The Military and Society in Russia 1450-1917 (History of Warfare)

THE MILITARY AND SOCIETY IN RUSSIA, 1450-1917

HISTORY OF WARFARE General Editor KELLY DEVRIES Loyola College

Founding Editors THERESA VANN PAUL GHEVEDDEN

VOLUME 14

THE MILITARY AND SOCIETY IN RUSSIA 1450-1917 EDITED BY

ERIC LOHR AND MARSHALL POE

BRILL LEIDEN • BOSTON • KOLN 2002

Brill Academic Publishers has done its best to establish rights for the use of the materials for the cover. Should any other party feel that its rights have been infringed we would be glad to hear from them.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The military and society in Russia : 1450-1917 / edited by Eric Lohr and Marshall Poe. p. cm. — (History of warfare , ISSN 1385-7827 ; v. 14) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 9004122737 1. Russia—History, Military. 2. War and civilization—Russia. I. Lohr, Eric. II. Poe, Marshall. III. Series. DK51 .M.546 947—dc21

2002 2002025411

Die Deutsche Bibliothek — CIP-Einheitsaufnahme The military and society in Russia 1450 - 1917 / ed. by Eric Lohr and Marshall Poe. - Leiden ; Boston ; Koln : Brill, 2002 (History of warfare ; Vol. 14) ISBN 90-04-12273-7

ISSN 1385-7827 ISBN 9 0 0 4 1 2 2 7 3 7 © Copyright 2002 by Koninklijke Brill NV,Leiden, The Netherlands All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retneval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy itemsfor internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910 DanversMA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. PRINTED IN THE NETHERLANDS

CONTENTS List of Maps List of Contributors Preface Maps

ix xi xv xvii

Introduction: The Role of War in Russian History Marshall Poe and Eric Lohr

1

PART I The Military and Society in Muscovy Troop Mobilization by the Muscovite Grand Princes (1313-1533) Donald Ostrowski The Costs of Muscovite Military Defense and Expansion .... Richard Hellie In Defense of the Realm: Russian Arms Trade and Production in the Seventeenth and Early Eighteenth Century J. T. Kotilaine The Second Chigirin Campaign: Late Muscovite Military Power in Transition Brian Davies

19

41

67

97

Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich: Muscovite Military Command Style and Legacy to Russian Military History Peter B. Brown

119

Evaluating Peter's Army: The Impact of Internal Organization Carol Stevens

147

VI

CONTENTS

PART II Military and Society in Imperial Russia The Grand Strategy of the Russian Empire, 1650-1831 John P. LeDonne The Russian Army in the Seven Years War John L. H. Keep

....

175

197

Military Service and Social Hierarchy: The View from Eighteenth-Century Russian Theater Elise Kimmerling Wirtschafter

221

The Nobility and the Officer Corps in the Nineteenth Century Walter Pintner

241

Imperial War Games (1898-1906): Symbolic Displays of Power or Practical Training? John W. Steinberg

253

Military Aviation, National Identity, and the Imperatives of Modernity in Late Imperial Russia

273

Gregory Vitarbo "To Build a Great Russia": Civil-Military Relations in the Third Duma, 1907-12 David Schimmelpenninck van der Oye

293

PART III Patriotism, Nationality, Religion and the Military Battle for the Divine Sophia? Ivan IV's Campaigns against Polotsk and Novgorod Sergei Bogatyrev

325

Tatars in the Muscovite Army during the Livonian War Janet Martin

365

CONTENTS

Baptizing Mars: The Conversion to Russian Orthodoxy of European Mercenaries during the Mid-Seventeenth Century

Vll

389

William Reger IV

'Guardians of the Faith' Jewish Traditional Societies in the Russian Army: The Case of the Thirty-Fifth Briansk Regiment

413

Yohanan Petrovsky-Shtern

Swords into Plowshares: Opposition to Military Service Among Sectarians, 1770s to 1874

441

Nicholas B. Breyfogel

The Response of the Population of Moscow to the Napoleonic Occupation of 1812

469

Alexander M. Martin

The Holy Sepulcher and the Origin of the Crimean War David

491

Goldfrank

Military Reform, Moral Reform, and the End of the Old Regime

507

Josh Sanborn

The Russian Military and the Jews in Galicia, 1914-15

525

Alexander V. Prusin

Index

545

This page intentionally left blank

LIST OF MAPS 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Kievan Rus' Muscovy, Lithuania and The Golden Horde, ca. 1400 Muscovite Military expension in the Sixteenth Century The Time of Troubles 1598-1613 Russia and the Wars of Peter the Great Europe at the time of the Crimean War The Russian Front in 1915

This page intentionally left blank

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Sergei Bogatyrev is decent of medieval East Slavic culture at the University of Helsinki and research fellow at the University of Joensuu. Bogatyrev graduated from the Institute for History and Archives (Moscow) and took his doctorate at the University of Helsinki. He is the author of The Sovereign and His Counsellors: Ritualised Consultations in Muscovite Political Culture, 1350s~1570s. His research interests include Muscovite political culture and regionalism in the Russian Empire. Nicholas B. Breyfogle is Assistant Professor in the Department of History at The Ohio State University. He is currently completing work on his first book, Heretics and Colonizers: Religious Dissent and Russian Empire-Building in the South Caucasus and has begun work on his second project, tentatively entitled "Baikal: The Great Lake and its People." His research interests include Russian colonialism, interethnic contact, peasant studies, religious belief and policy, and environmental history. Peter Brown Peter B. Brown is Professor of history at Rhode Island College. He is the editor of Festschrift for A. A. Zimin, published as a special issue in Russian History 25, nos. 1-2 (Spring-Summer 1998) and the editor of Studies and Essays on the Soviet and Eastern European Economies by Arcadius Kahan. He is working on two book manuscripts: Serve and Control: the Structure, Expansion, and Politics of Russian Central Administration, 1613-1725 and Muscovite Military Leadership in the Early Part of the Thirteen Tears' War: the Belarussian Campaign of 1654 and 1655. Brian Davies is Associate Professor of History at the University of San Antonio. He has recently completed a study of the military colonization of Muscovy's southern frontier in the 1630s-1640s and is working on a history of Russia's 16th-18th century wars against the Crimean Khanate and Ottoman Empire. David Goldfrank has been teaching Russian, European, and World History at Georgetown University since 1970. His writings include

Xll

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

The Origins of the Crimean War (1994) and The Monastic Rule of losif Volotsky (Revised ed, 2000). John LeDonne is an Associate Davis Center Harvard University. He is the author of Absolutism and Ruling Class, The Russian Empire and the World as well as many articles on Russian history. Eric Lohr is Assistant Professor of History at Harvard University. He is the author of Nationalizing the Russian Empire: The Campaign Against Enemy Minorities during World War I. He is working on an overview of Russia during World War I for the Cambridge History of Russia and a book on the institution of poddanstvo (subjecthood/citizenship) in late imperial Russia. Richard Hellie is the Thomas E. Donnelley Professor of Russian History at The University of Chicago, where he has taught since 1966. He is the author of Enserfment and Military Change in Muscovy, Slavery in Muscovy 1450—1725, The Economy and Material Culture of Russia 1600—1725, and many articles. He has edited several volumes and been editor of Russian History for over a decade. Currently he is authoring The Structure of Modern Russian History., a volume which views Russian history since the 1480s in terms of three path-dependent service class revolutions. John Keep is the author of many books and articles on Russian history, including Soldiers of the Tsar: Army and Society in Russia, 1462-1874 and Soldiering in Tsarist Russia. Harmon Memorial Lectures in Military History. Jarmo Kotilaine is a junior fellow at the Harvard Society of Fellows. He is the author of two forthcoming volumes on Russian foreign economic relations in the 17th century. He is currently working on economic policy in early modern Poland-Lithuania, Russia, and Scandinavia. Alexander M. Martin is associate professor of history at Oglethorpe University in Atlanta. His publications include Romantics, Reformers, Reactionaries: Russian Conservative Thought and Politics in the Reign of Alexander /(Northern Illinois University Press, 1997) and an edited translation of Provincial Russia in the Age of Enlightenment: The Memoir of a Priest's

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Xlll

Son by Dmitrii I. Rostislavov (Northern Illinois University Press, 2002). He is currently working on a study of Moscow in the early 19th century. Donald Ostrowski is Research Advisor in the Social Sciences in the Master of Liberal Arts Program and Lecturer in Extension Studies at Harvard University. He is the author of Muscovy and the Mongols: Cross-Cultural Influences on the Steppe Frontier, 1304-1589. Marshall Poe teaches history at Harvard University. He is the author of 'A People Bom to Slavery': Russia in Early Modem European Ethnography, 1476-1748 and The Russian Elite in the Seventeenth Century (2 vols.). He is also co-editor of Kritika: Explorations in Russian and Eurasian History. He is currently working on early modern Eurasian history. William M. Reger IV is currently teaching at Illinois State University. He continues to research and write about foreigners in Muscovy. Joshua Sanborn is assistant professor of Russian history at Lafayette College. He is the author of Drafting the Russian Nation: Military Conscription, Total War, and Mass Politics, 1905-1925. He is currently working on a study of life in battle zones on the Eastern Front during World War I. David Schimmelpenninck van der Oye teaches Russian and East Asian history at Brock University in St Catharines, Canada. He is the author of Toward the Rising Sun: Russian Ideologies of Empire and the Path to War with Japan and co-editor with Bruce Menning of Reforming the Tsar's Army. He is currently writing a study of Russian Orientalism. Yohanan Petrovsky-Shtern lectures in comparative literature and history at Tufts University and in Judaic Studies at Hebrew College (Boston). He has published numerous articles in comparative literature and is the author of a forthcoming monograph Evrei v Russkoi armii (1827-1914). His most recent publications include "Sud'ba srednei linii," a review article of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's book 200 let vmeste that appeared at Neprikosnovennyi zapas 4 (2001). He is at present preparing a book Drafted into Modernity: Jews in the Russian Army (1827^1914).

XIV

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

John W. Steinberg is Associate Professor of history at Georgia Southern University. He has just complete a manuscript entitled Commanding the Tsar's Army: The Education and Training of the Russian General Staff, 1898-1914., and is Editor in Chief of the Russo-Japanese War Project which is under contract with Brill and scheduled for publication in 2005. Carol Stevens is an Associate Professor at Colgate University in Hamilton New York. Her publications include Soldiers on the Steppe (1996) and a variety of articles on the social and economic impact of military change, 17-18th centuries; she is co-translator of L. S. Vygotsky's Fundamentals of Defectology. She is currently working on a survey of early modern Russian military history and a monograph on Russian banditry. Gregory Vitarbo is assistant professor of history at Meredith College, where he teaches a variety of courses in Modern European and Russian history. He is currently working on a manuscript that explores the military, social, and cultural impact of aviation on the Russian Imperial army in the years before World War I. Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter is professor of history at California State Polytechnic University in Pomona. She is the author most recently of Social Identity in Imperial Russia and currently is completing The Play of Ideas in Russian Enlightenment Theater, which will be published by Northern Illinois University Press.

PREFACE Throughout Russian history, the army has played a vital role as a catalyst of historical development and social change. While the history of battles, strategy, and the army as an institution have all received a fair amount of attention from historians, the kind of sustained research and discussion of the relationships between the army and society evident in the historiographies of other countries has been lacking for the Russian case. This volume brings together new research and essays addressing this broad theme in Russian history. The contributions address such persistent questions in Russian history as the interrelationships between war and military change on the one hand and social, political and economic change on the other. Individual authors assess the cultural and social role of the officer corps, the mobilization of resources for the military, the politics of defense spending, and the social aspects of military campaigns. A third of the papers focus on issues of nationalism, religion and patriotism that have moved to the center of contemporary debate about Russia, but have received remarkably scant attention in previous scholarship on the Russian military and society. First and foremost, the editors are obliged to express our appreciation to Brill, and specifically Julian Deal, for initiating this project. Without Brill's support, this book would not exist. The volume benefited greatly from a three day authors' conference hosted by the Davis Center for Russian Studies at Harvard University in September 2000. The editors thank the Davis Center for its generous financial and logistical support. The project owes much to Kelly O'Neill for her extensive editorial and administrative assistance. This project had some twenty five silent partners—the scholars who vetted each and every paper in this book. Naturally we are grateful to them for improving the final product. Finally, thanks are due to the authors for their professionalism and enthusiasm.

This page intentionally left blank

Map 1. Kievan Rus', ca.1240

Map 2. Muscovy, Lithuania and The Golden Horde, ca. 1400

Map 3. Muscovite Military Expansion in Sixteenth Century

Map 4. The Time of Troubles 1598-1613

Map 5. Russia and the Wars of Peter the Great

Map 6. Europe at the Time of the Crimean War

Map 7. The Russian Front in 1915

This page intentionally left blank

INTRODUCTION THE ROLE OF WAR IN RUSSIAN HISTORY Marshall Poe and Eric Lohr It is customary in introductions to collections of articles for the editors to offer brief summaries of the published pieces, explaining how they relate to one another and fit into historiographical context. In the case of the present volume, however, this tedious ritual is unnecessary: the titles of the articles themselves relate their content with sufficient fidelity, and the authors have taken pains to situate their contributions amidst the literature on Russian history. This being so, we thought we would take the opportunity to offer a few words on the general theme of the impact of war on Russian history in the longue dune. Our intent is not to provide a detailed account of the history of Russia's geopolitical context, military forces, or armed conflicts. The articles in this volume accomplish this. Rather, we believed it would be useful to step away from the details and consider the grand narrative of Russian military history—the story of a backward quasi-European empire that survived against considerable odds by transforming itself into a "garrison state." The ABCs of Russia's Strategic Position

History has never been kind to Russia, but she was a particularly harsh mistress in Russia's infancy. Modern Russia's true predecessor, Muscovy, was born in a remarkably poor strategic position, one that virtually ensured that the Russian people would have to make incredible sacrifices in the name of self-preservation. That strategic situation was marked by four salient features, each the result of historical accident: open borders, hostile neighbors, technological backwardness, and poverty. Other major early modern states faced either some or even all of these obstacles, each to differing degrees. But it is at least arguable that no early modern state occupied a strategic position as unenviable as that facing the Muscovites. Fate did not endow Russia with mighty walls to defend herself. A simple glance at any map of Eurasia demonstrates that the East

I

ERIC LOHR AND MARSHALL POE

Slavs settled in an area of the world without defendable natural borders. The enterprise established by Ivan III circa 1500 was located on a forested, relatively flat region of northwestern Eurasia. Moscow faced frozen taiga to the north, a swampy plain to the west, gently raising flatlands to the east, and the expansive Great Steppe to the south. No great natural barrier protected the landlocked country from its enemies. Russia's only durable natural defense was its extreme, continental climate. But, as is clearly demonstrated by the historical record, the winter freeze and spring mud did not prove to be a very significant barrier. In the late fall and mid summer, Muscovy became a small island in the middle of a relatively calm ocean—pirates could easily make their way to her shores. And many pirates there were. In the world-historical perspective, Muscovy emerged in a very unusual and hostile geopolitical configuration— a stable state-system. Throughout most of human history, multi-polar international systems have proven quite ephemeral. Throughout recorded time and all over the globe, closely situated states have emerged, gone to war, and very quickly consolidated under a leading military power. Thereafter a much more stable entity has generally appeared—an empire. (This is, incidentally, exactly what happened in Rus' during the fourteenth through sixteenth centuries.) The western peninsula of Eurasia marks a significant exception to this pre-modern pattern. After the break-up of the Roman and then Carolingian Empires, a welter of small states appeared. As the major kingdoms of Europe emerged from the gloom, a typical process of consolidation began. But despite the best efforts of several "emperors," the process was never completed and a relatively durable statesystem formed. One of the primary characteristics of the early European state-system was military predation. First, the half-dozen or so powerful states conquered weaker states, until only powerful states with roughly equal war-making capacity survived. Then the powerful states attacked one another, each attempting to achieve supremacy over a neighbor or even the lot. None ever succeeded. By shear historical accident, Muscovy appeared in precisely this unusually embattled context, surrounded by a number of violent winners: Sweden to the north, Poland-Lithuania to the west, Turkey and its client states to the south, and the Tatar khanates to the east. Each had designs on Russia's territories and each would invade them. Yet all of Muscovy's neighbors were not equal in strength. Those to the east—the Mongols, Tatars and some of the indigenous peo-

INTRODUCTION

6

pies of the Volga basin—were accomplished pastoral nomads. They lived on horseback, moving along well-traveled seasonal routes with their herds. This ancient modus vivendi entailed cardinal military advantages in the vast plains of Eurasia—rapid strategic advance, tactical agility in battle, and easy egress. We have every reason to believe that the Rus' and early Muscovites, though they were sedentary peoples, effectively mimicked the steppe way of war. Ivan III used the Tatars' own tactics to subdue them and create Muscovy. His successors, however, could not pursue this strategy and hope to survive. Immediately to the west of Muscovy, Europeans were transforming the way in which sedentary peoples fought, effectively ending the supremacy of the pastoral pattern of warfare in Eurasia forever. The European "Military Revolution" is a long and complicated story, but its essence is found in a single innovation—the mass manufacture and deployment of gunpowder arms. Beginning in the sixteenth century, and with steadily increasing progress thereafter, Europeans produced large numbers of guns, designed forces to take advantage of them, and build fortresses to defend against them. The new forces swept old-style armies from the field everywhere they met them—in the Americas, in Africa, in Asia. The Muscovites themselves survived the European onslaught, but just barely. In the process, they became perhaps the world's first self-consciously "backward" nation, that is, a sovereign state rushing to "catch up" to Europe in the military sphere—and as a function of that—striving to catch up in the economic sphere. Although Russia has periodically risen to the rank of a great military power, the country has not been able to maintain such might over long periods. The reason has everything to do with the Muscovite and later Russian economy. Looking at Muscovy on a map, one cannot help but be impressed by her vastness. Early modern Russia seemed to be more of a continent than a country. Similarly, one must be impressed by her apparent riches. Early modern Russia seems to have been a treasure-trove of mineral wealth unmatched in the world. Yet size and resources do not a wealthy country make. In fact, relative to her size and endowments, early modern Russia was a poor nation indeed. Within the constraints of short growing seasons, Muscovite peasants employed primitive agricultural techniques on poor soil. They seem to have made little or no investment in more intensive production strategies, preferring (as is logical in a country with huge amounts of land and little labor) to plow

