§5
Provincial Gazettes were first introduced in the year 1837. It was Bludov, the Minister of the Interior, who conceived the idea of training in publicity the land of silence and dumbness. Bludov, known as the continuator of Karamzín’s History—though he never added a line to it—and as the author of the Report on the Decembrist Revolution—which had better never have been written—was one of those doctrinaire statesmen who came to the front in the last years of Alexander’s reign. They were able, educated, honest men; they had belonged in their youth to the Literary Club of Arzamas;[[114]] they wrote Russian well, had patriotic feelings, and were so much interested in the history of their country that they had no leisure to bestow on contemporary events. They all worshipped the immortal memory of Karamzín, loved Zhukovski, knew Krylóv[[115]] by heart, and used to travel to Moscow on purpose to talk to Dmítriev[[116]] in his house there. I too used to visit there in my student days; but I was armed against the old poet by prejudices in favour of romanticism, by my acquaintance with N. Polevói, and by a secret feeling of dissatisfaction that Dmítriev, being a poet, should also be Minister of Justice. Though much was expected of them, they did nothing; but that is the fate of doctrinaires in all countries. Perhaps they would have left more lasting traces behind them if Alexander had lived; but Alexander died, and they never got beyond the mere wish to do the state some service.
[114]. Zhukovski and Púshkin both belonged to this club. It carried on a campaign against Shishkóv and other opponents of the new developments in Russian style.
[115]. Krylóv (1768-1844), the famous writer of fables.
[116]. Dmítriev, a poet once famous, who lived long enough to welcome Púshkin.
At Monaco there is a monument to one of their Princes with this inscription. “Here rests Prince Florestan”—I forget his number—“who wished to make his subjects happy.” Our doctrinaires also wished to make Russia happy, but they reckoned without their host. I don’t know who prevented Florestan; but it was our Florestan[[117]] who prevented them. They were forced to take a part in the steady deterioration of Russia, and all the reforms they could introduce were useless, mere alterations of forms and names. Every Russian in authority considers it his highest duty to rack his brains for some novelty of this kind; the change is generally for the worse and sometimes leaves things exactly as they were. Thus the name of ‘secretary’ has given place to a Russian equivalent in the public offices of the provinces, but the duties are not changed. I remember how the Minister of Justice put forward a proposal for necessary changes in the uniform of civilian officials. It began with great pomp and circumstance—“Having taken special notice of the lack of uniformity in the cut and fashion of certain uniforms worn by the civilian department, and having adopted as a principle ...,” etc.
[117]. I.e., the Emperor Nicholas.
Beset by this itch for novelty the Minister of the Interior made changes with regard to the officers who administer justice in the rural districts. The old judges lived in the towns and paid occasional visits to the country; their successors have their regular residence in the country and pay occasional visits to the towns. By this reform all the peasants came under the immediate scrutiny of the police. The police penetrated into the secrets of the peasant’s commerce and wealth, his family life, and all the business of his community; and the village community had been hitherto the last refuge of the people’s life. The only redeeming feature is this—there are many villages and only two judges to a district.