DESPOTISM _versus_ SERFDOM.
The reader has probably discovered by this time that I have no great
affection for the political institutions of Europe, and am pretty
strong in my prejudices against despotic governments of all sorts. The
fact is, I believe our own, with all its faults, is the best system of
government ever devised by man.
The Emperor Alexander II. is admitted on all hands to be a most
estimable and enlightened sovereign. He possesses, in a greater
degree, perhaps, than any of his predecessors, the confidence and
affection of his people. All his labors since he ascended the throne
in February, 1855, have been directed to the emancipation of the serfs
and the general welfare of his country. No fault can be found with him
by the most ardent advocate of human liberty. His sympathies are--as
far as it is practicable for those of an autocrat, clothed with
absolute powers, to be--in favor of freedom. Toward the people and the
government of the United States he entertains the most kindly feeling,
and would doubtless sincerely regret the overthrow of our republican
system. He has, moreover, devoted himself with unceasing zeal to the
abolition of many onerous and unnecessary restrictions upon the
liberty of the press and the civil rights of his subjects; encouraged
institutions of learning; prohibited to a considerable extent cruelty
and oppression in the subordinate branches of the public service; and
in all respects has proved himself equal to the great duty imposed
upon him, and worthy the esteem and commendation of the civilized
world. Yet I can not see what there is in a despotic form of
government, under the very best circumstances, to enlist our
admiration or win our sympathies. We may respect and appreciate a good
ruler, but every autocrat is not good of his kind; nor is every
country in a happy condition because it may be exempt from the horrors
of commotion. But no sovereign power can ever attain a rank among the
civilized nations of the earth--beyond the respect to which its brute
force may entitle it--so long as the very germ of its existence is
founded in the suppression of civil and political liberty among its
subjects.
What, after all, does the emancipation of the serfs amount to? They
are only to be nominally free. The same power that accords them the
poor privilege of tilling the earth for their own subsistence may at
any time withdraw it. They are not to be owned by individual
proprietors, and bought and sold like cattle; but they possess none of
the privileges of freemen; have no voice in the laws that govern them;
must pay any taxes imposed upon them; may be ordered, at any time, to
abandon their homes and sacrifice their lives in foolish and
unnecessary wars in which they have no interest; in short, are just as
much slaves as they were before, with the exception that during the
pleasure of the emperor they can not be sold. But will every emperor
be equally humane? There is nothing to prevent the successor of
Alexander the Second from restoring the system of serfage, with all
its concomitant horrors. It will not be difficult to find a
predominating influence among the nobles to accomplish that object;
for this has been a long and severe struggle against their influence,
and owes its success entirely to the unremitting labors of the
sovereign. The next autocrat may labor with equal earnestness to undo
this good work; but it matters little, save in name. Despotism and
freedom are antipodes, and can not be brought together. It may be said
that it would be difficult to enslave a people who had once even
partially tasted the sweets of liberty, but the history of Russia does
not furnish testimony to that effect.
Since the publication of the ukase abolishing serfdom, there has been
a great deal of trouble in the more remote districts between the serfs
and their masters, arising chiefly from ignorance on the one side, and
discontent and disaffection on the other. Every possible obstacle has
been thrown in the way of a fair understanding of its terms. Some idea
may be formed of the extreme ignorance and debased condition of the
serfs when I mention that in many parts of the country, where the
influence of the court is not so immediately felt by the proprietors,
they have assumed such despotic powers over their dependents, and
exercise to this day such an inexorable command over their lives,
liberties, and persons, that the poor creatures have almost learned to
regard them as demigods. When a nobleman of high position, owning
large tracts of land and many serfs, visits his estates, it is not an
uncommon thing to see the enslaved peasantry, who are taught to
believe that they exist by his sufferance, cast themselves prostrate
before him and kiss the ground, in the Oriental fashion, as he passes.
It is a species of idolatry highly soothing to men in official
position, who are themselves subjected to almost similar debasement
before their imperial master. In some instances, especially at a
distance from the capital, the acts of cruelty perpetrated by these
cringing and venal nobles, as an offset to the arbitrary rule under
which they themselves exist, are enough to make the blood curdle. The
knout, a terrible instrument made of thick, heavy leather, and
sometimes loaded with leaden balls, is freely used to punish the most
trifling offense. Men and women, indiscriminately, are whipped at the
pleasure of their masters, the only real restrictions being that if
they die within twenty-four hours the owners are subjected to trial
for murder; but even that is nearly always evaded. The present emperor
has done much to meliorate these abuses; but his orders have to go a
great way and through a great many unreliable hands, and it is very
difficult to carry them into effect unless they accord with the views
of a venal and corrupt bureaucracy and an unprincipled corps of
subordinates.
[Illustration: SERFS.]
In some of the districts where the serfs were purposely kept in
ignorance of the true meaning and intention of the emperor's ukase, a
vague idea took possession of their minds that they were free, and
that the proprietors had no right to compel them to labor, or in any
way curtail their liberty. Many of them left the estates to which they
were attached, and sought occupation elsewhere on their own account;
others refused to obey the orders given them by their seigneurs, and a
great deal of trouble and bloodshed ensued. In some instances it
became necessary to call in the military forces of the district to
subdue the mutinous serfs and preserve order. Protests and
remonstrances innumerable were addressed to the emperor, pointing out
the absolute impracticability of carrying his beneficent scheme into
effect, based chiefly on the ground that the serfs themselves were
opposed to emancipation. This, of course, occasioned a great deal of
anxiety and trouble at head-quarters. It was rather a hard state of
things that the very peasants whom he was striving with all his power
to serve should, by their insubordination--arising sometimes, it was
true, from ignorance, but too often from willful misconduct--do even
more than their masters to frustrate his beneficent designs. These
troubles went on from time to time, till eventually a deputation of
three hundred serfs made their way to St. Petersburg and solicited an
audience of the emperor. His majesty, probably in no very amiable
mood, called the deputation before him, and demanded what they
desired. They answered that they wished an explanation in regard to
his order of emancipation, which many of their people did not
understand. Some thought they were to be free in two years, but many
thought they were free from the date of the order, with the simple
condition that they were to pay sixty rubles to their masters the
first year, and thirty the second; others, again, that they were free
without any condition whatever. All they wanted to know was, were they
free or not? If free, why were they forced to labor for other people;
and if not free, was there any prospect that they ever would be? The
emperor asked, "Can you read?" Some answered that they could read,
others that they could not. "Have you read my order?" demanded the
emperor of those who could read. "Yes, your majesty," they replied,
"we have read your order, but we don't understand it." All who could
read and had read the order were removed on one side. "Now," said the
emperor, turning to the others, "has this order been read to you?"
"Yes, your majesty," they replied, "but we don't understand it." "Very
well," observed the emperor; "you seem to be an intelligent set of
men, capable of learning, and we shall see that the order is made
intelligible. We had supposed it was perfectly clear in its terms;
but, since you do not or will not comprehend it, all you who can read
must be whipped." The literary portion of the deputation were then
taken off by a file of soldiers, treated to a score or two of lashes
each, and sent back to their people to explain the manifesto. "And all
you," said the emperor, turning to the unlearned members of the
deputation, "must serve three years as soldiers, during which time we
shall see that you are taught to read." They were accordingly taken
off, and furnished with a general outfit of uniforms, and are now
serving their imperial master in a military capacity.
Summary justice, that, one might say. It seems, at all events, a
pretty prompt method of explaining official documents, and could
probably be adopted beneficially in other countries.