4

ERIC LOHR AND MARSHALL POE

their tiny surplus product into larger families. Subsistence agriculture meant very low levels of urbanization in Rus': cities need grain and the Russian peasant had little to spare. Low levels of urbanization meant low levels of trade and manufacture: merchants and craftsmen need capital and markets, and Russia had neither. Thus the very engine of European economic growth and technical development—the urban capitalist class—was almost entirely absent in Russia. In terms of defense, poverty and technical ignorance placed Muscovy in a very uncomfortable situation: she neither had the money to buy sufficient arms from abroad, nor the means to develop her own advanced arms industry. In these baleful conditions, it seemed unlikely that Muscovy would survive. Indeed, most early modern states—some with greater strategic endowments than Russia—did not. As we will presently see, Muscovy lived on because the autocratically organized Russian ruling class was able to transform Russia into what Richard Hellie has aptly called "a garrison state." The Muscovite Garrison State

Though they were in an unenviable strategic situation, the Muscovites did develop one cardinal asset—autocracy, a type of political regime typical in the pre-modern world but unusual in the early modern European context. What was Russian autocracy? Most simply, it was the tsar and his self-styled "slaves," that is, the warriors who comprised the court, the army, and the provincial elite. This group held a nearly complete monopoly on legitimate coercion in Muscovy. If ever there was a "ruling class," this was it: relatively closed, primarily hereditary, and nearly unlimited in its ability to force compliance on the unorganized peasant and tiny urban populations. Comparison helps explain the relative strength of Muscovite autocracy. In large early modern European states such as England, France, and Prussia, power was divided among several groups. These groups could be religious (the Church), economic (incorporated towns), or socio-political (estates). Often their interests were represented on the national level in "ancient" representative institutions. In Muscovy, all political power was concentrated in the ruling class, for it had no serious competitors: the Church was comparatively subservient to the state (Peter made it a government bureau); there were no pow-

INTRODUCTION

0

erful "private" commercial interests to speak of; and Russia had no right-embodied legal estates. There was a representative institution of sorts, the so-called "Assembly of the Land." It did not, however, represent the interests of "society" before the ruling class, but rather provided a mechanism by which the elite could consult with its foot soldiers. Autocracy saved Muscovy insofar as it made possible the prosecution of a series of radical reforms that, in sum, compensated for Russia's strategic shortcomings vis-a-vis Europe. Four principle reforms were carried out—restricting travel in and out of Russia, the creation of an imperial buffer zone, the invention of state-driven military industrial complex, and the enserfment of much of the productive population. The most pressing problem facing the Muscovites and, later, Imperial Russians was the long open border. Clearly if the Russian state was to survive, something radical had to be done to protect the frontier from infiltration and invasion. The Muscovites opted for two strategies to accomplish this. First, they all but closed the borders: foreigners were not allowed to enter Muscovy and Russians were not permitted to leave the country without the express permission of the tsar. The elite did recruit a few foreigners—Greek monks, German doctors, Ukrainian humanists, and mercenaries of all nationalities—but only for very limited purposes. All the foreign experts were under the direct jurisdiction of the court and generally lived under state supervision in Moscow. Second, the Russian elite built a series of elaborate perimeter defenses. The most notable of these were along the southern and southeastern frontiers, the Belgorod and, later, the Orenburg lines. These systems of fixed fortifications served as a buffer against attacks from the Steppe and Central Asia. In the west and southwest, the Muscovites invested huge resources in fortifying strategic cities—Ivangorod, Polotsk, Smolensk, and many others. These massive walled cities were designed expressly with European gunpowder armies in mind. Fortifying the border afforded a measure of security, but the Muscovites did not consider this measure sufficient. Therefore they pursued a second, complementary strategy—the creation of an imperial buffer zone just beyond the Russian defensive perimeter. Beginning in the sixteenth century, the Russian elite concentrated its military energies on the capture of peripheral, non-Muscovite trading towns such as Kazan', Astrakhan', Kiev, Smolensk, Polotsk, the German

O

ERIC LOHR AND MARSHALL POE

port cities along the Baltic, and the Crimean coastal cities. Once occupied, this buffer zone held the Swedes, Lithuanians, Poles and Turks one step removed from the Orthodox Muscovite heartland around Moscow. They also provided additional income for the state in the form of taxation. But the buffer zone proved unstable. The new areas attracted Russian settlers, who then began to request protection from Moscow. Migration, in turn, called for the creation of a new and more distant buffer zone in Finland, Poland, Moldova, Romania, the Kuban, Caucasus and Central Asia. A defensive perimeter is only as good as the army that protects it, and in the Muscovite case the army was inferior to the advanced gunpowder forces, particularly those mustered by the Swedes and Ottomans. This was demonstrated on several bloody occasions in the later sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. In order to make their defensive strategy effective, the Muscovites had to find a way to keep pace with the Europeans in terms of military technology. Yet the Muscovites lacked a well-articulated native arms industry, and given the weakness of Russian manufacturing in general, it seemed impossible that one would emerge on its own. Faced with no viable alternative, the state set about importing arms from Europe and creating its own arms industry. Beginning in the sixteenth century, Moscow imported large numbers of European captains to train the natives, massive numbers of European guns to arm them, and a significant cohort of European gunsmiths to begin the process of creating a Russian arms industry under state direction. By the second half of the seventeenth century this early experiment in statedriven economic development began to bear real fruit—Russian armies were relatively "modern" and were armed increasingly with weapons of Russian manufacture. Money is of course the sinews of war. Fortifying the border, subduing a buffer zone, and creating a viable army to man it were all very expensive operations. The Muscovites, however, had very little brass to spare: their peasantry was poor, their merchants were few, and there was little hope of loans from Europe (besides, Muscovy had no banks). How did they manage to pay for their program? To be sure, they taxed to the extent the economy allowed, primarily in trading towns, and they even received small foreign subsidies. But the money and goods collected proved insufficient for the needs of the court. The elite therefore took the radical step of decreeing that every subject, regardless of rank, owed service of some sort to the

INTRODUCTION

7

tsar, from the highest prince to the lowest serf. As remarkable as it might seem to us, this strategy proved effective—Muscovites apparently believed that they were bound by God to serve the grand prince and they did so willingly and often without any compensation. Yet no institution can be sustained by fealty alone. The Muscovite elite knew this, and they used the only asset they had at their disposal to compensate military servitors—land. In the sixteenth century, the court in a sense nationalized a major portion of all productive land and distributed it in parcels to cavalry men as conditional tenures. Later the court effectively nationalized the peasant labor on that land and handed it over to the military servitors—thus establishing serfdom. Finally, the Muscovite rulers imposed a virtual monopoly on foreign trade and certain domestic items (especially liquor). These monopolies increased state incomes, which were used to maintain and modernize the army. How successful was the Muscovite response to Europe? The most common fate of an early modern European state was extinction. Of the several hundred sovereignties and semi-sovereignties that made up Europe around 1450, only a handful remained in 1700. It is remarkable that Russia was one of these few survivors, because she was among the weakest states in Europe in 1500. The Imperial Garrison State

For most of the imperial period of Russian history, the autocratic state pursued the strategic program set forth by its Muscovite predecessor—it guarded the borders carefully, surrounded itself with a ring of client states, imported western arms, and squeezed the peasantry to support the army. As we will see, it was only when the state ceased to be autocratic that it changed this program with, as it turned out, disastrous consequences. Peter the Great is often credited with opening a "window to the West," but in actual fact this opening was rather a narrow firing slit—as found in a fortification—than a portal through which European culture could flow. Peter—and for that matter Catherine the Great, Alexander I, and Nicholas I—had little intention allowing most Russians full and free access to the European world, nor did they intend to permit Europeans to travel freely in Russia in large numbers. Having been "Europeanized" themselves, they came to view

O

ERIC LOHR AND MARSHALL POE

Russia as a proud, though primitive country, whose predominant population—serfs—needed protection from every manner of European contagion. The protectors—the upper echelon of the Russian ruling class—were, to various degrees under various rulers, exempt from the prohibition on travel to Europe. Their journeys to Europe are the stuff of Russian cultural history, but they had little or no direct effect on the lives of the mass of Russian peasants. They never dreamed of leaving the country and knew next to nothing of the wider world. The border that surrounded Russia remained heavily fortified, though mobile, particularly in the south and southeast. The Muscovite fortified lines marched steadily across the Great Steppe to the northern coast of the Black Sea, down the Kuban to the Caucasus, and across Central Asia to the rim of the Tian Shan mountains—thereby giving imperial Russia the defensible southern border Muscovy had lacked. The strategy of seeking "natural" borders, however, could not work in the West, for there were none to be reached. And even in the south and southeast, the "natural" border remained largely in the hands of local warlords (about whom one can read in Lermontov and Tolstoy), making it something less than hermetically sealed. Therefore the imperial state pursued a supercharged version of the Muscovite "client state" policy. By the mid-ninteenth century, the entire western and southern borders of the Russian empire were rimmed with subservient powers—Karelia, Ingria, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Belarus', Western Ukraine, Volynia, Podolia, the Kingdom of Poland, Abkhazia, Ossetiia, Chechnia, Daghestan, Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaizhan', the Kazakh Hordes (Little, Middle, Great), Turkmenistan, Bukhara, Tadjikistan, Kirghizistan. Politically, these clients ranged from simple tribal bands to once independent kingdoms. Culturally, they represented every stage of development from "barbarism to civilization" (the then-current categories). Ethnically, they were remarkably diverse. Virtually the only thing these peoples had in common was their subordination to Moscow and inclusion in the "Russian Empire." Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, western Europe remained the world powerhouse of technological and organizational innovation. This was of course true in the realm of arms: European style armies equipped with European-born instruments of war swept all other forces from the fields and seas in what has come to be known as the "Age of Empire." As in the Muscovite period,

INTRODUCTION

9

the Russian ruling class remained aware of the superiority of European arms. As before, Russia invested very heavily in the importation of European arms, arms makers, and officers. In addition, they invested huge resources into the creation of a "modern" (that is, Europeanstyle) military-industrial complex, complete with military academies, organized conscription, standing forces, arms factories, and the first gestures toward a blue-water navy. By the early nineteenth century, Russia's army was quite similar in terms of organization and armaments to other continental European armies, as Napoleon learned through hard experience. Russia herself, however, remained quite distinct from the leading powers of Western Europe. Several European countries were transformed by two developments—the rise of quasi-democratic "national" government and the industrial revolution. As a result of these events, the major European armies grew to enormous size and ferocity. Before "popular sovereignty," fighting was the prerogative of the king's men, mercenaries and the few subjects unlucky enough to be dragooned into temporary service. After the nationalist-democratic impulse, the entire citizenry was charged with the defense of the motherland—everyone fought. Before industrialization, the state could afford only smallish armies mustered for particular campaigns and quickly disbanded. After the economic explosion, the state grew rich enough to raise, equip and maintain huge standing armies fighting in campaigns of modest duration. Russia—relatively isolated from Europe, governed by a conservative ruling class, and peopled by a vast population of subsistence farmers—was ill-equipped to take advantage of the world-historical developments occurring across her western border. To be sure, some Russian nationalism was encouraged (though no thought of enfranchising the narod was entertained until after the emancipation of the serfs in 1861). The state imported some modern industry (though without large, free markets Russia experienced no "take off" until well after emancipation). The Russian economy grew rapidly in the closing decades of the nineteenth century, but remained behind the West. For this reason, the ruling class had no choice but to build a competitive army on the backs of the impoverished peasantry, just as it had done in the Muscovite period. The means of extraction shifted already in the early eighteenth century: where peasants had once been responsible for provisioning individual servitors, they were made collectively responsible for payments directly to the state, which in turn paid the army. And the means

10

ERIC LOHR AND MARSHALL POE

of mobilization changed: where peasants were once temporarily "borrowed" for military service ("datochnye liudi"}, they were now recruited out of villages for what amounted to permanent service. But the underlying economic institution—serfdom—remained unchanged and seemingly unchangeable. Remarkably, the imperial version of the Muscovite garrison state, though anachronistic in the greater European context, served the Russian ruling class very well until the mid-nineteenth century. Sweden and Poland were conquered and reduced to minor powers; Austria was made to fear Russian expansion into the Balkans; Turkey was pushed across the Black Sea and Caucasus; Central Asia was secured. Only Napoleon succeed in penetrating deep into "Great Russian" territory, and his mistakes ultimately concluded in the appearance of Russian forces in Paris—a notion which was simply unimaginable in Peter the Great's time. The Garrison State Collapses

In 1850, the Russian Empire seemed strong, and indeed she was. Why, then, did it collapse only half a century later in World War I? The answer is complex, but the primary reason would seem to be the difficulty Russia had trying to rapidly shift away from the deeply rooted patterns of the Russian garrison state in order to compete with the rapidly evolving and modernizing West. Let us look at the ways in which the fractured elite altered the tried and true policies of its forbears. First of all, the regime opened the borders to an unprecedented extent. Russians traveled to the West and Westerners traveled to Russia with relative freedom. What might be called the "rate of exchange" of ideas was greater than it ever had been before. Openness to new ideas ultimately had a corrosive effect on the unity of the ruling class. For a sizable minority of the educated classes, the pillars of the garrison state—autocracy and serfdom—came to be seen as immoral. Second, the regime allowed its forces to become relatively obsolete. Certainly the Russians could seriously contend with the Turks. But when it came to fighting the French and British in the Crimea, or the Japanese at Port Arthur, they were found wanting. And no Peter the Great appeared to take the situation in hand and thoroughly modernize the armed forces. Finally, in an astoundingly brave gamble, the regime destroyed the economic basis of the garrison state—serfdom.

INTRODUCTION

11

Like Peter's reforms, the driving motive of emancipation was modernization of Russia's military capacity. In a few short decades, the bulk of Russia's army was transformed from an illiterate serf force in lifetime service to an increasingly literate mass army based on universal service and a modern reserve system. A reformist military elite initiated an overhaul of the entire system of military service with the conscious goal of promoting a notion of popular sovereignty that radically challenged the foundations of the old regime. But while the rapid modernization of the army and society created new tensions, World War I struck before the on-going military, political and economic transformations were completed. Although the Russian forces performed reasonably well in comparison with Austria-Hungary and Turkey, the prolonged strain of total war was ultimately too much for a society in the midst of a tumultuous modernization. Although Russian troops fought heroically in the course of two and a half long years of total war, the worst fears of the guardians of the garrison state ultimately came to pass: the radicalized elite deserted the monarchy; the periphery revolted against the "Prison House of Nations"; the largely peasant army deserted en masse and seized the land; and the economy reverted to a kind of primitive local autarchy. The imperial game was up, or so it seemed. The Garrison State Reborn

Had Lenin and his party not claimed power in 1917 and acquired it through the Civil War, it seems likely that Russia would have evolved into a regional power under a moderately liberal government. But, for reasons that go well beyond this essay, the Bolsheviks did seize the reins of the Russian state, albeit a greatly weakened Russian state. Their program was to create an egalitarian communist society, export communism to the non-Russian nationalities of the empire, and spread socialism abroad. Though the Bolsheviks are often spoken of today as failures (the bright future of world communism was not reached and their entire enterprise eventually collapsed), there can be no doubt that they succeeded in accomplishing each of these things: they completed the most extensive and ruthless project in social leveling ever undertaken; they imposed communism on the entire area of the old Russian Empire; and they aided in the supposed "liberation" of the working classes all over the globe (and especially in Eastern Europe). By any measure, this

12

ERIC LOHR AND MARSHALL POE

was a remarkable feat for a state that teetered on the brink of utter disaster in the late teens and early twenties. How did the Bolsheviks do it? In a word, they did it by re-constructing the garrison state, this time under a red flag. The borders were closed as in Muscovite times. For all intents and purposes, Russians could not travel abroad and foreigners could not travel in Russia. Of course there were exceptions made for Party officials, foreign diplomats, fellow travelers, and technicians of various sorts. But for the masses, the Soviet Union was a closed state. Moreover its borders—particularly in the west—were guarded by the largest concentration of military forces in world history to date. In fact, the Soviets developed a special arm of the military responsible for nothing but border control—the pogranichniki. The territories surrounding Russia were re-conquered. Some were made into integral "republics" of the USSR; others further west became client states in the Warsaw Pact. The Soviets fully elaborated the doctrine of "defense in depth": the first line of defense was over a thousand miles from Moscow in East Germany; the second line of defense was along the USSR's western border—the Baltic States, Belarus', Ukraine; the third line of defense was the RSFSR itself. The Party embarked on massive program of industrialization and industrial espionage, particularly in the realm of weapons production. Investment in heavy industry skyrocketed as the Soviets attempted to mimic the armed forces of richer and more advanced Western nations. When they could not devise their own comparable weapons, they stole the plans or back-engineered weapons systems. Soviet agents combed European and American military establishments, weapons labs, and technical institutes in order to divine the secrets of up-to-date Western arms. Finally, the Bolsheviks re-imposed serfdom under another name in order to fund the entire enterprise. Socialism required that every citizen had the right and obligation to work for the betterment of the state. In practice this meant that the Party had a free hand to allocate labor resources in almost any way it wanted. If a new steel complex was needed in the Urals, masses of workers were dragooned to build it; if a weapons lab was required in Arzamas 16, the scientists were simply ordered to move there and set up shop; if a strategic canal from the Moskva to the Volga seemed advisable, hordes of political prisoners were sent to dig it. As objectionable as the communist garrison state may seem, it cannot be called ineffective in meeting its primary goal—protecting

INTRODUCTION

13

the revolution. For protect the revolution it did, indeed against the two greatest military powers in world history—Nazi Germany and the United States of America. From 1941 to 1945, Hitler's armies— far and away the most formidable in existence—inflicted unimaginable harm on the Soviet armed forces and unfathomable suffering on the Soviet people. But in the end the Red Army emerged victorious. From 1945 to 1986, the United States—far and away the strongest industrial power in existence—embarked on a campaign to "contain" and even "roll back" Soviet communism. Yet the Bolsheviks held fast for nearly half a century, until they lost their resolve to maintain the garrison state, just as the imperial ruling class had in the later 19th century. The Garrison State Collapses—Again

