The Life and Death of the Mushroom Eater

This February, Russia marks the 170th anniversary of the tragic death of poet Alexander Sergeevich Griboyedov, who was savagely assassinated in February 1829 in Teheran. Griboyedov was a contemporary of Pushkin, with whom he had common first and patronymic names. Yet, unlike Pushkin, this Alexander Sergeevich wrote only one famous literary work - the comedy, The Woe of Wit. But what a work it was! Russian Life asked Semyon Ekshtut to explore the author’s life and work, to consider how Griboyedov’s promising career as a writer was repeatedly cut short by the demands of the state.

The life of Alexander Sergeevich Griboyedov, eminent poet, playwright and diplomat, is shrouded in mystery. To begin with, we still don’t know the exact date of his birth. According to official documents and the memoirs of others, he was born in Moscow on January 4, yet opinions differ as to the year, sometime between 1790 and 1795. (At present, a number of biographers are inclined to think that the former date is correct).

It has been speculated that Griboyedov’s mother, Nastasya Fyodorovna Griboyedova, gave birth to Alexander out of wedlock. Then, in an effort to provide her son with a legitimate father and avoid unwanted gossiping, she sought and found a husband with the same last name as she (thus pretending she took the name of her husband). While this is speculative reasoning, it is otherwise difficult to explain the marriage of Nastasya Fyodorovna, a well-known noblewoman who owned thousands of serfs, to a retired officer, Sergei Griboyedov, of  rather low military rank (major) who was notorious for his drinking bouts and a passion for card games. And whereas Nastasya’s nobility dated to 1503, the ancestors of Griboyedov’s father ascended to the rank of nobles only in the 18th century – shared birth names is all that seems to have brought them together.

The marriage did not last long. The couple quarreled and parted. Apparently, the strong-willed and authoritative Nastasya Fyodorovna didn’t want her husband to exert a negative influence over her son Alexander and daughter Maria.

Nastasya Fyodorovna spared no expense on the children’s education. They were taught by the best teachers and tutors and took music lessons from then famous composer John Field.

In 1803, Griboyedov joined the Pension of Nobles at Moscow University and soon distinguished himself in his studies.

“He became a student at the age of 13. He was already fluent in French, German, and English and was easily reading all Latin poets in the original. On top of that, he was extremely gifted in music and excelled at the piano. If he had devoted himself entirely to this art, he would, no doubt, have become a first-class pianist [later in life he composed two famous waltzes – Ed.]. However, in his fifteenth year, he had already developed a clear calling for poetry.”

– Griboyedov’s friend, Stepan Begichev in his

Notes on A.S. Griboyedov)

In 1808, Griboyedov graduated from the Linguistic Department of Moscow University with a Masters in Philology. This automatically entitled him to the 12th rank in the Table of Ranks (the lowest rank being 14). But Alexander Sergeevich was not in a rush to begin a career as a public servant. In 1809, along with the brothers Chaadayev, he began frequenting the lectures of Iogann Bulet, professor of Law and the Theory of Fine Arts. The following year, Griboyedov pursued a course of study in the Moral and Political Department of the Moscow University and prepared to defend his doctorate.

“I was ready to receive the title of doctor when I found out that the enemy invaded our fatherland ... Then I decided to quit my studies and enroll in military service.”

– Excerpt from Griboyedov’s note of resignation.)

In the War of 1812 against Napoleon, Griboyedov joined as a cornet  (the lowest military rank for an officer, but of Rank 12 on the Table of Ranks, corresponding to his civilian status) in a hussars regiment recruited by the wealthy nobleman Pyotr Saltykov. But Griboyedov did not join the fighting that year; he fell sick on September 8 and was sent to Vladimir for treatment. Only on July 21, 1813 was he assigned to work as a secretary for General Andrei Kologrivov – who was creating a cavalry reserve. Griboyedov retained his modest rank of cornet while many Russian officers of his age covered themselves with glory, earning many awards and promotions; some even became generals. But Alexander Sergeevich was discovering that his true calling was literature, not war.

