'Transitioning' from Catherine II to Alexander I, we are following the cue of the great Empress herself, who was known for her desire to bypass her son Pavel Petrovich in favor of her grandson Alexander Pavlovich. But her succession plan was thwarted by her death, and Pavel I ascended the throne, yet not for long. After a five-year reign, from 1796 to 1801, marked by unreasonableness and unpredictability both in domestic and in foreign affairs, he was predictably assassinated, and only then was Catherine’s wish finally granted.
Of all Russian monarchs, Alexander I is the most enigmatic, and often unfathomable. A great liberal reformer, whose reformist zeal was inevitably clashing with Russia’s deeply ingrained national conservatism, he was a double-faced Janus, whose other face was that of a staunch reactionary…
Speransky and Arakcheev, two more different men could hardly have been found, yet both of them were Alexander’s closest advisers, although at different times. When Speransky flourished, in the earlier part of the reign, there was talk about the abolition of serfdom, a limited constitutional monarchy, a historically unprecedented rush of political and personal freedoms to be granted to Russia by the fiat of her absolute monarch. Under Arakcheev, the Russians would see a surge of monstrous military settlements built across Russia, causing popular rebellions and military mutinies, all ruthlessly suppressed.
Catherine adored her grandson, taking him away from his parents, having learned a lesson from Empress Elizaveta Petrovna in her own fussy and authoritarian treatment of Catherine’s son Pavel. She made it her personal business to raise the child comme il faut, that is, giving him proper liberal education after the ideas of John Locke, and of other pillars of liberal thought. She did not trust the Russian system of education, and devised her personal curriculum for her beloved investment.
They say that, as a result, Alexander developed an exceptionally subtle, chameleonic mind, a keen theatrical genius, allowing him to “seduce” his audience without himself being seduced by anyone, even by Napoleon, who had allegedly exercised a profound influence on the young tsar, but this fact has been disputed by some evidence to the contrary. Personal recollections of several astute contemporaries mention his insincerity, and occasional duplicity, while his elusive, secretive nature was even easier to be noticed by all. Napoleon called him a “wily Byzantine,” an actor, capable of playing any role. At the court of Saint Petersburg, he was known as a “mysterious Sphinx.”
His political reforms, although never reaching the projected liberal extremes, were vast and sweeping, and they managed to change both the governing mechanism and the whole social structure of the Russian nation. He had a keen sense of his historical mission, believed in the power of reason, absurdity of despotic power, and iniquity of slavery in all forms. His chief mentor had been the Swiss liberal republican thinker, general, and statesman Frédéric-César Laharpe. The latter’s influence was so great that Alexander admitted in 1812 that “without Laharpe there would have been no Alexander.” Although this admission may most likely have been a posture, it is still a reflection of that undoubtedly huge impact which Laharpe had on Alexander’s life and thinking.
There is no doubt that Napoleon’s invasion of Russia in 1812 played a big role in Alexander’s retreat from liberalism in the later part of his reign, but its role should not be overstated. It must be noted that this retreat was not just from some abstract ideas of liberalism, but more importantly from Alexander’s messianic sense of a historical mission as well. Historians seem to agree that he must also have been deeply affected, in the aftermath of Napoleon’s fall, by the attitude of the great powers of Europe, who saw him enter Paris as the conqueror on a white horse and conspired to rob him of his laurels. According to these historians, Alexander must have experienced such a deep sense of bitter disappointment that the rest of his life simply had to be profoundly affected by it.
Although this historical opinion is authoritative, I treat it with a measure of skepticism. You cannot have it both ways: a “mysterious Sphinx” deeply disappointed by what any shrewd politician had to see coming. By that time, Russia had long developed into a geographical and military colossus, and to allow this colossus to gain even more power, on the heels of its tremendous victory over the greatest empire of the time, would have been foolish at best. Prince Metternich was obviously no fool.
On the other hand, Alexander may well have been playing “Ivan Durák, Ivan the Fool” with Europe, the old Russian game of “winning by losing.” In her perceived loss of certain victor’s laurels, Russia did not lose any ground and by agreeing to play the victim she was able to placate a Europe now satisfied in her own victory. This was a much better outcome than losing the Crimean War, which would happen on the watch of the not so “wily” Emperor Nicholas I, Alexander’s successor.
There had to be a deep psychological trauma in our Sphinx, however. We must not discount the slow-acting poison of the exact manner of how Alexander had come to power: the brutal killing of his father Pavel Petrovich, the Emperor of Russia. Such events may not appear defining at first, but in the end they will exact their heavy psychological toll.
Concerning Alexander’s manner of death, this was yet another mystery. He was reported dead from a sudden illness, while traveling in Russia. Naturally, the official report could not be accepted at its face value. Immediately a host of legends sprung around his disappearance from the nation's sight. Various mystical explanations were given, the most popular of them being that he had chosen to retreat from the world’s vanities, and under an alias became a starets, a hermit, a mystery man who by the very nature of this legend would never lose his hold on the public imagination…
I am obviously skeptical about this story as well, but I know better than to argue with legends…
…Later they would say that he "died" in 1864. But I say he never died. Legends never do.
