In 1802–03 men replaced women in Nicholas' entourage, and his regular education began. As directed by Gen. Matthew Lamsdorff, it emphasized severe discipline and formalism. The growing grand duke studied French and German as well as Russian, world history, and general geography in French, together with the history and geography of Russia. Religion, drawing, arithmetic, geometry, algebra, and physics were added to the curriculum. Nicholas received instruction also in dancing, music, singing, and horseback riding and was introduced at an early age to the theatre, costume balls, and other court entertainment.
A more advanced curriculum went into effect in 1809, with courses ranging from political economy, logic, moral philosophy, and natural law to strategy. English, Latin, and Greek were added to the language program. Though, on the whole, a belief that Nicholas had not been trained for his role of Russian sovereign is wrong, he did profit little from the instruction, which he found rigid and tedious. He loved only military science, becoming a fine army engineer and expert in several other areas of military knowledge. Moreover, he always remained in his heart a dedicated junior officer.
Circumstances also favoured militarism. Nicholas' education, as well as that of his younger brother, was interrupted and largely terminated by the great struggles against Napoleon in 1812–15. The grand dukes were allowed to join the army in 1814, and, although they saw no actual fighting, they lived through the heady emotions of those momentous years and also enjoyed the opportunities to stay in Paris and other places in western and central Europe. On Nov. 4, 1815, at a state dinner in Berlin, Alexander I and King Frederick William III rose to announce the engagement of Nicholas and Princess Charlotte of Prussia (Alexandra, after she became Orthodox).
The solemn wedding followed some 20 months later, on July 13, 1817. The match represented a dynastic and political arrangement sought by both reigning houses, which had stood together in the decisive years against Napoleon and after that at the Congress of Vienna—the peace settlement following the Napoleonic Wars—and it proved singularly successful. Not only was Nicholas in love with his wife, but he became very closely attached to his father-in-law as well as to his royal brothers, one of whom was later to be his fellow ruler as King Frederick William IV. Beyond that, Nicholas was powerfully attracted by the Prussian court and even more so by the Prussian Army. He felt remarkably happy and at home in his adopted family and country, which for many years he tried to visit as often as he could.
To complete his training, Grand Duke Nicholas was sent on two educational voyages—an extensive tour of Russia that lasted from May to September in 1816 and a journey to England, where the future emperor spent four months late that same year and early in 1817. The Russian trip covered much ground at great speed and was quite superficial, but it has interest for the historian because of the notes that Nicholas, following the instructions of his mother, took on everything seen and heard. The grand duke's observations deal, typically, with appearances rather than with causes and reflect a number of his prejudices, including his bitter dislike of Poles and Jews. Such quick inspection tours later became almost an obsession of the Emperor.
In England, Nicholas stayed mostly in London, although he travelled to a score of other places. While he did attend the opening of the houses of Parliament and in general obtained some knowledge of English politics, his only recorded comments on that score were unfavourable. The future emperor found it much more congenial to examine military and naval centres. His favourite English companion was the Duke of Wellington. Less than a year after his return to Russia and a few months after his marriage, Nicholas was appointed inspector general of the army corps of engineers. In subsequent years he held several other military positions but of secondary significance.
Ascension to the throne.
Alexander I's unexpected death in southern Russia on Dec. 1, 1825, led to a dynastic crisis. Because Alexander I had no direct male successor, Constantine was next in line for the throne. But the heir presumptive had married a Polish woman not of royal blood in 1820 and renounced his rights to the crown. Nicholas was thus to become the next ruler of Russia, the entire matter being stated, in 1822, in a manifesto confirmed with Alexander I's signature. But the manifesto remained unpublished, and Nicholas questioned the legal handling of the whole issue and the reaction in the country, which expected Constantine to succeed Alexander. In any case, Constantine and the Polish kingdom of which he was commander in chief swore allegiance to Nicholas, but Nicholas, the Russian capital, and the Russian Army swore allegiance to Constantine.
It was only after Constantine's unyielding reaffirmation of his position and the resulting lapse of time that Nicholas decided to publish Alexander's manifesto and become emperor of Russia. On Dec. 26, 1825 (Dec. 14, O.S.), when the guard regiments in St. Petersburg were to swear allegiance for the second time in rapid succession, this time to Nicholas, liberal conspirators staged what came to be known as the Decembrist Rebellion. Utilizing their influence in the army, in which many of them were officers, they started a mutiny in several units, which they entreated to defend the rightful interests of Constantine (Constantine, Veliky Knyaz) against his usurping brother. Altogether some 3,000 misled rebels marched in military formation to the Senate Square—now the Decembrist Square—in the heart of the capital. Although the rebellion had failed by nightfall, it meant that Nicholas I ascended the throne over the bodies of some of his subjects and in actual combat with the dreaded revolution.
Personality.
Nicholas I has come down in history as the classic autocrat, in appearance and manner as much as in behaviour and policy. To quote Andrew Dickson White (White, Andrew Dickson), a United States diplomat:
With his height of more than six feet, his head always held high, a slightly aquiline nose, a firm and well-formed mouth under a light moustache, a square chin, an imposing, domineering, set face, noble rather than tender, monumental rather than human, he had something of Apollo and of Jupiter . . . Nicholas was unquestionably the most handsome man in Europe.
Or to refer to Adolphe, marquis de Custine, whose lasting literary fame rests on his denunciation of the Russia of Nicholas I: “Virgil's Neptune . . . one could not be more emperor than he.” In short, Nicholas I came to represent autocracy personified: infinitely majestic, determined and powerful, hard as stone, and relentless as fate. Yet, on closer acquaintance, the other side of the Emperor emerged. The detachment and the superior calm of an autocrat, which Nicholas I tried so often and so hard to display, were essentially a false front. The sovereign's insistence on firmness and stern action was based on fear, not on confidence; his determination concealed a state approaching panic, and his courage fed on something akin to despair. Nicholas' violent hatred could concentrate apparently with equal ease on an individual, such as the French king Louis-Philippe; a group, such as the Decembrists; a people, such as the Poles; or a concept, such as revolution. His impulse was always to strike and keep striking until the object of his wrath was destroyed.
Aggressiveness, however, was not the Emperor's only method of coping with the problems of life. He also used regimentation, orderliness, neatness, and precision, an enormous effort to have everything at all times in its proper place. Nicholas I was by nature a drill master and an inspector general; the army remained his love, almost an obsession, from childhood to the end of his life. But, in every other sphere of activity and existence too, the Emperor insisted on minute and precise regulation, with nothing to be left to chance. Position, circumstances, and his own character placed an almost intolerable burden on his shoulders. Still, he managed to carry it for three decades, sustained by his overwhelming sense of duty and devotion to hard work, by his sincere religious convictions, and by his family. His outlook, however, became ever more pessimistic and fatalistic, until in the disaster of the Crimean War the autocrat declared simply: “I shall carry my cross until all my strength is gone.” “Thy will be done.”