“Poetry!!! I am passionately in love with her,” Griboyedov wrote at the time. And yet, he made his literary debut with prose. In 1814, the magazine Vestnik Evropy (European News) published Griboyedov’s Letter to the Publisher from the City of Brest-Litovsk (the article was dedicated to the cavalry reserves).

In the summer of 1815 Griboyedov took a break from his military service and went to St. Petersburg. Napoleon had been ousted from Russia long ago, and Griboyedov felt he had done his civic duty. He was determined to resign from the army and devote himself entirely to literature. During this period he wrote a number of plays, including A Young Couple, It’s All in the Family, or the Married Bride, Simulated Infidelity and Who’s Brother, Who’s Sister. All were either co-authorships or adaptations or translations of foreign writers’ works.

In St. Petersburg, Griboyedov frequented the famous literary salons and led a bohemian life, engaging in drinking bouts, meeting with actresses, and even partaking in duels. But he soon realized it was time to think about his career. The social status of a literary scholar in Russia at that time was extremely low and his authoritative mother kept reminding him of the need to think about his prestige.

“Born with ambitions matching his gifts, he has been for a long time caught up in the web of petty needs and lack of obscurity. His gifts as a statesman have been unrequited; his poetic talent unrecognized; even his cold and brilliant courage has been for some time under suspicion. Only a few friends knew what he was really worth...”

– Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin, on Griboyedov.

On June 11, 1817, Griboyedov took a job as clerk at the Collegium of Foreign Affairs. During these early years in St. Petersburg, he lived on Yekaterinsky canal, now named Griboyedov canal [In a tragic irony of history, Duma Deputy Galina Starovoytova was assassinated outside her home on Griboyedov canal; she, like the great writer, was fated to die a violent death – Ed.].

Griboyedov’s unperturbed stay in St. Petersburg was short-lived. He became involved in a rocky scandal known as the “duel of four,” which broke out in November 1817. The apple of discord was the famous ballerina Avdotya Istomina, whose favors were disputed by Count Alexander Zavadovsky and Officer of the Imperial Guard Vassily Sheremetev. The latter had a relationship with Istomina, and Zavadovsky was his rival. Gossips accused Griboyedov of having brought Istomina to Zavadovsky’s apartment after she had a quarrel with her lover Sheremetev.

The duel was to be double: after the Sheremetev and Zavadovsky exchanged shots, their seconds – Griboyedov and Alexander Yakubovich – were to settle accounts too. The story ended bloodily with Sheremetev’s death. Stepan Begichev recalled, “Griboyedov wrote to me in Moscow that he was very depressed, that he kept having visions of the dying Sheremetev and that staying in St. Petersburg became simply unbearable.” Yakubovich, for his part, was exiled to the Caucasus, because of the duel. He later was sentenced to death for his involvment with the Decembrist movement, but this sentence was later commuted to a twenty year labor camp sentence.

On March 12, 1818, Griboyedov was unexpectedly summoned to Count Karl Nesselrode, the head of Russia’s Foreign Ministry. He was offered a chance to leave St. Petersburg and take a post abroad as first secretary of a diplomatic mission. Griboyedov was to choose his destination himself, between Persia (Iran) and the United States of America. Griboyedov opted for Persia.

“Griboyedov’s life was darkened by a number of clouds, resulting from frenzied passions and strong circumstances. He felt the need to settle accounts once and for all with his youth and to make an abrupt U-turn in life. He parted with St. Petersburg and with his idle lack of focus, and left for Georgia, where he spent eight years in secluded, incessant studies. His return to Moscow in 1824 was a turning point in his destiny and marked the beginning of never-ending success. His handwritten comedy Woe from Wit has had an indescribable effect and all at once propelled him to the first rank of our poets.”

– Alexander Pushkin, Travel to Ezrum.

Griboyedov’s path to Persia was via Tiflis, Georgia (now Tbilisi). There, in the headquarters of 1812 War hero General Alexander Yermolov, Griboyedov received detailed instructions for his mission to Persia. It was also in Tiflis that Griboyedov held his postponed duel with Yakubovich. As a result, Griboyedov received a flesh wound on his left hand – a scar that would later help identify his body.

