REFORM IN RUSSIA.
In my last chapter I took occasion to acknowledge, in terms of sincere
respect and admiration, the noble efforts of the present emperor,
Alexander II., in the great cause of human freedom. He has already
gone very far beyond any of his predecessors in the extension of
civil liberty among his subjects, but a great crisis has now arrived
which will practically test his sincerity. What he has heretofore done
will be worse than nothing unless he remains true to himself and the
noble cause which he has espoused. History shows us that the
sovereigns of Russia have not always been indifferent to public
opinion; but, with one or two honorable exceptions, it also shows us
that they have been more liberal in their professions than in their
acts. I ventured the assertion that there are insuperable obstacles to
a very high order of civilization in Russia. Perhaps this is too
gloomy a view of the case, and, considering the wonderful natural
capacities of the people, it may be thought rather illiberal for an
American; but I must confess the difficulties strike me as very
serious. The severity of the climate in the middle and northern parts
of the empire, the vast proportion of desert and unavailable lands,
and the diversity of fierce and ignorant races to be governed, are
certainly obstacles not easily overcome, if we are to understand by
civilization a predominance of moral and intellectual cultivation,
combined with material prosperity and a reasonable share of liberty
and happiness among the mass of the people. It is not that a few shall
be learned, and intelligent, and privileged above all others, but that
the broad fields of knowledge shall be open to all; that education
shall be general, and the right of every class to the fruits of their
labor and the enjoyment of civil, political, and religious liberty
shall be recognized and protected by the laws of the land. In this
view, it seems to me that the most serious obstacle to civilization in
Russia is presented by the despotic nature of the government, and the
difficulty, under the existing state of things, of substituting
another for which the ignorant masses are prepared. The aristocracy
are constantly clamoring for increased powers and privileges, but it
is very certain they have no affinity, beyond pecuniary interest, with
the middle and lower classes, and that their sole aim is to interpose
every possible obstacle to the progress of freedom. The emperor is
now practically the great conservative power who stands between them
and their dependents. Any increase of authority to the aristocracy
would deprive the masses of the limited protection which they now
enjoy. Already the head and front of Russian despotism are the
camarilla and the bureaucracy, who practically administer the affairs
of the government. So long as they hold their power, they stand as a
barrier to all progress on the part of the people. Thoroughly
aristocratic and tyrannical in all their instincts, they have every
thing to lose and nothing to hope from a constitutional form of
government. Why, it may be asked, if the emperor is sincere in his
professions of regard for freedom and civilization, does he not make
use of the aristocratic powers vested in him, and cast away from him
all these obstacles to the perfection of his plans? The question is
easier asked than answered. We are but little enlightened upon the
secret councils that prevail at the court of St. Petersburg. Whatever
is done there is only known by its results; whatever finds its way
into the public press is subject to a rigid censorship, and is worth
little so far as it conveys the remotest idea of facts. What you see
demonstrated you may possibly be safe in believing, but nothing else.
It may be easier to speak of removing obstacles than to do it; or it
may be that the emperor has no fixed policy for the future, and
therefore hesitates to encounter difficulties through which he can not
see his way without any adequate or well-defined object.
No country in the world presents such an anomalous condition of
affairs as that presented by Russia at this time. The preliminary
steps have been taken to set free over twenty-three millions of white
people, so accustomed to a condition of servitude, so generally
ignorant, and so incapable of thinking or acting for themselves, that
many, if not most of them, look with dread upon the movement made for
their emancipation. The rights reserved to them are so little
understood, and, indeed, so visionary under any circumstances--for
two rights to the same land would be as impracticable in Russia
between the proprietors and the peasant as in our country between the
whites and the Indians--that they can see nothing beyond abandonment
to increased oppressions and sufferings in the proposed movement.
