The Union of Salvation

“Certain young men, having served their tsar and country on the field of battle, wanted to be a loyal brigade to their leader during peacetime as well. They pledged to one another, that through word and deed, they would aid their sovereign in all his initiatives for the good of the people. There were not many of them, but they were certain that their numbers would grow by the day…”

This is how one of the founder’s of the Union of Salvation, Sergei Trubetskoy, recalled that society’s goals. But less than ten years after the organization’s emergence, most of its members had been sent to penal servitude for attempting to overthrow the tsar in the “Decembrist revolt.” Two of them – Sergei Muraviev-Apostol and Pavel Pestel – fell victim to the gallows. How did it come to pass that wonderful, high-minded, noble young men, sincerely wishing to “aid their sovereign,” changed their views and in December 1825 chose a course of armed rebellion?

The young officers who founded the Union of Salvation in 1816 – the Muraviev brothers, Sergei Trubetskoy, and their friends – genuinely strove to help Russia. They saw two main cancers devouring the country: serfdom and autocracy. The prescription therefore was that the serfs be freed and a constitutional monarchy be established, if not a republic. But what was paradoxical was that the tsar – Alexander I – generally wanted the same thing and made little effort to hide his liberal views. The young officers, having survived war with Napoleon, could not but unite in peacetime around their sovereign and undertake to help him. They waited and hoped.

Since taking the throne in 1801, Alexander I had spoken of coming changes and inspired hope in many around him that these changes would come to pass. But, beyond a few minor reforms, nothing changed. The tsar demonstratively forbade the publication of announcements about the sale of serfs, hoping that his disapproval would impact public opinion. Then landowners were permitted to free serfs by mutual agreement; few benefited from this. Then serfdom was abolished, but only in the Baltic provinces. Apparently Russian serfs were less worthy of their freedom than Latvian or Estonian peasants.

The reformer Mikhail Speransky, who sought the introduction of a constitution and the liberation of the serfs, was promoted and brought into the Tsar’s inner circle, only to be unexpectedly sent into exile.

Then came 1812. After the surge in national spirit that Russia experienced during the Napoleonic invasion, it seemed that the serfs would be freed without delay. At least in the eyes of young officers, they had earned their freedom through the sacrifices they had made in fighting the invaders. And what happened? The royal manifesto marking the war’s end proclaimed only, “Our people will receive their reward from God.” On top of that, after the war, reforms continued in the Baltics. In the Kingdom of Poland – then part of the Russian empire – the Sejm (Parliament) was established. But Russia was unreformed.

When the young members of the Union of Salvation heard about the changes in Poland, they were deeply shaken. It seemed that the tsar had demonstrated disdain and contempt for Russia. One of the members of the Union, Ivan Yakushkin, suggested immediately killing the sovereign. He came up with a plan for a sort of duel with the tsar, with shots from two pistols – one to kill Alexander and one to kill himself. Yakushkin was talked out of his plan when it was understood that he was motivated more by an unhappy love affair than by a true desire for assassination. Nonetheless, this naïve scheme later cost the revolutionary many additional years in Siberia.

Why did Alexander so cruelly betray the hopes he himself had raised? He was afraid. He was afraid of an uproar among landowners, who did not want to give up their serfs. He was afraid that he would be killed, remembering well that both his father and his grandfather had been killed as the result of palace coups. At the very start of his rule, the tsar’s teacher, the Swiss Frédéric César LaHarpe, had advised him to rely on enlightened young officers. Alexander did not listen to this advice. “Nekem vzyat” Alexander said, explaining the slowdown in reforms – “There’s no one to take it on.” And that is how things looked to this melancholy ruler (who was also tormented by pangs of conscience over his involvement in the overthrow and murder of his father).

Steeped in his own suffering, Alexander did not notice the young heroes of 1812. With each passing year, the Tsar became more brooding and religious, increasingly fearful of conspirators, both real and imagined, and less and less concerned with reforms. Meanwhile, the young men who proclaimed the Union of Salvation on February 9, 1816 were impatient, ardent and zealous. Loyalty to the tsar turned to disgust and unrest. In 1818, they founded a new, more broadly-based association, calling it the Union of Prosperity. They chose the bee – a creature that gradually collects pollen to make its ambrosial honey – as their emblem.

But making honey takes time. All of the wonderful undertakings of the Union came up against the same brick wall. However many people were helped, however many peasants were bought out of servitude, however many hungry were fed, however many illiterates were taught to read, serfdom was not going away. The soldiers of the Semyonovsky Guards Regiment, in whom members of the Union had instilled the principles of respect and humane treatment, were driven to desperation and rebellion in a matter of months by a cruel martinet of a colonel. Apparently, the gradual reform within the Guards, achieved over years, could be destroyed in an instant.

Meanwhile, the rumblings of revolution were heard from abroad. In Spain, Colonel Riego, accompanied by just 45 soldiers, compelled the King to proclaim a constitution. What an inspiration! What a source of envy! Of course, no one foresaw that, in a few years, Riego would be executed and the revolution in Spain would be defeated. But for the Russian officers, dreams of impending freedom and a new life were hard to resist.

The former members of the Union of Salvation, who had been so eager to help the tsar, after just a few years were talking about him with hatred. It was not just Yakushkin who was planning to assassinate Alexander. New societies were emerging and there were preparations for an armed uprising.

And the hapless tsar, who had received denunciations of secret societies, did not dare arrest the conspirators. On top of his fears and the memories of his father’s murder, he was burdened by the awareness that he had not fulfilled his promises; he had not instituted the reforms that he too had wanted with all his heart.

So the young officers – delivering rousing speeches in the barracks of the Semyonovsky Regiment – and the tsar – leading them on with promises of freedom, only to abandon his intentions out of fear – did not understand one another. Who is to blame? Why did things turn out this way? How could the noble words of 1816 lead to the uprising of 1825? Unfortunately, it was a path found often in Russian history: one paved with good intentions, but soaked in blood.