BOBROV: I am against censorship – for a simple reason. If men are free to speak, the voice of Reason will eventually prevail. Unless, of course, you have no faith in men’s reason.
COUNTESS: (Nastily) Have you faith, General?
GENERAL: (Cheerfully) Not much.
BOBROV: History may be on your side. But what about the future? Men can change and so can the way they are governed. Look how the empress is bringing up her grandsons. Do you disapprove of that?
Everyone knew that Catherine had personally taken charge of her grandsons, Alexander and Constantine. She had put them under a democratically minded Swiss tutor who was teaching them how they might be enlightened rulers of the vast empires she planned to leave them.
GENERAL: I admire the empress. But when her grandson rules, enlightened or not, he will find his choices for action are limited.
COUNTESS: (Impatiently) No doubt you look forward to the reign of Grand Duke Paul, instead?
Bobrov smiled. The Grand Duke Paul, Catherine’s only legitimate son, was the countess’s pet hate. He was a strange and moody fellow, and whether or not he was actually his son, Paul certainly modelled himself on the murdered Tsar Peter III. He hated the empress for taking over his sons and seldom came to court. An obsessive military disciplinarian, he had no interest in the Enlightenment, and there was a rumour that Catherine might one day by-pass him in the succession for his son. Even so, no sensible official like the general was going to speak ill of this man who might still one day be ruler. Wisely, therefore, the older man said nothing.
BOBROV: To return to censorship – what practical harm comes from showing a play?
GENERAL: Probably none. But it is the principle of free speech I object to. For two reasons. The first is that it encourages a spirit of opposition for its own sake. But the second, and worse danger, is not the effect on the people, but on their rulers.
BOBROV: How so?
GENERAL: Because if a so-called enlightened government thinks it must defend its action by Reason, then it starts to believe it is morally obliged to win every argument. Now what if a powerful and determined group – which cares nothing for argument and free speech – opposes such a government? It becomes helpless. It’s no use asking a philosopher to defend us against Genghis Khan! That’s the whole lesson of Russian history.
It was a powerful argument. The countess looked put out.
BOBROV: Yet the Tatars overcame Russia because she was disunited. I believe that nowadays and in the future, only those governments which have the trust of a free people will be truly strong and united.
GENERAL: I disagree. Freedom weakens.
BOBROV: You fear the people?
GENERAL: Yes. Certainly. Remember Pugachev.
Ah, Pugachev. There was an almost audible sigh amongst the onlookers. The little phrase would reverberate in Russia for another century. For only twelve years had passed since the last, awful peasant revolt, which the Cossack Pugachev had led. Like all the others – like the great revolt of Stenka Razin the previous century – it had begun across the steppe by the Volga and swept towards Moscow. Like Razin’s revolt, it lacked strategy and organization, and had been crushed. But it had reminded the whole Russian gentry and the imperial government once more of that dark belief that plagued all Muscovy’s history: the people were dangerous and to be feared. That’s all one had to say: ‘Remember Pugachev.’
GENERAL: Russia is huge and backward, Alexander Prokofievich: an empire of villages. We are in the Middle Ages still. Only a strong autocrat and gentry can hold it together. As for the merchants and peasants, they have no common interests with the gentry and if you let them debate with each other, they can’t agree upon anything. Our enlightened empress knows it very well.
It was certainly true that Catherine ruled as an autocrat. The Senate and Council that Peter had set up did nothing but ratify her decisions. As for debates, when Catherine – trying to reform Russia’s antiquated laws – had convoked a huge council with representatives of all the classes, they had refused to cooperate with each other and had been disbanded.
BOBROV: These things take time.
GENERAL: No. The nobility is the only class in Russia that is capable of governing: they have their privileges because Russia needs them. Do we want to lose our privileges?
The noble class set up by Peter was there to serve the state: and they were proud to do it. Catherine, needing their support, had showered them with favours. She had placed all local government in their hands. The charter she had enacted the previous year had confirmed almost every privilege they could desire. All their estates, including the old pomestie service estates, were theirs absolutely now. No other class could own land. Yet though they usually chose to serve the state, they were no longer obliged to. They paid no taxes. They could not be knouted. They were even allowed to travel abroad. Thus, from the state servants of the Russian autocracy, had arisen a privileged class with few responsibilities, yet more protected than any other in Europe. The general had shrewdly appealed to the self-interest of most of the people in the room.
But privilege was one thing: philosophy another. It was time to counter-attack.
BOBROV: But you forget Natural Law.
And now the countess gave a smile of relief. Natural Law was one of the favourite ideas of the Enlightenment.
BOBROV: The peasant is downtrodden and illiterate. But he is no less human than I. He, too, is capable of rational thought. That is our hope for the future.
GENERAL: You wish to educate him?
BOBROV: Why not?
A gleam came into the general’s eye. This clever civil servant had gone too far.
GENERAL: Why, Alexander Prokofievich, if the peasant is as rational as you say, and you educate him, then who will till the land? He will want to be free. He will want to turn out the government and the empress too. You will have to emancipate your serfs and your own rule of Reason will sweep you away. This is not America. There would be chaos. Is that what you want – chaos and emancipation?
The old man felt sure of his ground here. Over ninety-five per cent of the population were peasants – half state peasants, with a few, insignificant rights; and half privately owned serfs, like Bobrov’s. During that century, their rights had diminished even further: they could be bought and sold like cattle. Even the enlightened empress had only dared to recommend the nobility to be kind to them. And Countess Turova herself, to the general’s knowledge, owned more than four thousand souls. It seemed to him he had won the argument.
The countess looked at Alexander anxiously. He smiled faintly. It was time for the kill.
BOBROV: Permit me to disagree. Voltaire showed us the absurdity of superstition – which I take, General, to be a belief in that which Reason shows us cannot be so. And Reason, General, does not oblige me to pretend that my serf is an animal and deny him his human rights. Perhaps my serf is not ready to be a free man yet; but his children may be. Reason does not oblige me to say that peasants who are free will not work my land. How are estates worked in other countries, where the peasants are free? You say that if a peasant has any education, he will deny all authority and try to overthrow the empress. Then why do we, educated men, gladly serve an autocracy ourselves? Because Reason tells us it is necessary. I suggest rather that Reason gives us wise laws, and as much freedom as is good for us. I am happy to know that my empress will decide these matters, and that she also allows rational men, without censorship, to discuss them. In short, I am content to serve my empress and, to take my inspiration from the great Voltaire, I have nothing to fear.