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Culture, ideas, identities

foreigners. Two factors accounted for this. First, the upheavals of the

era – Paul’s capricious oppressiveness, Alexander’s stabs at liberal reform and,

of course, the shock waves radiating from France – made clear how much

more was now at stake in politics than in the past. Second, it came to be widely

believed across Europe that the upheavals that began in 1789 and continued far

into the nineteenth century were caused by a conspiracy to overthrow monar-

chy, religion and the existing order everywhere.

This notion originated in the

West, particularly France, and came to Russia largely through the inﬂuence

of francophone conservatives such as abb

e Augustin Barruel and Joseph de

Maistre.

Fuelled by Russia’s military defeats in the wars against Napoleon and by

the fact that Alexander I’s entourage – as opposed, for example, to Catherine

II’s – contained a conspicuous numbers of foreigners with agendas driven by

the interests of their homelands, the Russian version of this conspiracy theory

imagined traitors to be present at the very top of the regime. It focused on

social and ethnic outsiders: Alexander’s liberal adviser Mikhail Speranskii was

attacked as a priest’s son out to undermine noble rights, while the Baltic Ger-

man Mikhail Barclay de Tolly (the hapless commander of the Russian army

during its retreat in 1812) and the liberal Pole Czartoryski were presumed to be

disloyal to Russia. ‘In the Russian interpretation’, Zorin points out, ‘the anti-

masonic mythology fused almost immediately with time-honoured notions

of a secret conspiracy against Russia that was being hatched beyond its bor-

ders.’

The suspected wire-puller was Napoleon, whom – according to a verse

making the rounds in 1813 – ‘the ﬁrst Mikhail (that is, Speranskii) summoned,

the second Mikhail (Barclay) received, and the third Mikhail (Prince Kutu-

zov) drove out’.

To pacify public opinion, Alexander had to send Speranskii

into ignominious exile and replace Barclay with the popular General Kutu-

zov, while Fedor Rostopchin, the governor-general of Moscow during the 1812

war, demonstratively deported foreign residents, purged freemasons from the

bureaucracy and turned over the merchant’s son Vereshchagin, accused of

serving the masonic conspiracy, to a lynch mob. According to Zorin, whose

chapter on this subject bears the chillingly evocative title ‘The Enemy of the

People’, Rostopchin’s real target had been Speranskii; only when that prize

proved beyond his reach did he fall back on the wretched Vereshchagin as a

13 Douglas Smith, Working the Rough Stone: Freemasonry and Society in Eighteenth-Century Rus-

sia (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press,1999), pp. 164–73; Zorin, Kormia dvuglavogo

orla,pp.204–5.

14 Zorin, Kormia dvuglavogo orla,pp.206–7.

15 ‘Griboedovskaia Moskva’, 625.

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substitute scapegoat whose killing by the ‘people’ would symbolically restore

the unity of the nation.

After 1814, Alexander I and his entourage were convinced that the con-

tinuing troubles in Europe and subversion in Russia were co-ordinated by

a nefarious ‘comit

e directeur’ based in Western Europe, while Alexander’s

conservative critics regarded his own beloved Russian Bible Society as part

of an Anglo-masonic plot against Russian Orthodoxy. Meanwhile, ironi-

cally, no one took action against the real conspiracy that almost overthrew

Alexander’s successor in December 1825. Spooked by the Decembrist revolt

and the European revolutions of 1830 and 1848, the regime of Nicholas I

offered an even more inviting ﬁeld for conspiracy theories; thus, it seems

that the disgraced ex-ofﬁcial Mikhail Leont’evich Magnitskii, in a secret

1831 memorandum, was the ﬁrst to claim that Jews and freemasons were

collaborating in a grand anti-Russian plot.

By the 1860s, stereotypes of

this sort were sufﬁciently entrenched to convince the satirist Mikhail E.

Saltykov-Shchedrin that his hilarious ‘history’ of the town of Glupov – a

ludicrous compilation of the clich

es of eighteenth-century Russian society

and politics set in the microcosm of an imaginary provincial backwater –

required a few absurd ‘Polish intrigues’ to be complete.

