We'll see!
Note
Source: "Lakei i nemtsy ne dopuskaiut," Kolokol, l. 9, February 15, 1858; 13:198-99, 541.
1. Herzen refers ironically to rulers of the tiny German principalities of Lippe, Valdek, Schwartzberg-Sundershausen, and Saksen-Meiningen.
♦ 16 ♦
The Bell, No. 12, April 1, 1858. Censorship drove Herzen abroad in 1847, and the rise and fall of restrictions on free speech and on freedom of the press in Russia were of enduring interest to him.
Censorship Is on the Rise [1858]
Instead of abolishing the censorship, the censorship has been doubled and made more complex.1 Formerly the censoring was done by censors, priests, and the secret police; now all departments will act as censors, and every ministry will appoint its own eunuch to the literary seraglio, this at a time when a relaxation of censorship was expected. Indeed, the new project was presented to the committee of ministers, but Panin and, after him, everyone except Grand Prince Konstantin Nikolaevich unanimously, and with noble indignation, rejected any change. In truth, we are beginning to think that all this is being done for the benefit of The Bell and The Polestar. To enforce silence after having permitted a small degree of conversation is difficult and awkward. Russian literature will move to London. Along with English freedom and our warm greeting, we are preparing the best paper and excellent ink.
Note
Source: "Tsenzura usilivaetsia," Kolokol, l. 12, April 1, 1858; 13:255, 551-52.
1. A decree was issued January 25, 1858, supplementing the existing censorship with officials from a number of ministries, including the imperial court, army, navy, interior, finance, justice, communications, and the general staff. This was in answer to the proposal presented to the ministers by Prince P. A. Vyazemsky nine days earlier recommending a new censorship statute, which was vigorously opposed by the ministers of justice, finance, and communications (V. N. Panin, P. F. Brok, and K. V. Chevkin).
^ 17 +
The Bell, No. 16, June 1, 1858. A continuation of the theme of the Russian government's attempt, with the help of its conservative allies, to silence Herzen's publications.
Logophobia [1858]
The other day the Kolnischer Zeitung announced a new ban on The Bell in Prussia. In Saxony all our periodicals are banned. In Naples the embassy secretary is frightening the booksellers; commercial travelers of the Third Department in the uniforms of adjutant generals, and councilors of state who imagine themselves privy councilors, are floating all around the corrupted parts of Europe, nosing about the shops, making discoveries and denunciations, using German ministers as police detectives and truffle spotters and German princelings as bulldogs in pursuit of The Polestar and The Bell. What is all this about? What is the source of this crude impatience? It would be a pity if it comes from the sovereign: it is so unworthy of him. It would be a pity if it comes from Gorchakov:1 they tell us that he is a well- intentioned person, and we were prepared to believe this!
Or are these the pranks of people in "supporting roles," volunteer zealots and Nicholaevan gendarmes who are left without anything to do?
Can it be that every power, even one that wishes to do good, is fated to have no other means of hearing the truth than when it is wrapped in completely servile phrases, and sweetened with vulgar flattery? The language of a free man grates upon ears grown soft with the rhetoric of Byzantine eunuchs in guards uniform, old stewards in the livery of their late master.2 [. . .]
Notes
Source: "Slovoboiazn'," Kolokol, l. 16, June 1, 1858; 13:281-82, 563.
Prince Alexander Mikhailovich Gorchakov (1798-1883) was appointed minister of foreign affairs in i856.
Herzen then quotes passages from "Lackeys and Germans Refuse Permission" about those who would prevent the sound of The Bell from reaching the Winter Palace.
^ 18 ♦
The Bell, No. i8, July i, i858. Herzen increasingly doubts the expediency of appealing to the authorities, although he still hopes that the tsar will reach out to the people. The image of the fairy-tale hero at the crossroads, faced with difficult choices with serious repercussions, will reappear in The Bell, most notably in one of the final issues (Doc. i00). Natan Eidelman saw in this article Herzen's disillusionment with the government's program in a "concentrated" form; he also analyzes it for the reuse of phrases and arguments from letters to or from the author, evidently a common practice of Her- zen in his journalism (Eidel'man, Svobodnoe slovo, 238). The Bell began to address a broader spectrum of readers than just the upper-class intelligentsia, who were the primary focus of early publications by the Free Russian Press. One of the final items in this issue was Herzen's announcement that the Holy Father had bowed to pressure from the Russian government and banned the sale of all Russian publications from London in his domain. Herzen was not surprised, since "inquisition is a papal activity," and he half expected to hear that anathema had been pronounced on The Bell and its pages consigned to the flames.
July 1, 1858 [1858]
A year ago the first issue of The Bell appeared. We stop for a moment and glance back at the path we have traveled. and feel sadness and heaviness in our hearts.
Meanwhile, in the course of this year one of our most ardent hopes has been realized; one of the greatest revolutions in Russia has begun, the one that we have predicted, craved, and called for since childhood—the liberation of the serfs has begun.
But we don't feel any better, and this year we almost took a step backward.
The reason is obvious, and we will state it directly and steadfastly: Alexander II has not justified the hopes that Russia had at his coronation. Last June he still stood, like the hero of our fairy tales, at the crossroads—whether he would turn to the right or to the left no one knew. It seemed that he would without fail follow the path of development, liberation, construction. taking one step, and then another—but suddenly he thought better of it and turned
From the left to the right.1
Maybe there is still time. but he is being hurried along by the palace coachmen, who are taking advantage of the fact that he does not know the road. And our Bell is ringing out to him that he has gone astray, ringing out Russia's distress and the danger that he faces.
But that is the problem—the powerful people of this world do not know how to either listen or remember. History lies before them, but it is not for them that it tells of the bitter experience of nations and of posterity's harsh judgment of tsars.
Not to make use of the remarkable position in which events in Europe and the previous reign left Alexander II is to such a degree absurd that it is difficult to find room in one's head for it.
Having the possibility of choosing one of two roles—Peter I or Pius IX— to choose Pius IX is the ultimate example of Christian meekness.
"But," they will tell us, "Peter I was a genius—geniuses aren't born every century, and not every tsar who wants to be Peter I can succeed." The thing is, to be Russia's Peter in our time one does not have to be a genius; it would be sufficient to love Russia, to respect and understand the human dignity in a Russian man, and to listen closely to his thoughts and his aspirations. A genius might do great harm, as Peter did; he would inject his own will instead of developing the new growth that has appeared, when one just has to avoid weeding it out, trampling it, or constraining it, removing any obstacles and allowing it to grow on its own. Peter I had to create and destroy—in one hand he had a spade, and in the other an axe. He made a clearing in the wilderness, and, of course, cut down the good along with the bad. But we have ceased to love terror, no matter what kind and for what purpose.