Later, Griboyedov and Yermolov became quite friendly, even addressing one another by their first names. Yermolov sought total subjugation of the Caucasian nations, telling the rebellious Chechens: “It’s either submissiveness or else face dreadful extermination!” Yermolov’s ruthlessness led Chechen women to scare their children by threatening the general’s name. “In fact your are an inveterate despot,” Griboyedov would tell the general. “First, try for yourself all the delights of power, and then blame me,” Yermolov answered.

Griboyedov’s lengthy stay in the Caucasus and Persia had a positive impact on his creativity. In 1820, he began writing his immortal play The Woes of Wit (Gore ot uma). After he wrote the first two acts of the comedy, Griboyedov decided to go to Moscow to refresh his impressions of Muscovite society (the play takes place in the capital). In March 1823, he  received a four-month leave and left for Moscow. Later, his vacation was considerably prolonged. In the summer of 1823 at the family estate of his friend Begichev, located in the village of Dmitrevskoye, near Tula, Griboyedov completed his play. But it would not take its final shape until the fall of 1824.

As Pushkin wrote, this comedy alone made Griboyedov a leading poet and playwright in the Russian pantheon. The play still has no equal among other works of Russian dramaturgy. Written according to the norms of classicism (which Griboyedov advocated, as a member of the Slavophilic, Shishkovite Colloquy), the play distinguishes itself with its superb poetry, enriched by the pure Russian which Griboyedov and other Shishkovites called for.

A number of quotes, if not entire passages, became word plays and idioms even during Griboyedov’s lifetime [many remain so – see Survival Russian Aug/Sep 1998]. The characters in the play were vivid castings of typical Russian gentry – they embodied all the dreams and tragedies of this conflicted class.

The main character of The Woes of Wit, Alexander Chatsky, suffers from tragically frustrated dreams of freedom and harmony, dreams that cannot withstand the mundane stupidity, stereotypes and prejudices of  Moscow society. The Laws of Life of this society are openly hostile to the witty, intelligent and open-minded Chatsky, who is believed to be patterned after Pyotr Chaadaev, the outstanding Russian thinker and writer. Yet some critics and biographers have concluded that Chatsky also embodied somewhat the traits of Griboyedov, whom another poet, the brave hussar and 1812 War hero Denis Davydov, called the “Monstrous Mind,” for his paradoxical and original thinking.

The play’s characters showcase all the negative traits of the epoch: servility, submissiveness, closed-mindedness and poor education. In Gogolian style, Griboyedov gave the characters what, in Russian literary tradition, are called “speaking family names.” For example, there is Molchalin (literally Mr. Silent) and Prince and Princess Tugoukhovskiye (literally Mr. and Mrs. Deaf). In the play, Chatsky’s critics hold his democratic views to be subversive, challenging the foundations of Russian society. Chatsky, for his part, said his antagonists “borrowed their arguments from outdated newspapers.”

As a result of the disputes, Chatsky’s critics form an anti-Chatsky plot and spread the rumor that he is insane, forcing him out of Moscow. Even Sofia, for whom Chatsky had tender feelings in his youth, betrays him. She prefers to tie the knot with the more reliable (though servile and submissive) Mr. Silent – hence Chatsky’s phrase, “Blessed are the Molchalins of this world.”

That the play hit the mark is witnessed by the fact that it was immediately regarded as subversive, undermining the political regime. But even critics had to admit to the author’s outstanding poetical talents.

Still, all the talent in the world could not get the play published or staged. Griboyedov spent a year in St. Petersburg, from the summer of 1824, trying to receive appropriate permissions, to no avail. In the meanwhile, his play was spread throughout Russia in hundreds of manuscript and handwritten copies. The full text was published only in 1862, one year after the abolition of serfdom in Russia.