How deep into the population these fears reached is difﬁcult to tell. How-

ever, the common Muscovites who lynched Vereshchagin apparently accepted

Rostopchin’s notion of a masonic plot; as for the longer-term impact, Vladimir

Dal’s authoritative dictionary of the late nineteenth century deﬁnes the popu-

lar colloquialism farmazon (freemason) as ‘pejor. freethinker and atheist’, and

in Saltykov-Shchedrin’s satirical novel, a Glupov craftsman declares with a kind

of na

ıve cynicism that as a ‘false priest’ in the ‘sect of farmazony’, he is of course

an atheist and adulterer. Maxim Gorky writes that his merchant grandfather

around 1870 called an artisan whose craft he found disturbingly mysterious a

‘worker in black magic’ and a ‘freemason’,

and at least as late as 1938 – when,

in the ﬁlm adaptation of Gorky’s book, the grandfather unselfconsciously uses

farmazon as the rough equivalent of ‘troublemaker’ – Soviet audiences could

evidently be expected to know the word’s connotations.

16 Zorin, Kormia dvuglavogo orla,pp.234–7.

17 A. Iu. Minakov, ‘M. L. Magnitskii: K voprosu o biograﬁi i mirovozzrenii predtechi

russkikh pravoslavnykh konservatorov XIX veka’, in Konservatizm v Rossii i mire: proshloe

i nastoiashchee. Sbornik nauchnykh trudov,vyp.1 (Voronezh: Izd. Voronezhskogo gos.

universiteta, 2001), pp. 83–4.

18 M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin, Istoriia odnogo goroda: Skazki (Moscow: Olimp, Izd. AST, 2002),

pp. 44, 47, 49.

19 M. Gorky, My Childhood, trans. Ronald Wilks (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1966),

p. 116; Saltykov-Shchedrin, Istoriia,p.37.

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1812 and the problem of social stability

Concern about treason in high places reﬂected a deep-seated awareness of the

brittleness of Russia’s social order, which had faced no assault comparable to

1812 since the Time of Troubles. The army’s failure to stop Napoleon’s advance

came as a shock and contributed to the proliferation of conspiracy theories,

while upper-class Russians feared that the masses would now run riot or even,

egged on by Napoleon, rise up in revolt. Forty years earlier, state authority had

crumbled before the illiterate Cossack Pugachev’s lightly armed rabble, whom

the peasantry in some places had joined en masse. What, then, to expect from

the most powerful army in European history, led by a brilliant general who

advocated revolutionary ideas?

While the army was reeling, the stress on the administration was immense.

As Janet Hartley has shown,

although provincial government [in the war zone] continued to function

throughout the period of invasion it proved impossible to carry out to

the full all the demands made of it in respect of provision of supplies and

the care of the sick and wounded.Furthermore, the administration was unable

to prevent disorder from breaking out and ultimately could not protect the

inhabitants from the ravages of war.

In Moscow, government authority was maintained through the summer

thanks to a clever if distasteful combination of demagogy and repression that

culminated in the lynching of Vereshchagin, but collapsed once the army had

withdrawn. Hordes of peasants then joined the Grande Arm

ee in picking the

abandoned city clean, while terriﬁed Muscovites ﬂeeing the city faced the

prospect of crossing a possibly hostile and anarchic countryside. Cossacks

looted some villages and burned others astride the invasion route, while the

police (at least in Moscow) apparently enriched themselves on a grand scale

while ‘restoring order’ after the French had left. Russian society appeared to

be coming apart at the seams.

Yet, mysteriously, the empire held. Napoleon did not try to incite a popu-

lar revolt,

and the systematic pillaging and coarse anticlericalism practised

by his multinational army deeply alienated the population, creating a last-

ing resentment against the ‘twenty nations’ (a phrase popularised by the

20 J. M. Hartley, ‘Russia in 1812, Part II: The Russian Administration of Kaluga Gubernija’,

JfGO 38, 3 (1990): 416, and ‘Russia and Napoleon: State, Society and the Nation’, in M.

Rowe (ed.), Collaboration and Resistance in Napoleonic Europe: State-Formation in an Age of

Upheaval, c. 1800–1815 (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), pp. 187–8.

