The Aspirations of Youth
March 1818: Alexander’s speech to the Polish Sejm
In the 18th century, the great powers of Europe – Russia, Austria, and Prussia – waged war three times against the weakening Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. As a result of the first two campaigns, Poland's victorious neighbors took great swaths of land. Finally, in 1795, the Third Partition devoured what was left, putting an end to Poland as a state.
Catherine II, who wanted to increase the Polish nobility’s dependency on Russia, suggested that some aristocratic families send their sons to St. Petersburg. Honoring the sons of Poland with the opportunity to make a career in the capital of the empire had a sinister resemblance to the ancient Asian practice of holding prominent members of conquered peoples hostage at the court of the conqueror – but nobody dared object.
Such were the circumstances that brought Adam Czartoryski to St. Petersburg. Much later, when he was already old and gray and living in emigration in France, he recalled how isolated he had felt in the foreign city, where all the courtiers demonstratively snubbed him. One of the few people who was friendly toward the young Pole was the Grand Duke Alexander – the future Emperor Alexander I (1801-1825). The tsarevich confided in Czartoryski his strong, negative feelings – and those of his young wife – about the partition of Poland, and informed Czartoryski that, when he ascended to the throne, he planned to restore independence to the dismembered country. This amazing piece of history is testimony not only to the nature of the friendship that was born between the future Russian emperor and the Polish aristocrat, but also to the plans being nurtured by the young Grand Duke.
These plans were truly grandiose. Poland was not to be the only object of his benevolence. Alexander was planning to give Russia a constitution and to liberate the serfs. Alas, life, as we know, was not kind to the rosy dreams of the Grand Duke. To achieve power, he was forced to give his ascent to a plot against his own father – something that roiled his conscience for the remainder of his life. The only way to justify this patricide would have been to bring his lofty plans to fruition. But here, too, things did not work out very well. There was much talk of reform, but it led to just a few minor changes, and the hopes that had been raised in society were dashed, leading to a strong sense of disappointment in the young tsar, who at first had appeared to be an angel in human form.
Alexander, however, did not give up. Torn between his own dreams, his tormented conscience, and fear that the nobility might be plotting against him, he nevertheless continued to stubbornly return to the idea of a constitution. But over and over he lost his nerve and stopped short of taking the decisive step. Countless committees were formed to develop the reforms – some met under a shroud of secrecy, while others were fairly public – but every time they terminated their work without achieving anything.
Throughout this vacillation, Alexander did not forget the promise he had given his Polish friend. Almost two decades had passed since the two young men had first discussed the matter, and during that time Europe had been ravaged by the Napoleonic wars. Poland had been resurrected under the authority of the French emperor, who had formed the Duchy of Warsaw, but, with the defeat of Napoleon, the fate of the beleaguered Polish state was again in question. At the Congress of Vienna, where the future of post-Napoleonic Europe was being decided by its monarchs, Alexander tried to have all Polish lands placed under Russian authority, but of course neither Austria nor Prussia were willing to part with their shares.
However, Russian Poland – those lands that had gone to Russia in the 18th century – was now made into the Kingdom of Poland, ruled by Emperor Alexander. The Poles rejoiced to learn that Alexander would restore their red and white flag, permit them to form their own army, and even give them a constitution.
If Czartoryski harbored dreams that his longtime friendship with the tsar meant that he would now be entrusted with a role in ruling Poland, he was sorely mistaken. The tsar instead appointed General Zajaczek to be his Governor General – a man who was in poor health and had not been particularly involved in politics. This strange treatment of a friend was actually quite typical of the weak-willed and hypocritical emperor. In addition to Zajaczek, two Russians played a huge role in the governing of Poland: the emperor's representative to the Council of State, Nicholas Novosiltsev, and Alexander's brother, Grand Duke Constantine, who commanded the army.
None of this, however, weakened the impression left by reforms in Poland. Actually, this was not the first time Alexander had helped put a European country under constitutional rule. This autocratic monarch – who dared not allow a constitution in his own country – had forced Louis XVIII to grant a constitution in France. While the charter was rather limited, it was nonetheless a slap in the face of the French king, who had dreamed of ruling as his forefathers had before the 1789 revolution. The Russian emperor, however, had his way.
So now a rather absurd situation was taking shape. In one part of the Russian Empire, the emperor's authority was limited and representatives were being elected to a parliament, the Sejm. What were the educated minds of St. Petersburg and Moscow to make of this? One would think that opponents of constitutional government should have been outraged, while liberals should have been jubilant. Far from it!
In fact, nearly everyone was outraged. The "excessive" freedoms being granted to Poland – an erstwhile enemy – appeared a danger to the interests of Russia. Passions became particularly heated in March of 1818, when Alexander came to Warsaw to preside over the inauguration of the Sejm. In a speech to the Polish lawmakers, Alexander proclaimed, "You have given me the opportunity to show my country what I have long been preparing for it, when all the elements of such an important undertaking shall reach their necessary development."
It is well known that the news of the Polish constitution outraged members of the Union of Prosperity, a secret society consisting largely of those who would later perpetrate the Decembrist revolt. Up to that point, the conspirators had remained committed to helping the authorities introduce peaceful change. Their symbol, the honeybee, represented the cumulative effect of incremental efforts – many drops of nectar eventually coming together in the form of a sweet reward of honey (or freedom).
After hearing about the tsar's speech in Warsaw, the future Decembrists were horrified. How could the tsar assert that in Russia the elements of "so important an undertaking" as a constitution had not yet reached their "necessary development"? Alexander quickly fell from favor and the young nobles even contemplated plans for his assassination. The kind-hearted Ivan Yakushkin suggested waiting until the tsar came to Moscow to pray in the Kremlin cathedrals so that he could challenge him to a sort of duel. Of course, Alexander could not be challenged to an ordinary duel, so things had to be arranged somewhat differently. Yakushkin's plan was to shoot the tsar. Yet to prevent the killing from appearing to be a dastardly murder, he would then shoot himself and consider it a duel in which both parties died. Yakushkin's friends talked him out of this plan, suspecting (probably rightly) that his scheme was a response not only to the Polish Sejm, but to a broken heart.
Several years passed, and revolutions in Europe forced the Russian tsar to take fright at his own ideas and once again halt reforms. The former members of the Union of Prosperity meanwhile hatched plans to take power through a military revolt. The Kingdom of Poland still had its Sejm, but suffered under the harsh policies of Novosiltsev. In just a few years, Alexander I, oppressed by melancholy and a guilty conscience, would die under obscure circumstances in Taganrog (rumors that he actually fled Russia still have not been definitively refuted).
The 1825 Decembrist Revolt that followed Alexander's death was crushed. Yakushkin's long-forgotten idea of challenging Alexander to a duel cost him many extra years of hard labor.
The Kingdom of Poland chafed under the iron rule of the new emperor, Nicholas I (Alexander’s younger brother), and in 1830 the occupied country rebelled. Among those who took part in the revolt was 60-year-old Adam Czartoryski. After the rebellion was suppressed, Czartoryski left for Paris, where during the last 30 years of his life he was known in the émigré community as "the uncrowned king of Poland."
So it was that the speech Alexander I made before the Polish parliament on March 1, 1818, remained just that – a speech. But anyone who had listened in on two young men furtively discussing the fate of Poland and Russia in the palace gardens in St. Petersburg many years earlier would certainly have expected things to turn out differently.
Russian Life is a publication of a 30-year-young, award-winning publishing house that creates a bimonthly magazine, books, maps, and other products for Russophiles the world over.
Russian Life 73 Main Street, Suite 402 Montpelier VT 05602
802-223-4955
[email protected]