In the spring of 1825, the future Decembrists made a number of handwritten copies of The Woes of Wit at Alexander Odoevsky’s apartment, in the presence of Griboyedov. But this was not Griboyedov’s only connection to the ill-fated Decembrist movement (See Russian Life, Dec. 1995). While in St. Petersburg, he had won the heart of the famous ballerina, Yekaterina Teleshova. He thus became a rival of St. Petersburg’s Governor-General, Count Mikhail Miloradovich, who, on December 14, 1825 was mortally wounded during the revolt of the Decembrists on Senate square.

However, despite his close ties with the Decembrists in St. Petersburg, Griboyedov never joined the Secret Society. In the Soviet era, a number of literary scholars incessantly sought to “integrate” Griboyedov into the Decembrists Society, flying in the face of historical fact. Today, scholars tend to agree that Griboyedov took “a parallel course,” advocating the abolition of serfdom and the elimination of state bureaucracy, views that are readily apparent in his comedy.

In fact, Griboyedov nurtured profound skepticism about the Decembrists’ prospects for reform. He was well aware of the abyss separating this group of highly-educated intellectuals and their noble theories from the huge mass of uneducated peasants. His experience in Persia and the Caucasus taught him well that the world was dominated by a crude despotism, while wit, intellect and justice held little relevance for the passive majority of the population.

When the December 14, 1825 rebellion broke out, Griboyedov was in the Caucasus. His name emerged early in the interrogations of those arrested, so Nicholas I also ordered Griboyedov’s arrest. Yet, thanks to a warning from General Yermolov, Griboyedov was able to destroy suspicious papers that might have been used against him by tsarist investigators. As a result, Griboyedov spent just four months in the guardhouse attached to the Russian Chief of Staff. He was then released for lack of direct evidence against him.

It also helped Griboyedov’s cause to have the personal intervention of General Ivan Paskevich, who was married to Griboyedov’s cousin. When Tsar Nicholas I was still just a Grand Prince, he served in the army under Paskevich and was therefore very attached to the general, calling him “father-commander” until his death. Thus, when Griboyedov was released, he was awarded a promotion to the rank of Court Councilor (Rank 6 on the Table of Ranks, corresponding to the military rank of lieutenant-colonel) and given an advance of his annual salary – 250 gold rubles, plus a return trip to the Caucasus, on whose borders a war with Persia had broken out.

By this time, General Yermolov had fallen into disfavor with Nicholas I, because of early losses in the war with Persia and because Yermolov was suspected of having ties with Decembrists. Paskevich, Yermolov’s replacement, did not know the region as well as Yermolov, and did not enjoy as much respect in military circles, but the tsar wanted a man he could fully trust in the Caucasus. Paradoxically (and much to Yermolov’s chagrin), Paskevich proved an extremely successful military general, because he knew how to surround himself with talented people – many exiled Decembrists or people close to Decembrists were instrumental in his military victories. On the diplomatic front, Paskevich enjoyed superb support from his relative Griboyedov, who reportedly edited Paskevich’s poorly written diplomatic correspondence with the tsar and the Russian Foreign Ministry.

But then Griboyedov had ambitions of his own and savvily used Paskevich’s virtually unlimited power in the Caucasus to his own betterment. While this poet- turned-diplomat’s official function was to supervise foreign relations with Turkey and Persia, his range of duties was in fact much wider. Paskevich carefully heeded Griboyedov’s opinions and, when Russia defeated Persia in 1828, the playwright was given the task of authoring the Turkmanchay Peace Treaty. The treaty was extremely advantageous to Russia, bringing new territories and a huge tribute – 10 kururs (each worth 2 million silver rubles or 7.2 million paper rubles).

On March 14, 1828, Griboyedov arrived in triumph in St. Petersburg, where he was greeted by 201 cannon salvoes. The tsar awarded his diplomat the prestigious St. Anna Award of the 2nd Rank, decorated with diamonds. Griboyedov was also given the prestigious rank of State Councilor (Statsky sovetnik – Rank 5 on the Table of Ranks) and a hefty bonus of 4,000 gold rubles [The gold ruble was Russia’s hard currency at the time. The bonus was therefore worth 250,000 paper rubles. – Ed.], which he gave to his mother, Nastasya Fyodorovna, so that she could keep her creditors at bay.