Degraded as they are, accustomed from infancy to obey their rulers,
kept in a condition of brutish ignorance in order that they may be
kept in subjection, it is natural they should be unable to realize the
mysterious benefits about to be conferred upon them. In their present
abject position they enjoy a certain kind of protection from their
owners, who, if not always governed by motives of humanity, are at
least generally susceptible of the influences of self-interest, and
take care to feed and clothe them, and provide for them in cases of
sickness; and although this is done at the expense of their labor, it
relieves them from responsibilities which they are scarcely prepared
to assume. To set them free against their own will, or even admitting
that, in common with all mankind, they must have some general
appreciation of liberty--to undertake so radical a change in their
condition and future prospects without a practical definition of their
rights and the substitution of some substantial benefits for the
withdrawal of responsibilities now borne by their owners, is an
anomalous movement attended by no ordinary difficulties. When we add
to this the adverse influences of the landed proprietors; their
determined hostility to the abrogation of rights and privileges which
they have so long enjoyed; their entire conviction that, without
direct powers of coercion, they can not depend upon the labor of the
peasantry; that the natural tendency of free labor is to elevate the
masses, and render them less subservient to the will of the
aristocracy, then, indeed, it may well be conceived that the natural
difficulties arising from the ignorance and improvident habits of the
class now held in bondage will be greatly augmented. Believing,
however, that all men have a right to their freedom; that such a
right is the gift of the Creator, which can only be wrongfully
withheld from them by any earthly power; that it is superior to any
casual influences or considerations of policy, we can not but admire
the moral courage of the movement, and the apparent zeal and constancy
with which the emperor has labored, in the face of every obstacle, to
carry it into effect. But the question now arises, is it to end before
it assumes a substantial form? Is it to be a mere chimera gotten up to
entertain and delude the world? If Alexander aspires to the approval
of all enlightened people beyond the limits of his own empire, he must
make good his claim to it by a determined policy, carrying in it the
germ of civil and political liberty. It will not do to "tickle the
ears of the groundlings" with high-sounding phrases of human progress,
while he fetters their limbs with manacles of iron. There can be no
such thing as a graduated despotism--a stringent form of controlling
the ignorant and a mild form of controlling the intelligent--under one
system of government. The ways to knowledge, to honorable distinction,
to wealth and happiness, must be open to all; justice must be
administered with impartiality, and wherever there is taxation there
must be representation. There can not be one kind of justice for the
rich and another for the weak; constitutions for some and despotisms
for others. The machine must be complete in all its parts, and work
with a common accord, or it will soon become deranged and break to
pieces.
Peter the Great did much toward the physical improvement of the
country. He built up cities, created a navy, organized an army,
extended his dominions, encouraged education, and fostered the
mechanical arts; but he held a tight rein upon his subordinate
officers, and suppressed what little freedom the masses enjoyed. He
was ambitious, and liked to enjoy a reputation for enlightenment, but
no regard for civilization beyond the power it gave him to extend his
dominions. His subjects were merely his instruments. All he learned
in other countries was to sharpen them and keep them in order, that he
might use them to the best advantage. His ambition was not of the
highest or noblest kind. The page he has left in history is
interesting and instructive, but there is nothing in it to warrant the
belief that it will be selected by a remote posterity to be bound up
among the lives of truly great and good men. Catharine II. extended
the privileges of the nobility, made wars upon inoffensive nations,
corrupted the morals of her people, and manifested her regard for the
serfs by giving large numbers of them away to her paramours. The
Emperor Alexander I. was ambitious of distinction, as the most
cultivated and enlightened sovereign of his time. He issued liberal
edicts, but seldom observed them. He wished to be thought friendly to
liberty, without sacrificing any of his despotic privileges. He gave a
Constitution to the Poles, but surrounded it by such forms and
influences that they could derive no advantage from it. He was weak,
cunning, and conceited; given rather to the delicate evasions of
diplomacy than to the bold straightforwardness of truth and honor. The
Emperor Nicholas was utterly selfish and despotic in all his
instincts. He professed to take a profound interest in the cause of
emancipation, but it was purely a question of policy with him. He
cared nothing about human rights. His dark and cruel nature was
unsusceptible of a noble or generous impulse. While he preached
liberal generalities, he ruled his subjects with an iron rod. He was
bigoted, narrow-minded, and brutal. The sense of right was not in his
nature. His ambition was to be an object of heathenish idolatry to his
subjects--whether as a god or devil it mattered nothing; fear was the
only incense he was capable of craving; and if such a nature can be
susceptible of enjoyment, his consisted in the abasement of his
fellow-creatures. The severity of his decrees, the rigor of his
administration, and the attributes of infallibility which he cast
around his person, caused him to be regarded with awe, but not with
love. He could brook no opposition nor survive a failure. Few tears
were shed when he was stricken down in his pride. He left but a small
legacy of good deeds to endear him in the memory of his subjects. The
haughty Czar lies dead in his sepulchre--cold, stern, and solitary as
he lived.
