No one can deny that the Napoleonic Wars represented a turning point for the Russian Empire. Not only did the so-called Great Patriotic War breathe life into a national consciousness, but Russia’s hard-won victory and subsequent liberation of Europe gave rise to calls for social change, culminating in the revolutionary action of the Decembrist movement. There is a danger, however, of perpetuating the popular mythology that enshrouds the traditional patriotic narrative and thereby over-simplifying the effects of the war on the cultural and intellectual currents within Russian society.[1] A major historiographical trope is the notion that a new national identity was formed on the back of a combined sense of patriotism and xenophobia that sprang from Russia’s experience of 1812, causing the urban elite to reject Gallicisms and simultaneously embrace their native language, customs, and culture.[2] In reality, this manifestation of national consciousness was far from universal. Inspired by Alexander Martin’s analysis of the split between conservative and liberal interpretations of Russian nationhood, this essay seeks to present a more nuanced picture of the Russian Empire after 1812, making the case that the Napoleonic Wars elicited a struggle between new waves of liberal and conservative thought, which had a far-reaching impact on the direction of Russian society in the remainder of the nineteenth century. I start by briefly contextualising this societal rift and the role that the wars played in its genesis. I then argue that the liberal interpretation of 1812 fueled the growth of a reformist mindset among young officers, opening up a significant generational gap in elite society. Lastly, I investigate the ramifications of the conservative interpretation, positing that it brought about a long-lasting period of reaction which, in turn, stoked the consequential Decembrist rising of 1825. Following its monumental victory against France, Imperial Russia was launched into the very heart of European affairs, and its image as a ‘despised collection of barbarians teeming behind a Chinese wall’ gave way to a new reputation as an important military power, whose superior strength could no longer be questioned.[3] There is no doubt that, at the national level, this new perception was internalised by the Russian people, who began to take great pride in their country and its historical achievements. In the elite sphere, however, the narrative is more complex. In the wake of Napoleon’s defeat, two divergent interpretations arose as to what it meant to be Russian. The terminology used to describe this split varies from historian to historian: while Orlando Figes writes of a struggle between theories of national liberation and imperial salvation, Alexander Martin uses the more straight-forward terms ‘liberal’ and ‘conservative’, which are used in this essay for the sake of concision.[4] The essence of the conservative interpretation was that the Napoleonic Wars had not only vindicated the traditional conception of the tsar as the main driving force in Russian history, but they had shown that there was no need for political change: victory was taken as evidence that Russia’s existing institutions stood on firm ground, while the defiant patriotism of the masses proved that they could always be counted on to rally behind the tsar in times of national emergency.[5] For conservatives like Karamzin, whose influential book History of the Russian State glorified the historical role of the autocracy and advocated for the restoration of patriarchal Russia at the expense of constitutional reform, strength lay in the status quo.[6] By contrast, the liberal reading of the wars was all about looking forward. According to more liberal-minded members of the Russian elite, the defence of 1812 had demonstrated their country’s readiness for transition into the family of European states and ought to be followed by the dismantling of its repressive, antiquated institutions in favour of enlightened, European ones.[7] Furthermore, in place of the conservative conception of the tsar as the pillar of the nation, liberals began to frame the peasantry as the hidden motor in Russian history, asserting that victory had been achieved not through the efforts of the state, but by virtue of the Russian people, spurred by an attachment to their soil.[8] Marc Raeff put it well when he argued that a ‘double bond of solidarity’ formed during 1812 and the European campaign that followed. Firstly, a bond between young, educated army officers, who found that they were not alone in their ambitions to reform Russia; and secondly, a bond between these officers and the common soldiers whom they led into battle.[9] The latter can only be explained in terms of a revolution in the minds of young noblemen: whereas, prior to 1812, they had seen serfs as little more than ‘human beasts’, over the course of the war, they discovered that their social inferiors were just as capable of displaying such virtues as courage and loyalty, and therefore deserved to be treated with equal dignity.