It was not primarily western military pressure that caused the collapse of the Soviet Union. Rather, it was the decision of the Party— and particularly its head, Mikhail Gorbachev—to dismantle the garrison state in the name of "progress" as it was understood in the 1980s. In a world increasingly dominated by the forces of globalization, the maintenance of the Soviet Union as a world unto itself seemed less and less justifiable, even to the Party elite. Gorbachev, therefore, instituted the policy known as glasnost\ or openness. Russians traveled more freely to the West, westerners traveled more freely to Russia, and it became painfully apparent to everyone that the Soviet Union was a relatively poor, oppressive place indeed. Nationalism was on the rise in the later twentieth century, and manifestly imperial structures such as the Soviet Union were rapidly falling out of fashion, again, even within the Party. Therefore Gorbachev began the process of removing the Russian army from Eastern Europe and re-negotiating relations among the Republics of the Soviet Union. This process soon spun out of Moscow's control as real nations began to emerge all around the Russian center, each demanding an end to "Russian imperialism." The carefully maintained ring of western client states evaporated and Russia was left naked to Europe. Economic liberalism also enjoyed a vogue in the 1980s, particularly as the once minor Asian nations such as South Korea and Taiwan became world economic powers under its banner. Gorbachev saw this, and decided

14

ERIC LOHR AND MARSHALL POE

to remove Party control over many industries. The result was among the quickest and deepest peacetime economic declines any nation has ever experienced. Command economies, it turned out, do not work very well without a commander, and Russia suddenly had none. The military-industrial complex fell to pieces simply because the state could not afford it. Finally, Gorbachev rightly felt that the Communistimposed "second serfdom" was morally unsustainable. People, he believed, had to be free to chart their lives (responsibly, of course) and choose their leaders (with the proper political guidance). He set the Russians free and, not surprisingly, they immediately walked off the job and voted the Communists out of power. Russia's Strategic Situation Today and Tomorrow

At present Russia is in roughly the same strategic position she was in 1500. Her Western border is open and indefensible; the "near abroad"—particularly on the Western frontier—is populated by proEuropean states that are moderately hostile to Moscow; her arms production complex is inferior to those of even moderately powerful European and Asian nations; and her people seem to want nothing more than to escape their dire economic situation, often by emigration. What choices do Russia's leaders have in this situation? A return to the policies of the garrison state is possible, but such a ploy would be unlikely to have the desired effect. It is probably within the power of the present regime to close the borders, coerce the "near abroad" to remain out of security pacts with the Europe and the United States, re-invigorate arms development and manufacture, and reimpose the command economy in some form. But whether such a strategy is politically viable or not, it would not make Russia a dominant world or even European power again. The reason is this: the way in which military power is created out of economic capacity has changed dramatically since the Muscovite garrison state was formed. In the pre-modern world, all large economies were basically agricultural in nature. For this reason, large states with populous peasantries were generally major military powers. Early modern Russia is an excellent case in point. Even though Russia was economically backward, its agricultural sector was large enough to provide the goods, money and men necessary to field a competitive army. Size,

INTRODUCTION

15

in a word, translated well into armed force. Over the course of the twentieth century, this ceased to be the case. Industrial capacity became the key to military strength; size became less important than the ability to manufacture and deploy huge stocks of sophisticated weapons. Within the framework of command economics, the Soviet state proved unable to make the transition to a high-tech industrial economy permanently. For particular moments and in particular sectors, the Soviets could match and even exceed Western production in terms of quantity and quality. But Soviet economic development proved unsustainable—its motor was the state and not the market, and so when the state evaporated, so did the economy it created. The modern Russian economy is now, as it was in the pre-modern era, dependent on agriculture and mineral extraction. Thus, even if the Russian leadership re-invigorated the garrison state, it would not make Russia a major power, for size alone no longer translates into military power. A much more likely scenario—and surely a more advisable one— would be for the Russian elite to surrender its dream of once again becoming a superpower and, instead, to join Europe. Certainly such a fundamental shift in posture would come at a certain psychic cost. But it is important to remember that fallen empires have often given birth to successful and secure states—Rome once conquered the known world, Spain dominated much of Europe, Britannia ruled the waves, Germany controlled Mitteleuropa, and Japan the western rim of the Pacific. All of these empires are the stuff of history books; the successors of the imperialists have for the most part come to terms with loss of empire; and the countries that succeeded them are all rather nice places to live. There is no reason why Russia could not, in the course of time, forget its embattled and bloody imperial past and join the commonwealth of European nations as a partner rather than a threat. If Russia were to chart this course ab imperio, the garrison state would become a very unattractive option for future Russian governments and the role of war in Russian history would become much less prominent.

This page intentionally left blank

PART I THE MILITARY AND SOCIETY IN MUSCOVY

This page intentionally left blank

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES (1313-1533) Donald Ostrowski Muscovy began its rise to power at the beginning of the fourteenth century at a time when northeastern Rus' was an integral part of the Mongol Empire. It existed at the very western extreme of that empire and was directly subject to the khan of the Ulus of Juchi (Desht-i-Qipchaq, called in Russian sources of the time, Orda), which I will refer to as the Qipchaq Khanate (see fig. 1). This means that, in addition to adopting the weaponry and tactics of the Mongol armies for their troops in order to engage effectively in steppe warfare, the Muscovite grand princes had to operate diplomatically and strategically not only within the confines of political and military relations with other Rus' principalities but also within the limitations that the internal politics and external policies of the Qipchaq Khanate imposed. Finally, they had to take into consideration their suzerain's relations with Lithuania in formulating their own "western" policy. How the Muscovite grand princes succeeded in doing all this is a remarkable story and well worth further analysis. I begin this analysis with 1313, the year of the first campaign of lurii Daniilovich, the first Muscovite prince to be grand prince of Rus', and I end it with 1533, the year of the death of Vasilii III, when Muscovy had gathered all the resources it needed for expansion into the Eurasian Heartland. Historians who presented detailed studies of all or most of this period have tended to focus primarily on political developments.1 And military historians have tended to focus mainly on weaponry and major campaigns when dealing with the fourteenth 1

The most prominent studies of this period are: L. V. Cherepnin, Obrazovanie russkogo tsentralizovannogo gosudarstva v XIV XV vekakh (Moscow: IzdatePstvo sotsial'noekonomicheskoi literatury, 1960); A. E. Presniakov, Obrazovanie velikorusskogo gosudarstva. Ocherki po istorii XIII XV stoktii (Petrograd: la. Bashmakov, 1918); and George Vernadsky, The Mongols and Russia, vol. 3 of A History of Russia (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953). Alef does discuss mobilization of military manpower but only for the reign of Ivan III (1462-1505). Gustave Alef, "The Origins of Muscovite Autocracy: The Age of Ivan III," Forschungen zur osteuropdischen Geschichte 39 (1986), 96-176.

20

DONALD OSTROWSKI

and fifteenth centuries.2 None of them presents a comprehensive interpretation of military mobilization by the Muscovite grand princes within the political context, as this study attempts to do. At this point, a remark on the nature of our evidence is required. Our sources during this period include treaties, military register books, and foreigners' accounts. But our main sources for the mobilization of military resources by the Muscovite grand princes are the chronicles. Although the chronicles provide a great deal of information about when the grand princes gathered troops, they provide very little about how they gathered them or the numbers involved in each case. Sometimes the grand princes were able to gather large-scale forces and other times they failed to do so. On the occasions the grand princes failed to gather forces, the chronicler will in some instances blame it on insufficient time (e.g., 1368, 1451). These pieces of evidence allow us to reach a few conclusions. One is that the grand princes during the fourteenth and first half of the fifteenth centuries did not maintain large-scale standing forces, most likely due to the lack of sufficient economic resources. Their armies had to be gathered anew for each campaign. Although the chronicles do not tell us that the grand prince demobilized his troops after each campaign, they do on occasion tell us of demobilization after certain campaigns (see, e.g., the entry for 1362: "returning to Moscow, Dmitrii Ivanovich disbanded his army").3 Another conclusion that can be made is that the grand princes could be caught by surprise by movements of large-scale forces against them, both from the steppe and from Lithuania. Such surprises would seem to indicate a weak or non-existent intelligence-gathering system (although already by the second half of the fourteenth century, we do find indications in the sources of a southern "distance early warning" line at the Oka River). While there are a number of entries in the chronicles along the 2 E. A. Razin, Istoriia voennogo iskusstva, 2 vols. (Moscow: Voennoe izdatel'stvo, 1940), vol. 2, 111-32, 218-39; E. A. Razin, Istoriia voennogo iskusstva, 3 vols. (Moscow: Voennoe izdatel'stvo, 1955-61 [vols. 4 and 5 completed by A. A. Strokov]), vol. 2, 253-326; A. A. Strokov, Istoriia voennogo iskusstva (Moscow: Voennoe izdatel'stvo, 1955), 268-99, 342-370; and A. N. Kirpichnikov, Voennoe delo na Rusi v 13-15 vv. (Leningrad: Nauka, 1976). For a survey of military fortifications of the early period, see P. A. Rappoport, Ocherki po istorii voennogo zodchestva severo-vostochnoi i severo-zapadnoi Rusi X~XVvv., in Materialy i issledovaniia po arkheologii SSSR, no. 105 (Moscow and Leningrad, 1961). 3 Polnoe sobranie russkikh letopisei (PSRL), 40 vols. (St. Petersburg/Petrograd/Leningrad and Moscow, 1841-2001), vol. 11, 1; vol. 18, 101; vol. 25, 182.

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

21

order of "Grand Prince so-and-so gathered forces to go against suchand-such," we have, except in a few unusual cases, virtually no evidence concerning the details of each of these actions. The number of troops involved in any particular military action is almost entirely guesswork. When the chroniclers do provide a number, it usually concerns a rather unusual operation, which makes it difficult to extrapolate to more usual operations. They report that when Ivan Daniilovich returned from the Horde in 1327 he came with Tatar troops and "5 temniki" (a temnik was the commander of a tumen, a military unit of 10,000 troops).4 At the Battle of Kulikovo Field in 1380, the chroniclers provide various estimates for the size of the Rus' army. Some chronicles estimate the number at close to 200,000.° The Novgorod IV and Voskresenskaia chronicles estimate the number at between 150,000 and 200,000.6 The Nikon Chronicle mentions a figure of over 200,000 at the time of the setting out from Kolomna and 400,000 combined cavalry and infantry at the battle itself.7 The Ustiug Chronicle numbers the forces of Dmitrii himself at 100,000, the forces of Rus' princes who helped him at 200,000, and the forces of the Lithuanian princes Dmitrii and Andrei Ol'gerdovich who fought on Dmitrii Donskoi's side at 40,000, for a total of 340,000 against Mamai, whose forces it placed at 900,030.8 Historians have tended to consider such numbers an exaggeration.9 4 PSRL, vol. 1 (1926-28), col. 530; vol. 5, 217; vol. 10, 194; vol. 18, 90; vol. 20, 178; vol. 23, 102; vol. 24, 115; vol. 25, 168; vol. 26, 111; vol. 27, 238; vol. 28, 68, 228; vol. 39, 105. These chronicles do not say that Ivan commanded the Tatar troops, only that he came "with them" (s" nimi). The Rogozhskii and Tver' chronicles, on the other hand tell of the 5 temniki being under the command of the voevoda Fedorchiuk and do not mention Ivan Daniilovich. PSRL, vol. 15.1, col. 43; vol. 15.2, col. 416. 5 PSRL, vol. 20, 201; vol. 23, 125; vol. 25, 202. 6 PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 74; vol. 8, 35. 7 PSRL, vol. 11, 55, 59. 8 Ustiuzhskii letopisnyi svod, ed. K. N. Serbina (Moscow: Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1950), 58-59. 9 Vernadsky, for example, placed the number of forces under Dmitrii's command at Kulikovo at no more than 30,000. Vernadsky, The Mongols and Russia, 260. Cherepnin estimated the number at between 100,000 and 150,000. Cherepnin, Obrazovanie russkogo tsentralizovannogo gosudarstva, 607. Strokov estimated the number at less than 100,000 troops. Strokov, Istoriia voennogo iskusstva, 287. In 1940, Razin placed the number at between 190,000 and 240,000. Razin, Istoriia voennogo iskusstva (1940), vol. 2, 115. But in 1957, he estimated the number to be "not greater than 50-60 thousand men." Razin, Istoriia voennogo iskusstva (1957), vol. 2, 272. Beskrovnyi, citing the Mazurinskii Chronicle, placed the number at "up to 70,000." L. G. Beskrovnyi, "Kulikovskaia bitva," in Kulikovskaia bitva. Sbornik statei, ed. L. G. Beskrovnyi

22

DONALD OSTROWSKI

In only a few other entries do the chronicles report numbers for grand princely forces. Under 1398, the Ustiug Chronicle reports a force of 8000 accompanied the voevoda Vasilii Borisov and two posadniki from Novgorod.10 The Nikon and Ustiug Chronicles tell us that, in 1401, Vasilii I sent 300 troops under the command of his boyars against Torzhok.11 Under 1425, the Ustiug Chronicle reports a force of 25,000 sent by the grand prince under Prince Andrei Dmitrievich Mozhaiskii.12 At the Battle of Suzdal' in 1445, Vasilii II had 1500 troops, which are referred to as "few" (nemnogo), while the Tatars had 3500.13 According to the Pskov Third Chronicle, Ivan III raised 180,000 troops against Khan Ahmed in 1472.14 But in few other cases, when the chroniclers tell us the grand prince gathered troops for a particular operation do they tell us how many were gathered. The numbers they do report, however, may provide a rough idea of the size of forces involved in terms of whether they were relatively small, medium, or large troop deployment.15 Nor do the chronicles tell us how the Rus' troops fought. We have to extract that information from other sources, such as archaeological finds and foreigners' accounts. The chroniclers do make a distinction, however, between whatever unspecified way the Rus' fought and the way the Lithuanians fought—that is, "with lances" (s" kop'i}.lf> A passage in the Nikon Chronicle, in describing a battle et al. (Moscow: Nauka, 1980), 226. But the Mazurinskii Chronicle dates from the end of the seventeenth century and its entry' for 1380 has specific problems, which make it an unreliable source (e.g., it says that Pskovian and Novgorodian troops aided Dmitrii, which contradicts all earlier chronicle evidence, and it refers to Mamai as "tsar," but he was only an emir). PSRL, vol. 31, 89. 10 Ustiuzhskii letopisnyi svod, 66. 11 PSRL, vol. 11, 186; Ustiuzhskii letopisnyi svod, 68. 12 Ustiuzhskii letopisnyi svod, 73. 13 PSRL, vol. 8, 112-13; vol. 12, 65; vol. 18, 194; vol. 20, 257-58; vol. 25, 262-63; vol. 26, 197-98; vol. 27, 109; vol. 28, 103-04; 270-71; loasafovskaia letopis', ed. A. A. Zimin (Moscow: Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1957), 32~33. 14 Pskovskie ktopisi, ed. A. N. Nasonov, 2 vols. (Moscow: Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1940, 1955) vol. 2, 188. 13 Alef suggested a correspondence between type of commander and size, such that forces led by the grand prince are the largest, forces led by boyars are smaller, but larger than those led by lesser servitors. Alef, "Origins of Muscovite Autocracy," 139. While type of commander might help to provide an index for size of command in some cases, in other cases, it does not work. For example, Grand Prince Vasilii II led a relatively small force at the Battle of Suzdal' in 1445. 16 See then entry under 1436. PSRL, vol. 12, 22; vol. 18, 176; vol. 25, 252; vol. 26, 192; vol. 27, 106; vol. 28, 101, 267. Cf. PSRL, vol. 5, 267; vol. 8, 99; vol. 20, 240; vol. 23, 149.

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

23

in 1408, refers to the Lithuanians' weapons and style of fighting as being insufficient when encountering the steppe method of fighting employed by the forces of the Emir Edigii (Edigei): "The proud prince Svidrigailo with his brave Lithuanians did not do well against the foreigners (inoplemenniky), [for] their weapons and all their military skills were crushed (slomibosia)."17 The Novgorodians also seem to have fought this way. Under the entry for 1456, the chronicles describe an encounter between 5000 Novgorodians, using heavy armor and lances, and 200 Muscovites, using steppe tactics of warfare: The warriors of the Grand Prince, noticing the heavy armor on the Novgorodians, began shooting arrows at their horses. The horses took fright and began to rush about under them and to throw them from their saddles. They [the Novgorodians] were unfamiliar with that kind of warfare and were as dead, and their hands grew weak. Their lances were so long that they could not raise them, as was the usual manner of fighting. They dropped them onto the ground when their horses panicked, and they fell under their horses because they could not master them.18 The result of the battle was the same as the battles of Liegnitz and Mohi over 200 years earlier where (Mongol) mounted archers routed larger forces of (European) armored knights. From gravures of the mid-sixteenth century, we know that Muscovite mounted archers used the steppe reflex, or composite, bow, which delivered an arrow more powerfully and at a greater distance than either a standard bow or crossbow. In addition, it is only from the military register books (raznadnye knigi) that we obtain the information that the Muscovite army during this period often fought in a formation of five regiments—center, front, right, left, and rear—and sometimes in a formation of four regiments—center, front, right, and left—and less often in a formation of three regiments—center, right, and left or center, front, and rear.19

17 18

PSRL, vol. 11, 208. PSRL, vol. 12, 111; vol. 18, 210-11; vol. 25, 274; vol. 26, 215; vol. 27, 119-20;

vol. 28, 114, 282.

19 See, e.g., Razriadnaia kniga 1475-1598, ed. V. I. Buganov (Moscow: Nauka, 1966), 20-24 and passim. See also Razriadnaia kniga 1475-1605 gg., 2 vols., ed. V. I. Buganov (Moscow: Institut istorii SSSR AN SSSR, 1977) vol. 1, 12-192; and "Drevneishaia razriadnaia kniga offitsial'noi redaktsii (po 1565 g.)," ed. P. N. Miliukov, in Chteniia v Obshchestve istorii i drevnostei rossiiskikh pn Moskovskom universitete, 1902, book 1, part 1, 1-268.