21 See J. M. Hartley, ‘Russia in 1812, Part I: The French Presence in the Gubernii of Smolensk

and Mogilev’, JfGO 38, 2 (1990): 182.

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Orthodox hierarchy and repeated in many memoirs) that composed it. What

Teodor Shanin has written of 1905 also applies to the year 1812: it was a ‘moment

of truth’ that offered Russians ‘a dramatic corrective to their understanding

of the society in which they lived’.

Russia suffered an unexpected series

of shocking setbacks, but even in the direst of circumstances, the army and

administration held. Napoleon’s huge army with its pan-European composi-

tion and revolutionary ideology – the quintessence of the West’s aggressive

rationalism – invaded Russia, abused its people and violated its shrines, but

ultimately imploded under the pressure of its own indiscipline and overreach-

ing. Vast numbers even of ‘Europeanised’ Russians, on the other hand, became

implicated in a form of all-out warfare that they came to regard as distinctly

Russian: abandoning or even burning their homes and possessions – as he

had earlier with his Francophobic propaganda and anti-masonic campaign,

Rostopchin again set an example by demonstratively burning both his own

estate and (most likely) Moscow itself – peasants, urban people and nobles

fought or ﬂed rather than live under enemy occupation. They watched in awe

as the primordial forces of Russian life – vengeful peasants and Cossacks, ﬁre-

prone cities, and the empire’s vast spaces and unforgiving climate – ground

up the presumptuous Grande Arm

ee. All in all, it was a tremendous display of

elemental ‘Russianness’ that conﬁrmed, in the educated classes, a deep and

increasingly proud sense of national uniqueness.

Patriotic pride notwithstanding, however, most found these experiences

more terrifying than exhilarating, at least at the time when they occurred. As

the noblewoman Karolina K. Pavlova later recalled, ‘the news of the ﬁre of

Moscow struck us like lightning. It was ﬁne for Pushkin to exclaim with poetic

rapture, a dozen years later: “Burn, great Moscow!” But the general feeling

while it was burning, as far as I know, was not enthusiastic at all.’

Nearer the

other end of the social scale, the Moscow printer’s widow Aﬁm’ia P. Stepanova

had this to say about 1812:

Owing to my modest means and because my children and I were sick, I stayed

in my house, but during the invasion by the enemy army all my possessions

and my daughter’s trousseau . . . they took all of it before my eyes, carried it

away and smashed it, and while threatening to kill me as well as my children

they beat and tormented [me], causing me and my whole family to fall ill for

six months.

22 T. Shanin, Russia, 1905–07: Revolution as a Moment of Truth, vol. II: The Roots of Otherness:

Russia’s Turn of Century (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1986), p. xv.

23 K. Pavlova, ‘Moi vospominaniia’, Russkii Arkhiv, 4, 10 (1875): 224.

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Yet she was among the lucky ones, for all members of her family had at least

survived, as had (apparently) their house.

The scale of the misery, and the

expectation at least among the urban population that the state would provide

redress, is illustrated by the fact that in Moscow alone, over 18,000 house-

holds – a substantial majority of all Muscovites who were not serfs – ﬁled such

petitions for assistance.

Michael Broers argues that in the lands of Napoleon’s ‘inner empire’ –

e.g. the Rhineland or northern Italy – where his rule had been comparatively

long-lived and stable, ‘the Napoleonic system left a powerful institutional

heritage’, and after 1815 ‘[the] restored governments were expected to meet

French standards’ on pain of losing the support of inﬂuential constituencies. By

contrast, in the restless ‘outer empire’ of Spain, southern Italy and elsewhere,

‘Napoleonic rule was traumatic and destabilizing. It was ephemeral, in that

it left few institutional traces, yet profound in the aversion to the Napoleonic

state it implanted at so many levels of society.’

While Russia was never formally a part of the Napoleonic empire, its experi-

ence comes closest to that of the outer empire. Like the peoples of that region,

common Russians’ encounter with Napoleon’s regime endowed them with lit-

tle understanding of, let alone sympathy for, the revolutionary Enlightenment

principles he supposedly represented. Instead, many viewed his invasion of

Russia through a pre-modern religious and ideological lens that could inspire

great kindness but also terrible cruelty. For example, a poor midwife in Orel

reportedly took ﬁve prisoners of war from the Grande Arm

ee into her home.

