GEORGE J. GUTSCHE

Puškin and Nicholas: The Problem of “Stanzas”

A fascinating issue in biographical studies of Puškin is the poet’s relationship with Nicholas I in the years following the Decembrist revolt. The issue serves as a focal point of numerous complex questions, literary and biographical. Scholars are still debating the content, significance, and implications of the famous 8 September 1826 meeting between tsar and poet—a crucial event in Puškin’s life. The “facts” are by no means unquestionable—we have a number of accounts (twenty-nine; see Ejdel’man 1985: 193) of varying length; we have Puškin’s correspondence, poetry, and other writings, including his “note” on popular education; and we have memoirs of acquaintances and government officials. But all of these materials, which to varying degrees suggest what may have happened during the meeting, are susceptible to an enormous range of interpretation, and in the case of memoir accounts especially, to questions of reliability as well.

The content of the 8 September meeting is just one of the puzzles. Determining Puškin’s views about Nicholas and post-Decembrist Russia on the basis of his poetry is even more challenging. Claims that appeal to the facts or the “texts themselves” seem ludicrous when the facts and the texts have so much potential for multiple meanings. Of course, it is just this potential of multiple meanings relating to Puškin’s political views that has given his works of these years an enduring vitality and interpretational richness.

Three poems that occupy, even preoccupy, attention for their significance in defining Puškin’s political and moral position in the late 1820s are “Stansy” (Stanzas; written in December 1826, printed in Moskovskij vestnik [Moscow Herald] in 1828; PSS III: 40), “Vo glubine sibirskix rud . . . “ (In the depth of Siberian ores; written in early 1827, and not printed during Puškin’s lifetime; PSS III: 49), and “Druz’jam” (To Friends; written in 1828, approved for “circulation” but not publication by Nicholas; PSS III: 89-90). The first poem, referred to here as the epistle to Nicholas, has been viewed as an expression of both Puškin’s support of the government and his hopes that Nicholas would follow Peter’s example in promoting education (or “enlightenment”), in working hard to fulfill Russia’s destiny, and in being firm but at the same time forgiving and merciful. By extension, the poem may be and has been read (by Blagoj 1967; Tomaševskij 1977; Makogonenko 1985; Mejlax 1959; and numerous others) as Puškin’s appeal to Nicholas to grant amnesty to the exiled Decembrists.

The second poem, the epistle to the Decembrists, scholars usually view as expressing Puškin’s moral support and sympathy for the Decembrists, as well as his confidence that their cause was not totally lost and that their political goals would someday be realized. The third poem, the epistle to “friends,” represents the poet’s response to accusations that he was ingratiating himself with Nicholas, flattering the sovereign in gratitude for past favors, with the hope of receiving similar favors in the future. The poem not only confronts these accusations directly but also indirectly affirms a program of state action for Nicholas and criticizes the “real” flatterers around him, whose actions and behavior actually harm the state.¹

The focus of this study is the first of the three poems, the epistle to Nicholas, but the other works of the period, because they are such an important part of the context, will also play a role. By focusing attention on the first of the epistles, I hope to clear an opening into the tangled net of political, literary, and biographical issues that make this period so fascinating and problematic to Puškinists. Moreover, the new reading of “Stanzas” offered here should shed light on the other two poems, especially the epistle to the Decembrists. An underlying thesis of this study is that our understanding and appreciation of these three poems—and in particular the epistle to Nicholas—will benefit from a perspective that assumes “Stanzas” is a complex, multidimensional, poetic text that utilizes subtexts and polysemic potential to achieve several distinctly different purposes. In fact, reducing the poem (or in fact all three of the poems) to a single meaning in order to unify and harmonize Puškin’s political views in the post-Decembrist years deprives it of considerable power and effectiveness. “Stanzas” shows Puškin as a careful tactician, using his poetic and linguistic talents to achieve complex literary and extra-literary goals.

Broadly stated, Puškin’s “messages” were aimed at two groups. On the one hand, “Stanzas” was designed to encourage Nicholas’s pretensions of becoming a new “Peter”; moreover, Puškin exploited the parallel with Peter to direct Nicholas into a moderate attitude toward political dissent. But the poem was also designed to reassure Puškin’s liberal friends that he continued to support their goals, was not afraid to mention politically dangerous subjects, and in fact was willing and able to “educate” Nicholas without servility.

