We decided to reprint in its entirety this gloomily thought-out and gloomily written dissertation,1 because in it we see a kind of historic border post, a poorly made, poorly painted, clumsy boundary marker, but all the same a marker.
If this were a rhetorical exercise about the corruption of minds and hearts, about false teachings and theories of property [. . .] we would not pay it the slightest attention. We have read such marvels in the journals that stand in the way of Russian development. But a royal diatribe, cast down from the heights upon which the throne stands, is a completely different matter. No matter how little genuine substance there is, it must fly down to our low-lying fields like a cannonball and either smash something or get smashed itself.
Looking closely at this royal document, which reminds us—with its worldly philosophy—of the spiritual icon painting with which Metropolitan Filaret adorned the emancipation manifesto,2 we are struck most of all by three things.
First, it is as clear as day that that there was no conspiracy linked to the shot on April 4/16 (as we have stated and repeated), to the extent that they could not draw one out no matter the shadows in which the investigation was carried out, nor the choice of an investigator, nor the methods which he employed. A conspiracy and Poles, the participation of nihilists and international revolution—all of this is intrigue, lies, and slander. They did not dare put this in the mouth of the sovereign. What remained was to exploit moral participation, i.e., immoral complicity morale, having intercepted correspondence between friends and family and having made note of certain thoughts, then confused them with all thinking people in the younger generation, all those who awoke to intellectual life and breathed freely after the death of Nicholas. It is impossible to make out to what guilty people the letter refers. In the Karakozov case, the only guilty ones are those who participated with him, and not all those people who think that the Russian government is not the ideal of all forms of governance and who debate property rights. [. . .]
A single adversary was pointed out and identified, not by name, but as a living force, a rival with whom it is necessary to contend, which is growing and will continue to grow unless it is suppressed now. [. . .] The giant in the cradle, which the government fears and in which it senses its future successor, is social thought, the ideas of a few inconsequential writers, young people, nihilists, and, I am ashamed to say, us. The character of this movement, which seeks to break down the old forms of Russian life that prevent its new forces from taking shape, is instinctively recognized as social3. and for that reason the government stands on the eternal peaks of conservatism and reaction, in favor of landed property; it wishes to defend it and be defended by it. to its aid it summons the catechism, domestic education, spying by department heads, and all of its forces, i.e., all its police.
This tsarist adornment we see as a second victory.
The third victory—"not unto us, not unto us," but also not unto the Russian people.4 Apropos of the people: one of the most remarkable facts about the letter to Gagarin is the utter absence of the people, who were so recently being flattered. not one tender word, not one greeting, not even a thank you for saving his life! They are tired of the paysans. [. . .] The third victory goes to the tsar's old childhood friend—the gentry landowner. Like a weak little chick, the two-headed eagle takes it under both wings, and the government, like Mitrofanushka's mama,5 is prepared to scratch out anyone's eyes for the sake of the perpetual young oaf. The letter puts an end to any open discussion of the great process involving landowners and peasants.
That's all.
Then the sovereign, through Gagarin, tells the people that he wants to lead Russia along a different path. Which one? It seems that he himself does not thoroughly understand but it is clear that it will be a nasty one. From this letter the irritation is obvious, the desire to govern more severely, to tighten the reins, to press harder, to trample more firmly. With this goal, Prince Gagarin's sovereign correspondent proposes turning all department heads into spies over their subordinates, and then instructs them to "keep in mind those other healthy, conservative and reliable forces with which Russia is richly endowed." [. . .]
.We imagine how the sovereign, bored by this lengthy missive from Gagarin to Gagarin, wiped the sweat from his powerful face and, throwing down the pen with which he had signed it, said: Well, thank God, the throne, altar, nobility, property, morality, and order have been saved. [. . .]
The sovereign lets out a sigh.
And the nobility, who since the year i860 have been trembling with fear and anger, also let out a sigh. [. . .]
Sleep, brothers, rest yourselves!..
And you, poor exiles, held in captivity, surviving in chains, toiling in the mines, persecuted friends—take heart. Together we lived to see a great age. You do not suffer in vain, and we have not worked a lifetime in vain. This is the dawn of the harvest, a day which we have long awaited.
...When the Emperor Trajan sent Pliny to investigate the false teaching of the Nazarines, when the Roman senate pondered the spread of the absurd and immoral sect of the executed Judean, while Tertullian defended it from the vile accusation of murders, when earlier Nero had heaped blame upon them as arsonists for a fire, and other caesars tormented them openly and publicly, like naive Muravyovs let out of a menagerie—the case of the Christians was won.
And we march forward holding caesar's most recent missive. The tsar's countersignature is there and we will not forget May 13/25, 1866.
It is the beginning of the battle... it is the beginning of the war.
We shall not see its end... it is unlikely that even the very youngest will see it. History develops slowly, and what is passing away defends itself stubbornly, and what is establishing itself comes into being slowly and dimly... but the process itself, the very drama of historical gestation, is full of poetry. Every generation has its own experience, and we do not grumble over our share, we have lived not only to see a red patch of light in the east, but also long enough for our enemy to see it. What more can one expect from life, especially when a man, with his hand on his heart, can say with a clear conscience: "And I took part in this massive struggle, and I did my bit... "
...And you, Pavel Pavlovich, write another letter to yourself, some sort of commentary on the Tsarskoe Selo missive, or like Pliny the Younger, write to Caesar himself about bringing down the new Christians, about their insignificance, about your contempt for them... just keep writing!
Notes
Source: "Ot gosudaria Kniaziu P. P. Gagarinu," Kolokol, l. 222, June i5, i866; i9:95-i0i, 396-98.
Prince Pavel P. Gagarin (i789-i872), a senator, served on the commission investigating the Petrashevsky circle, the emancipation committee, and was chairman of the court that tried Karakozov.
Herzen: "In all probability, Gagarin wrote this letter 'to himself.' This is all a continuation of the system set up after the infamous fire in Petersburg, the system of intimidation of the sovereign. He is assured and frightened, and he assures and frightens himself, and signs, like a future constitutional monarch, not knowing what it is—il regne, mais ne gouvernepas."