[10] Therefore, the liberal understanding of national identity can be said to have transcended social class, being built not around love for the tsar so much as a sense of solidarity among the Russian people. This new way of thinking was in no small part responsible for the democratic, reformist mindset that developed among young officers in the post-war period. When Hugh Seton-Watson remarked that ‘Sustained patriotic effort tends to create a demand for a “New Deal”’, he identified a historical pattern to which Russia’s national defence in 1812 was no exception.[11] The new sense of collective identity as it took root among the officer class produced a strong desire for social change as well as a sense of care and responsibility for the peasant masses.[12] An early manifestation of this sentiment can be observed in the Semenovsky Guard Mutiny of 1820, when the men of that regiment, on the initiative of its former commander, Yakov Potyomkin, protested against the heavy-handed punishments of Schwartz, Potyomkin’sreplacement. S.M. Volkonsky, a Guards officer who later joined the Decembrists, pointed to the democratic, anti-disciplinarian reasoning for the mutiny when he stated, ‘We rejected the harsh discipline of the old system, and tried through friendship with our men to win their love and trust.’[13] Not only did liberal-minded officers begin to sympathise with their soldiers, they took the view that, given it was the peasantry that had carried Russia to victory, it was only fair that their lives should be improved.[14] Many, including the Decembrists Mikhail Orlov and Vladimir Raevsky, began to engage in philanthropic activities, such as setting up schools in rural areas and educating the children of peasant war heroes.[15]
Nationalism of the liberal variety did not evolve in Russia alone. If 1812 yielded a feeling of national solidarity accompanied by greater concern for the peasantry, it was the experiences of young officers in Europe that came after that really hammered home the need for social change. It was while in pursuit of Napoleon’s retreating army in Germany and France that they came into contact with western ideas and institutions and the principle of individual freedom that underpinned them, which revealed how backwards and benighted Russia was by comparison. The experience prompted discussions that focused on the contrasts between Western Europe, with its civil liberties and rule of law, and what Vissarion Belinsky called the ‘cursed Russian reality’, characterised by its total lack of basic rights.[16] This trend was only reinforced when, upon their return, they found that nothing had changed. Consequently, a coterie of young, educated members of the gentry became even more convinced that the peasantry — and, indeed, Russia as a whole — needed a better deal.[17] The main impact of this reformist mindset on Russian society came in the form of a generational gap. Where their parents’ generation was characterised by dutiful obedience to the state and a predilection for order and conformity, the so-called generation of 1812, brimming with energy and ambition and filled with ideas of liberal reform, had trouble fitting back into elite society.[18] Ivan Iakushkin’s memoirs epitomise this discord: ‘Now [i.e. after 1812] it was unbearable to look at the empty life in Petersburg and listen to the babbling of the old men who praised the past and reproached every progressive move.’[19] Insofar as the conservative brand of Russian nationhood they gave birth to reinforced Alexander I’s dismissal of liberal reform and concomitant entrenchment of autocracy, the Napoleonic Wars can be said to have instigated a reactionary turn in the policies of the tsarist regime. If before 1812, it looked like Russia might follow in the footsteps of Western Europe and undergo major social transformation at the direction of Mikhail Speransky, then, in the aftermath of Napoleon’s defeat, the trajectory of Russian society was completely reversed. War — or, more to the point, the resolution thereof — was partly to blame for this, since Alexander’s preoccupation with the ensuing peace process gaveSperansky’s reactionary replacement, Aleksey Arakcheyev, full rein to curb intellectual freedom and instate an oppressive system of military colonies.[20] However, it was chiefly the notion that Russia’s triumph vindicated the status quo that brought about this change of direction because it ‘removed an incentive for radical domestic reform’.[21] Alexander’s internalisation of the conservative interpretation fed into his increasingly illiberal stance: taken over by a sense of personal messianism, compounded by his ‘spiritual awakening' after the Moscow fire in 1812, his focus shifted to reform of a religious rather than secular nature.