A Herzen Reader

You recall the words of our sovereign emperor; I have deeply en­graved them in my memory and I will act in conformity with them. You know that the plans of the Editorial Commission have not yet been confirmed, and for that reason I cannot say anything that will be either reassuring or favorable to you, and I hope that you will refrain from anything that might excite major hopes or fears among the gentry. Although I myself am a wealthy landowner, I will not forget the inter­ests of landowners of modest means, and, recalling that peasants do not have their own representatives here, I will keep in mind their benefit, all the more since I am completely convinced that there will be no way of avoiding sacrifices on the part of the gentry. Gentlemen, ours is a private, family matter, and it should not go outside this room, because there is no need to disseminate information, and especially to write about it to those abroad. And now, gentlemen, I have another request. I have heard that many of you gather at Count Shuvalov's, where members of the nobility are preparing for elections, and for that reason I ask you to curtail your visits because people there might try to lobby you.

My door is always open to you and to everyone, but I request that you not visit me, in order not to give credence to rumors that I am under the influence of one or another of you. Thus, gentlemen, I advise you to get to work. Gentlemen, in this regard I can offer my experience; there is no significant government business that cannot be concluded in fourteen days.

The nonsensical words of this count-bureaucrat have almost reconciled us to him, as we have begun to pity this lanky, sickly figure, whose brain had gone soft from the lofty heights (and, to be sure, it was not so firm before this). He is subject only to medical judgment; the court of public opinion is for those who placed him not in a madhouse but in the house of liberation.

Take note that every phrase is a plus-minus—which equals zero.

What can it mean that Panin has nothing to say that is either reassuring or favorable? What would he call reassuring? To leave things as they were? The rights to seize a dwelling, to receive one's quitrent in bed, to require six days labor, to the birch rod, to extortion? Why is the emancipation of the serfs a private and family matter, why must it be muted? This is a matter for an assembly of the land, it is historical, all-Russian, and not a family matter for rich landowners who feel the pain of the poor ones. And bragging about his own fortune is very nice! Imagine a judge who would say to a petitioner: "Despite the fact that I am rich and you are poor, I will defend you." For such a coarse bit of nonsense the minister of justice (if it weren't Panin) ought to have—through Topilsky—reprimanded him.¹

The fear of The Bell is too flattering and we will stand on a chair and give him a kiss on the forehead for this. [. . .]

Note

Source: "Slovo grafa Viktora Panina k deputatam," Kolokol, l. 68-69, April 15, i860; i4:254-55, 547-48.

1. Mikhail I. Topilsky (1811-1873) was a department director in the Ministry of Justice prior to i862.

The Bell, Nos. 68-69, April 15, i860. The comparisons, parallels, puns, and the parodic use of elevated language are typical of Herzen. Several of this article's themes are devel­oped more fully in the introduction to the volume After Five Years.

Letters from Russia [i860]

"It is very, very sad! Shouldn't Russia tell Alexander Nikolaevich what Ta- tyana told Onegin: But happiness was so possible, so close!"

One of the many letters we have received during the past ten days ends with these poetic but endlessly melancholy lines.

The letters are remarkable in and of themselves: frightened and sur­prised people have found the need to announce their indignation, their cry of pain, after the unexpected resurrection of Nicholaevan times.

We will steadfastly get through this time of terrible ordeals, we will be­come kinder and will not lose faith in Russia's development just because a weak tsar, tripping over Panin, has fallen into the slush and mud of Lu- zhin's denunciations.¹ We are even sorrier that "after a five-year reign, which filled Roman hearts with hope, Caesar has changed for the worse!" This was said of Nero; we sincerely wish that these words of the Roman chronicler not be repeated by a future Karamzin.