24

DONALD OSTROWSKI

Another difficulty with the use of chronicles for historical evidence is the problem of interpolations. The Nikon and Ustiug Chronicles, both compiled in the sixteenth century, are notorious for interpolating information that cannot be confirmed in any other source and look suspiciously like fabricated passages. As la. S. Lur'e argued in his book Doe istorii Rusi XV veka, insofar as possible, one should use the Rogozhskii, Simeonov, and Trinity Chronicles for information about the fourteenth century (to 1390) and the "unofficial" chronicles (the Simeonov, Nikanor, Vologda-Perm', and Ermolin) for the fifteenth century (to the 1470's).20 Nonetheless, the compiler of the Nikon Chronicle did make an attempt to incorporate various chronicle traditions, including the Novgorodian and Tver'ian. It is possible that, in specific cases, the Nikon Chronicle does maintain information from a non-extant fifteenth-century chronicle. The historian, therefore, has to analyze each piece of information taking into consideration which chronicle or chronicles that item appears in and the relationship of the chronicles to each other.21 Thus, I have presented information that I have found in only one or two later chronicles and indicated in the text when I have done so rather than just ignore that evidence. As Lur'e wrote: "There still exist no established rules for the use of chronicles."22 On occasion, the chroniclers do make a distinction between, on the one hand, "people" (liudi} and, on the other, "warriors" (voi\ "troops" (rati), or "forces" (silo) that were gathered, with the clear understanding that "people" are not as good fighters as "warriors," "troops,"

20 la. S. Lur'e, Due istorii Rusi XV veka. Rannie i pozdnie, nezavisimye i ofitsial'nye letopisi ob obrazovanii Moskovskogo gosudarstva (St. Petersburg: Dmitrii Bulanin, 1994), 13-18. 21 For a compilative diagram based on Lur'e's studies for chronicle writing from the fourteenth through the early sixteenth centuries, see the one I drew up in Kritika: A Review of Current Soviet Books on Russian History 16 (1980), 12. For a diagram that Lur'e made showing Rus' chronicle writing from the 12th century on, see la. S. Lur'e, "Genealogicheskaia skhema letopisei XI-XVI w., vkliuchennykh v 'Slovar' knizhnikov i knizhnosti Drevnei Rusi'," Trudy Otdela drevnerusskoi literatury 40 (1985), 196. That diagram, however, does not appear in the Slovar' knizhnikov i knizhnosti Drevnei Rusi, for which it was intended. For Lur'e's diagram showing his understanding of the relationship of the so-called "all-Rus"' chronicles for the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, see la. S. Lur'e, Obshcherusskie letopisi XIV XV vv. (Leningrad: Nauka, 1976), 256. 22 Jakov S. Luria [Lur'e], "Fifteenth-Century Chronicles as a Source for the History of the Formation of the Muscovite State," in Medieval Russian Culture, vol. 2, ed. Michael S. Flier and Daniel Rowland (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 48~49.

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

25

and "forces."23 In addition, one has to keep in mind that a prince who heads a principality will, in the chronicles, often be referred to as "grand prince" (velikii knia^\ such as "grand prince of Tver'" or "grand prince of Riazan'," but that the senior Rus' prince is referred to as the "grand prince of Vladimir." From 1318 (when lurii Daniilovich made the trip) until 1431 (when Vasilii II did so), the Muscovite princes traveled to Sarai to obtain from the Qipchaq khan the yarliq (iarlyk], or patent, to be grand prince of Vladimir. This was also the case for Mikhail laroslavich of Tver', Dmitrii Mikhailovich of Tver', Aleksandr Mikhailovich of Tver', and Dmitrii Konstantinovich of Suzdal', who were the only non-Muscovite princes to receive the yarliq as grand prince of Vladimir during this time.24 Rus' princes other than the grand prince of Vladimir also traveled to Sarai to be designated grand prince of their own principalities. In other words, the source of legitimacy for each independent Rus' prince came from the Qipchaq khan. It also meant that Rus' princes tended to regard the Grand Prince of Vladimir as merely primus inter pares rather than as having any authority over Rus' as a whole. From the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, military mobilization by the Muscovite grand princes (as grand prince of Vladimir) went through three distinct phases. These grand princes did not have, until the end of the fifteenth century, the means to gather largescale forces themselves, so they had to rely on the cooperation of others to assist them. We may to a certain extent define each phase by those on whom the grand prince relied for support. In the fourteenth century, the Muscovite grand princes relied on members of their own family (brothers, uncles, and cousins) as well as on independent Rus' princes and the Tatar khans to raise "large-scale" armies. The key for successful campaigns, however, was the support

23 See, e.g., the entry under 1382: PSRL, vol. 11, 76. See also the entry under 1451: vol. 12, 76; loasafovskaia letopis', 44. 24 The Commission copy of the younger redaction of the Novgorod I Chronicle states that from 1328 to 1331 Ivan Kalita shared the title of grand prince of Vladimir with Alexander Vasil'evich of Suzdal' and that they divided their jurisdiction over the Rus' lands between them. Novgorodskaia pervaia letopis'. Starshego i mladshego izvodov (NPL), ed. A. N. Nasonov (Moscow and Leningrad: Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1950), 469. But no other chronicle or even copy of Novg. I confirms this information about co-grand princes, and they treat Ivan as the sole grand prince. PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 262; vol. 5, 218; vol. 15.1, col. 44, vol. 15.2, col. 417; vol. 23, 102; vol. 25, 168; Troitskaia letopis'. Rekomtruktsiia teksta (TL), by M. D. Priselkov (Moscow and Leningrad: Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1950), 359.

26

DONALD OSTROWSKI

given to the Muscovite grand prince by the independent Rus' princes. In the fifteenth century, the Muscovite grand princes relied on members of their own family as well as semi-independent service princes (Tatar, Lithuanian, and Rus'ian), who contributed their own troops and retinues.25 This century saw the end of troops supplied by the Tatar khans and by independent Rus' princes. By the sixteenth century, the Muscovite grand princes had incorporated the service princes into their armies along with their own boyars and, through the institution of pomest'e, supported a "minuteman" group of warriors who owed their allegiance directly to the Muscovite grand prince.26 During the fourteenth century, Muscovy made its move to dominance over northeastern Rus' within a rather unpropitious context. Three other principalities stood as good if not better chance than Muscovy of success in such an endeavor. These were the principalities of Riazan', Suzdal'-Nizhnii Novgorod, and Tver' (see fig. 2). Each of these principalities was situated in a superior location to Moscow for profiting from trade. Each of them controlled areas along vital trade routes, which Moscow did not. And each stood in a position to squeeze Muscovy economically in terms of outside trade: Riazan' to the southeast along the Oka and Don Rivers, Suzdal'Nizhnii Novgorod to the east along the Volga River, and Tver' to the northwest also along the Volga River and portage routes to Great Novgorod and Velikie Luki. In addition, the Muscovite grand princes had to deal not only with powerful threats from the Qipchaq Khanate, because the steppe ended only some 75 kilometers to the south of Moscow, but also from Lithuania, which during the course of the century moved its borders to within 100 kilometers of Moscow to the west. Finally, Novgorod, on the far side of Tver' and to the north of Lithuania, was a wealthy merchant city-state, which claimed vast areas of hinterland in the northern Rus' area. Ostensibly, the Muscovite grand princes could and did claim Novgorod as their patrimony (vote/lino), since they were direct descendants of Alexander Nevskii, who had ruled there as prince in the thirteenth century. In prac25 In sources from the early fifteenth century, we begin to see the first references to service princes. Dukhovnye i dogovomye gramoty velikikh i udel'nykh kniazei XIV-XVI vv. (DDG), ed. L. V. Cherepnin (Moscow and Leningrad: AJkademiia nauk SSSR, 1950), no. 24, 65, 66 (1428): "khto kotoromu kniaziu sluzhit." 26 Donald Ostrowski, "Early Pomest'e Grants as a Historical Source," Oxford Slavonic Papers 33 (2000), 36-63.

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

27

tice, though, such a claim had mixed results in regard to military support. The Novgorodians were reluctant to send their forces beyond what they considered to be the boundaries of the Novgorodian land, and they apparently obtained official recognition of this stipulation from Ivan III in 1478.27 When they did send troops to aid the Muscovite grand prince, they could conclude a separate treaty with his foe, as the Novgorod I Chronicle reports they did in 1317 with Mikhail laroslavich of Tver'.28 The Novgorodians did agree to supply a chernyi bor, or head tax, which certainly had potential military value.29 But, as a result, the Muscovite princes wound up having to defend Novgorod, as they did in 1322 and 1348,30 without receiving much in the way of troop support for their own campaigns in return. For example, the Novgorodians provided no troop support for either the campaign of 1375 against Tver' or the 1380 campaign against Mamai. Thus, from the second half of the fourteenth century until the 1470's, the Muscovite grand princes were content to let Novgorod rule itself. During the course of the fourteenth century, the Muscovite grand princes were able to increase the sources of troops, especially in terms of numbers of Rus' princes who were willing to support them. For the operation against Novgorod in 1313, lurii Daniilovich made use of troops under the command of the independent Rus' prince Fedor of Rzhev.31 In the campaign against Tver' in 1317, whatever 27

PSRL, vol. 6 (1853), 214; vol. 8, 194, 197; vol. 12, 181, 182; vol. 18, 261; loasafovskaia letopis', 108, 110. 28 NPL, 338 (not reported in Muscovite chronicles). 29 The term "chomyi bor" appears in the so-called Komi-Vymskii Chronicle under the entry for the year 1333. Dokumenty po istorii Komi. Istoriko-filologicheskii sbomik Komi filiala AN SSSR, vol. 4 (Syktyvkar, 1958), 257. The earliest mention of the term "chernyi bof in the Moscow and Tver' chronicles is under 1340. PSRL, vol. 7, 207; vol. 10, 212; vol. 15.1, col. 53; vol. 20, 180; vol. 25, 173. The Novgorod chronicles refer to a "bar" imposed by Grand Prince Semen on the district of Novi-Torg in 1340. NPL, 353; PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 268; vol. 4.2 (1917), 253. For other mentions of "chernyi bor" in the fourteenth century, see PSRL, vol. 4.2 (1917), 341; vol. 8, 49; vol. 11, 85; vol. 18, 135; vol. 20, 205; vol. 23, 130; vol. 25, 213, 220, 221; vol. 26, 155, 164; vol. 27, 82, 88, 256, 258, 334, 336; vol. 28, 85-87, 248, 250, 251; and TL, 428. lanin connects the chernyi bor with the collection of the dan', or tribute to be sent to the Qipchaq khan. V. L. lanin, '"Chernyi bor' v Novgorode XIV-XV w.," in Kulikovskaia bitva v istorii i kul'ture nashei Rodiny, ed. B. A. Rybakov et al. (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Moskovskogo universiteta, 1983), 98-107. 30 PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 259, 277-78; vol. 4.2 (1917), 244; vol. 5, 216, 226; vol. 7, 198; vol. 10, 188, 220; vol. 18, 96; vol. 25, 167; vol. 26, 107; vol. 27, 63; TL, 370; NPL, 338, 360. 31 PSRL, vol. 5, 205; vol. 7, 186; vol. 10, 178; vol. 26, 97; NPL, 335.

28

DONALD OSTROWSKI

forces lurii Daniilovich had of his own were strengthened by forces from the princes of Suzdal' and Tatar troops sent by Khan Uzbek.32 The Nikon Chronicle reports that, in a campaign against Kashin in 1321, lurii was again joined by forces from Suzdal' and Nizhnii Novgorod.33 In 1327, the Moscow prince Ivan Daniilovich (who was not yet Grand Prince of Vladimir) went against Tver' and Kashin with a Tatar army and forces provided by Prince Aleksandr Vasil'evich of Suzdal'.34 In 1329, 1333, 1334, and 1340, the grand princes were supported by "all the Rus' princes" for respective campaigns against Aleksandr Mikhailovich of Tver', against Torzhok, against the Lithuanians, and again against Torzhok. The chronicles tell us that from the mid-fourteenth century on, Muscovite grand princes also began using family members to gather and command troops. In 1352, Grand Prince Semen gathered a strong force with his brothers Ivan and Andrei and other princes to march against Smolensk.35 In 1361 and 1363, Dmitrii gathered troops with his brother Ivan and his uncle Vladimir Andreevich to contest for the grand princely throne against Dmitrii Konstantinovich, prince of Suzdal' and Nizhnii Novgorod.36 Important for understanding the success of Dmitrii Donskoi in mobilizing forces against Tver' in 1375 and against Mamai in 1380 was the support provided by this same Dmitrii of Suzdal'. After the death of Grand Prince Ivan II in 1359, first Khan Nouruz (Russ. Navruz) then Khan Hizyr (Russ. Khodyr', Kudyr', etc.) appointed Dmitrii of Suzdal' to be grand prince of Vladimir.37 In 1362, Khan 32

PSRL, vol. 5, 207; vol. 7, 188; vol. 10, 180; vol. 18, 88; vol. 25, 161; vol. 26, 98; vol. 28, 65-66. 33 PSRL, vol. 10, 188. 34 PSRL, vol. 1 (1926-28), col. 530; vol. 7, 200; vol. 10, 194; vol. 20, 178; vol. 23, 102; vol. 24, 114; vol. 25, 168; vol. 27, 238; vol. 28, 68, 228. 35 PSRL, vol. 10, 223; vol. 15.1, col. 60; vol. 18, 97. Other chronicles describe the campaign of 1352 (6860) but do not mention the grand prince's brothers or other princes. PSRL, vol. 7, 216; vol. 16, col. 83, vol. 20, 186; vol. 23, 110; vol. 24, 120; vol. 25, 178; vol. 28, 72, 237. The Novgorod IV, Sofiia I, Vologdo-Perm', and Nikanor chronicles place the campaign in 1351 (6859). PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 280, vol. 5, 227; vol. 26, 116; vol. 27, 65; and vol. 39, 112. The Abbreviated Compilation of 1495 places it under 1350 (6858). PSRL, vol. 27, 240. 36 PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 290; vol. 5, 229; vol. 8, 11-12; vol. 10, 234; vol. 11, 2; vol. 18, 101; vol. 25, 181; vol. 26, 118; vol. 27, 67, 242; vol. 28, 74, 235; and vol. 39, 113. 37 PSRL, vol. 1 (1926), col. 532; vol. 4.1 (1915), 289; vol. 5, 228; vol. 8, 11, vol. 10, 231; vol. 15.1, cols. 68-69, vol. 15.2, col. 428; vol. 16, col. 89; vol. 18, 100; vol. 20, 189; vol. 23, 112; vol. 24, 122; vol. 25, 181; vol. 26, 117; vol. 27, 66, 242;

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

29

Miirid (Russ. Amurat, Umurat) withdrew the grand princely yarliq from Dmitrii of Suzdal' and gave it to Dmitrii of Moscow.38 In 1363, he gave the grand princely yarliq back to Dmitrii of Suzdal'.39 This double turnabout created a crisis in northeastern Rus'. Dmitrii of Moscow gathered strong forces along with his brother Ivan and their uncle Vladimir Andreevich, and they moved against Dmitrii of Suzdal'. The latter fled to Nizhnii Novgorod to his elder brother Andrei Konstantinovich. Both the Abbreviated Chronicle of 1495 and the Nikon Chronicle report that, then, "all the princes" feared for their principalities and gathered around Dmitrii of Suzdal' in Nizhnii Novgorod.40 If this was so, it would appear that, at this point, the position of grand prince of Vladimir would seem to have been Dmitrii of Suzdal's for the taking. He had the grand princely yarliq and the support of the Rus' princes (except for Dmitrii of Moscow). Instead, for reasons not explained in the chronicles, Dmitrii of Suzdal' refused the grand princely yarliq when it was again offered to him in 1365 and threw his support to Dmitrii of Moscow. Subsequently, Grand Prince Dmitrii sent troops to Dmitrii of Suzdal' to aid the latter in his battle with his younger brother Boris Konstantinovich. Then, in 1366, Grand Prince Dmitrii married Evdokhiia, the daughter of Dmitrii of Suzdal', thus sealing the alliance.41 After that, Grand Prince Dmitrii was able to gather large forces frequently: against Mikhail laroslavich of Tver' in 1368 and 1375, against Briansk in 1370, against Algirdas (Ol'gerd) of Lithuania in 1371, 1372, and 1379, against Oleg of Riazan' in 1372, and against the Tatars in 1376, 1377, 1378, and 1380. How important the support vol. 28, 74, 235; vol. 39, 113; and TL, 377. For a discussion of the sequence of Qipchaq khans during this period, see A. P. Grigor'ev, "Zolotoordynskie khany 60-70-kh godov XIV v.: Khronologiia pravlenii," in Istoriografiia i istochnikovedenie istoni stran Azii i Afnki 1 (1983), 9-54. 38 PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 290; vol. 5, 229; vol. 8, 11; vol. 10, 233; vol. 15.1, col. 72; vol. 16, col. 90; vol. 18, 101; vol. 20, 190; vol. 23, 113; vol. 24, 122; vol. 25, 181; vol. 26, 118; vol. 27, 67, 242; vol. 28, 74, 235; and vol. 39, 113. 39 PSRL, vol. 8, 12; vol. 15.1, col. 74; vol. 18, 102; vol. 25, 182; vol. 27, 242. According to the Nikon Chronicle, Miirid decided to support Dmitrii of Suzdal' because he found out that Mamai and Mamai's puppet khan Abdullah were supporting Dmitrii of Moscow. PSRL, vol. 11, 2. 40 PSRL, vol. 11, 2; vol. 27, 243. 41 PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 293; vol. 5, 230; vol. 8, 14; vol. 11, 7; vol. 15.1, col. 83; vol. 16, col. 92; vol. 18, 105-06; vol. 20, 191; vol. 23, 114; vol. 24, 124; vol. 26, 119; vol. 27, 68, 244; vol. 28, 75, 236; vol. 39, 114. For a recent discussion of the events leading to this alliance, see V. A. Kuchkin, "Dmitrii Donskoi," Voprosy istoni, 1995, no. 5-6, 63-66.