After exhausting her own savings, she even went begging to feed the men. But

when, at last, ‘her’ prisoners were removed by the authorities, ‘this simple-

hearted woman smashed all the crockery from whichtheyhad eaten and drunk

at her home, because she believed these people – whom she had cared for so

attentively and aided so selﬂessly – to be unclean heathens’. Educated Russians

proudly seized on such episodes as evidence that their common people resem-

bled the indomitable Spaniards in the emotional, combative patriotism and

24 Tsentral’nyi istoricheskii arkhiv Moskvy, Fond 20,op.2,d.2215,l.12.

25 E. G. Boldina, ‘O deiatel’nosti Komissii dlia rassmotreniia proshenii obyvatelei

Moskovskoi stolitsy i gubernii, poterpevshikh razorenie ot nashestviia nepriiatel’skogo’,

in E. G. Boldina, A. S. Kiselev and L. N. Seliverstova (eds.), Moskva v 1812 godu. Materialy

nauchnoi konferentsii, posviashchennoi 180-letiiu Otechestvennoi voiny 1812 goda (Moscow:

Izd. ob’edineniia ‘Mosgorarkhiv’, 1997), p. 47.

26 M. Broers, Europe Under Napoleon, 1799–1815 (London and New York: Arnold, 1996),

pp. 266–7.

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religiosity with which they resisted aggressors who claimed to represent a

superior civilisation.

A different interpretation that also took root among the people in 1812 and

the succeeding decades recognised that Napoleon was a revolutionary but

situated him, and the entire notion of ‘republicanism’, in the native tradition

of anarchic jacqueries that many Russians had learned to fear. Thus, Gorky’s

grandfather recalled that Napoleon

was a bold man who wanted to conquer the whole world and he wanted

everyone to be equal – no lords or civil servants but simply a world without

classes. Names would be different, but everyone would have the same rights.

And the same faith. I don’t have to tell you what nonsense that is . . . We’ve

had our own Bonapartes – [the Cossack rebels] Razin, Pugachov [sic ]–I’ll

tell you about them some other time.

A similar outlook shines through the recollections, also from the 1870s, of a

former house serf who in 1812 had witnessed a riot behind Russian lines – ‘they

were all getting drunk, ﬁghting, cursing’, she recalled: ‘it was a republic all

right, absolutely a republic!’

The legacy of the war

In Russia, as in the lands of the ‘outer empire’, Napoleon’s regime thus enjoyed

little support. Yet across Europe, his empire had aroused intense ideological

partisanship, created a form of state that reached new heights of power while

plumbing depths of aggression and exploitation, and encouraged a synthesis

of militaristic elitism and popular mobilisation, imperialistic chauvinism and

the romantic myth of the ‘career open to talent’ exempliﬁed by the ‘little

Corsican’ himself. Post-war society had to contend with this legacy, ﬁnding

ways to replicate his regime’s ability to integrate, control and mobilise the

nation, but without contracting its socially egalitarian tendencies or its self-

destructive imperialism.

One response was religious; it was centred in the masonic movement,

pietist circles and the newly created Russian Bible Society, and drew heavily

27 Pavlova, ‘Moi vospominaniia’, 228; M. A. Dodelev, ‘Rossiia i voina ispanskogo naroda za

nezavisimost’ (1808–1814 gg.)’, VI (1972), no. 11: 33–44.

28 Gorky, My Childhood,pp.86–7; ‘Razkaz nabilkinskoi bogodelenki, Anny Andreevny

Sozonovoi, byvshei krepostnoi Vasil’ia Titovicha Lepekhina’, in ‘Razkazy ochevidtsev o

dvenadtsatom gode’, Russkii vestnik 102 (November 1872): 291.

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on German and British inﬂuences. It gained tremendous momentum from

the seemingly miraculous manner of the destruction of Napoleon’s army in

1812: ‘The ﬁre of Moscow lit up my soul’, Alexander I would later explain,

‘and the Lord’s judgment on the ice ﬁelds ﬁlled my heart with a warmth

of faith that it had never felt before. Now I came to know God as He is

revealed by the Holy Scriptures.’