That he was not altogether successful in determining the response of all of his readers (both contemporary and of later generations) undoubtedly says more about the sometimes prejudicial assumptions of these readers (and reflects Puškin’s underestimation of the good will of the public) than about his verbal skill.

“Stanzas” marked the appearance of a “new” Puškin (Lev Sergeevič Puškin’s words, according to the Decembrist Lorer [1984: 205])—no longer the critic of the government and of official religion and author of impious and incendiary verse, but a loyal and grateful supporter of the tsar’s new programs who was willing to serve the government with his writing.

After finally being allowed to return from the south of the empire—a punishment meted out by Alexander I which Puškin regarded as overly harsh in view of his “crimes”—Puškin continued his exile at his family estate, Mixajlovskoe, until summoned to Moscow by the new tsar in September of 1826. Although he was not under arrest, he was hardly free to refuse a summons to Moscow. And he could only fear the worst: that his requests to be freed from exile on his estate would be ignored, that he was to be interrogated and accused of complicity with the Decembrists, and that his punishment was to be continued at best in Mixajlovskoe and at worst in Siberia.

The outcome of his unprecedented personal meeting with Nicholas was unexpectedly different:² now, instead of exile, Puškin was given relative freedom of movement; now, instead of an even stricter censoring of his works by ignorant and insensitive officials, he had Nicholas as his personal censor; and now, instead of isolation and ignominy, he had social attention and fame. His fortunes were radically reversed, and he was presumably on the threshold of a new life.

Grateful to the new tsar, hopeful about the future, and perhaps with an expectation of playing an important role in regard to the new government (see below), he wrote the five quatrains of “Stanzas” (PSS III: 40). But there is much more than the poet’s gratitude and hope reflected in this poem. The analysis that follows will show that its tone, allusions, and various subtexts make it quite different from a servile panegyric:

As Ejdel’man remarks (1985: 208), Puškin did not hurry to publish the poem, possibly because he thought Nicholas would not like “Stanzas” any more than he liked Puškin’s note “On Popular Education” (which the tsar had commissioned him to do but which Nicholas subsequently criticized severely) or because he felt offended by Nicholas and Benkendorfs critical reaction to Boris Godunov, furthermore, Puškin was beginning to realize— after only two to three months—that having the tsar as his personal censor meant having more, not fewer, restrictions on his poetry and actions. Apparently begun in Pskov, where Puškin had returned to gather his things from Mixajlovskoe for the move to Moscow, and finished in Moscow shortly before the new year (22 December 1826, at V. P. Zubkov’s, according to Puškin’s note on the manuscript), the poem was not published until January of 1828, though permission was given 6 July 1827 by Benkendorf (the circumstances are discussed by Ejdel’man [1985: 209]). The poem represents the first “published” view of the “new” Puškin (since he had given numerous readings of his works); it would have, in its public context, mostly negative reverberations.³

In the first stanza the poet offers his feelings: he is hopeful and unafraid, expecting glory and good from the new tsar. He invokes historical precedent—revolts and punishments also cast a pall over the beginning of Peter’s reign, but glorious times followed. The connection between the glory (hoped-for) of Nicholas and the glorious days of Peter is firmly made, and with it the key analogy is established. What is unsaid but merely implied is what could not be said explicitly: the Decembrist revolt and the executions and exiles that followed are presumably counterparts to the executions administered by Peter. The rhyming of “fear” and “executions” could not help but reinforce the evocation of contemporary parallels. It is inconceivable that readers would fail to understand the import of these lines.

The implication of this stanza is that the situation that met Nicholas in 1825 was not unlike that which met Peter in the late seventeenth century. Peter dealt with revolt and went on to glorious achievements; Nicholas could do the same by emulation. Indeed, as scholars have noted (Lincoln 1978: 95-104; Ejdel’man 1985: 210-12; Mejlax 1959: 100-101), the prospects for meaningful reform were good in 1826 and 1827. Even liberals such as Aleksandr Bestužev (who compared Nicholas to Peter) were hopeful in the beginning (Mejlax 1959: 101).