Nicholas left his country in a distracted and unhappy
condition--deeply in debt; commerce deranged; the military service in
the worst possible condition, and nearly every branch of the public
service in the hands of corrupt and incapable men. Well might he say
to his own son upon his dying bed, "Poor Alexander, my beloved son,
where lie the ills of unhappy Russia?" Well might he endeavor to make
atonement for his errors by recommending at his last hour the
emancipation of the serfs.
The milder spirit of Alexander reigns in his place. What future, then,
does this humane young sovereign propose to himself and his country?
He gives personal liberty to the serfs, but he can not allow them to
become intelligent and responsible beings. If they do, they will no
longer acknowledge his right to deprive them of political liberty. He
removes various restrictions from the press, and the moment the light
of intelligence strikes upon the minds of his subjects, they call for
a constitution and the overthrow of a despotic camarilla. He
undertakes to restrain a powerful, intelligent, and unscrupulous
aristocracy, who by instinct, education, and self-interest hate the
very name of freedom, and they turn against him, and provoke those
whom he would serve to acts of rebellion against his authority. We can
scarcely wonder that this is the case when we consider the interests
they have at stake. It is not likely that they will quietly relinquish
their accustomed source of revenue. On the other hand, the argument is
advanced, and with a good share of reason, that the emancipation of
the serfs is really a benefit to the owners. It relieves them of
enormous responsibilities, and, by encouraging industry, increasing
the intelligence, self-reliance, and capacity of the serfs themselves,
makes their labor more profitable to the landed proprietors. This is a
view of the case, however, in which they have no faith. Believing in
nothing free except the free use of authority in their own persons,
they can not be brought to understand the advantages of free labor.
But these considerations do not, by any means, comprise all the
difficulties in which Russia is now placed. The dependencies are
constantly in revolt. Constant troubles are going on in the remote
districts. Nine millions of the population--the old believers who do
not profess the prevailing religion--have their secret conferences,
their plans and purposes, all antagonistical to the existing form of
government. A reign of terror exists in Poland. The Finns detest their
rulers, and are only kept in a partial state of quietude by a total
subversion of the liberties guaranteed to them under the Constitution.
The municipal franchises existing in the various provinces of Russia
are a mere mockery; mayors and corporate officers are imprisoned or
banished without cause or process of law. The councils of the
government are secret, and nobody can conjecture how long he may be
permitted to enjoy his personal liberty. The exchequer is annually
deficient from thirty to forty millions of rubles. Public credit is
growing worse and worse every day, and the whole country is falling
into a condition of bankruptcy. It is evident, even to the most
superficial observer, that a great crisis is at hand. The Poles are
united in their resistance to the despotic sway of the government.
Witness the late bloody massacres in Warsaw (1862), against which the
whole civilized world cries aloud in horror! They will not now be
satisfied with empty professions and still emptier concessions. They
demand a Constitution--not a mere paper Constitution, like that of
1815, made to be violated by every lackey of the government sent to
coerce them. They demand civil, political, and religious liberty. Can
the emperor grant it to a dependency, and withhold it from the body of
his people?