The manifestation of this ideology in for-

eign policy was the effort to unite Europe in the ‘Holy Alliance’, while domesti-

cally, a newly created Ministry of Spiritual Affairs and Popular Enlightenment

was charged with reforming the moral tenor of Russian culture. The goal

was to make Russians into ecumenically minded Christians in whom better

education, Bibles in the vernacular (a controversial innovation) and partic-

ipation in organised philanthropy would instil benevolence, self-discipline,

a sense of social responsibility and a heightened civic consciousness. The

state’s authority over the people would henceforth be rooted in mutual

respect, not fear, and Russia would become the kind of cohesive, authori-

tarian, mildly progressive polity that Napoleon had modelled, but at peace

with others and without the socially explosive notion of ‘careers open to

talent’.

Its institutional armature allowed this ideology to reach Russians beyond

the upper classes that had conceived it. Thus, Aleksandr V. Nikitenko, although

legally still a serf at the time, became the secretary of the Bible Society’s chapter

in the town of Ostrogozhsk (Voronezh Province) and embraced its commit-

ment to the ‘religious truths that the Gospel had given us’ and ‘their salutary

inﬂuence on the morals of individuals and society’ with ‘sincere enthusiasm

and youthful ardor’; and the headmaster of the church school in Kasimov

(Riazan Province) – a corrupt petty tyrant who prospered by exploiting the

students and clergy under his power – also joined the Bible Society, though

his motives were probably more careerist than idealistic.

By the mid-1820s,

however, the effort to ground the culture and politics of Russia and Europe in

a Bible-centred Christianity had fallen so far short of its goals, and generated

resistance from so many quarters, that it was scaled back and the Orthodox

Church’s pre-eminence within Russia was restored. Yet in an Orthodox and

more emphatically ‘Russian’ guise, the ideological linkage between the regime

29 N. K. Shil’der, Imperator Aleksandr Pervyi. Ego zhizn’ i tsarstvovanie, 4 vols. (St Petersburg:

A. S. Suvorin, 1904–5), vol. III, p. 378.

30 A. Nikitenko, Up From Serfdom: My Childhood and Youth in Russia, 1804–1824, trans.

Helen Saltz Jacobson (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2001), pp. 180–1;

D. I. Rostislavov, Provincial Russia in the Age of Enlightenment: The Memoir of a Priest’s

Son, trans. and ed. A. M. Martin (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2002),

pp. 134, 175–6.

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Russia and the legacy of 1812

and Christianity remained stronger in the nineteenth century than it had been

before 1812.

A second emerging forcethat structured nineteenth-century Russiansociety

was militarism, which, in Russia as in Napoleonic France, was associated

with government that was hierarchical and centralised but also effective and

inclined to social fairness. It acquired momentum under Paul I and touched

broad social strata: ‘My God!’, exclaimed the merchant Nikolai F. Kotov in his

reminiscences,

from the very outset of Emperor Paul I’s accession [in 1796], what strictness,

what meekness, what a martial spirit began to rule in Moscow! From being

arrogant and unapproachable, the nobles became humble, for the law was

the same whether one was a noble or a merchant. Ostentatious luxury came

under suspicion. And among the common people, there appeared a kind of

terror and obedience before a sort of martial or enlightened-authoritarian

spirit, for the strictness and obedience extended to all classes of people.

Russia was at war almost continually from the 1790sto1814. These wars

entailed a vast mobilisation of people and created new role models for society,

ranging from dashing hussars to female peasant guerrillas, who demonstrated

Russians’ capability for both heroism and cruelty, for co-operation between

social classes and disciplined, organised action. The end of the war brought

the return of newly self-conﬁdent and worldly veterans who changed the

tone of society, whether by bringing a whiff of European humanism to stale

provincial backwaters or by abusing Russian peasants and small-town notables

like conquered enemy populations.

