Count Suvorov was the military governor-general of St. Petersburg from 1861 to 1866.
Shcherbatov's speech was not published and was only briefly mentioned in the newspapers.
♦ 80 ♦
The Bell, No. 219, May 1, 1866. Herzen reacts here to the first assassination attempt against Alexander II, as a member of the younger generation "answered accusations of 'nihilism' with a shot. [. . .] and action overtook words" (Ivanova, A. I. Gertsen, 189). Herzen states his objection to individual acts of terror and "surprises" as a way of changing history, which brings to mind the Marquis de Custine's comment on the suppressed history of palace coups: "The Russian government is an absolute monarchy moderated by assassination" (de Custine, Letters from Russia, 126). Herzen himself had once characterized Russian history since Peter the Great as a "criminal affair" (Doc. 18).
The labeling of Karakozov as a "fanatic" angered the younger generation of Russian radicals (Verhoeven, The Odd Man Karakozov). Herzen received anonymous letters from Polish emigres with threats to publicly label Herzen a traitor for his negative attitude, while Mikhail Bakunin mourned the loss of The Bell's influence and urged his old comrade in arms to change direction and show the nihilists "where to go and where to lead the people" (Let 4:264-65, 283). "Irkutsk and Petersburg" takes note of the absurd honors shown the declared "savior" of the tsar, the peasant Komissarov, who was feted at banquets, and whose name and image appeared on everything from beer to candy and cigarettes, while the hero's wife used this instant fame to get discounts on her purchases (Let 4:66-84).
Irkutsk and Petersburg (March 5 and April 4, 1866) [1866]
We have no opportunity to even indirectly say something in favor of the ruling powers. The shot on April 4 was not to our liking. We expected from it calamity, and we were troubled by the responsibility that some fanatic took upon himself. In general we cannot stand surprises, whether at birthday celebrations or in the public square: the first kind never succeed, and the second kind are almost always harmful. It is only among wild and decrepit peoples that history changes through murders. Murders are useful only to those who gain by the dynastic change. Petersburg got used to the regular removal of anointed rulers, and forgot neither Ropscha nor the Mikhailov Palace.1
We do not require bullets. we are moving at full strength along the high road; there are many traps and a great deal of mud, but our hopes are even greater; on our legs are heavy stocks, but in our heart there are colossal claims that cannot be removed. It is impossible to stop us—we can only be turned off the high road onto another, from the path of orderly development to the path of a general uprising.
While we prepared to express this in other words, our speech gave way to the terrible news from Irkutsk: Serno-Solovyovich died March 5.
.These murderers do not miss their mark!
The most noble, pure, and honest Serno-Solovyovich—and they killed him.
The reproachful shade of Serno-Solovyovich passed before us in melancholy protest, the same kind of reminder as the news of the Warsaw killings of April i0, i86i, rushed by like a terrible memento and covered with mourning our celebration of the emancipation.
The last Marquis Poza,2 he believed with his innocent young heart that they could be brought around, and he spoke to the sovereign in ordinary language, and he moved him—and then he died in Irkutsk, exhausted by torture and three years in solitary. For what? Read the senate minutes and you will throw up your hands.
Our enemies, sworn conservatives and members of the State Council, were struck by the valor, simplicity, and heroism of Serno-Solovyovich. He was so unsullied that The Moscow Gazette did not berate him or denounce him during the investigation, and made no insinuations that he was either an arsonist or a thief. This was one of the best, most youthful proclaim- ers of a new age in Russia. And he has been killed. "But they did not desire his death." What nonsense! Mikhailov died, Serno-Solovyovich died, Chernyshevsky is sick. What are the conditions in which they place robust young people, so that they cannot last five years? In this method of torturing one's enemies a little bit at a time, without any direct responsibility, there is such a depth of lies, cowardice, hypocrisy, or such criminal negligence, which any upright tyranny feels itself above, as a brigand feels superior to a simple thief.
Are the lives of these people really not as sacred for Russia, really not as protected as the life of the emperor, are they really not among those, who together with him took part in the awakening of Russia, in the peasant question, in hopes for the future?..
No, our voice is not needed in the cathedral choir of exultation, indignation, protestation, and demonstration. Let those awaiting a reward rejoice at the hints and weep over the denunciations, let the servile hypocrisy that is corrupting youth to the extent of sham idolatry, to the extent that engineering students order an icon, and Moscow students are herded to the Iberian Mother of God to attend a public prayer service3—let them take part in the concert. The sound of our voice will not be in harmony with them.
We cannot understand each other.
Here's an example.
An insane fanatic or an embittered person from the nobility takes a shot at the sovereign; the unusual presence of mind of a young peasant, his quick calculation and dexterity save the sovereign. And how do they reward him? With elevation to the noble rank! To equal the social position of the shooter? [. . .] put a ribbon across his shoulder, but over a peasant coat, give him a medal on a diamond chain, give him the largest diamond from the crown on a chain full of medals, give him a million rubles (metal, not paper, by the way), only let him remain a peasant, do not turn him into von-Komissarov.
Taking Komissarov out of his environment is an insult to the peasantry; putting a noble uniform on him makes him ridiculous and vulgar. What understanding does the sovereign have of the peasantry, if he thinks that a man who performs an act of heroism should be wrenched out of that swamp? [. . .]
We have no doubt that the April 4 assassination attempt has once again—along with sincere concern—stirred up all the servility of Russian society, all the police mania of self-proclaimed spies, journalist-informers, literary executioners, all the clumsy baseness of the half-educated horde, and all the ungovernable behavior of the bureaucrats as they try to gain favor by humbling themselves. And yet we cannot read without blushing at the shamelessness of their actions and expressions. [. . .]
We are absolutely convinced that this mania for police is one of the most severe forms of insanity and that psychiatrists pay too little attention to it. It stands to reason that this sickness develops not in normal people, but in specially prepared and capable organisms, consumed by envy, pride, self- absorption, a desire for power, awards, an important place, and revenge. All that is true, and once having destroyed everything human in a subject, there is no holding back the sickness. Suspiciousness, denunciation, slander become a necessity, a hunger, a thirst. When there is no one to denounce, the patient becomes sad, and he invents a Young Georgia, and a Young Ar- menia4. And suddenly we are shot at. Katkov cannot separate himself from a unified Russia, or from the sovereign—he is at once the sovereign and Komissarov. Saving Russia is a familiar matter for him. On the eve of the assassination attempt (April 3) he revealed that he bore the oil of the tsar's anointing, declaring that he did not intend to obey ministerial directives, that he would submit to no one but the sovereign, that he knew his Alexander Nikolaevich, and had no wish to know anyone else. The humble ministers put up with this, and wisely so. or else things wouldn't be so different than they were with Konstantin Nikolaevich and Skedo-Ferronti. who were really catching it with the assistance of Muravyov.5 Having heard the bullet's whistle and having pushed aside the hand of the murderer, Katkov, still unshaven, rushes about on a short leash like a bulldog who isn't allowed to run free—he jumps about, yelps, and barks, trying to bite everyone.