The second stanza begins with the strong conjunction “but” (no), made even more prominent by repetition in the second line of the stanza. Since the word indicates “contrariness to expectation,” the implication is that the opposite of “justice” and “learning” (perhaps unjust, arbitrary punishment and ignorance) would be the expected response to “revolts” (mjateži): Peter, however, attracted hearts with justice and tamed “customs, morals, and manners” (nravy) with learning and education (nauka). (The word nravy refers to behavior, a way of life corresponding with the moral norms of a society; Slovar’ jazyka Puškina II: 888.) The strong initial anaphora of the first two lines is followed by the mild connective “and,” which introduces an important distinction: for Peter the “furious,” “ungovernable” strelets differed from Dolgorukij.

This is a key stanza in the poem. Puškin in effect tells Nicholas that Peter did the unexpected, that he responded to revolt with his positive program of reforms, not with vindictiveness. Furthermore, Peter discriminated between presumably reasoned opposition (that of Dolgorukij) and mindless opposition (that of the streltsy). But the allusions to Peter’s time are controversial if they are understood as analogy: if we connect them with analogy of the first stanza, are the Decembrists then to be understood (as Lerner understood them) as streltsy? And is Puškin himself—who had expressed opposition to the government and was pardoned by the tsar—to be understood as Dolgorukij? Or is it Nicholas’s brother Alexander whom Puškin criticizes here, as someone who could not tolerate reasoned opposition (as suggests Eremin [1976: 112-13])? Interpreting the analogy is perhaps the most puzzling problem the poem raises. Several possibilities present themselves, but surely one reasonable hypothesis is that there may not be a single “correct” solution, that the distinction’s very suggestiveness serves the poet’s purposes.

The third stanza carries the analogy of the two reigns deeper: Peter “sowed enlightenment” with an autocratic hand. The image reaffirms autocratic power, and at the same time links it with an ideal that in turn echoes the reference to learning in the preceding stanza. Knowing the “predestination” of his native land, Peter (like the Peter of The Bronze Horseman) did not despise Russia. Thus the poet affirms Peter’s sense of mission, his notion of Russia’s place in history, and his bold leadership, devoid of personal rancor and anchored in belief in the beneficial power of enlightenment. Although one may question the historical accuracy of Peter’s description (as Lerner did), and the correspondence between the positive depiction and Puškin’s real views of Peter (see Lednicki 1955: 57-72; Driver 1981: 10), such questions are not relevant to Peter’s function in the poem.⁴ The main point is that Peter in this poem serves as an ideal, a gauge against which Nicholas’s own stature could be measured.

The fourth stanza lists Peter’s personal qualities, his skills, both theoretical (“academic”) and practical (“hero,” navigator, and carpenter). Moreover, he was a tireless (“eternal”) worker with an “all-embracing soul.” The ideal monarch is not arrogant, nor is he to be exalted above all others; the lexicon and imagery of tsar-farmer and tsar-carpenter (Blagoj 1967: 131), far from formal high style, also underline an openness, a willingness to accept ideas and all people—not just those who surround the throne.

The final stanza turns the poem back to the addressee; in fact, it apostrophizes Nicholas in the familiar form of address characteristic of verse addressed to the monarch (such as the coronation and “advisory” poetry of Deržavin and Karamzin). The poet tells the new tsar to be proud of his family resemblance, to be like his ancestor in everything, to be tireless and firm, and also forgiving, without rancor. The final line gains prominence by its position: it marks closure and also, through the anaphora of “kak on,” reinforces the kinship between Peter and what Puškin hopes Nicholas will be.

But the poem is not simply an expression of the poet’s hopes through an instructive analogy. Beneath the surface there is an intricate web of literary, historical, and biographical subtexts. Puškin, of course, knew Russian history as well as the history of his own family members and their relations with Russian monarchs; moreover, he was undoubtedly familiar with historical events involving treason and clashes with authority. There can be little question that the stormy events of Peter’s reign had a personal dimension for the poet. With Peter in particular, Puškin’s own family history suggested two possible outcomes to encounters with the tsar. On the one hand, his great-grandfather Gannibal played a role in the new state as a valued and privileged adviser to the tsar; on the other, Fedor Puškin was hanged in 1697 for taking part in a conspiracy against the throne (the poet refers to him in “Moja rodoslovnaja” [My Genealogy, 1830]).

