea of establishing similar associations in Russia; and this was the origin of that abortive insurrection which broke out in St. Petersburg on the day when the troops were required to take the oath of allegiance to Alexander’s successor.

These details would be sufficient of themselves to account for the melancholy that haunted Alexander in the later years of his reign, and which was painfully manifest in his countenance. But he had to undergo other sufferings.

[Sidenote: [1825 A.D.]]

He was not more than sixteen years of age when his grandmother, Catherine II, had married him to the amiable and beautiful princess Maria of Baden, then scarcely fifteen.[67] The match was better assorted than is usually the case in the highest conditions of life, but it was not a happy one. It might have been so if it had been delayed until the young couple were of more mature years, and had not the empress unwisely restricted their freedom after marriage, and spoiled her grandson as a husband by attempting to make him a good one in obedience to her orders. Moreover, the tie of offspring was wanting which might have drawn the parents’ hearts together, for two daughters, born in the first two years of their union, died early. Alexander formed other attachments, one of which with the countess Narishkin, lasted eleven years, until it was dissolved by her inconstancy. She had borne him three children; only one was left, a girl as beautiful as her mother, who was now the sole joy of her father’s sad heart. But the health of Sophia Narishkin was delicate, and he was compelled to part with her, that she might be removed to a milder climate. She returned too soon, and died on the eve of her marriage, in her eighteenth year. The news was communicated to Alexander one morning when he was reviewing his guard. “I receive the reward of my deeds,” were the first words that escaped from his agonised heart.

Elizabeth, whose love had survived long years of neglect, had tears to shed for the daughter of her rival, and none sympathised more deeply than she with the suffering father. He began to see in her what his people had long seen, an angel of goodness and resignation; his affection for her revived, and he strove to wean her from the bitter recollections of the past by his constant and devoted attention. But long-continued sorrows had undermined Elizabeth’s health, and her physicians ordered that she should be removed to her native air. She refused, however, to comply with this advice, declaring that the wife of the emperor of Russia should die nowhere else than in his dominions. It was then proposed to try the southern provinces of the empire, and Alexander selected for her residence the little town of Taganrog, on the sea of Azov, resolving himself to make all the arrangements for her reception in that remote and little frequented spot. A journey of 1800 versts, after the many other journeys he had already made since the opening of the year, was a fatigue too great for him to sustain without injury, suffering as he still was from erysipelas; but he was accustomed to listen to no advice on the subject of his movements, and two or three thousand versts were nothing in his estimation; besides, on this occasion, in the very fatigue of travelling he sought his repose: he would fulfil a duty which was to appease his conscience. He quitted St. Petersburg in the beginning of September, 1825, preceding the empress by several days. His principal travelling companions were Prince Volkhonski, one of the friends of his youth of whom we have already heard; his aide-de-camp general, Baron Diebitsch, a distinguished military man who had been made over to him by the king of Prussia; and his physician, Sir James Wylie, who had been about his person for thirty years, and was at the head of the army medical department.

The journey was prosperous, and was accomplished with Alexander’s usual rapidity in twelve days, the travellers passing over 150 versts a day; but his mind was oppressed with gloomy forebodings, and these were strengthened by the sight of a comet; for though brought up by a philosophic grandmother, and by a free-thinking tutor, he was by no means exempt from superstition. “Ilia,” he called out to his old and faithful coachman, “have you seen the new star? Do you know that a comet always presages misfortune? But God’s will be done!” A very favourable change having taken place in the empress’s health in Taganrog, Alexander ventured to leave her early in October, for a short excursion through the Crimea. On the 26th of that month Dr. Robert Lee, family physician to Count Vorontzov was one of the emperor’s guests at Alupka. He relates that at dinner Alexander repeatedly expressed how much he was pleased with Orianda, where he had been that day, and stated that it was his determination to have a palace built there as expeditiously as possible. “To my amazement,” says Dr. Lee, “he said after a pause, ‘When I give in my demission, I shall return and fix myself at Orianda, and wear the costume of the Taurida.’ Not a word was uttered when this extraordinary resolution was announced, and I thought that I must have misunderstood the emperor; but this could not have been, for in a short time, when Count Vorontzov proposed that the large open flat space of ground to the westward of Orianda should be converted into pleasure-grounds for his majesty, he replied: ‘I wish this to be purchased for General Diebitsch, as it is right that the chief of my état-major and I should be neighbours.’”

During the latter part of his tour in the Crimea, Alexander had some threatenings of illness, but peremptorily refused all medical treatment. He returned to Taganrog on the 17th of November, with evident symptoms of a severe attack of the bilious remittent fever of the Crimea. He persisted in rejecting medical aid until it was too late, and died on the 1st of December. For a long time the belief prevailed throughout Europe that he had been assassinated; but it is now established beyond question that his death was a natural one. The empress survived him but five months.

Alexander’s last days were embittered by fresh disclosures brought to him by General Count de Witt, respecting the conspiracy by which, if the official report is to be believed, he was doomed to assassination. From that time he declared himself disgusted with life. Once when Sir James Wylie was pressing him to take some medicine, “My friend,” said Alexander, “it is the state of my nerves to which you must attend; they are in frightful disorder.”--“Alas!” rejoined the physician, “that happens more frequently to kings than to ordinary men.”--“Yes,” said the emperor, with animation, “but with me in particular there are many special reasons, and at the present hour more so than ever.” Some days afterwards, when his brain was almost delirious, the czar gazed intently on the doctor, his whole countenance manifesting intense fear. “Oh, my friend,” he exclaimed, “what an act, what a horrible act! The monsters! the ungrateful monsters! I designed nothing but their happiness.”[e]

“It is difficult to represent the condition of St. Petersburg during the last years of the reign of the emperor Alexander,” writes a contemporary. “It was as though enveloped in a moral fog; Alexander’s gloomy views, more sad than stern, were reflected in its inhabitants. Many people said: What does he want more? He stands at the zenith of power. Each one explained after his own fashion the inconsolable grief of the emperor. For a man who must live to all eternity, who was famed as the friend of liberty, and who had out of necessity become her oppressor, it was grievous to think that he must renounce the love of his contemporaries and the praise of posterity. Many other circumstances and some family ones also weighed on his soul. The last years of Alexander’s life,” writes in conclusion the eye-witness of these sorrowful days, “may be termed a prolonged eclipse.”

_The Death of Alexander I_

On the 1st of December, 1825, a truly great misfortune fell upon Russia: the best of European sovereigns had ceased to exist. When he vanished from the political arena, only the finer side of his life came into view; the remainder was given over to oblivion. A contemporary who was at the same time a poet writes: “You see arising before you that beautiful spirit that was welcomed with such joy in 1801; you see that glorious czar to whom Russia owes the years 1813 and 1814; you see the comforter of the people after last year’s inundation; you see that gracious, benevolent man who was so amiable in personal intercourse,” and who, in the words of Speranski, will ever remain a true charmer. There was much that was ideally beautiful in his soul, he sincerely loved and desired good, and attained to it. There was indeed cause for grief, particularly in view of the uncertainty of the future that awaited Russia, which, according to the picturesque expression of a Russian writer after the death of Alexander, had, as it were, to enter a cold, uninviting passage to a long dark tunnel. This was a feeling that was shared by many contemporaries.