This has been tried for nearly half a century--ever since 1815--and
what has it resulted in? Are the Poles any better satisfied now than
they were then? Are they benefited and enlightened by being cut down
and hacked to pieces by a set of drunken and bloodthirsty Cossacks in
the name of the great Russian government?
The Emperor Alexander must adopt some other system. He will never
reduce the Poles to submission in that way. Overpowered and cut to
pieces they may be, but not conquered. They belong to the
unconquerable races of mankind. The blood that heroes, and heroines,
and martyrs are made of runs in the veins of every man, woman, and
child of the Polish nation. If they can not govern themselves, it is
equally certain they can not be governed by any despotic power. It is
not by slaughtering defenseless women and children; not by forcing
churches to be opened; not by sending savage and heartless minions to
crush the people down in the dust, that Alexander II. is to win a
reputation for humanity and liberality. It is not by issuing edicts of
emancipation to his serfs, and then, at the instigation of a cruel and
ruthless camarilla, deluging the country with their blood to keep them
quiet, that he is going to do it. It is not by extending privileges to
the press and the universities, and then, by a sudden and violent
suppression of all liberty, undertake to arrest some abuses, that he
is likely to achieve it. It is not by countenancing venal and
unscrupulous writers to sustain every outrage that his nobles may
choose to perpetrate, and banishing all who respectfully remonstrate
against their misconduct, that he is to attain the highest eminence as
a civilized sovereign. It is not by keeping up a system of foreign
surveillance, by which Russians in other countries are watched and
their lives threatened, that these glorious results are to be
achieved. His secret police may (on their own responsibility or his,
it matters little to the victims which) assassinate M. Herzain, the
editor of the _Kolokol_, in London; but if they do, a thousand
Herzains will rise in his place. No; it is by no such means as these
that the name of Alexander II. is to be transmitted to posterity as
the most liberal and enlightened sovereign of the age.
If he would regenerate Russia--if he would avert the dismemberment of
a great empire--if he would accomplish the noble mission upon which
the world gives him the credit of having started, he must banish from
his presence all evil councils; he must be true to himself and the
great cause of humanity; he must give all his people, and all his
dependencies, a liberal and equitable constitution, which will protect
them from the despotic sway of military governors and the aristocracy.
He must establish a constitutional government, complete in all its
parts; abolish secret tribunals, and open the avenues of knowledge and
justice to all. He must see that the laws are fairly and equitably
administered. He must enlarge the liberty of the press, and proscribe
no man for his opinions, unless in cases of treason, and under
peculiar circumstances of civil commotion endangering the public
safety. He must abolish the censorship of the colleges, universities,
and places of public amusement, and leave them to be regulated by the
municipal authorities. In short, he must cease to be a despot and
become a constitutional monarch. Will he do it? Can he do it? Does he
possess the moral courage to do it? Time alone can answer these
questions. I sincerely believe the emperor is a good man, actuated by
the best motives, but not always governed by the wisest counsels. I
believe he now has an opportunity of earning a name that enlightened
men will bless through all time to come. So far, it is to be regretted
that he has not pursued the most consistent course, but it is not yet
too late to retrieve his errors. One thing is certain--there can be
no half-way measures of reform in Russia. The spirit of the age--the
general increase of intelligence--requires a radical change. He can
not be autocrat and king at the same time. He must be one or the
other. If he tries both, the empire will be dismembered before many
years.
