The ‘reform party’ was a coalition of different interests with a common objective. It was, in any event, not the mere handiwork of a reformist monarch. Although the traditional historiography inclined to personalize politics and ascribe much to the emperor himself, and although Alexander II (1855–81) acquired an official accolade as ‘Tsar-Liberator’, he was in fact highly conservative and a deeply ambivalent reformer. Far more important was the constellation of what W. Bruce Lincoln has called the ‘enlightened bureaucrats’, the gosudarstvenniki (state servitors) who identified more with the interests of the state than those of their own noble estate. Indispensable because of their superior education and practical experience, the enlightened bureaucrats (such as Nikolai Miliutin and Ia. S. Solovev) played a critical role in the reform process. Another influential party of reformers was to be found in the military; generals such as Mikhail Gorchakov concurred that ‘the first thing is to emancipate the serfs, because that is the evil which binds together all the things that are evil in Russia’. And some members of the imperial family (especially the tsar’s brother, Konstantin, and his aunt Grand Duchess Elena Pavlovna) were also instrumental in the reform process. Although the reformers encountered significant resistance (above all, from the nobility, certain segments of the bureaucratic élites, and the police), the catastrophe in the Crimea had made the argument for reform, including emancipation, irresistible.
The process of emancipation, however, was by no means unilinear: it was only gradually, through trial and error, that the regime finally formulated the specific terms of the Emancipation Statutes in 1861. In his first year, in fact, Alexander deliberately tried to discourage the wild expectations that traditionally accompanied each new accession to the throne and often ignited a wave of rumours and peasant disorders: he replaced reputed reformers (such as the Minister of Interior, D. G. Bibikov, and the Minister of State Domains, P. D Kiselev) with men known for their arch-conservative opinions.
By 1856, however, the defeat in the Crimea was not to be denied and neither could the exigency of fundamental reform. In a famous speech to the nobility of Moscow on 30 March 1856, Alexander ostensibly endeavoured to reassure the serf-owners, but ended his comments with a clear intimation of the imperative need for reform ‘from above’:
Rumours have spread among you of my intention to abolish serfdom. To refute any groundless gossip on so important a subject, I consider it necessary to inform you that I have no intention of doing so immediately. But, of course, you yourselves realize that the existing system of serf-owning cannot remain unchanged. It is better to begin abolishing serfdom from above than to wait for it to begin to abolish itself from below.
Although Alexander may have hoped that the nobility, mindful of its traditional ‘service ethos’ would take its own initiative, nothing of the sort transpired. As the Third Section (secret police) was well aware, ‘the majority of the nobility believe that our peasant is too uncultured to comprehend civil law; that, in a state of freedom, he would be more vicious than any wild beast; that disorders, plundering, and murder are almost inevitable’.
On 1 January 1857 Alexander resorted to the favourite device of his father: he appointed a secret commission with the charge of designing the reform of serfdom. The commission was, however, dominated by old-regime officials, most of whom were adamantly opposed to reform; moderates were a distinct minority. Over the next several months the commission slowly worked out an extremely conservative reform project whereby peasants were to compensate the squire for their homestead, to receive no arable land, and to obtain freedom, but only through an extremely protracted process. A vexed emperor, dismayed by the snail’s pace of work, castigated the commission for lethargy and procrastination: ‘I desire and demand that your commission produce a general conclusion as to how [emancipation] is to be undertaken, instead of burying it in the files under various pretexts’. Coming under the influence of Western advisers, who warned of the dire social consequences of a landless emancipation, Alexander reiterated that his ‘main anxiety is that the matter will begin of itself, from below’.
A major turning-point came on 20 November 1857, when the government issued a directive to the governor-general of Vilna that became the famous ‘Nazimov Rescript’. The directive (which shortly afterwards was also sent to all other governors) instructed the governor to organize provincial assemblies of the nobility to discuss the terms of emancipation most suitable for their own region. However, the rescript did not give the nobles carte blanche, but set the basic parameters of reform: the landlord was to retain the land and police powers, but some provision was also to be made for peasant land purchases and self-administration. The underlying strategy was to shift the reform process from the pettifogging bureaucracy to society and to propel reform forward by mobilizing the support of the nobility itself. The Minister of Interior made it perfectly clear that local officials were to engineer assent: ‘[The serf-owner] must be brought to his senses and persuaded that at this point there is no turning back, and that the nobility is obligated to execute the will of the Sovereign, who summons them to cooperate in the amelioration of peasant life’ (a euphemism for serfdom). Shortly afterwards, Alexander established the ‘Chief Committee on Peasant Affairs’ to oversee the reform process. At the same time, the government significantly relaxed censorship (the word glasnost′ for the first time, in fact, coming into vogue). A dramatic break with the reform politics of Nicholas I, this very publicity made reform appear all the more irrevocable and inevitable.
To the government’s dismay, however, virtually the entire nobility either opposed emancipation or demanded that its terms be cast to serve their own selfish interests. The Third Section reported that ‘most of the nobles are dissatisfied [with plans for emancipation]’, and explained that ‘all their grumbling derives from the fear that their income will diminish or even vanish altogether’. Resistance was especially strong in the blackearth areas, where land was valuable and nobles fiercely opposed any scheme for compulsory alienation of their property. In special cases (for example, where land was poor in quality) some nobles were more inclined to support emancipation, but only on condition that they be compensated for the person of the serf, not just the land itself.
Distressed by this response, persuaded of the perils of a landless emancipation (which threatened to create a ‘rural proletariat’), the emperor was persuaded to resume ‘emancipation from above’—by the state, with only nominal participation of the nobility. By December 1858 a liberal majority had come to prevail on the Main Committee. It shared a consensus on two critical points: the peasantry must become a free rural class (with the commune replacing the squires’ police powers), and must have the right to purchase an adequate land allotment. Although the government retained the fiction of noble participation (a special ‘editorial commission’ was to rework the recommendations of provincial noble assemblies), in fact the liberal majority now proceeded to design a reform that would deprive the nobility not only of their police powers but also of a substantial portion of their land.