A Herzen Reader

In the depths of the provinces, and even more so in Moscow, there is a visibly growing class of independent people not pursuing public service, who occupy themselves with their properties, science, and literature; they demand nothing of the government except to be left alone. This is in con­trast to Petersburg nobles, who cling to government service and the court, are consumed by servile ambition, expect everything from the government, and live only through it. To ask for nothing, to remain independent, not to seek a position—under a despotic regime this counts as being in op­position. The government looked suspiciously at these idlers and was not pleased. They constituted a core of educated people poorly disposed toward the Petersburg regime. Some spent entire years abroad, bringing back with them liberal ideas; others came to Moscow for a few months, spending the rest of the year on their estates, reading everything new and acquainting themselves with intellectual developments in Europe. Among provincial landowners, reading was in fashion. People bragged about their libraries, and at the very least ordered new French novels, the Journal des Debats and the Augsburg newspaper; to possess banned books was to be in style. I do not know of a single well-kept house where one could not find de Custine's book about Russia, which was specifically banned by Nicholas. Denied the possibility of action, constantly menaced by the secret police, young people plunged into their reading with great fervor. The mass of ideas in circula­tion grew and grew.

But what new ideas and tendencies arose after the 14th of December?³

The first years following 1825 were terrible. It took people a dozen years to realize how servile and persecuted was their lot. Profound despair and general low spirits took hold. High society, with a haste that was cowardly and mean, renounced all humane feelings and all civilized thoughts. There was virtually no aristocratic family without a relative among the exiles, and almost none of them dared to dress in mourning or express their sorrow. Turning away from this sad spectacle of servility, immersed in reflection in order to find some source of advice or hope, one came up against a terrible thought, which made the blood run cold.

Illusions were impossible: the people were indifferent spectators on the 14th of December. Every clear-thinking person saw the terrible result of the complete rupture between national Russia and Europeanized Russia. Every living link had been broken between these two parties and they had to be renewed, but how? That was the great question. Some thought that nothing would be achieved by allowing Russia to be pulled along by Europe; they placed their hopes not on the future, but on a return to the past. Others saw in the future only unhappiness and ruin. They cursed the mongrelized civilization and its apathetic people. A great sadness came over the hearts of all thinking people.

Only Pushkin's resonant and broad song echoed across a landscape of slavery and anguish; this song preserved the past epoch, filled the present with its manly sounds, and sent its voice far into the future. Pushkin's po­etry was a pledge and a comfort. Amidst poets who live in times of despair and decadence you don't find these types of songs, which do not go well with burials.

Pushkin's inspiration did not deceive him. The blood that had rushed to a heart struck by terror could not stop there; it soon began to make itself known.

Already a journalist had courageously raised his voice to rally the timid.⁴ This man, who had spent all his youth in his Siberian homeland, took up trade, which quickly bored him; he then devoted himself to reading. With­out any formal education, he learned French and German on his own, and went to live in Moscow. There, without colleagues, without acquaintances, and without a name in literature, he came up with the idea of editing a monthly journal. He soon astonished his readers with the encyclopedic va­riety of his articles. He wrote boldly of jurisprudence and music, of medi­cine and Sanskrit. Russian history was one of his specialties, which did not prevent him from writing stories, novels and, finally, reviews, in which he achieved great success.