When summoned by Nicholas to Moscow, Puškin insisted on bringing his pistols, undoubtedly believing, as Ejdel’man notes (1985: 190), that to insist on taking them reinforced his nobility and made it clear to all that his status was not that of a prisoner. Surely in his consciousness were thoughts not only of Fedor Puškin, but also of Peter’s dealings with his son Aleksej (the “brother” of Peter’s adopted son Gannibal), who had been required to appear without sword when summoned by Peter in early February of 1718. Aleksej’s appearance before the emperor resulted in his formal disinheritance and a pardon by Peter that was conditional on his naming accomplices and advisers. Even after implicating numerous others, including Vasilij Dolgorukij (of the same family as the referent of “Dolgorukij” in “Stanzas”; see below), he could not escape further interrogation, torture, and death. (Puškin, too, had problems with a father suspicious of his loyalty, and the two had quarreled badly in Mixajlovskoe. The unhappy outcome of that confrontation could have intensified Puškin’s anxieties.) What if Nicholas, doubting the poet’s loyalty, wished Puškin to implicate others in the Decembrist conspiracy?

To the list of personal and historical parallels could be added other figures whom Puškin may have contemplated as he traveled to Moscow to meet with the tsar, and whom he subsequently would allude to when writing “Stanzas.” We know from Puškin’s writings that he was familiar with biographies of members of the Dolgorukij family—in particular Vasilij and Jakov—and their relationship to Peter. Vasilij Vladimirovic Dolgorukij (1667-1746) had supported Tsarevich Aleksej, and for his support had been arrested by Mensikov (on Peter’s orders); he is said to have responded bravely and nobly (Weber 1723: 1: 204). Moreover, even after admitting that he had sympathy for Aleksej (and less than positive feelings about many of Peter’s reforms), Dolgorukij suffered a sentence which could be termed mild when compared to the brutal punishments meted out to others: his rank of general was taken away and he was exiled to Solikamsk. His milder punishment was largely the result of appeals by his relatives— especially Jakov, who reminded Peter of the family’s long record of service to the state (Enciklopedičeskij slovar’ 1903: 921-22). Some years later, following the name of Vasilij Dolgorukij in the materials of Istorija Petra (History of Peter; PSS IX: 388), Puškin wrote “NB,” suggesting his importance to Puškin’s account; perhaps he wished to discuss in more detail Dolgorukij’s role or his subsequent fate.

The more obvious referent of Dolgorukij in “Stanzas,” however, is Prince Jakov Dolgorukij (1659-1720), whom he had referred to (as a representative of opposition not punished by Peter) in two other poetic works, “Mordvinovu” (To Mordvinov) and “My Genealogy.” Jakov, too, had shown opposition to some of Peter’s reforms, as well as some sympathy for Aleksej, and despite his outspokenness and opposition, he suffered no punishment (see Russkij biografičeskij slovar’ 1905 VII: 575-77, and Modern Encyclopedia of Russian and Soviet History 1961 IV: 204-206 for stories of his opposition). Puškin mentions him explicitly in his Istorija Petra (PSS IX: 386) as well as in his “Moja rodoslovnaja,” where Dolgorukij is contrasted with Fedor Puškin:

Puškin purportedly discussed him with Nicholas (according to A. O. Smirnova’s account [1929 I: 71, 267]) when Nicholas asked Puškin about Jakov Dolgorukij’s relationship with Peter.

Jakov Dolgorukij was noted for his sharply worded criticism of Peter’s ukazes; such opposition stimulated numerous anecdotes with which Puškin was undoubtedly familiar. When Puškin in “Mordvinovu” (unpub., 1826) called N. S. Mordvinov—who had boldly opposed the execution of the Decembrists—a “new Dolgorukij,” he was surely referring to the man’s courageous and articulate opposition to state policy.

Invoking the name Dolgorukij in “Stanzas” functioned to affirm the legitimacy of reasoned opposition, but it also served to exemplify imperial restraint, for Dolgorukij was allowed by Peter to state his opposition. Such restraint is consistent with the description of Peter in “Stanzas” as nezloben, “forgiving” or “without rancor.”

The contrast between Dolgorukij and the strelets is, as noted above, strongly marked in Puškin’s poem. While the former’s opposition was only verbal and presumably rooted in principles, the latter’s revolt was violent and motivated primarily by more concrete goals: a desire to burn Moscow, expel the Germans, and elevate Sof’ja to the throne. The Streltsy uprising was, like the Decembrist revolt, quickly put down (see Istorija Petra, PSS IX: 73-74, for Puškin’s description of it). Half of the rebels, some four thousand, fell in the skirmish and in its aftermath. But the analogy with the Decembrists seems less apt when the focus is turned from the circumstances of the revolt to motivating ideals. It is hardly flattering to Decembrist idealists to compare them to wild and ungovernable troops, though the general confusion and lack of central authority in the Senate Square revolt certainly could have given observers that impression. The fact remains that it would be horribly tactless for Puškin to say this explicitly— even if true—considering the severity of the punishments meted out to his friends.