30

DONALD OSTROWSKI

of Dmitrii of Suzdal' was becomes clear when we see the inability of Dmitrii Donskoi to raise sufficient forces to combat Tohtami§ in 1382 when he besieged Moscow. At the time, Dmitrii of Suzdal', as evidence of his support for Tohtami§, sent his two sons to accompany Tohtamis.'s army against Moscow.42 Without the support of Dmitrii of Suzdal', Dmitrii Donskoi could not raise enough troops to counter that advance. Instead, Dmitrii Donskoi left Moscow in the hands of a Lithuanian prince, Ostei, and fled to Kostroma, just as his son Vasilii I was to do 26 years later, in 1408, when Edigii approached Moscow with a Tatar army. Kostroma, which was acquired by Muscovy in 1364, is located on the Volga River some 300 kilometers to the northeast of Moscow. It held an important strategic position in general43 and for the Muscovite grand princes in particular, especially when they found themselves in a predicament. For Dmitrii Donskoi in 1382, as for Vasilii I in 1408, withdrawing to it kept his options open. He could move easily either upstream or downstream along the Volga. He could retreat further to the north either by boat up the Kostroma River or overland to Galich, yet be in a position to return quickly to Moscow when the siege was lifted. In contrast, in 1368 and 1370, when Algirdas besieged Moscow, Grand Prince Dmitrii remained in Moscow.44 And in 1521 when the Crimean khan Mehmed Girey besieged Moscow, Vasilii III fled to Volok in the west to gather forces, mainly because that attack came from the east, not the south.4s Volok occupied a strategic point to the west similar to that of Kostroma to the northeast. The difference in whether the grand prince fled from Moscow or remained there during a siege may be 42

PSRL, vol. 4.2 (1925), 327; vol. 6 (1853), 98; vol. 8, 42; vol. 11, 71-72; vol. 15.1, col. 143; vol. 15.2, col. 442; vol. 16, col. 120; vol. 18, 132; vol. 20, 203; vol. 23, 127; vol. 24, 150; vol. 25, 206; vol. 26, 146; vol. 27, 77, 253-54; vol. 28, 83, 246; vol. 39, 123. 43 For a discussion of the general strategic importance of Kostroma in the fourteenth century, see B. A. Rybakov, "Voennoe iskusstvo," in Ocherki russkoi kul'tury XlU-XVvekov, 2 vols., ed. A. V. Artsikhovskii, A. D. Gorskii, B. A. Kolchin, A. K. Leont'ev, A. M. Sakharov, and V. L. lanin (Moscow: IzdatePstvo Moskovskogo universiteta, 1969), vol. 1, 376-77. 44 For the siege of 1368, see PSRL, vol. 1 (1926-28), col. 533; vol. 8, 15; vol. 11, 11; vol. 15.1, col. 88, vol. 15.2, cols. 428-29; vol. 18, 107-08; vol. 20, 192; vol. 23, 115; vol. 24, 125; vol. 25, 184-85. For the siege of 1370, see PSRL, vol. 1 (1926-28), col. 533; vol. 8, 17; vol. 11, 14. vol. 15.1, cols. 94-95, vol. 15.2, cols. 429-30; vol. 18, 110; vol. 20, 193; vol. 23, 116; vol. 24, 126-27; vol. 25, 185-86. 45 PSRL, vol. 8, 269; vol. 13, 38; vol. 20, 402; vol. 24, 221.

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

31

related to the consideration of what the besiegers would do if the siege was successful—occupy Moscow (as the Lithuanians would have done) or just sack it and leave (as the Tatars would do).46 The chronicles do not provide any explanation for why Dmitrii of Suzdal' supported Tohtamis, in 1382. The Nikon Chronicle does tell us that, at the point Grand Prince Dmitrii gathered whatever troops he was able, he "realized his forces were indeed diminished. . . [because] all the Rus' land had become weakened after the battle with Mamai beyond the Don River."47 But, this may be conjecture on the part of the editor. In any case, it may not have been so much the battle with Mamai that weakened the Rus' forces as the Lithuanian army under Jagiello that set upon Dmitrii's army and dealt a devastating blow to it on its way home after the battle.48 Dmitrii of Suzdal' could have realized that it was futile to oppose Tohtami§ in such a weakened condition, especially with Oleg of Riazan' in support of the Tatar khan. Thus, any chance Grand Prince Dmitrii might have been able to raise sufficient forces for a show of resistance was apparently dashed by the refusal of Dmitrii of Suzdal' to lend support for the endeavor. During the course of the fifteenth century, Muscovite grand princes succeeded in transitioning from relying on independent Rus' princes to relying on members of their own family and on semi-independent service princes as their main basis for military support. Already in 1389, in a treaty with the Serpukhov prince Volodimer Andreevich, as "younger brother," i.e., subservient prince, Dmitrii Donskoi had stipulated that Muscovite troops (moskovskaia rat'} were to be under 46 Stalin's decision to remain in Moscow in the fall of 1941 before the advancing German army is reminiscent of similar decisions on the part of early Muscovite grand princes in the face of Lithuanian, but not Tatar, invasions. 47 PSRL, vol. 11, 72. 48 See the accounts of the contemporary German chroniclers Johann von Posilge and Detmar of Liibeck in Scriptores rerum Prussicarum. Die Geschichtsquellm der Preussischen Vorzeit bis zum Untergange der Ordenshcerrschaft, 6 vols., ed. Theodor Hirsch, Max Toppern and Ernest Strehlke (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1861-74; reprinted Frankfurt: Minerva, 1965), vol. 3, 114-15. The Rus' Chronicle Tales, in contrast, report that the Lithuanians arrived at the battlefield a day after Dmitrii's army left, became frightened, and fled home. For a discussion of the relationship of the Rus' Chronicle Tales about Kulikovo to each other, see Donald Ostrowski, Muscovy and the Mongols: Cross-Cultural Influences on the Steppe Frontier (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 156-61. For a somewhat different view, see Charles Halperin, The Tatar Yoke (Columbus, OH: Slavica, 1985), 96-125, which should be supplemented with idem, "Text and Textology: Salmina's Dating of the Chronicle Tales About Dmitrii Donskoi," Slavonic and East European Review 79 (2001), 248-63.

32

DONALD OSTROWSKI

the command of grand princely commanders (voevody) only.49 Further indicative of this transition is the treaty with Vitovt, Grand Duke of Lithuania, in 1406, as reported in the Tver' Chronicle. During the preceding conflict, Ivan Mikhailovich, Prince of Tver', had taken part on the side of Vasilii I. But in the treaty with Vitovt, Vasilii had placed the names of his own brothers before that of Prince Ivan. The latter objected strenuously, but the order of names remained.50 This means that the Muscovite grand prince's own family members were being given higher status than independent and semi-independent Rus' princes, who were coming increasingly under the dominance of the Muscovite grand prince. The campaign of 1406 against Lithuania is also significant as the last occasion when the Qipchaq khan sent forces to aid the Muscovite grand prince. Although the Tver' prince did not finally declare himself a "younger brother" (meaning a subordinate) of the Muscovite prince until 148351 and Moscow did not take over Tver' until 1485, whatever power the Tver' princes exercised in the fourteenth century became increasingly marginalized during the course of the fifteenth century. This was so despite the efforts of Boris Aleksandrovich, prince of Tver' from 1425 to 1461, to stave off the encroaching power of Moscow from one side and that of Lithuania from the other. The power of the Tver' princes, however, was still relatively strong at the beginning of the fifteenth century, as was evident when Edigii besieged Moscow in 1408.52 Vasilii I fled to Kostroma to try to gather troops, but, although he did reach Kostroma, he failed to raise an army. Part of the reason may be that neither Ivan Mikhailovich of Tver' nor the co-grand princes of Riazan' at the time, Ivan Vladimir49

DDG, no. 11, 32. Vasilii I confirmed this stipulation in the treaty of 1390 with the same prince. DDG, no. 13, 39. For subsequent iterations of this stipulation, see DDG, no. 27, 71; no. 45, 131, 134, 137, 140; no. 56, 171, 174; and no. 58, 182, 185. 30 PSRL, vol. 15.2, cols. 476-77. See also Presniakov, Obrazovanie velikorusskogo gosudarstva, 349 Vasilii I had four brothers: lurii, Andrei, Peter, and Konstantin. The Tver' Chronicle, in which this information appears, does not state which brothers of Vasilii were named in the treaty. 51 DDG, no. 79, 295-301. See also L. V. Cherepnin, Russkie feodal'nye arkhivy XIV-XV vekov, 2 vols. (Moscow and Leningrad: Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1948), vol. 1, 202-05. After the campaign of 1375, Mikhail Aleksandrovich of Tver' signed a treaty with Grand Prince Dmitrii of Moscow in which he acknowledged himself as "younger brother" (DDG, no. 9, 25-28). But Prince Mikhail quickly managed to undo that subordinate relationship. See, e.g., his treaty with Vasilii I from around 1396 (DDG, no. 15, 40-43), in which he is referred to simply as "brother." 32 PSRL, vol. 6 (1853), 136-37; vol. 6.2, cols. 29-30; vol. 8, 83; vol. 11, 208-09; vol. 15.2, col. 483; vol. 18, 158; vol. 20, 225-26; vol. 23, 142-43; vol. 24, 174.

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

33

ovich of Pronsk and Fedor Olegovich of Riazan', supported Vasilii I in his opposition to Edigii. At this point, the Muscovite grand prince still found it difficult to raise a large-scale force without the support of the other Rus' princes, in this case the Tver' and Riazan' princes, who provided nominal support for Edigii. When Vasilii I died in 1425, his son and successor, Vasilii II, faced two serious challenges to his rule from family members over the course of the next 28 years. These challenges meant the concomitant loss of a source of military support that Muscovite grand princes of the previous century had found they could more or less reliably use. Since Vasilii II had no brothers, he could not call on them to help meet the threat posed by an uncle and three cousins. The first challenge came from lurii Dmitrievich, uncle of Vasilii I, who claimed the throne in 1431.33 This claim was resolved only in 1434 when lurii died after having defeated Vasilii's forces in battle.34 The second challenge came from the sons of lurii Dmitrievich— that is, Vasilii's cousins, Vasilii Kosoi, Dmitrii Shemiaka, and Dmitrii Krasnyi—who claimed the throne, first for Vasilii Kosoi then for Dmitrii Shemiaka. These claims were ultimately resolved only in 1453 when the last cousin, Dmitrii Shemiaka, died.53 As a result of the resolution of this family feud (and the end of its accompanying civil war), from the middle of the fifteenth century on, the grand prince, whether Vasilii II (until 1462) or Ivan III (until 1505), increasingly sent their forces out under the command of service princes or family members (see Table). In the entourage of Ivan III on the occasion of his visit to Novgorod in 1495, of 170 individuals listed in the razriadnaia kniga, 60 (35.3%) had princely titles.36 To be sure, it is likely princes would receive greater visibility in the sources because of their higher social status, but it is also likely

53 PSRL, vol. 5, 264; vol. 6, 148; vol. 6.2, col. 64; vol. 8, 95-96; vol. 12, 15; vol. 15.2, col. 489; vol. 16, col. 178 vol. 18, 171; vol. 20, 238; vol. 23, 147; vol. 24, 182; vol. 25, 249; vol. 26, 187; vol. 27, 102, 343; vol. 28, 98, 264; vol. 39, 143; NPL, 416. Ustiuzhskii letopisnyi svod, 74. 54 PSRL, vol. 4.2 (1925), 434; vol. 5. 266; vol. 6 (1853), 149; vol. 6.2, col. 67; vol. 8, 98; vol. 12, 20; vol. 15.2, col. 490; vol. 16, col. 179; vol. 18, 175; vol. 20, 239; vol. 23, 148; vol. 24, 182; vol. 25, 251; vol. 26, 191; vol. 27, 105, 345; vol. 28, 100, 267; vol. 39, 144. 55 PSRL, vol. 4.2 (1925), 445, 455, 464, 490; vol. 6 (1853), 180; vol. 6.2, col. 126; vol. 8, 144; vol. 12, 109; vol. 15.2, col. 495; vol. 16, col. 193; vol. 18, 208; vol. 20, 262; vol. 23, 155; vol. 24, 184; vol. 25, 273; vol. 26, 212-13; vol. 27, 118, 348; vol. 28, 112, 280; vol. 39, 147; loasafomkaw letopis', 46. 56 Razriadnaia kniga 1475-1598, 25-26; Razriadnaia kmga 1475-1605, 43-47.

34

DONALD OSTROWSKI

that their prominence in the sources reflects their military importance as well. During this period, the Muscovite grand princes successfully ended the independence of other Rus' princes. In part they did so by forbidding them independent contact with the Tatar khans so as to prevent them from receiving the yarliq for their principality. In 1449, for example, Vasilii II concluded a treaty in which he stipulated to Prince Ivan VasiPevich of Suzdal': You are not to have dealings with the Horde [A tobe Ordy ne z.nati\. You, Prince Ivan, are to hand over to me and my sons, without any trickery \_bez" khitrostno], any old iarlyki you might have for Suzdal', Nizhnii Novgorod, or Gorodets, or for the [Nizhnii] Novgorodian principality as a whole. You are not to accept any new iarlyki. And any iarlyki for [Nizhnii] Novgorod or Suzdal' that any khan might give you or send you, you are to surrender them to me, the grand prince, and my sons according to our pact. You are not to keep them.57

In having to surrender any old yarliq?, they had in their possession or any new ones that might be given or sent to them from a Tatar khan, the rulers of Rus' principalities then became dependent on the Muscovite grand prince to legitimize their positions. Although the Muscovite rulers continued to send tribute to Tatar khans until the end of the seventeenth century as a nominal sign of subservience, such treaties as this one were important steps in transferring the reality of political overlordship in northeastern Rus' from the Tatar khans to the Muscovite rulers. In 1473, Ivan III drew up separate agreements with his brothers Boris and Andrei the Elder. One of the stipulations in both agreements was that Danyar Kasymovich and other Tatar service princes were to be considered "equal in status" (s odnogo) with Ivan—that is, above the grand prince's brothers.38 When combined with the stipulation that the grand prince's brothers were to be considered higher in status than Rus' service princes, we obtain this ranking at the very highest levels of military command: 1. Tatar service princes (equal in status to grand prince) 2. brothers of the grand prince 3. Rus' service princes 57

DDG, no. 52, 156. DDG, no. 69, 226, 228, and 231-32; and no. 70, 234, 236, 238, 240-41, 244, 246, and 249. See also J. L. I. Fennell, Ivan the Great of Moscow (London: Macmillan, 1961), 294. 58

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

35

During the reign of Vasilii III (1505—1533), this ranking was maintained, although Vasilii had uneasy relations with his brothers. He preferred to have the tsarevich Peter Ibraimov accompany him on campaigns, to defend Moscow when attacked by the Crimean khan Mehmed Girey in 1521, and possibly to be his successor.59 In the 1480's, with the beginning of the establishment of pomest'e (military land grants), Ivan III set about providing on-going support for a ready military force that was beholden directly to himself as grand prince. Although both he and his son Vasilii III still relied heavily on service princes and family members for troop mobilization, both grand princes could now call on an increasingly larger number of warrior-servitors without any intermediaries. As a result, both grand princely family members and service princes began to lose their semi-independent military and political status. By the early sixteenth century, Muscovy had subsumed all its major erstwhile competitors in northeastern Rus'—Nizhnii Novgorod (during the period 1393 to 1425), Suzdal' (around 1451), Great Novgorod (in 1478), Tver' (in 1485), and Riazan' (in 1521)—and was preparing for the next phase of expansion. Between 1462 and 1552, the western steppe area of the Eurasian heartland witnessed a balance of power among five states of medium economic and military might: the Crimean Khanate, the Great Horde (soon to be replaced by the Khanate of Astrakhan'), the Kazan' Khanate, the Khanate of Tiumen' (soon to be replaced by the Khanate of Sibir'), and Muscovy (see fig. 3).60 These five states occupied a frontier zone between three relatively distant major powers: the Ottoman Empire, Poland-Lithuania, and Safavid Persia. None of these three major powers, or core areas, was powerful enough or close enough to exert hegemony over

39 On this last point, see A. A. Zimin, "Ivan Groznyi i Simeon Bekbulatovich v 1575 g.," Uchenye zapiski Kazanskogo gosudarstvennogo universiteta, no. 80: Iz istorii Tatarii, vol. 4 (1970), 146-47; idem, Rossiia na poroge novogo vremeni (Ocherki politicheskoi istorii Rossii pervoi treti XVI v.) (Moscow: MysP, 1972), 99; idem, V kanun groznykh potriasenii. Predposylki pervoi Krest'ianskoi voiny v Rossii (Moscow: MysP, 1986), 25; and Donald Ostrowski, "The Extraordinary Career of Tsarevich Kudai Kul/Peter in the Context of Relations Between Muscovy and Kazan'," in State, Society and Nationality: Essays in Honor of Jaroslaw Pelenski (forthcoming). 00 The following discussion represents my modified application to an earlier period of John LeDonne's geopolitical interpretation of Imperial Russian foreign policy. John P. LeDonne, The Russian Empire and the World 1700-1917: The Geopolitics of Expansion and Containment (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 1-8; idem, "The Geopolitical Context of Russian Foreign Policy, 1799-1917," Ada Slavica laponica 12 (1994), 1-23.

36

DONALD OSTROWSKI

the western steppe or its accompanying savannah and forest border area. Nonetheless, during the latter half of the fifteenth century, Muscovy was in a potentially precarious position threatened by a possible coalition of Poland-Lithuania with the Crimean Khanate. Yet, Kazan' found itself even more precariously positioned. Up to this point, Kazan' could wage war against Muscovy on a roughly equal footing. Yet, Kazan' was basically in an intermediate frontier zone between Muscovy, the Tiumen' Khanate, the Great Horde, and the Crimean Khanate. Kazan' was not strong enough economically or militarily to constitute a core area of its own. Ironically, this intermediate position, which gave the Kazan' Khanate its vitality as a commercial power,61 also made it vulnerable to military attack from one or a combination of the surrounding intermediate powers. Of these, only Muscovy was eventually able to establish itself as a true core area, a development that was facilitated by its absorbing three of the medium western steppe powers. The conquest of the first of these, Kazan' in 1552, was the key to taking the other two. Muscovite-Kazani relations were an integral part of steppe diplomacy. From 1475, the Crimean khan was the nominal vassal of the Ottoman sultan, but operated independently in the western steppe. The Great Horde was only a shadow of its former status as a core area—that is, as the Qipchaq Khanate. Nonetheless, the khan of the Great Horde was, until 1502, still the nominal suzerain of Muscovy. And in the Astrakhan' Khanate, a successor to the Great Horde, the khan continued to receive tribute from the Muscovite grand prince, as did the khans of the other successor khanates. As long as the Kazan' Khanate remained favorable to Muscovy or at least neutral but independent, the Muscovite grand prince could feel relatively secure concerning eastern approaches to Muscovy, because Kazan' was not strong enough to defeat Muscovy alone. When Kazan' fell under the direct influence of one of the other neighboring states, then it became part of that state's proximate frontier zone. As a result, the intermediate zone was shifted closer to Moscow, and the proximate zone of Muscovy—that is, the area that stretched along 61

Janet Martin discusses the commercial importance of the Kazan' Khanate during this period and how it affected relations with Muscovy. Janet Martin, "Muscovite Relations with the Khanates of Kazan' and the Crimea (1460s to 1521)," CanadianAmerican Slavic Studies 17 (1983), 437-42, 446-47.