Whatever may be the extent and variety of those hidden restraints,
which doubtless exist, and must, from the very nature of the
government, be exempt from the scrutiny of a stranger as well as from
popular discussion, it is beyond question that in the principal
cities, at least, very little is visible in that respect which would
be considered objectionable in the municipal regulations of any city
in the United States. From this, of course, must be excepted the
presence in every public place and thoroughfare of vast numbers of
soldiers and officers; but that is a feature which St. Petersburg
shares in common with all the cities of Europe, and the traveler can
scarcely regard it as an indication of the depressed condition of
Russian civilization. I think I have seen in the streets of Pesth,
Vienna, Berlin, and Frankfort quite as many soldiers, according to the
population, as in St. Petersburg. I would say something about Paris,
but I expect to go there after a while, and would dislike very much to
be placed in the position of Mr. Dick Swiveller, who was blockaded at
his lodgings, and never could go out without calculating which of the
public ways was still left open. But if there be officers enough of
all kinds in Paris to keep the public peace and suppress objectionable
correspondence and pamphlets against members of the reigning family,
there are also enough in Lyons and Marseilles, as well as other cities
of France, to prove that civilization and soldiers, however inimical
to each other, may, by the force of circumstances, be reduced to a
partnership. The question that troubles me most is to determine
precisely what is the highest condition of civilization. It can not be
to enjoy fine palaces and have a great many soldiers, for Marco Polo
tells us that the great Kubla Khan had palaces of gold and precious
stones of incredible extent and most sumptuous magnificence, such as
the world has never seen from that day to this, and could number his
troops by millions; yet nobody will undertake to say that the Tartars
of the tenth century were in advance of the French of the nineteenth
century. It can not consist in the enjoyment of freedom, and the
general dissemination of education and intelligence among the people;
for where will you find a freer or more intelligent people than those
of the United States, who are rated by the Parisians as little better
than savages? I think civilization must consist in the perfection of
cookery, and a high order of tailoring and millinery. If the French
excel in the manufacture of cannons and iron-cased ships, and devote a
good deal of attention to surgery, it is a necessity imposed upon them
by the presence of Great Britain and their natural propensity for
strong governments; but I am disposed to believe that their genius
lies in gastronomy and tailoring, and in the construction of hats and
bonnets. Since the latter articles cover the heads of the best classes
of mankind, they must be the climax or crowning feature of all human
intelligence. I am greatly puzzled by the various opinions on this
subject entertained by the most cultivated people of Europe. The
English seem to think the perfection of civilization consists in
preaching against slavery and then trying to perpetuate it, in order
to get hold of some cotton; the French in suppressing family
pamphlets, annulling the sacred contract of marriage, building
iron-cast ships, cooking frogs, snails, and cats, making fancy coats,
and topping off the human head with elegant hats and bonnets; the
Austrians in the manufacture of shin-plasters for their soldiers, and
the making and breaking of constitutions for ungovernable
dependencies; the Prussians in the blasphemous necromancy of receiving
crowns for their kings direct from God; and all in some shape or other
professing devotion to human liberty, and doing every thing in their
power to subvert it. Truly it is enough to puzzle one who seeks for
truth amid the prevailing fogs of error that seem to have descended
upon mankind. If there be any degree in honesty, I really think the
Emperor of Russia is entitled to the palm of being the most sincere in
his profession of regard for the advancement of human freedom. He
imposes no restrictions upon his own subjects which he does not
consider necessary for the maintenance of his despotic power, and,
while struggling against the influence of a wealthy, intelligent, and
refractory aristocracy to extend the boon of personal liberty to
twenty-three millions of serfs, is the only sovereign who boldly and
openly manifests a generous sympathy for the cause of freedom in the
United States. While I can see nothing to admire in any form of
despotism, or any thing in common between us and the government of
Russia beyond the common bond of humanity that should connect the
whole human race, I am forced to admit, with all my hatred of despotic
institutions, that they are not always a sure indication of an
illiberal and insincere spirit on the part of the rulers, or of a
base, sordid, and groveling spirit on that of the subjects. It is a
matter of regret, calculated to shake our faith in the beneficial
effects of a high order of intelligence among men, that the course of
England and France, since the commencement of our difficulties,
presents a very unfavorable contrast with that of Russia; for,
although self-interest has restrained them from actual participation
in the overthrow of our government, they have given its enemies the
full benefit of their sympathy.