Clearly reacting to the negative import of this analogy (as well as other political aspects of the poem), Lerner (xxii) remarked that the poem was one of Puškin’s “first and most decisive steps” on the “road of compromise.” Not only did Puškin violate history with his reference to Peter’s mercy, but he violated tact and civil duty in his comparison of the Decembrists to the streltsy. For Lerner the Decembrists were analogous to Peter: they had the progressive ideas of Peter, not “streltsy” ideals of a Byzantine or Tatar Moscow. But it is possible to take Lerner’s observation in a different direction: if the Decembrists were closer in motivation, social standing, and education to Jakov and Vasilij Dolgorukij, then by implication Nicholas was hardly like Peter, i.e., forgiving, bearing no ill will, in his punishment of them. This is certainly one valid inference that can be made from allusions in the poem, and shows once again how strongly the poem resists a “single” meaning or interpretation. The poem’s allusions, analogies, and suggestive ambiguities all illustrate a general feature of Puškin’s semantics: its multifocal orientation (Davydov 1985: 31).

Affinities between the streltsy revolt and the Decembrist revolt are also undeniable—though such connections cannot be made without reservation. Puškin frequently referred to open revolt against the government as a kind of madness: this and like expressions were applied in published and unpublished writings in reference to Radiščev, for example, as well as to the Decembrists. (See Blagoj 1931: 279-91 for the meanings of “madness” in Puškin’s works.)

In an unpublished essay (which was written for publication) on Radiscev (PSS XII: 30-40; 1836), Puškin used such phrases as “insane audacity,” “rashness,” “act of a madman,” and “mad delusions” to characterize the rebellion of the eighteenth-century writer.⁵ Moreover, in his letters and other writings (which of course must be evaluated carefully in view of their intended audience) he left similar suggestions about the Decembrists— viz., that the means employed to bring about their possibly worthwhile ends were indeed “mad.” He said as much to the tsar in his note on popular education (XI: 43-44); and it is known that from 1823 on he was noticeably cooler toward the ideas of his Decembrist friends (Blagoj 1967; Nečkina 1938; Driver 1981). Furthermore, in his efforts to gain freedom from exile, he sincerely voiced his belief that opposition to the general order of things was a kind of madness.⁶ Despite the frequent claim made in Puškin scholarship of Puškin’s political unity (edinomyslie) with the Decembrists, there is no doubt that he did not approve of their “means,” and could only in the most general sense (in terms of principles relating to progress, education, a less restrictive censorship, more humane treatment of the peasants, and rule by law) approve of their ideals. As Driver (1981: 2-3) and Nepomnjaščij (1985: 144) observe, there are many ideas—some of them mutually contradictory—that could be associated with the Decembrists; and it was not so much on the basis of shared ideas that he told Nicholas he would have been on Senate Square alongside his friends on 14 December, but because his sense of honor required it (Ejdel’man 1985: 200).⁷ Indeed, distinguishing between Puškin’s sympathy for former comrades as men rather than as bearers of a political program helps us to achieve a coherent view of his political position.

Puškin’s sense of honor required him to do what he could to ease the fate of his friends. There can be no question that his epistle to Nicholas represents, with its references to Peter’s distinction between types of opposition and its emphasis on Peter’s absence of rancor, an indirect appeal for mercy for the Decembrists. In fact, the poem is daring (Blagoj 1967: 135; Mejlax 1959:103; Nepomnjaščij 1984: 155-56) by its oblique reference to the revolt as analogous with the revolts during Peter’s time, as well as to the distinction between honorable, principled opposition and ignorant, unthinking revolt (Dolgorukij vs. the streltsy). And it is daring and perhaps even dangerously patronizing in its exhortations to Nicholas to adopt the high ideals of enlightenment and to work tirelessly in behalf of his country with an awareness of its predestined place in history—in short, to be like Peter “in everything.” It is not really important that the historical Peter may not have been as “merciful” or as positive a figure as the poem presents him as being—nor, for that matter, that Puškin’s political views, as expressed in his poetry, be consistent.⁸ Poetry for Puškin was not necessarily the bearer of important ideas, as such: he has left a well-known expression of his views on this subject in a letter to Vjazemskij (1826), where he said that poetry must be a bit “stupid” (glupovata). This disclaimer need not be construed, however, as any diminishment of poetry’s importance in achieving important personal goals.

