It is possible at one and the same time to be a loving mother and an evil stepmother, but then you cannot complain that in the eyes of any honest person your unjust love calls forth if not hatred, then revulsion.
For that reason we present the following two extracts from Moscow. Speaking of a spiritual-revolutionary demonstration (with which we fully sympathize) that took place in a Greek monastery in Moscow, the editor observes:
But this very requiem involuntarily summons us to melancholy reflection. We have heard that the fulfillment of such a simple and natural desire, like the desire to collectively remember in church martyrs who loved their fellow man and loved Christ, involved unanticipated difficulties, and it was necessary to get permission in Petersburg. How can that be! Even in order to gather together in an Orthodox church and pray for Orthodox believers, who have died for the sake of their faith, society must request permission from the authorities? In order to perform such a religious ritual, will the local spiritual authorities have to take into account diplomatic considerations and find out whether such an action is in agreement with the political views of the ministry, and the reaction in Petersburg? One cannot fail to regret the dependent state of the clergy and the strange confusion of rights and responsibilities by society and the government!
What is the result of such confusion? Society, adopting for itself the government's point of view, quite often takes upon itself the responsibilities of the Third Department and by this narrows its circle of activities and deviates from its calling. The government "reforms the function" of society, exceeding the limits where it, the government, is called upon to act and where it can be powerful, and extends itself to such areas of life where the external tools of state power cannot reach, and where the government, against its will, must seem ineffective. It weakens society, keeping it forever in swaddling clothes and on a leash.2
Alongside this sensible, intelligent speech of a mother, wouldn't it be a good idea to hear the endearments of a stepmother, wouldn't it be good to look at her nasty spite, which intoxicates a mind that nothing can satisfy— not the fact that she beat her stepchildren within an inch of their lives, not the fact that while covered with blood and bruises "they are still breathing and dare to speak their own language." Here it is!
A permanent resident of Kiev can't help noticing—says a Moscow correspondent—that recently Polish speech has begun to resound more boldly in Kiev: it is heard on the street, in restaurants, and in all public places, and that's not all—this Polish speech is accompanied— in relation to Russians—by that brazen, provocative glance which the high-born Pole is so good at. It is obvious that our Poles have raised their heads: the Goluchowski phenomenon and all sorts of chimeras have turned their heads. They say that in districts of Volynia that border Galicia, noble Polish landowners have recently begun to speak provocatively—in relation to Russian matters—with a very Polish
naivete: "Just wait," they threaten local authorities, "come spring and Goluchowski will arrive with Napoleon, and they will chase you right out of here."3
Gentlemen of the police, assert your rights.
What terrible and lasting depravity has come from three years of government-sponsored patriotism. People with no connection either to the police or The Moscow Gazette so easily make or spread denunciations, like Katkov, resting on his sky-blue laurels.4
Why should Poles have to whisper in Polish? Why should they look lovingly at the Russians? Only our grandfathers and forefathers kissed the hand that beat them on the mouth and flogged them on the back.
The lethargic state which the editor of The Day has been enjoying has restored his strength although it has not sobered him,5 but at one time— along with the sacred objects in the Faceted Palace and the Kremlin—didn't he hold dear the rights of man and not the hateful hand of the government, which was invading the last strongholds of the individual, shaming it with violence, shaving the beard of the gray-haired Khomyakov, knocking the ancient cap off his head, and forbidding, as indecency, our native peasant coat?.. 6
It is fortunate that, except for the Russian consul, nobody knows or reads Moscow in Turkey, because if Sadyk Pasha showed his pious sultan the newspaper, and the latter began, for the love of Turkey and Mohammed, to exterminate not only people, but also the Greek language and dress,7 and began to persecute points of view and punish clothing.
[. . .] Before you liberate others, begin with yourself, take a good steaming in the bathhouse, use a couple of birch twigs: you have too much from the Petrine and Arakcheev eras stuck on you. [. . .]
What can be said about the government when society, when free public opinion denounces Poles for speaking Polish and not casting loving glances at Russian officials?
This is the brake that is holding Russia back and keeping it from racing toward the great future that is being thrust upon it, preventing it from atoning for old sins and pushing fresh crimes into the background. No, it is not for you to hoist the banner of liberation: your love is filled with hatred!
Notes
Source: "Moskva—mat' i machekha," Kolokol, l. 235-36, March i, Й67; ^224-26, 445-46.
i. Once again paraphrasing Psalm ii3/ii5, Herzen criticizes the newspaper Moscow for the campaign—by Ivan Aksakov, Metropolitan Filaret, and others—in support of
uprisings by Orthodox Christians against the Turks on Crete, and in Serbian and Bulgarian territories. He was also irritated by Aksakov's anti-Polish polemic in The Day.
This citation is from an editorial by Aksakov in the January 11, 1867, issue of Moscow, which was devoted to the January 8, 1867, service in memory of those killed on Crete. This editorial led to a government warning to Moscow for its sharp views on the relations between church and state. Aksakov answered the warning in the January 22 edition, and Herzen reprinted this answer in the March 15 issue (no. 237) of The Bell.
Herzen quotes from a letter from Kiev published in Moscow on January 13, 1867. Count Agenor Goluchowski was appointed governor-general in Galicia in 1866 by Austria. He sought to increase Polish influence in the region and decrease that of Russia.
Katkov was of course known for his denunciations in print. The gendarme uniform was sky-blue.
Aksakov was forced to suspend publication of The Day from mid-December 1865 until the beginning of January 1867.
In 1849 Yuri Samarin and Ivan Aksakov were briefly held under arrest. In April 1849, the minister of the interior, on the tsar's authority, ordered the gentry to refrain from having beards, since it could interfere with wearing uniforms. The Slavophiles saw this as a general prohibition on traditional Russian dress, which was worn as a sign of support for Russian principles. The police were vigilant in making sure that the Aksakov brothers observed the ban on beards. The garments Herzen refers to are, respectively, the murmolka and poddevka.