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE GRAND PRINCES

37

the Volga and Oka Rivers from Nizhnii Novgorod to Serpukhov— would become the ultimate zone of another neighboring state. What this meant is that Kazan' could then be used as an advance base and provide additional forces for an attack on Moscow, as was done in 1521 by the Crimean khan. By 1556, however, Muscovy had become strong enough to reverse the dynamic and to use Kazan' as a staging area for the conquest of the Astrakhan' Khanate and for its attendant expansion along the entire course of the lower Volga. And by the end of the sixteenth century, Muscovy was able to incorporate the Khanate of Sibir' into its domains by sending troops and supplies through Kazan'. In great part, we must attribute this dramatic reversal of western steppe power relations to the successful military strategies of the Muscovite leaders, in particular in terms of mobilization of troops and other military resources. During the period from the middle of the fourteenth century through the fifteenth century, the Muscovite grand princes were adept at getting Lithuanian princes and nobility and their attendant service people to come over into grand princely service,62 although some of them would at times return to service with the Lithuanian Grand Duke. The Muscovite grand princes were also equally adept if not more so, especially during the period from the middle of the fifteenth century through the sixteenth century, in getting tsarevichi and other Tatar nobility and their attendant service people to enter grand princely service. As early as around 1330, the Tatar emir Chet-Murza (Zakhariia), ancestor of Boris Godunov, entered Muscovite service under Ivan j es ^ye £ncj evidence Of a Tatar nobleman, Serkiz in Muscovite service, perhaps in the 1370's.64 He brought his two sons, one of whom, Andrei Serkizov, is mentioned as having been killed at Kulikovo in 1380 fighting for Dmitrii Donskoi.65 In the early 1390's, three Tatar 62

See Oswald Prentiss Backus, Motives of West Russian Nobles in Deserting Lithuania for Moscow, 1377-1514 (Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1957). 63 "Rodoslovnaia kniga," Vremennik Impemtorskogo moskovskogo obshchestva istorii i drevnostei rossiiskikh, 10 (1851), § II Materidy, 93, 162, 256. 54 "Rodoslovnaia kniga," 123. Veselovskii considered Serkiz to be the founder of the Starkov clan. S. B. Veselovskii, Issledovaniia po istorii klass sluzhilykh zemlevladel'tsev (Moscow: Nauka, 1969), 56-57, 397-98, and 402-05. Fedorov-Davydov suggested that Serkiz may be the same person as Sekiz Bei mentioned as being on the P'iana River in 1361. G. A. Fedorov-Davydov, Obshchestvennyi stroi ^plotoi Ordy (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Moskovskogo universiteta, 1973) 137-38; PSRL, vol. 15.1, col. 71. to Drevniaia rossiiskaia vivliovika, 2nd ed., ed. Nikolai Novikov, 20 vols. (Moscow: V

38

DONALD OSTROWSKI

noblemen of the Khan's bedchamber, Bahty Hoza, Gedyr Hoza, and Mehmed Hoza, entered the service of Vasilii I after being baptized.66 In a letter supposedly written by the Emir Edigii in 1408 to Vasilii I explaining why he was coming against him, Edigii complained that Vasilii, besides not paying taxes or visiting the khan in Sarai, was harboring the sons of Tohtamis,, whom Edigii had overthrown.67 One of these sons referred to in the letter may have been Berkut (Kerim Berdi) who made a successful bid "from the lands of Rus'" to oust Edigii in 1411-12.68 Vasilii then, in August 1412, once again made the trip to the Horde, his first in twenty-one years.69 In 1444-45, two tsarevichi are reported by the Nikon Chronicle to be

tipografii Kompanii tipograficheskoi, 1788-91) vol. 6, 451. PSRL, vol. 4.25 (1925), 321; vol. 8, 39; vol. 11, 54 and 65; vol. 15.1, col. 140; vol. 16, col. 116; vol. 18, 130; vol. 20, 201; vol. 23, 126; vol. 24, 147; vol. 25, 204; vol. 26, 133; vol. 27, 75, 253, 332; vol. 28, 82, 245; vol. 39, 122. 66 Various chronicles enter this information under different years. PSRL, vol. 8, 64 (1393); vol. 11, 125 (1391); vol. 24, 159 (1392); vol. 25, 221 (1393); vol. 27, 257 (1390), 335 (1390); vol. 39, 132 (1390); TL, 443 (1393). 67 SGGD, vol. 2, no. 15, 16-17; PSRL, vol. 4.1 (1915), 406-07; vol. 11, 209-10 We should be suspicious of the authenticity of this letter. It does not appear in other chronicles, such as the Simeonovskaia, the Compilation of the End of the Fifteenth Century, or the Voskresenskaia. In the Compilations of 1497 and 1518, a statement appears to the effect that Edigii sent a gramota to Vasilii, but there is no text. PSRL, vol. 28, 92, 258. Halperin has called this letter "apocryphal" and attributes it to "an unknown author" of the first half of the fifteenth century. Charles Halperin, "The Russian Land and the Russian Tsar: The Emergence of Muscovite Ideology, 1380-1408," Forschungen Z.UY osteuropaischen Geschichte, 23 (1976), 55-56. Grigor'ev also questioned its authenticity pointing out that it does not correspond in form with Khanate documents. Furthermore, Grigor'ev also argued that the letter was composed in 1446 for inclusion in the Compilation of 1448 because it reflects the events of the 1440's better than those of 1408. A. P. Grigor'ev, '"larlyk Edigeia': analiz teksta i rekonstruktsiia soderzhaniia," Istoriogrqfiia i istochnikovedenie istorii stran Az.ii i Afriki, 11 (1988), 55-93. Recently, Gorskii has disputed Grigor' ev's challenge to its authenticity by arguing that a number of chronicle specialists, including Shakhmatov and Lur'e, eventually came to the conclusion that the Compilation of 1448 was composed earlier, perhaps in the 1430's, so items in it could not reflect the events of the 1440's. A. A. Gorskii, Moskva i Orda (Moscow: Nauka, 2000), 127-33. 68 Sbomik matenalov otnosiashchikhsia k istorii ^plotoi Ordy, ed. V. G. Tizengauzen, 2 vols. (St. Petersburg: S. G. Stroganov, 1884, Moscow and Leningrad: Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1941), vol. 2, 473; M. G. Safargaliev, Raspad ^olotoi Ordy (Saransk: Mordovskoe knizhnoe izdatel'stvo, 1960) (— Uchenye zapiski Mordovskogo gosudarstvennogo universiteta, vol. 11), 187. According to Grigor'ev, Toktamis/s sons were with the Vitovt, the grand duke of Lithuania, not with Vasilii, the grand prince of Rus'. Grigor'ev, "larlyk Edigeia," 71. For his source, Grigor'ev cited the Persian-language writer M. Natanzi. See Sbomik matenalov, vol. 2, 133. 69 PSRL, vol. 6 (1853), 139, vol. 8, 92, vol. 11, 219; Safargaliev, Raspad, 188-89.

TROOP MOBILIZATION BY THE MUSCOVITE

GRAND PRINCES

39

in the service of Vasilii II.70 One of these may have been named Berdydad (Berdedat), who tried to bring military support for Vasilii before the Battle of Suzdal' in 1445.71 In 1447, Kasym and Yakup, sons of the Kazan' khan Ulu Mehmed, entered Muscovite service,72 and Kasym played a prominent role in the 1460's in campaigns against Kazan'. In the 1470's, the tsareuich Danyar Kasymovich was second in command of Muscovite forces, ahead of the grand prince's brothers. In 1471, Ivan III invited Murtaza, the son of the Kazan' Khan Mustafa, to enter Muscovite service, and in 1473 he did so.73 And from 1505 to 1523, the tsarevich Peter Ibraimov was in the service of Vasilii III as second in command of Muscovite forces. In addition, according to the Vologda-Perm' Chronicle, Vasilii III invited Tatar nobles from Astrakhan' to enter Muscovite service and bestowed prominent positions upon them.74 Craig Kennedy has estimated that, by the end of the sixteenth century, more than 60 Juchid princes along with their families and retainers, numbering several thousand, were in service to the Muscovite tsar.?D All in all, the ranks of the Muscovite elite were thus increased by at least 20%, if not more, from the late fifteenth through sixteenth centuries.76 Muscovy, which began the fourteenth century as a small, relatively unimportant part of the Mongol Empire, was, by the first half of the sixteenth century, well on its way to forming an empire that was to supercede its predecessor in size as the greatest land empire in history. The Muscovite grand princes obtained their initial boost by adopting Tatar methods of warfare and by being granted the yarliq as the senior Rus' prince by the Tatar khans. Along the way, they brought into direct service independent Rus' princes and Lithuanian nobles. An important component of the Muscovite rulers' 70 PSRL, vol. 11, 63. I explain in Muscovy and the Mongols (54, fn. 76) why I am inclined to accept this interpolation. 71 PSRL, vol. 6 (1853), 170; vol. 6.2, col. 105; vol. 12, 65; vol. 23, 152-53; vol. 25, 262; vol. 26, 197; vol. 27, 109; vol. 28, 103, 270; loasafovskaia letopis', 32. 72 PSRL, vol. 6 (1853), 178; vol. 6.2, col. 121; vol. 8, 121; vol. 12, 73; vol. 18, 203; vol. 25, 269; vol. 26, 207; vol. 28, 109, 277; loasafovskaia letopis', 41. 73 PSRL, vol. 8, 167, 178; vol. 12, 141, 154; vol. 18, 234, 247; vol. 25, 291, 301; vol. 26, 241, 252-53; vol. 28, 128, 137, 298, 307. loasafovskaia letopis', 73, 86. 74 PSRL, vol. 26, 296. 73 Craig Gayen Kennedy, "The Juchids of Muscovy: A Study of Personal Ties Between Emigre Tatar Dynasts and the Muscovite Grand Princes in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries," Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University, 1994, abstract. /() For my discussion of percentages of Tatars in Muscovite service, see Muscovy and the Mongols, 56-59.

40

DONALD OSTROWSKI

final boost to expand eastward into the Eurasian heartland by establishing control over the Volga trade artery was incorporating Tatar personnel, including Tatar nobles and descendents of khans who had been their suzerains, into their military and political ranks.

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION Richard Hellie The purpose of this article is to determine, using the available data, Muscovy's total expenses on its military effort, and then calculate how many days' labor (expressed in wages) or how many chetverti of rye it took to meet those expenses. Other calculations can be made once these figures are known, such as what proportion of the gross domestic product was consumed by the military establishment. The result for the 1650s is somewhat surprising, perhaps three times more than previous estimates. Unquestionably real Muscovite military expenses varied every year between the annexation of Novgorod in the 1470s and Peter's restructuring of the army in the early 1700s, when the territory claimed by Moscow expanded from around 430,000 to around 15,280,000 square kilometers. These variable costs depended on whether Russia was at war or at peace, and whether it was at war on the western front, the southern front, the eastern front (until 1556), or some combination. The costs also depended on what method(s) of warfare were being currently used. Fortifications, artillery, and central administration and their expenses were always present, but the field forces changed over time. Cavalry was the major military arm until the 1550s, when it was joined by the infantry arquebusiers (after the introduction of muskets and musketeers in the seventeenth century). They were supplemented by the new formation regiments for the Smolensk War (1632-34) and then the Thirteen Years' War (1654-67). Prolonged warfare led to debasement of the currency and inflation, which changed costs—sometimes dramatically, as in 1662-63. The Russian government was aware of this, and tried to correct inflation as soon as it was able. The general result was that, while some prices went up and some others went down over the long run, the general tendency for most of them was to revert to the median.1 1 Richard Hellie, The Economy and Material Culture of Russia 1600-1725 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1999), 634-35. The prices and wages used in this

42

RICHARD HELLIE

Setting limits on this discussion has posed problems, and I have decided to solve it in the following way. In the first place, the general time period will be the middle of the 1650s, after the outset of the Thirteen Years' War and before the copper inflation set in. At that time all the elements of the period were present, although in different proportions than at others. I shall consider the cost of: (1) the command and supply structure—the chancelleries (prikazy)] (2) the stationary defense system-fortifications; (3) the traditional cavalry; (4) the musketeers and others of their type, which elsewhere I call the lower service class; (5) cossacks; (6) the new formation regiments. The discussion will be divided into depreciable assets and consumables. Depreciable assets will be divided into long-life assets such as immovable structures, which will be assigned a 25-year depreciation schedule (some lasted longer, others a lesser amount of time), and shorter-life moveable objects such as weapons and horses, which will be assigned a 10-year depreciation schedule. Straight line depreciation will be used. Wages were a major part of the cost of defense and expansion, and are easy to calculate when they are known. For many personnel, however, wages were a complex issue. First, personnel each had what I translate as an "entitlement" (oklad}. Everyone had a cash entitlement, and members of the elite had a land entitlement as well. The peasants on the land were supposed to support the landholder in cash and in kind with their rent payments. The problem was that entitlements were collected in varying percentages at different times. I have tried to illustrate in my Economy volume what that meant for cash salary entitlements. No systematic study of this issue has been done for land entitlements, but the rough calculations that have been made have indicated that the servicemen got a bit less than onehalf of the land they were entitled to.2 Until the 1560s service landholders were permitted to collect the traditional rent, but Ivan the Terrible during his Oprichnina (1565—72) allowed his servicemen (oprichniki) to collect as much as they wanted (which forced 85 percent of the peasantry to flee in some areas). After that time the cash rents collected on seignorial land have been listed by lu. A. Tikhonov as 0.8 to 2 rubles per household up to 1648, 1.5 rubles per housearticle will be the median prices from this book. To save space, no citations will be given. Those interested can find them by consulting the exhaustive index. 2 Hellie, Slavery, 616, 629.

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

43

hold in the period 1649 1679, and 0.7 to 5.8 rubles per household between 1680 and 1725. The dates chosen here are important, with the Ulozhenie of 1649 marking the completion of the enserfment and 1679 notable for the introduction of the household tax (replacing the tax on sown area) as the basis of the tax system. These events also had an impact on rent, especially the cramming of as many people as possible into one household to lessen the household tax. Thus for comparative purposes it is crucial to know the rents per individual, which Tikhonov lists as 0.3 to 1.365 rubles per male up to 1648, 0.675 rubles per male 1649-1679, and 0.175 to 1.36 rubles per male in the years 1680—1725.3 I shall use in my calculations a rent of 1.5 rubles per household. Those rents were supposed to support the serviceman, his family, and slaves on a day-to-day basis. These direct payments avoided the 50 percent shrinkage which allegedly occurred when taxes were collected, apportioned in Moscow, and then paid to servicemen. Cash entitlements were not always paid; for field servicemen their primary purpose was to enable them to purchase military market commodities, such as weapons and horses. This raises the issue of double counting. No European army prior to the 1650s ran a commissary service, and every serviceman was responsible for maintaining himself in service. This was especially true for food, which is why the Muscovite army (like every other European army) tended to melt away after a few months of engagement

3

Iu. A. Tikhonov, Pomeshchich'i krest'iane v Rossii. Feodal'naia renta v XVII-nachak XVIII v. (Moscow: Nauka, 1974), 196, 216, 297. V. D. Nazarov in his contribution to Istoriia krest'ianstva v Evrope. Epokha feodalizma (Moscow: Nauka, 1986) goes on and on about rent and how it went up and down, but never once says something like: "The median rent on seignorial land was xxx kopeks per year in the mid-seventeenth century" (2: 433-38). His essay states explicitly that taxes in the Novgorod area in the 1570s-80s remained at 58 and 62.5 den'gi per dvor, that lay demesne land was farmed almost exclusively by slaves, but there is nothing about actual peasant rent. The chapter by E. V. Anisimov, "Nalogi i povinnosti krest'ian" in Istoriia krest'ianstva Rossii s drevneishikh vreman do 1917. Tom 3: Krest'ianstvo penoda pozdnego feodalizma (seredina XVII v-1861 g.), allegedly cites Tikhonov, but gives both the wrong page numbers and incorrect information. Anisimov alleges that household cash rent on seignorial estates was 3.40 rubles up to 1649, 4 rubles in the years 1649-79, and 5.8 rubles for 1680-1725. Per male, he gives the figures 2.15, 1.08, and 1.36 rubles (p. 154). At 3 kopeks per day as the value of peasant-type labor, 4 rubles per household in the middle period would have been an impossible burden, the equivalent of 133 days' labor a year just to pay rent from the sole adult male in most seignorial peasants households of that time. In terms of all males ("souls"), 2.16 rubles would have represented about 72 days' labor just for rent in the years 1649-79, which would have been too much as well.