What undoubtedly prepared the way for Puškin’s frank exhortations of Nicholas was their previous meeting, during which some of the same issues the poem raises were discussed (the immediate past of Russia, its present state, and its future; Ejdel’man 1985: 198); also contributing was the poetic tradition in Russia: Blagoj rightly notes (1967: 130-32) that Lomonosov’s court poems could have served as models for Puškin, as could poems of Deržavin, a poet who could speak the truth to tsars, who could praise them or criticize them and, of course, instruct them. Karamzin, however, was an even better model for Puškin.

The image of the poet-adviser to the emperor exemplifed by Karamzin, with his boldly instructive verse to Alexander I, was undoubtedly attractive to Puškin (Vickery, forthcoming). Not only did Karamzin respectfully instruct Alexander on the value of knowledge and enlightenment, he also invoked historical models to make his point. Indeed, in his poetry to Alexander, Karamzin made use of Peter as an exemplar, referring not only to Peter’s enlightened policies but also to the similar problems Alexander and Peter faced at the outset of their reigns: to overcome threats to the state’s stability and punish those who were responsible while showing moderation and restraint in the use of punishment.

For example, in Karamzin’s “Na toržestvennoe koronovanie ego imperatorskogo veličestva Aleksandra I, samoderžca vserossijskogo” (On the August Coronation of His Imperial Highness Alexander I, All-Russian Autocrat, 1801), the poet refers positively to Peter in recommending learning (the “kingdom of light”) and the elimination of evil with limited recourse to physical punishment (Karamzin 1966: 268, stanza 13). He also advises Alexander to work in behalf of the state (stanza 17): “Trudis’ . . davaj ustavy nam / I budeš Pervyj po delam!” (Work . . give us regulations / And you will be First in deeds!).

In Karamzin’s coronation poem to Alexander, “Ego imperatorskomu veličestvu Aleksandru I, samoderžcu vserossijskomu, na vosšestvie ego na prestol” (To His Imperial Highness Alexander I, All-Russian Autocrat, on the Occasion of His Rise to the Throne, also 1801), the poet ends (stanzas 11—14) with a warning to the new tsar (in terms similar to those used by Puškin in his epistle to “friends”) to beware of flatterers and to heed those who are sincere and who dare to speak the truth; to value education and poets; to have an open mind and to use restraint, especially in dealing with opposition. Here the name Dolgorukij is placed next to that of the heroic Požarskij:

What we see emphasized are the same ideals Puškin later invoked in his epistle to Nicholas: knowledge as a guide in government (for the good of the people) and enlightened treatment of opposition (Peter called those who, like the Dolgorukijs, dared to speak the truth—those who spoke from the heart—his “brothers”).

Karamzin was highly valued by Nicholas, and undoubtedly his positive feelings for Puškin, which he expressed to Nicholas on several occasions before he died, relieved some of the suspicion that may have fallen on Puškin after the revolt. Nicholas, who strongly desired the support of the educated aristocracy, gave considerable attention to Karamzin; and the latter, in turn, as a firm believer in the virtues of education, advised Nicholas to attract educated people to the court and to treat Puškin favorably (Ejdel’man 1985: 192).

There can hardly be a question that Puškin’s career was moving in a direction roughly comparable to Karamzin’s. Puškin had been giving more and more attention to historical study (for example, with his work on Boris Godunov), and now, on the basis of an understanding he and Nicholas had reached in their meeting on 8 September, Puškin may have perceived himself as a successor to Karamzin—poet, historian, and adviser to the emperor. Puškin certainly showed an awareness of Karamzin’s verse (noted above) and historical writing, and he indicated in his writing his high regard for Karamzin; and he also willingly—and clearly with the hope of serving in an advisory role to the tsar—accepted an assignment from Nicholas to write on education; finally, Puškin embarked upon a course of historical studies which suggest he found amenable the activities Karamzin had pursued in his later years (Vacuro [with Gillel’son] 1972).