In his remarkable fictional biography, The Death of Veezeer-Mukhtar (1929), [Veezeer-Mukhtar means Ambassador in Farsi], the writer Yuri Tynyanov described the last period of Griboyedov’s life, from his arrival in St. Petersburg with the Turkmanchay Treaty to his assassination in Teheran in 1829. From Tynyanov, we learn that, during his three-month stay in Russia’s capital, Griboyedov was the talk of the town. Statesman, scholars and mistresses all sought him out. Even poets like Alexander Pushkin admired – if not envied – Griboyedov’s newly increased role in Russian politics and history. Griboyedov, in turn, envied Pushkin despite his humble rank in the state hierarchy. Pushkin, after all, had more freedom to write. On May 16, 1828, Griboyedov attended Pushkin’s reading of his famous poem, Boris Godunov. He came away dreaming of embracing his literary career. “My head is full of plans,” he wrote to his friend Begichev. “I feel an inner imperative to write.”

Yet, his destiny took a different turn: Russia went to war with Turkey.

A defeated Persia waited in the wings, watching for any Russian losses in its Turkish campaign, hoping to turn any weakness to its advantage. The tsar therefore badly needed Griboyedov’s diplomatic expertise and knowledge of oriental culture in Persia, to make sure the latter paid its tribute in full. As General Nikolai Muraviev-Karsky wrote, “Griboyedov belonged in Persia ... down there he could, by himself, replace a 20,000 soldier army ... It would be hard to find – probably in all Russia – a man who would fit the job better.”

Of course, the tsar and Foreign Minister Nesselrode also may have had another reason for sending Griboyedov to Persia – it evacuated from the capital an ambitious (and popular) young statesman with an independent, if not rebellious, mind. Thus, the tsar acceded to Griboyedov’s demand to promote him to the rank of Plenipotentiary Minister-Ambassador with an annual salary of 7,000 gold rubles. Certainly, Griboyedov was also urged on by his mother, ever in need of financial assistance and who nurtured endless  ambitions for her son. Still, for all this, Griboyedov accepted the nomination only halfheartedly.

In August 1828, during his stay in Tiflis and en route to Persia, Griboyedov married the young Georgian Princess Nina Chavchavadze, daughter of the famous Georgian poet, Prince Alexander Chavchavadze. In some respects, his marriage was an attempt to start his private life with a clean slate, after a several years of “wild living,” in a style almost expected of poets of the era.

“Nina was educated, with extremely good manners. She was very good-looking, joyful, humble and obedient ... and she also knew how to behave in society,” Griboyedov used to say. “You will come to love my Ninochka, do you know who she is? ... Remember in the Hermitage, right at the entrance, on the right-hand side, there is the portrait of the Virgin by Murillo as a young shepherd …   That’s her.”

Unfortunately, their marital happiness was short-lived. Griboyedov arrived in Teheran in early 1829. His young wife stayed in Tabriz. On January 30 (old style) a crowd of thousands, at the instigation of religious fanatics stormed the Russian embassy.

The source of the riot was Griboyedov’s insistence that Persia abide by the terms of the Turkmanchay Treaty. Specifically, in addition to paying its tribute in full, Persia had to allow all resident subjects of the Russian Empire (in fact, mostly Armenians) to return to their homeland. A eunuch in the Shah’s harem and two young girls from his son-in-law’s harem decided to accept the offer and sought sanctuary in the Russian embassy. The Shah learned of the “defections” and asked Griboyedov to return the Armenians. Griboyedov refused, saying that only Foreign Minister Nesselrode had a right to override terms of the treaty.

Griboyedov surely knew that returning the Armenians meant their certain death. So his was a very daring move. But the complicating factor was that this all took place during the holy month of Muharram, when religious passions were already running high. Now here was this “Russian infidel” refusing the Shah’s requests. Mullahs incited those in the mosques to march on the Russian embassy.