While the wars themselves contributed to the militarisation of Rus-

sian life, Paul and his successors also saw militarism as a pedagogical tool

for counteracting revolutionary ideology. However, while Napoleonic mili-

tarism had favoured meritocratic egalitarianism as a way to unite France’s

post-revolutionary polity and create a powerful ﬁghting force to serve an

imperialistic foreign policy, its Russian incarnation instead focused on sym-

bolic elements that might instil respect for the social hierarchy: drill and

pageantry were emphasised, cadet schools for noble boys were founded, uni-

forms became mandatory for university students, and even life at church

academies was militarised;

while its actual combat readiness stagnated, the

31 OR RGB, Fond 54 (Vishniakov), ch. 8, ‘Zapiski Nikolaia Fedorovicha Kotova o tsarst.

Ekat.IIiPavlaI1785 po 1800 gg.,’ l. 40–40 ob.

32 Nikitenko, Up From Serfdom,p.135; Rostislavov, Provincial Russia,p.180.

33 See, for example: D. I. Rostislavov, ‘Peterburgskaia dukhovnaia akademiia pri grafe

Protasove, 1836–1855 gg.’, Vestnik Evropy 18 (July 1883): 158–62.

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Culture, ideas, identities

army became the preferred metaphor for a society that was orderly, disci-

plined and committed to the regime’s vision of carefully controlled societal

progress.

However, even while it suggested ways to stabilise society and strengthen

the state, the Napoleonic experience had also disrupted traditional social pat-

terns and created expectations that would prove troublesome to the regime

in the future. There are indications that Russian peasants understood their

‘liberation’ from Napoleon to mean freedom from serfdom as well, and like

Spain, though to a far lesser degree, Russia had peasant guerrillas who might

become a threat to the regime once the French were gone. A more fateful

parallel with Spain was the creation of secret societies of disillusioned ofﬁcers

who were committed to radical political change and would attempt to over-

throw the autocracy in December 1825.

Nikitenko met some of them when

he was still a serf in Ostrogozhsk:

[p]articipants in world events, these ofﬁcers were not ﬁgures engaged in fruit-

lessdebates,butmenwho...hadacquiredaspecialstrengthofcharacter

and determination in their views and aspirations. They stood in sharp con-

trast to the progressive people in our provincial community, who, for lack

of real, sobering activity, inhabited a fantasy world and wasted their strength

in petty, fruitless protest. The contact the ofﬁcers had had with Western Euro-

pean civilization, their personal acquaintance with a more successful social

system...,and,ﬁnally,thestruggleforthegrandprinciplesoffreedomand

the Fatherland all left their mark of deep humanity on them....Inmethey

saw a victim of the order of things that they hated.

Like the proponents of militarism and the Holy Alliance – who were, after

all, their friends and relatives – the Decembrists saw an opportunity to resolve

the problems outlined at the opening of this chapter. They proposed to place

progressive military men, whose moral authority rested on a patriotism tested

in battle, at the head of a cohesive and mighty Russian nation-state. By lib-

eralising the social and political order to a degree that even Alexander I and

Speranskii had never seriously contemplated, they meant to confront tyranny

and social injustice. In adopting for themselves the persona of austere, digni-

ﬁed, outspoken, emphatically moral men of action committed to the public

good, they offered their own answer to the crisis of spiritual meaning and of

the norms of individual conduct that beset the nobility.

By creating ‘secret

34 Isabel de Madariaga discusses this issue in ‘Spain and the Decembrists’, European Studies

Review 3, 2 (1973): 141–56.

35 Nikitenko, Up From Serfdom,p.135.

36 See the (by now classic) ‘Dekabrist v povsednevnoi zhizni’, in Lotman, Besedy,pp.331–84.

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Russia and the legacy of 1812

societies’ as a framework for political action, they acknowledged the same

absence of a viable civil society that prompted Alexander I and Nicholas I to

foster religious associations, bureaucracy and militarism. And in seeking to

gain power through a pronunciamiento, they joined nationalistic ofﬁcers from

San Mart

ın to Nasser in following in the footsteps of General Bonaparte’s Bru-

maire coup, but they also helped to bring the violent, conspiratorial culture of

eighteenth-century Russian politics into the ideologically polarised world of

the nineteenth.

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