Of all Russian monarchs, Alexander I is the most enigmatic, and often unfathomable. A great liberal reformer, whose reformist zeal was inevitably clashing with Russia’s deeply ingrained national conservatism, he was a double-faced Janus, whose other face was that of a staunch reactionary…
Speransky and Arakcheev, two more different men could hardly have been found, yet both of them were Alexander’s closest advisers, although at different times. When Speransky flourished, in the earlier part of the reign, there was talk about the abolition of serfdom, a limited constitutional monarchy, a historically unprecedented rush of political and personal freedoms to be granted to Russia by the fiat of her absolute monarch. Under Arakcheev, the Russians would see a surge of monstrous military settlements built across Russia, causing popular rebellions and military mutinies, all ruthlessly suppressed.
Catherine adored her grandson, taking him away from his parents, having learned a lesson from Empress Elizaveta Petrovna in her own fussy and authoritarian treatment of Catherine’s son Pavel. She made it her personal business to raise the child comme il faut, that is, giving him proper liberal education after the ideas of John Locke, and of other pillars of liberal thought. She did not trust the Russian system of education, and devised her personal curriculum for her beloved investment.
They say that, as a result, Alexander developed an exceptionally subtle, chameleonic mind, a keen theatrical genius, allowing him to “seduce” his audience without himself being seduced by anyone, even by Napoleon, who had allegedly exercised a profound influence on the young tsar, but this fact has been disputed by some evidence to the contrary. Personal recollections of several astute contemporaries mention his insincerity, and occasional duplicity, while his elusive, secretive nature was even easier to be noticed by all. Napoleon called him a “wily Byzantine,” an actor, capable of playing any role. At the court of Saint Petersburg, he was known as a “mysterious Sphinx.”
His political reforms, although never reaching the projected liberal extremes, were vast and sweeping, and they managed to change both the governing mechanism and the whole social structure of the Russian nation. He had a keen sense of his historical mission, believed in the power of reason, absurdity of despotic power, and iniquity of slavery in all forms. His chief mentor had been the Swiss liberal republican thinker, general, and statesman Frédéric-César Laharpe. The latter’s influence was so great that Alexander admitted in 1812 that “without Laharpe there would have been no Alexander.” Although this admission may most likely have been a posture, it is still a reflection of that undoubtedly huge impact which Laharpe had on Alexander’s life and thinking.
There is no doubt that Napoleon’s invasion of Russia in 1812 played a big role in Alexander’s retreat from liberalism in the later part of his reign, but its role should not be overstated. It must be noted that this retreat was not just from some abstract ideas of liberalism, but more importantly from Alexander’s messianic sense of a historical mission as well. Historians seem to agree that he must also have been deeply affected, in the aftermath of Napoleon’s fall, by the attitude of the great powers of Europe, who saw him enter Paris as the conqueror on a white horse and conspired to rob him of his laurels. According to these historians, Alexander must have experienced such a deep sense of bitter disappointment that the rest of his life simply had to be profoundly affected by it.
Although this historical opinion is authoritative, I treat it with a measure of skepticism. You cannot have it both ways: a “mysterious Sphinx” deeply disappointed by what any shrewd politician had to see coming. By that time, Russia had long developed into a geographical and military colossus, and to allow this colossus to gain even more power, on the heels of its tremendous victory over the greatest empire of the time, would have been foolish at best. Prince Metternich was obviously no fool.
On the other hand, Alexander may well have been playing “Ivan Durák, Ivan the Fool” with Europe, the old Russian game of “winning by losing.” In her perceived loss of certain victor’s laurels, Russia did not lose any ground and by agreeing to play the victim she was able to placate a Europe now satisfied in her own victory. This was a much better outcome than losing the Crimean War, which would happen on the watch of the not so “wily” Emperor Nicholas I, Alexander’s successor.
There had to be a deep psychological trauma in our Sphinx, however. We must not discount the slow-acting poison of the exact manner of how Alexander had come to power: the brutal killing of his father Pavel Petrovich, the Emperor of Russia. Such events may not appear defining at first, but in the end they will exact their heavy psychological toll.
Concerning Alexander’s manner of death, this was yet another mystery. He was reported dead from a sudden illness, while traveling in Russia. Naturally, the official report could not be accepted at its face value. Immediately a host of legends sprung around his disappearance from the nation's sight. Various mystical explanations were given, the most popular of them being that he had chosen to retreat from the world’s vanities, and under an alias became a starets, a hermit, a mystery man who by the very nature of this legend would never lose his hold on the public imagination…
I am obviously skeptical about this story as well, but I know better than to argue with legends…
…Later they would say that he "died" in 1864. But I say he never died. Legends never do.
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