A Herzen Reader

The Bell, No. 49, August 1, 1859. Semi-public banquets, organized by progressive forces (on the model of France in 1848) were organized in Russia only after the death of Nicho­las I. For instance, the Moscow intelligentsia gathered in November 1855, not long after Granovsky's passing, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Mikhail Shchepkin's acting debut; anything honoring Shchepkin acquired extra resonance in pre-emancipation Russia because he was born a serf. Organized by Sergey Aksakov and Sergey Solovyov, the 200 guests included professors, literary figures, enlightened merchants, and mem­bers of the Moscow administration. Konstantin Aksakov gave a toast to "public opinion" (obshchestvennoe mnenie), which brought a standing ovation, this being the first time that phrase was used in public, and alarmed the Third Department agent deputized to attend (Istoriia Moskvy, 3:769-70; Christoff, Nineteenth-Century Russian Slavophilism, 3:164). Hearing about such events at a distance, Herzen was unable to gauge their effect, and fully aware that any praise of the living could only harm them. Herzen focused below on the hypocrisy of a dinner whose main purpose was to pay homage to those in power.

Political Dinners in Moscow

[1859]

I

We Russians have always liked to dine and to dine well, but recently we have learned to dine politically, and, while formerly we gathered for fish soup with sturgeon, now we gather for dinner with a speech. Even that con­summate Nicholaevan Zakrevsky was given a dinner on April 24, 1859, with a speech by Kornilov; we cannot resist acquainting our readers with it.¹

Count Arseny Andreevich,

Not long ago we celebrated the tenth anniversary of the governing of Moscow by your highness, and the same feelings of love and devotion to you have brought us together now. However, all that was then joy­ful in our feelings is now clouded by the genuine sadness of farewell. A severe blow has been sent to you from on high. It is not the first in your arduous, brilliant life; you had already traveled a difficult path.

During 11 years of service under your thoughtful leadership, full of good-humored concern, we have grown used to seeing you always firm, always tireless, always indefatigable, strict toward yourself, and indulgent to others.

That is how you behaved during the calamitous year when cholera devastated Moscow. Quickly, with sensible measures, having asked God's help, you brought to an end the calamity and lent a compassion­ate hand to the orphans and families of the epidemic's victims.

Thus you behaved during the Crimean War, a terrible time for the Fatherland.² Vigilant under the weight of your responsibilities, you encouraged the inhabitants of Moscow and roused their patriotic feelings.

We have seen the same in you during joyous times in our beloved fatherland.

At this time of carrying out the magnanimous idea of our august Sovereign about the abolition of serf dependency³ you restrained the first premature impulses, allowed the general opinion to form and mature and in your comments on the work of the Moscow committee you exceeded the liberalism of many who saw in your actions back­ward, late, and old-fashioned ideas and convictions.

In private relations with us, you were not our chief, but our father. We boldly came to you with our joys and our sorrows. You refused no one advice, comfort, or help.

Everywhere and in everything you were always the model of lively, thoughtful, and prudent activity.

God grant that this courage and strength not fail you now when your peace of mind and your family have need of it.

And if the non-hypocritical love and devotion of your former subordinates can serve to comfort you, then, Count, we are all pres­ent, and our genuine tears tell you more eloquently than words how deeply we are feeling the misfortune that has struck you and every­one close to your tenderly affectionate heart.

May the one on high fortify you and heal your heart's wounds!

Gentlemen! To the health of our unforgettable and ever-dear Count Arseny Andreevich!

II

On May 10, there was a dinner for the Moscow head of government, Count Stroganov.⁴ It was supposed to serve as an expression of the pleasure felt by Moscow residents that Zakrevsky had finally been replaced.⁵ More than 400 people signed up for the dinner, even those who had given the dinner for Zakrevsky.

A quarter hour before the count's arrival a commandant arrived and asked in the count's name that there be no speeches.

Nevertheless, Voeykov⁶ spoke and Stroganov responded, and then the dinner came to an end. After dinner, Professor Solovyov⁷ caught up with Stroganov and said a few words to him. The remaining speeches were given after the departure of Stroganov. That's something new! [. . .]

Notes