44

RICHARD HELLIE

as the food ran out. The same was true for many other military appurtenances. The government in general provided materiel for the members of the lower service class, whereas members of the upper and middle service classes had to provide for themselves. It is fairly clear that an entitlement paid to an upper or middle service class servitor which was then used to buy horses, wagons, and weapons should not be counted twice. The military commodities used by members of the upper and middle service classes will be enumerated, but every attempt will be made to avoid double counting in the final tally of costs. One may discuss whether the costs of the tsar' and his retinue/court should be included, especially when the tsar' was commanding the army at the front, but they will not be in this discussion. Then there is the issue of whether the bribes/tribute constantly being paid the Crimean Tatars, which cost the Muscovite government over a million rubles between 1613 and 1650, should be included in these costs, and here again they will not be. Perhaps this should be included in a larger cost of foreign relations. Another real cost was that of ransoming Russians from captivity in the hands of the steppe peoples who kidnapped them, but that will not be discussed here, either. This issue was the subject of one of the provisions of the proceedings of the Hundred-Chapters Church Council of 1551 (the Stoglav) and of the seven articles of chapter 8 of the Ulozhenie (Law Code) of 1649. A special tax was collected throughout the Muscovite state to pay such ransoms, which amounted to huge sums. This tax also is not included in this essay. Expenses of the Command Structure

In the 1650s there were about a dozen chancelleries (prikazy) involved with military matters, which are enumerated in Table 2. Table 2. Muscovite Military Chancelleries Chancellery Name (Russian)

Years of Existence

Armory (Oruzheinyi] Artillery (Pushkarskii) Cossacks (Kazachii] Dragoons (Dragunskogo stroia) Drafting Military Personnel (Sbora ratnykh liudei] Foreign Mercenary (Inoz.em.skii}**

16th c.-1720s 1577-1700 1613-43* 1646-? 1637-54 1623—1701

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

45

Table 2 (cont.)

Chancellery Name (Russian)

Years of Existence

Fortifications (Gorodovykh del] Gun Barrel (Stvol'nyi) Military (Razriad) Military Affairs (Ratnykh del] Military Recruits (Shorn datochnykh liudei] Musket (Mushketnykh del] Musket Barrel (Mushketnogo deld) Musketeers /Arquebusiers (Streletskii) New Formation Cavalry (Reitarskii) Regimental (Polkovnykh del] Stone/Brick Masonry (Kamennyi] Weapons (Bronnyi]

1638-44 1577/78, 1647-66 1555-1711 1633, 1680/81 1633-54 1663-64 1653-43, 1663-64 1571-1701 1649-1701 Mentioned 1661, 1698 1583-1700 1573-first half 17th c.

*Merged into Petitions Chancellery. **In 1614—23, the Panskii. prikaz.

I have not included the Service Land Chancellery (Pomestnyi prikaz), which managed the state land fund that it allotted to the cavalrymen, for it provided support for the army, akin to the sundry taxation chancelleries, and was not directly involved with military matters per se. Each chancellery was housed in a structure inside or just outside the Kremlin walls at the costs listed in Table 3 for the 1650s.4 Table 3. Cost of 25-Year Depreciable Structures Belonging to the Chancelleries (Rubles) Item

Number

Cost Each

Offices (door) Total Annual cost

12

20.00

Total Cost 240.00

240.00 9.60

The short-term depreciable assets of the military chancelleries are largely unknown to me, although they definitely existed. The governmental office which has been restored at Kolomenskoe is a sparsely furnished place, with only tables/desks, as I recall. The Military 4 A description of these buildings can be found in Peter Bowman Brown "Early Modern Russian Bureaucracy: The Evolution of the Chancellery System from Ivan III to Peter the Great 1478-1717" (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago doctoral dissertation, 1978), 131-32. In 1675 the Military Chancellery paid the Masonry Chancellery 1,000 rubles to build it a brick structure (A. N. Speranskii, Ocherki po istorii Prikaza kamennykh del Moskovskogo gosudarstva [Moscow: RANION, 1930], 221). Before that, most government offices were built of wood.

46

RICHARD HELLIE

Chancellery (Razriad] was subdivided by functions or "desks," which almost certainly represented physical objects. Other chancelleries sometimes had subdivisions as well. Table 4 is a guess about such matters. The estimate is that the average chancellery had 4 desks; some had more, others had less. Table 4. Cost of 10-Year Depreciable Objects Belonging to the Chancelleries (Rubles) Item

Number

Cost Each

Total Cost

Desks/Tables Candle holders, iron Total Annual Cost

48 48

2.00 .20

96.00 9.60 105.60 10.56

The Muscovite chancelleries kept very precise records of their expenditures, especially of consumables such as paper, ink, sand, and candles, as well as the services they retained, particularly hauling their sewage to the Moscow River. Regrettably, the numbers in Table 5 are largely guesses because I have no annual records for any of these chancelleries.5 Table 5. Cost of Muscovite Chancellery Consumables and Services (Rubles)

Cost Each

Item

Number

Paper (stopd) Ink (kuvshiri) Sand (load) Recordbinding (@) Candles (wax, @) Candles (tallow, @) Sewage hauling (trip) Total

10 PP X 6 = 60 17 PP x 6 = 102 1 PP x 6 = 6

6 8 40 2

PP PP PP PP

x x x x

6 6 6 6

= = = =

36 48 240 12

.80 .10 .09 .27 .03 .004 .15

Total Cost 48.00 10.20 .54 9.72 1.44 .96 1.80 72.66

5 The records of the Service Land Chancellery have been published (A. A. Sokolova, et al., comps., Raskhodnye knigi i stopy Pomestnogo priakaza [1626-1659 gg.] [Moscow: Pechatnia A. Snegirevoi, 1910]). It was one of the largest of the chancelleries, so I have taken its annual consumption and divided by 2 to get some notion of an average chancellery consumption. This number has been multiplied by 12, the number of military chancelleries.

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

47

The major central chancellery expense was wages, which, while not extravagant (and thus Muscovy did not participate in the so-called "seventeenth century crisis" based on governmental extravagance), were more than adequate, especially considering that literacy was a scarce skill which may have commanded a wage premium. (I am not certain about this premium because there were few bidders for such labor besides the government, which probably was close to a monopsonist in that sector and thus could pay lower wages for the skill than it would have had to had there been competitors.) What is certain about chancellery service is that entitlements were always (to my knowledge) paid in full. The head of the Military Chancellery was nearly always a counselor state secretary, as was often the head of the Service Land Chancellery, one or two of the three or four in mid-century Muscovy.6 (The others headed the Foreign Affairs Chancellery and/or the Felony Chancellery.) Each chancellery had a complement of state secretaries, clerks, and apprentices. Again, regrettably, I do not know as of this writing how many worked in each chancellery earning the annual wages shown in Table 6.7 The state secretaries also had service land grants of between 600 and 1,000 chetvert's in the mid-seventeenth century, much like those of the lower upper service class listed below.8 The rents from those holdings also must be included in the expenses of running the defenserelated chancelleries.

6 N. F. Demidova, Sluzhilaia biurokratiia v Rossii XVII v. i ee roV v formirovanii absoliutizma (Moscow: Nauka, 1987), 120. Undoubtedly Demidova has the precise numbers for each chancellery, but in this book presents only aggregate numbers. She wrote that there were 113 d'iaki and 671 pod'iachie in 1656/57 (ibid., 122, 125). As I cannot find precise numbers, I'll assume that "my" prikazy were a quarter of all of them and use that proportion. 7 Razriad 1668/69, 68 clerks + 6 guards and 12 deti boiarskie; 1672/73, 105 clerks (PBB, 458). 8 PBB, 87. Clerks were granted an entitlement of 50 chetvert's of land near Moscow on August 31, 1587, but they probably did not get it, and on July 7, 1682, the granting of such lands to clerks was forbidden. They may have had from 200 to 400 chevert's elsewhere, however, but not all did—perhaps as few as a quarter did (ibid., 107-09). The presence of peasants to pay rents on such lands could not be guaranteed.

48

RICHARD HELLIE

Table 6. Wage Expenditures in the Moscow Defense Chancelleries (Rubles)

Job

Number*

Cash Entitlement**

Apprentice Clerk State secretary Counselor state secretary

20 250 25 1

2.00 8.00 70.00 250.00

Total Entitlements 40 2,000 1,750 250 4,040

*The numbers are extrapolated from Brown, "Bureaucracy." The assumption here is that a quarter of the governmental officials worked in the 12 military chancelleries. I was disappointed not to find the numbers of officials in each chancellery in Borivoj Plavsic's "Seventeenth-Century Chanceries and Their Staffs," in Russian Officialdom, ed. by Pintner and Rowney (Chapel Hill: North Carolina Press, 1980), 19-45. **A11 the wage entitlements come from Economy, 416-21. See also Demidova, who has about the same numbers.

In the other wage tables I discuss the issue of whether the personnel were paid their full entitlements. That was not an issue for the chancellery employees, for they always seem to have been paid in full. At the font of the cash, they took care of themselves first.9 The Stationary Defense System

The stationary defense system essentially had two components: (1) the fortresses which were rebuilt beginning at the end of the fifteenth century to cope with the demands of the gunpowder revolution and primarily effective in the struggle for territory with Poles, Lithuanians, and Swedes, and (2) the system of fortified lines (especially Belgorod, Izium, et al.) that gradually walled off the steppe against nomadic predators. How many fortresses there were is unknown.10 The details of the great fortress at Smolensk are known, although it was atypical: it was greatest construction project at least in Eurasia, if not the entire world, in the sixteenth century (construction commenced in 1596 and was completed in 1600). Its costs (in seventeenth-century

9

Hellie, Economy, 425, 438-42. P. A. Rappoport has nice illustrations and discussions of the construction of fortresses, but no numbers about how many there were (Drevme russkie kreposti [Moscow: Nauka, 1965], 66-74. 10

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND

EXPANSION

49

median prices) are estimated in Table 7.11 I am assuming a construction year of 200 days. The Poles were able to batter down part of the wall in 1611 because that section had been constructed when it was so cold that the cement did not set properly. On the other hand, construction cannot have gone on year round (a 300-day year) because then none of that cement would have set properly and presumably the fortress could have been assaulted at almost any location and been blown apart by artillery. (Five years of 200 days = 1,000 days of construction.) Table 7. The Costs of Building the Smolensk Fortress (Rubles) Item Hired laborers Bricks Crushed rock, cubic meters Piles Stones, white facing Sand, loads Lime, tons Logs Boards Strap iron, tons Round bar iron, tons Nails Total

Number 10,000 150,000,000 61,600 320,000 620,000 1,000,000 5,760 150,000 50,000 5,760 2,700 > 1,000,000

Price @ 0.08 per day: masons 0.20 per hundred 0.10 per load* 0.03 0.13 0.09 per load 0.024 per bochka** 0.05 0.06 0.50 per pood 0.50 per pood 0.014 per 10

Total Cost 800,000 300,000 27,975.61 9,600 80,600 90,000 276.48 7500 3000 160,000 75,000 1,400 1,555,352.09

*Estimated. The calculation went as follows: Crawford Material Co. of 3949 West Palmer in Chicago told me that a cubic yard of crushed stone weighs 2,500 Ibs. Thus a cubic meter is 3270 Ibs. 61,600 cubic meters (converted from 32,000 cubic sazhens) would weigh 2.0142433e+08 Ibs. I calculated that a load (voz) is 20 poods = 720 Ibs, which is divided into the total weight of the crushed stone. This yields 279,756.1, at 10 kopeks per load gives a total cost of 27,975.61 rubles. **30 poods per bochka

" Hellie, Emerfment and Military Change, 158-59. I got these numbers from D. P. Makovskii, Razvitie tovarno-denezjmykh otnoshenii v sel'skom khoziaistve russkogo gosudarstva v XVI veke (Smolensk, 1963), 86, 94, 127. Makovskii observed that no inventory of the costs of the fortress was extant and that he knew of no attempt to price Smolensk or similar efforts (ibid., 127). This thus will be the first attempt to determine the cost of the Smolensk fortress. A. N. Speranskii noted that the campaign to build the Smolensk fortress was the first recorded mobilization of all workers of specific

50

RICHARD HELLIE

A twenty-five year life for some of those projects may be too short, for the Smolensk fortress still exists today and may have had a useful life as a fortress commanding the upper Dnepr and the road from the west to Moscow for considerably over twenty-five years.12 One would also have to include in these calculations many of the monasteries, such as the Trinity in Zagorsk, etc. etc., whose brick or stone walls were built as protective fortifications not only for the monks, but for the surrounding populace as well. Regardless, by almost whatever reasonable depreciation schedule one makes calculations (25, 50 years), by the 1650s there was little depreciation left in most Russian fortresses. It is not my impression that the major stone and/or brick fortresses played much, if any, military role in Russia after 1650. The fortified lines across the southern frontier south of the Oka were another matter. We know their names, when they were constructed, and something about the labor and materials which went into them.13 Twenty-five years may be a usable life calculation for them: after twenty-five years the wood in them rotted, new ones were built to replace them further south, or the problem went away. Be that as it may, their construction and maintenance were major issues both of personnel and material expenditure in the seventeenth century. Brian Davies has done detailed work on a 25.5 kilometer section of the 800-kilometer-long Belgorod fortified line, which was constructed between 1635 and 1658. The section consisted of an earthen wall 2.3 meters high and 3.5 meters wide at the base with a ditch/moat 3.5 meters deep and wide 100 meters in front of the wall. There were wooden towers about every 100 meters, and a small fortress about every 3 verstas. This 25.5-kilometer section of the entire project cost 6,515.14 rubles.14 This amounts to a cost of

specialties (masons, bricklayers, potters) regardless of their tax estate (Ocherki po istorii Prikaza kamennykh del Moskovskogo gosudarstva [Moscow: RANION, 1930], 40). 12 Whether the Smolensk fortress's useful life was more than 25 years for the Russians would have to be carefully calculated. The Russians had the fortress for ten to eleven years from 1600 to 1611, and then after 1654. The extent to which it was useful to Moscow after 1654 and, if it was, for how long, are facts unknown to me. 13 The superb works by V. P. Zagorovskii (Belgorodskaia cherta and Iziumskaia cherta], Brian Davies' magnificent dissertation, and AMG all contain data relevant to this section. 14 Brian Davies, State Power and Community in Early Modem Russia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001).

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

51

255.50 rubles per kilometer, or 204,396.55 rubles for the entire Belgorod line. (Only a fraction of the Smolensk fortress, obviously!) Applying a 25-year depreciation schedule, this would be about 8,175 rubles per year. As a capital expense, the fortified lines succeeded the stationary fortresses.13 The funds "left over" were expended on the personnel of the more costly new formation army. Construction of the Izium line began in 1690 south of the Belgorod line. Along with the great fortresses and the fortified lines must go a consideration of the artillery park. Early modern Russia had enormous numbers of artillery pieces in places such as Staraia Ladoga, Ivangorod, Oreshek (a Swedish possession after May 1612, Noteburg, then ShlissePburg), Kantsy (on the Neva), the Solovetskii monastery, Arkhangel'sk, Astrakhan', Tavan' (on the Dnepr, 1695); the Kola, Sum', Pustozero, and Kem' forts; and batteries in places such as the Narova delta, the estuary of the Northern Dvina, the Don delta, Azov, and Taganrog (f. 1698).16 In 1623 the inventory of Arkhangel'sk noted 32 pieces, 1628 the inventory of Ladoga's fort listed 27 pieces. In the 1630s 96 towns (excluding Moscow) had 2,730 cannons. At the time, 13.4 percent of the artillerymen were in Moscow, and if one assumes that they all had equal ordnance, there should have been about 3,100 working artillery pieces in all of Muscovy.17 By the middle of the seventeenth century, this number probably had risen to 3,600 or 3,700.18 In the seventeenth century the Russians had 15 different models of field artillery.19 Artillery pieces, which cost a

10

After the Time of Troubles, in the 1620s, the government expended small sums repairing the walls of Kolomna, 700 rubles on Mozhaisk fortifications, less on Viaz'ma. In the 1630s repairs were done in Astrakhan' that may have cost a couple thousand rubles. For the rest of the century, stone and brick work seems to have been done on churches, private houses, and some government offices (Speranskii, Ocherki, 46-48, 221). 16 A. P. Denisov and lu. G. Perechnev, Russkaia beregovaia artilleriia (Moscow: Voenizdat, 1956), 12, 15. 17 Stoletie Voennogo ministerstva 1802-1902. Tom 6: Glavnoe artilleriiskoe upravlenie (St. Petersburg, 1902), 19; L. G. Beskrovnyi, Ocherki po istochnikovedeniiu voennoi istorii Rossii (Moscow: Voenizdat, 1957), 102. 18 Bestrovnyi, ed., Khrestomatiia po russkoi voennoi istorii (Moscow: Voenizdat, 1947), 112; F. I. Kalinychev, Pravovye voprosy voennnoi organizatsii russkogo gosudarstva vtoroi poloviny XVII veka (Moscow: Gosiurizdat, 1954), 82. At this time the Solovetskii fort had 90 weapons. By the beginning of the eighteenth century Astrakhan' had 198 weapons, Azov had 200, Taganrog had 256 artillery pieces (Denisov, Artilleriia, 14-26). 19 K. P. Kazakov, ed., Artilleriia i rakety (Moscow: Voenizdat, 1968), 16.

52

RICHARD HELLIE

median of about 200 rubles apiece, would be 25-year property. Their contribution to the cost of the Muscovite army is listed in Table 8. Table 8. The Late Muscovite Artillery Park and its Assumed Cost (Rubles) Number of Artillery Pieces

Total Cost at Median Price of 200 Rubles Apiece

3,650 25-year Depreciation (4%)

730,000 29,200

The Traditional Cavalry

The traditional cavalry comprised most of the members of the upper and middle service classes. They commenced their lifetime service around age 15 and could only retire if they were so maimed or decrepit that they could not stand up. The able-bodied had to serve on horseback whenever called. Those who no longer physically were able to ride were supposed to render siege service, which meant standing up inside a fortification shooting out at an attacking enemy. Initially the cavalry's firepower was based on bows and arrows, assisted by sabres for closer range combat. The traditional cavalry was very resistant to change in the gunpowder era, but by the Thirteen Years' War many of them also had pistols. On the march in the 1650s, most cavalrymen went to war with three horses, a body servant who typically was a slave purchased for the purpose, and all the supplies and materiel needed for the campaign.20 As mentioned above, these men had two sources of income, their landed properties and cash entitlements. Since 1556 both hereditary estates and service landholdings had been required to provide identical service. Servicemen with larger holdings had to provide additional armed combatants who, until the Time of Troubles, were elite, specially purchased combat slaves. The Time of Troubles, and especially the armed uprisings led by the trained combat slaves Khlopko and Bolotnikov, taught the Muscovites that such creatures had at least 20 The number of one slave per cavalryman may be too low. Perhaps half the provincial cavalrymen had slaves, but it may be that the larger holdings of the upper service class were sufficient to offset the lack of chattel by the middle service class.