Besides Karamzin, there were other poets with subtexts to “Stanzas.” The poem contains verbal and thematic echoes of Vladimir Raevskij’s “K druz’jam” (To Friends, 1822) and Kondratij Ryleev’s “Videnie” (A Vision, 1823) (Mejlax 1959: 104-106). Furthermore, Ryleev, too, used Dolgorukij as a model of constructive political opposition both in his duma “Volynskij” (published first in 1822), and again in his ode “Grazdanskoe mužestvo” (Civic Courage, written in 1823 or 1824, not published until 1856), which Puškin may have known in manuscript.

Whatever functions Puškin had planned “Stanzas” to fulfill, the results could not have been to his liking. Contemporaries reading the poem apparently attached unwarranted significance to the expressions “glory” and “good,” concluding that the poem was in praise of Nicholas. Presumably overlooked was the qualification that this “glory” and “good” represented the poet’s hope: Puškin did not say that Nicholas had already achieved glory and brought about “good.” As has often been noted (Nepomnjaščij 1984: 155-56), the poem exhorts and hardly flatters.

This is not to say that the poem contains no suggestion of praise for Nicholas; otherwise it would be difficult to account for his approving its publication and the negative reactions of some of Puškin’s contemporaries. More than misreading is undoubtedly involved. The poem, after all, makes assumptions about the poet’s relationship with the tsar and about the perceived potential of Nicholas. The act of comparing the two emperors—if only on a potential basis—may be perceived as flattering to Nicholas, for it suggests he has the potential to be like Peter. Moreover, the poet in writing this poem shows himself as being close enough to the sovereign to offer advice. To those who regarded Nicholas as a tyrant and murderer beyond salvation (a view Puškin may have gravitated toward later in his life), Puškin’s relationship could easily be seen in a negative light. Moreover, any poem by Puškin about Nicholas appearing in print could prima facie be viewed as an expression of the poet’s gratitude, for all knew that Nicholas had pardoned Puškin and allowed him to return from exile.

The poem has been read and understood in so many ways because it is both an expression of encouragement and praise and also a daring exhortation of the tsar which hints that his behavior to that moment may not have had any semblance to that of the somewhat idealized Peter. Despite its references to hope for a glorious future and its analogies between the time of Peter and the time of Nicholas, the poem does not really praise Nicholas, but rather urges him to resemble Peter in more than physical appearance. The violence that occurred at the outset of Peter’s reign did not prevent him from being merciful: Nicholas, the poem implies, has yet to respond to the violence in his reign in an analogous way. What constitutes praise here is the implication that Nicholas is capable of emulating Peter.

It is reasonable to suppose that in post-Decembrist Russia, Puškin believed that the only hope for effecting change lay in influencing government policy (Tomaševskij 1977: 504; Mikkelson 1980: 10-11; Driver 1981: 9). Having been convinced by Nicholas that the government was moving in the direction of reform, and that Nicholas sincerely valued his thinking on Russia’s future, Puškin felt that he could speak to the tsar frankly as a representative of the enlightened nobility. In this role of noble and poet, Puškin urged Nicholas to be like Peter—forward-thinking, progressive, hard-working, and dedicated to the welfare of Russia. Furthermore, he reminded Nicholas that Peter could show tolerance for and extend mercy to the opposition. Obviously Puškin nursed the hope that his influence on the government might bring back the exiled Decembrists. Puškin’s role then involved multiple functions: adviser, historian, poet, noble, and intercessor (Ejdel’man 1985: 200).

Determining Puškin’s politico-ideological position is a complex task (Gutsche 1982; Driver 1981), primarily because Puškin showed himself as striving to maintain relations with the authorities without betraying his liberal friends and the liberal ideas he had embraced throughout his youth. Certainly foremost among his personal problems was preserving his integrity while at the same time ensuring that his creative tranquility not be jeopardized.

It was not the purpose of this study to examine all the complex factors involved in determining Puškin’s political views, especially as they are expressed in his poetry. What can be said, however, on the basis of what was shown above concerning the epistle to Nicholas, is that drawing out the implications of Puškin’s political verse may not result in one unambiguous conclusion demonstrable on the basis of the poetry alone. Puškin’s epistle to Nicholas is certainly suggestive in many different ways, and this suggestiveness may very well have been by the poet’s design. The conscious use of ambiguity allowed Puškin to accomplish honorably two tasks: (1) he could secure his position as a replacement for Karamzin, with all of the honor and personal tranquility such a position entailed, and (2) he could guide Nicholas toward what Puškin conceived of as reasonable goals— goals which included government reform and amnesty for the Decembrists. At the same time, in order to make his exhortations more palatable to Nicholas, Puškin used a language of hope and glory and positive individual virtues, all leading to (but not quite reaching) an identification of Peter and Nicholas; only with a careful reading is it apparent that Puškin was not really praising Nicholas for anything he had done already. Here, as in the case of the epistle to the Decembrists (Nepomnjaščij 1984: 159), readers, including the authorities, could be misled by the lexicon into making conclusions of their own.