Some historians have speculated that, when the embassy was surrounded by screaming Persians, Griboyedov (who had only a small, Cossack guard) “reluctantly decided” to hand over the Armenians. Tynyanov’s account, admittedly fiction, tells of no such offer. In any event, it was too late for negotiation. The mob stormed the embassy and a pitched battle ensued for about an hour, in which all but one person in the Russian embassy was killed. Griboyedov perished in the fight and his mutilated body could only be identified (five months after the massacre) by the scar he received on his hand in the previously mentioned duel.

Tynyanov offered, in his previously mentioned book, a poignant account of Griboyedov’s death, burial and Pushkin’s meeting with Griboyedov’s coffin on the former’s way to Erzrum (see box, below).

Griboyedov was buried, according to his wishes, in St. David’s Monastery in Tiflis. Soon thereafter, Nina Griboyedova’s child was stillborn. Nina mourned her husband all her life and never remarried. She had engraved on Alexander Sergeevich’s gravestone the epitaph, “Your mind and your deeds are immortal in Russian memory, but why did my love survive you?”

Meanwhile, Persia’s rulers were scared by the blood spilled at the embassy and feared Russian military retaliation. But the Russian tsar was also scared. He needed quiet on the Persian front in order to succeed in his war against the Turks. Finally, the Persians sent a conciliatory mission from Teheran to Russia, headed by the high-ranking Khozrev-Mirza.

Previously, explaining the need to settle matters amicably with the Persians, Tsar Nicholas wrote General Paskevich a letter. In it, among other things, he cited “the impetuosity of the overzealous, late Griboyedov,” hinting that the latter should not have ruffled the feathers of the local population.

So it was that Khozrev-Mirza was greeted in St. Petersburg with military gun salutes and the Persian flag flew on the banks of the Neva. The mission brought precious gifts to the Russian court, including the now-famous Shah Diamond, which is today part of the Kremlin’s Diamond Fund. Legend has it that the tsar refused Khozrev-Mirza’s offer of his own life for those massacred in Teheran. Whatever the truth, Tsar Nicholas turned a blind eye to the massacre, forgiving the Persians.

For their part, Russian publishers turned a blind eye on Griboyedov’s immortal comedy. The author never saw his creation on stage or in print during his lifetime. The Woes of Wit was first staged in a Russian theater a few years after his death. Today, 170 years later, Griboyedov’s singular masterpiece remains one of the most popular plays in the Russian repertoire.* Almost every famous Russian actor in the past century has acted one of the play’s major roles. In late 1998, Oleg Menshikov, star of the Oscar-winning film, Burnt by the Sun, directed a new adaptation of the play and also starred as Chatsky.

Partly thanks to the appeasement in Russian-Persian relations following Griboyedov’s tragic death, Russia won the war of 1828-1829 against Turkey, securing the Eastern coast of the Black Sea (a region which today includes the famous resort town of Sochi). For his part, Griboyedov’s relative General Paskevich was promoted to the rank of Field Marshal.

Ironically, in helping seal positive, long-term relations between Russia and Persia, Griboyedov’s blood may have helped avert bloodshed 100 years after his death. Throughout the 19th century, Russia maintained significant influence in Persia. In 1907, as “The Great Game,” between Russia and Britain came to a close, the two countries divided Persia into two spheres of influence. But, by the late 1930s, Germany began to infiltrate and influence Persia (the country’s name changed to Iran in 1935). Then, in August 1941, Soviet Russia and Britain introduced troops into Iran in order to neutralize Nazi influence (troops were removed in 1946). Not only did this protect Russia’s southern flank during the war, but the land bridge through Iran served as the second largest pipeline for Allied aid to Russia during the war.

Today, Iran remains an important international partner for Russia and Russian-Iranian relations are not so closely watched by the British as they are by that other English-speaking country where Griboyedov might instead have been posted, the United States. For their part, Russian rulers today still have problems cherishing talented citizens or, for that matter, protecting their representatives stationed abroad, or even in the Caucasus. And, if recent history is any guide, Iran has not improved its ability to protect foreign diplomatic missions. But that is a different story altogether ...

Dr. Semyon Ekshtut specializes in 19th and early 20th century Russian history. His article on Bolshevik leaders’ caricatures appeared in our November 1997 issue.