[22] For example, he appointed the head of the Holy Synod, A.N. Golitsyn, as Minister of Education, a role in which he oversaw the implementation of Alexander’s spiritual brainchild, The Bible Society, encouraging the mass publication of bibles in all different languages of the Russian Empire. Only through an awareness of the struggle between liberalism and chauvinism that took root after the Napoleonic Wars can the consequential rise of the Decembrists be fully understood. Few would disagree that the Decembrist movement had its origins in the European campaign of 1813-15, when young Russian officers first became attracted to the ideals of the French Enlightenment and popular patriotic movements like the Tugendbund and Carbonari.[23] However, the creation of the Northern and Southern societies really began with the advent of a feeling that, if Alexander was not going to implement much-needed reforms, they would have to do it themselves.[24] Perhaps most instrumental in this regard was Alexander’s rejection of constitutionalism, which — to add insult to injury — followed hard on the heels of his announcement of a constitution for Napoleon’s former ally, Poland. Understandably, nobles who had been filled with hope by Alexander’s earlier moves towards reform were incensed; Aleksandr Murav’ev echoed this frustration when he wrote: ‘Poland received a constitution, while Russia as a reward for 1812 received — military settlements!’[25] In spite of its failure, the Decembrist revolt played a significant part in the future development of Russian society because it inspired subsequent generations of intellectuals to push for radical change. Though Richard Pipes argues that the Decembrist agenda had ‘no antecedents or issue’,26 doubts as to whether their individual ideas stood the test of time overlook the salient point, namely that they set a trend among future populists and revolutionaries of organising concerted resistance to the tsarist regime. Certainly, their goal of bringing different social classes together in a new, unified society provided inspiration for the populists of the 1860s and ‘70s.[26]
The Napoleonic Wars impacted Russian society in several, interconnected ways. Having stimulated the growth of Russian patriotism, the wars gave birth to two polar opposite visions for the future of Russia: one — the liberal interpretation — which posited that 1812 reflected Russia’s new-found civic maturity and another — the conservative reading — which read victory as a sign that Russia did not need to change. Whereas the liberal conception of nationhood created a desire for democratic change and the abolition of serfdom, the conservative interpretation produced the conditions for Russia’s regression into a state of reaction and religiosity. In turn, without this political reversal, the reformist orientation of the officer class may not have manifested itself in the coup of 1825, which later revolutionaries venerated as the ‘opening round in their battle against autocracy’.[27]
Ally Addison is currently in his 4th year of an MA in Modern History & Russian at the University of St. Andrews.
Notes:
[1] Dominic Lieven, Russia Against Napoleon: The Battle for Europe, 1807 to 1814 (London, 2009), p. 10. [2] Orlando Figes, Natasha’s Dance: A Cultural History of Russia (New York, 2002), pp. 101-108. [3] Isaiah Berlin, Henry Hardy and Aileen Kelly (Eds.), Russian Thinkers (London, 1979), p. 118. [4] Figes, Natasha’s Dance, p. 137. A. Martin, ‘Russia and the Legacy of 1812.’ in D. Lieven (Ed.), The Cambridge History of Russia (Cambridge, 2006), p. 145 [5] Anatole G. Mazour, The First Russian Revolution 1825, The Decembrist Movement: Its Origins, Development, and Significance (Berkeley, 1937) (Stanford, 1961), p. 29. [6] Marc Raeff, ‘At the Origins of a Russian National Consciousness: Eighteenth Century Roots and Napoleonic Wars.’ In The History Teacher, vol. 25, no. 1, Society for History Education (1991), p. 16 [7] Martin, ‘Russia and the Legacy of 1812’, p. 145. [8] Figes, Natasha’s Dance, p. 134. [9] Marc Raeff, ‘At the Origins’, p. 13. [10] Figes, Natasha’s Dance, p. 75. [11] Hugh Seton-Watson, The Russian Empire 1801-1917 (Oxford, 1967), p. 184. [12] Raeff, ‘At the Origins’, p. 13. [13] S.M. Volkonsky, Zapiski, p. 327, quoted in Figes, Natasha’s Dance, p. 75. [14] Figes, Natasha’s Dance, p. 75. [15] Ibid. [16] Bernard Pares, A History of Russia (Rev. ed.) (London, 1962), p. 360. [17] Raeff, ‘At the Origins’, p. 14. [18] Figes, Natasha’s Dance, p. 78. [19] I.D Iakushkin, Zapiski, p.13, quoted in Mazour, The First Russian Revolution, p. 56. [20] Tim Chapman, Imperial Russia, 1801-1905 (London, 2001), p. 42. [21] Lieven, Russia Against Napoleon, p. 523. [22] Richard Wortman, Scenarios of Power, Myth and Ceremony in Russian Monarchy (Princeton, 1995), p. 193. [23] Geoffrey Hosking, Russia and the Russians: From Earliest Times to 2001 (London, 2001), p. 260. [24] Ibid. [25] Aleksandr Murav’ev, ‘Moi Zhurnal’, p. 124, quoted in Hosking, Russia and the Russians, p.260. [26] Richard Pipes, Russia Under the Old Regime (2nd ed.) (London, 1995), p. 188; Hosking, Russia and the Russians, p. 264. [27] Edward Acton, Russia: The Tsarist and Soviet Legacy (London, 1995), p. 63.