The connecting link between the epistles to Nicholas, to the Decembrists, and to “friends” is not, as Makogonenko maintains (1985: 175), the notion of mercy—for the epistle to Siberia, even if construed to mean that Puškin is nurturing the exiles’ hopes for amnesty, has little to do with Nicholas’s personal qualities. What the poems have in common is courage manifested in different ways. The epistle to the Decembrists showed courage in an obvious way: Puškin avoided the censorship and the tsar by secretly sending to Siberia poetry that was highly suggestive of the eventual overthrow of autocracy by violent means. That the poem could be understood in less radical ways is undoubtedly true as well (Nepomnjaščij 1984). From this it hardly follows, however, that the poem is either radical or moderate, expressing the violent and inevitable victory of the Decembrists, or, less radically, the imminent amnesty of the exiles by a new tsar who can show himself to be merciful by freeing them (as he freed the exiled poet) and returning to them their rights as citizens (their “swords”). The poem is probably both, but this will be unsatisfying only if we insist on one and only one meaning. And “Stanzas” can be viewed similarly.

The deep resonance and suggestiveness of Puškin’s poetry is often perceived as a merit; there is no reason to object to such interpretational richness here, too—especially considering the difficulty of Puškin’s position with respect to the government and his exiled friends.

“Stanzas” is noteworthy for its bold, imperial tone of advice, a tone bolstered and justified by the tradition of poet-tsar advisory relations in verse, most notably represented by Karamzin. But whether or not justified and approved by tradition and convention, there is always the risk that the tsar will take the poet’s advice in the wrong way. Moreover, Puškin, in this case, faced the possibility that anything positive he said about Nicholas, especially so soon after the hanging of the Decembrists, could be understood by his contemporaries as an attempt to curry favor, to repay a debt, cynically to seek personal advantage with the enemy.

What Puškin managed to do was to tell, or perhaps remind, the tsar of a historical parallel. Peter too was challenged at the beginning of his reign; he too ended the revolt with executions. But he was also capable of showing mercy to those who opposed him, who honestly and in a principled manner disagreed with his policies. The references to the streltsy and Dolgorukij are troublesome because the analogy is not clear: perhaps it is, as Lerner saw it, a comparison of the Decembrists with the Streltsy, and Puškin himself with Dolgorukij, or perhaps it is a finer distinction between different Decembrists: those who in violent and mindless rage carried on the revolt, and those who through noble and unrealistic idealism planned the rebellion and supported it once it began. To Nicholas it made clear the importance of distinctions (and a forgiving spirit) without denying that the Decembrist revolt had something in common with the streltsy uprising; for the exiled Decembrists, the poem left open the possibility that they represented the tradition of principled opposition to the government.

Nepomnjaščij (1985: 151) is undoubtedly correct in suggesting that something other than the works themselves determines whether we perceive Puškin as a hypocritical manipulator, an idealistic, politically naive, and well-meaning poet who out of gratitude (and it seems clear that he was sincerely grateful to Nicholas [Ejdel’man 1985: 198]) was willing to believe anything Nicholas told him, or something in between—a man who, well aware of necessity and the need to survive with honor, to work and to deal nobly with friends in a far-from-perfect society, made small compromises with the government without betraying his own sense of integrity. Within Puškin’s own system of values, a hard-headed realism about the limited possibilities of political change played as important a role as the obligation to be loyal to friends, no matter how imprudent or impractical their views might be. Whether one is charitable toward Puškin and his motives is probably dependent on how one reacts to his words about the “assignment” on popular education Nicholas gave him; these words contain much of what I take to be Puškin’s understanding of his task in the post-Decembrist years—a willingness to use any opportunity to accomplish a limited end, even if it meant risking being misunderstood: “It would have been easy for me to write what was wanted, but I couldn’t let pass the opportunity to do good.”