You will smile, perhaps, at the oddity of the idea, considering the
roughness of our country, the scarcity of palaces, fine equipages,
liveried servants with white kid gloves and cocked hats, and the
absence of a perfect railroad system in our remote quarter of the
world; but I am perfectly in earnest in saying that, if asked to lay
my hand upon my heart and declare, in all sincerity, what country upon
earth I do consider the most highly favored and enlightened at the
present stage of the nineteenth century, I should not hesitate one
moment to name the State of California. The idea has been growing in
my head ever since I came to Europe. It is based upon considerations
which are susceptible of the clearest demonstration. For example,
assuming our population to be five hundred thousand, where will you
find the same number of educated, enterprising, and intelligent men in
any one district or state of Europe, not excepting any given part of
France or England? If we have fewer learned and scientific men than
older countries can boast, we have a greater number above mediocrity,
according to our population, and a vastly higher average of general
intelligence. If our laws are too often loosely administered, it is at
least in the power of the people to remedy the difficulty by
substituting good and faithful for corrupt and inefficient officers;
and if any law should prove burdensome, it can be repealed at the will
of the majority. So far as injustice is concerned, I have seen more of
it in Europe, individual rights were concerned, than I ever saw in
California. We have a public sentiment in favor of the right which can
not be shaken by corrupt, factious, and transitory influences. If our
governors and public men are not furnished with gilded palaces and
fine equipages, the labor of the toiling poor is not taxed to supply
them. If we are backward in the higher branches of literature and the
fine arts, there is scarcely a mechanic or a miner in the state who
does not know more of the history of his own country, possess a more
accurate knowledge of its institutions, read more of the current
intelligence of the day from all other countries--who, in short, is
not better versed in every branch of practical knowledge applicable to
the ordinary purposes of life, than the average of the most
intelligent classes in Great Britain or France. If we are deficient in
the dandyism of dress and the puppyism of manners, which so generally
pass for refinement and politeness on the Continent of Europe, there
is scarcely a boor among us who would not be hooted out of the lowest
society for the indifference, rudeness, and disrespect toward women,
which form the rule rather than the exception among the polished
nations of Europe. I have seen more absolute selfishness, coarseness,
and innate vulgarity under the guise of elegant manners, since my
arrival on this side of the water, than I ever saw in California under
any guise whatever. If that be civilization, I do not want to see it
prevail in our country. It would be difficult, indeed, to say in what
respect a comparison would not show a heavy balance in our favor.
Wealth is more equally diffused, fortune is more accessible to all,
the honors and emolument of political position are within the reach of
every man, the press is unrestrained in its freedom save in so far as
individual rights and the well-being of society may be concerned; no
class is oppressed by inequitable burdens, and none endowed with
exclusive privileges; a rich soil, a prolific mineral region, a
climate unequaled for its salubrity, and a promising future, afford
profitable occupation, health, and happiness to the whole community;
none need suffer unless from their own misconduct, or the visitation
of the Supreme Power by which all are ruled; and none need despond who
possess energy of character and the capacity to appreciate the many
blessings bestowed upon them. What nation in Europe possesses a future
at all, much less such a future as that which lies before us? Russia
may improve and prosper to a certain extent; beyond that, no human eye
can discern the glimmerings of a higher and more enlarged
civilization. England has reached her culminating point. The States of
Germany--what future have they? Alas! the past and the present must
answer. France--where is her future? Another revolution--another
emperor--another and another bloody history of revolutions,
barricades, kings, emperors, and demagogues, reaching, so far as human
eye can penetrate, through the dim vistas of all time to come. If, on
the one side, we see the type of human perfection and the maturity of
all worldly knowledge, and if we see on the other only the presumption
that springs from ignorance, want of cultivation, or want of reverence
for the example of others, then I earnestly pray that we may forever
remain in our present benighted condition, or, if we advance at all,
that it may not be in the direction taken by any of the governments of
Europe. As our present is unlike theirs, so I trust may be our future.