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

53

one trait in common with modern German Shepherds: supposedly submissive and obedient, they were capable of turning in a violent rage against their owners at any moment. After 1613 slaves were more often body servants and/or relegated to guarding the baggage train than they had been before 1600.21 I am assuming that the slaves were armed only with bows and arrows, helmets and body armor. In the sixteenth century slaves were less well armored than their owners, but I am assuming that by the 1650s no one would go out to the battle field area without light armor.22 The role of carts, which were relatively expensive, in the Muscovite military is not clear to me. At least ideally, Muscovites preferred to engage in military operations (especially on the southern front) when the ground was free of snow (so horses could get traction and could find something to eat) and mud, which restricted campaigns to the summer months. For most of the period the government had an idea where the next campaign would be and ordered the cavalrymen to send their supplies (such as hardtack) to a designated staging area by the "winter route," using sleds that could travel directly overland. Typically the cavalry was called up by "halves," one half around May 1, the other half around July 1, but sometimes both halves would be called up simultaneously. They would muster locally, march to Moscow or another designated place, pick up their supplies, and then move to the combat zone. In this scenario there was no place for carts on the southern front. As the fortified lines moved the combat zone further south from the Oka to the Belgorod line, the supply lines from the Volga-Oka mesopotamia became extended and I have the impression that carts may have been used in the Golitsyn campaigns of 1687 and 1689, when the intention was to carry the combat zone with 200,000 troops right to Perekop and the Crimean peninsula. On the western front, my impression is that, when carts were needed, they were commandeered/requisitioned from the local population, as during the Thirteen Years' War. In any case, carts may not have been part of the military expenses of the ordinary cavalryman in the 1650s and have not been included

21

On the correlations (most rather weak) between the various types of compensation and the presence of combat and baggage-train slaves, see Hellie, Slavery, 630-32. 22 ' Muster records, which I do not have for the 1650s, would easily resolve this issue.

54

RICHARD HELLIE

in table 9.23 Table 9 lists the 10-year depreciation expenses of the 42,500 active members of the upper and middle service classes in the 1650s. Of these, about 5,000 were garrison troops who presumably did not have horse or slave expenses.24 Table 9. 10-Year Depreciation Expenses of the Muscovite Cavalry (Rubles) Item

Number

Cost Each

Total Cost

Horses Saddles/pack gear Stirrups Bridles Saddlecloths Sabres Pistols (pairs) Tents Bows Bow-and-arrow cases Slaves Helmets Body armor Total 10%

112,500 112,500 75,000 75,000 75,000 42,500 20,000 42,500 80,000 80,000 37,500 80,000 80,000

4.00 1.20 .50* .175 .172 4.00 5.50 6.00 1.25 1.50 3.00

450,000.00 135,000.00 37,500.00 13,125.00 12,900.00 170,000.00 110,000.00 255,000.00 100,000.00 120,000.00 112,500.00 60,000.00 56,000.00 1,632,025.00 163,202.50

.75 .70

See M. M. Denisova, "Pomestnaia konnitsa i ee vooruzhenie v XVI-XVII w.," Trudy Gosudarstvennogo istoricheskogo muzeia 20 (1948), 29-46. *Economy, 491. The median price on p. 485 is 12.50, but that seems unrealistic, so I have chosen the price discussed on p. 491.

23 All of this may, or may not, need serious correction. The baggage train of carts (oboz) is known in Russian from the fourteenth century with a meaning akin to the Old German Wagenburg, and it is known in South and West Slavic languages as well (Chernykh, Istoriko-etimologicheskii slovar', vol. 1, 587). The "Military Statute of 1607 and 1621" gives instructions on the oboz in its first articles (L. G. Beskrovnyi, Khrestomatiia po russkoi voennoi istorii [Moscow: Voenizdat, 1947], 84-86). The term oboz, has gone out of use and has been replaced by transport. Now it is calculated that pack transport (on a horse, camel, or mule) can carry 80 to 100 kg. (Sov. voen. ents. 8 [1980]: 92). Cart/wagon and sleigh transport pulled by horses, reindeer, dogs, etc. can move 25 to 30 km. on bad roads and 40 km. on good ones in 24 hours carrying a load of 300 to 400 kg. (ibid.). In 1694 a cartload was 576 pounds (2 chetvert's) (Stevens, Soldiers, 93; elsewhere 3 chetvert's, 110). One practice was for the army to confiscate and/or "borrow" carts from civilians (ibid., 109-10). River transport on boats and barges was also sometimes used to move Muscovite men and supplies. Stevens noted that 150 boats were needed to ship army grain down the Dnepr in the late 1660s and that the vehicles cost those forced to build them 7 rubles apiece (Soldiers, 105). 24 Hellie, Enserfment, 269. I have rounded these numbers off, and downwards, on

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

55

From this table I think it would be safe to conclude that it cost over 160,000 rubles a year just to outfit the cavalry. The next expenses are the non-capital ones, especially for "disposables" such as arrows, powder and bullets for the pistols, and the food which each cavalryman sent ahead by the "winter route" for himself and his slave retainer(s). At the end of the wages chapter of Economy I have calculated by several methods the cost of eating and have used that as the cost of food while calculating that the average serviceman was in service about a third of the year. (In fact, during the Thirteen Years' War terms of service may have been longer. Here, however, the attempt is to give some notion of costs throughout the entire period, such as in the 1640s, when military service was not so onerous.) I have assumed here that about half of the cavalry had firearms in the 1650s and that none of their slaves did. The number of shots they fired in a year was few, so that bullets, powder, and wicks were not a major expense for the cavalry.25 Almost certainly oats for the horses were part of the supplies sent ahead by the "winter route," for the cavalrymen could not count on their mounts being able to forage while on the march or in a congested combat zone. These expenses are enumerated in table 10. Table 10. Cost of Cavalry, Food and Disposables (Rubles) Item

Number

Cost Each

Total Cost

Bullets (lead) funt Powder funt Wicks junt Food per day Hardtack chetuert' Oats chetuert' Total

21,500 x 2 21,500 x 2 21,500 x 1 80,000 x 120 Included in above 112,500 x 3

.05 .08 .04 .04 .60 .30*

2,150 3,440 860 384,000.00 0 101,250.00 491,700.00

*The calculation is that horses were fed 18 pood?, of oats per year. There were in mid-seventeenth century 6 pood? per chetvert', which would yield a feeding of 3 chetvert's per year. Had a horse been run all year, this would not have been enough food. But if the horse was worked in combat or as a pack horse a third of the year, this might have been adequate. The horse had to be fed all year, and maybe some oats were required even in off seasons to keep the horse in suitable condition for the campaign season. Stevens wrote that daily each horse required more than 18 pounds of dry fodders and 50 pounds of green forage (Soldiers, 113). the assumption some of these men were stationed in Moscow or elsewhere on essentially civil service duty in the chancelleries, in the court of the tsar', in diplomatic service, and so forth. 20 One source states that those with firearms were to be sent to battle with 2

56

RICHARD HELLIE

The nearly half-million rubles accounted for here to feed the men and their mounts is quite an expense already, without knowing the amount of ammunition used. The major expense for the Muscovite state of its traditional cavalry was wages, the entitlements both in cash and in land (from which the cavalrymen collected rents from the peasants farming the land). The cash component can be listed with some confidence in its accuracy because these numbers are repeated endlessly in the primary sources (table 11). Table 11. The Cash Entitlements of the Cavalry (Rubles) Rank Boiarin OkoPnichii Counselor dvorianin Moscow dvorianin Stol'nik Striapchii Zhilets Dvorianin Syn boiarskii Total

# in Rank 40 5 5 900 500 800 1,250 2,000 37,000 42,500

Oklad

% Paid*

500 300 300 70 55 37 20 19 8

100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 95.0 95.0** 95.0** 75.0 100.0

Sum

20,000 1,500 1,500 63,000 26,125 28,120 23,750 28,500 296,000 488,495

*The percentage paid is calculated by multiplying the given or calculated monthly payments times 12 and dividing the result by the oklad. **Assumed—precise data are not available.

Rents can only be approximated (Table 12) because the only standard was that lords were limited to an amount that would not destroy their peasants. Regardless, some data collected by Tikhonov do exist, as reported above. It should be noted that few lords collected only cash, which is used here. Rent could also be collected in kind, or in labor. Most lords collected some combination of all three. I am assuming that if all rents were monetized, their value would approximate that of the cash rent. If any particular kind/combination of

Ibs. of lead and the same of powder (Hellie, Enserfinent, 196-97). On August 31, 1633, during the Smolensk War, the figures were 3 Ibs of lead and double that of power for draftees to be sent to the front (AMG, vol. 1, no. 542). For want of better information and considering that most years were not Smolensk-War years, the former numbers will be used here. A musket bullet weighed from 34 to 50 grams. One may assume, very conservatively, that each combatant must have had at least one pound of wick (see AMG, vol. 1, no. 617, from December 1, 1654).

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

57

rent had had advantage over the others, I am assuming that it would have driven the others out.26 Table 12. Peasant Rents Collected by Members of the Cavalry at 1.50 rubles per Household Rank

# in Rank

# Households

Total Rent

Boiarin Okol'nichii Counselor dvorianin Moscow dvorianin Stol'nik Striapchii Zhilets Dvorianin Syn boiarskii Total

40 5 5 900 500 800 1,250 2,000* 37,000 42,500

500 500 500 29 78 24 8* 6* 5.6

30,000.00 3,750.00 3,750.00 39,150.00 58,500.00 28,800.00 15,000.00 18,000.00 310,800.00 541,500.00

Sources: Hellie, Enserfment, 22~24; Hellie, Muscovite Society, 216-17. *Estimated.

I am fairly confident that the calculation of nearly one-half million rubles paid to the traditional cavalry in the mid-1650s is relatively accurate. Much of those sums were collected from the same peasants who had to pay rent to the cavalrymen to support them in kind—although it should be noted that seignorial peasants who had to support the cavalrymen paid the state's direct taxes at a lower rate than did those who did not have such a burden, such as peasants living on lands belonging to the church/monasteries, the palace court, or to no one other than the state itself. The Lower Service Class Calculating the costs of the lower service class with a degree of precision could take months, perhaps even years. The data exist to do the job, especially in the great three-volume collection Akty moskovskogo a>

It is probably incorrect to assume that rents were the same on all landholdings and estates because there is fairly solid evidence that peasants moved from the pomest'e estates of the middle service class (those with the rank of dvorianin and syn boiarskii) to the holdings of their superiors because the latter collected less rent. Be that as it may, one of the magnates who so seduced others' serfs was Boris Ivanovich Morozov, whose widow in 1667 appears to have collected high rent (Tikhonov, Pomeshchich'ie krest'iane, 216).

58

RICHARD HELLIE

gosudarstva. The task is easier for the lower service class than for their "betters" because the former did not have land grants to complicate the issue. They lived off their governmental salaries, which were sufficiently inadequate to force a number of them to engage in extramilitary day wage labor, handicraft, trade, or agriculture to make ends meet. The fact that those servicemen essentially helped to support the Muscovite military establishment adumbrated the fact that the Soviet working class paid for industrialization through grindingly low wages. Both are what one might expect from a poor country. The members of the lower service class included the musketeers, the artillerymen/gunners, the gatekeepers, and others. Not included here are the cossacks and the members of the new formation regiments. The costs of the musketeer depreciable moveable property are listed in table 13. Table 13. 10-Year Depreciable Property of the Lower Service Glass (Rubles) Item

Number

Unit Cost

Musketeer uniforms* Handguns (80%) Halberds (80%) Lances (20%) Total Annual cost

55,000 44,000 44,000 11,000

20.00 1.00 .15 .50

Total Cost 1,100,000 44,000 6,600 5,500 1,156,100 11,561

*Petrine-era uniforms (mundiry) cost a median of 3 rubles each. I assume that the musketeer uniform outfit consisted minimally of a shirt (12.5 kopeks), a pair of pants (1.14 rubles), a regular coat (kaftan, 4 rubles), a winter coat (shuba, 12.375 rubles), some kind of stockings (15 kopeks), a pair of shoes (30 kopeks) and a pair of boots (50 kopeks). Also they probably needed mittens or gloves (most likely rukauitsy, 12 kopeks), a hat (again, most likely, shapka, 1.30)—I thank Ann Kleimola for these suggestions. These total 20.01 rubles, which can be rounded off at 20 rubles. One would think that they might have needed scarves, but there are so few of them in my data set that I am inclined to believe that this was not a common piece of apparel. (Many of these items would not have lasted a decade, so the annual cost of clothing a musketeer would have been higher than 2 rubles.) Enserfinent, 269; Economy, 205, 346-49. See also S. L. Margolin, "Vooruzhenie streletskogo voiska," Trudy Gosudarstvennogo istoricheskogo mu^eia 20 (1948), 85^102, especially 95—96 for approximate percentages of musketeers possessing particular weapons.

Lower service class consumables are hard, if not impossible, to calculate. Information on how much they shot off annually in their share of the gunpowder revolution is not at hand. A major problem is that many of these men, especially those guarding and gar-

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

59

risoning the southern frontier, had to farm personally in order to make ends meet—a fact they complained bitterly about.27 Table 14 is an attempt to approximate these costs. Table 14. Expenditures on Lower Service Class Consumables (Rubles) Item

Number

Bullets (lead) Junt

2 x 55,000 1 x 55,000 1 x 55,000 3,650/2 x 125 2 x 55,000

Wicks funt Gunpowder funt* Cannon balls @* Rye wages chetvert'**

Cost Each

.05 .04 .08 .015 .60

Total

Total Cost 5,500 2,200 4,400 3,421.875 66,000.00 81,521.875

*Field artillery pieces were issued powder and shot sufficient for 100 to 150 firings per gun (Stevens, Soldiers, 116). The assumption here is that half of the artillery park was used in any given year. The cost of gunpowder for the artillery is omitted here because of ignorance. It certainly must have been a few thousand rubles per year. **Musketeers were issued from 1 to 5 chetvert's (162 to 810) pounds of grain per year (Stevens, Soldiers, 45). The median was around 2.

Wages were the major state cost for the lower service class, as shown in table 15. Table 15. Lower Service Class Wages (Rubles) Rank

# in Occupation

Oklad

% Oklad Paid

Total

Musketeer Gunner Total

55,000 5,000

5.86 4.00

60.00 75.00

193,380 15,000 208,380

Sources: Economy, 419; Enserfinent, 269.

Especially notable here is the relatively small percentage of the musketeers' annual entitlement which was paid. This reflected the fact that most of them were obsolescent, in the process of being replaced by the new formation regiments and relegated to constabulary service. In the sixteenth century the musketeers' ancestors, the arquebusiers, had functioned well with the cavalry, especially when they employed their "movable fortresses" (sing: guliai gorod] on wheels or skis from behind which they could muster considerable firepower

2/

Stevens, Soldiers, 49.

60

RICHARD HELLIE

against an adversary. With the introduction of the new formation regiments in the Smolensk and then Thirteen Years' Wars, such utility was only the dream of a golden-age yesteryear, which the government recognized by not fully paying them. Regardless, the one-fifth of a million rubles paid them (together with the gunners/artillerymen) was a significant annual sum.28 The Cossacks

As is well known, the cossacks were primarily Russian fugitive peasants, slaves, and townsmen who lived by banditry, piracy, and fishing as they moved their hosts eastward from one river basin to the next: the Dnepr, the Don, the Volga, and the laik. They were freebooters who would fight for that party which would pay them the most: the Ottomans, the Poles, or the Muscovites. Moscow was unable to bring them to heel, and felt obliged to pay them in the hope that they would place their killing capacities at its disposal rather than at someone else's. Moscow often did not pay them personally, but rather would make a lump-sum grant to the host, which would distribute the sums to its members as its leadership (the krug) saw fit. Table 16 attempts to determine what Moscow's expenditures in the 1650s on the cossacks might have been. Table 16. Governmental Expenditures on the Cossacks (Rubles) Rank

Numbers

Entitlement

% of Oklad Paid

Total

Cossack Ataman Known total

22,000 ???

8.375 13.00

83.5 73.8

153,84:8.57 153,8418.57

Sources: Enserfinent, 269; Economy, 417.

Their lack of reliability was one reason why the cossacks were not paid fully what they were entitled to receive. They were responsible for providing their own horses, weapons, clothing, and food.

28 These calculations of upper, middle, and lower service class wages approximate Kira Stevens's statement that "rank and file of the army should have been paid nearly 725,000 rubles annually" (Soldiers, 58).

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

61

The New Formation Regiments

Muscovy practiced an early variant of linear tactics when its arquebusiers lined up their movable fortresses, but events during the Time of Troubles taught the Muscovites that the days of its "traditional" landed-cavalry and semi-standing/semi-regular infantry army were limited. When Muscovy had recovered from the Time of Troubles by the end of the 1620s, the government went about creating a new army by sending recruiters throughout Europe who brought back mercenaries versed in the latest in linear tactics and the use of gunpowder technology. The mercenaries, who made up half the Muscovite army at Smolensk, were dismissed after the war, but at the end of the 1640s, when it became obvious that combat would soon resume, recruiting commenced again. By the outset of the Thirteen Years' War, the new formation regiments were in place, and they were dominant at the war's end, partially because much of the old army had been physically annihilated or fallen into captivity during the war. The new formation regiments introduced elements little known before, especially large numbers of high-priced mercenary officers. (Muscovy had always hired foreigners, but not so many nor at such high wages.) Moreover, the new formation regiments had no use for bows and arrows. They included both cavalry and especially infantry, and added dragoons, who were supposed to be able to fight as cavalry or as infantry as the occasion called. A few of them had land grants (especially members of the old cavalry forcibly converted into the new formations), but most were paid salaries and equipped with weapons by the government as well. Table 17 presents the 10-year depreciable costs of the new cavalry. Table 17. 10-Year Depreciable Costs of the New Formation Regiments (Rubles) Item

Number

Unit Price

Total Cost

Long guns Pistols (pairs) Sabres Horses Saddles Stirrups Bridles

53,000 25,500 25,500 25,500 25,500 25,500 25,500

3.00 5.50 4.00 4.00 1.20 .50 .175

159,000 140,250 102,000 102,000 30,600 12,750 4,462.50

62

RICHARD HELLIE

Table 17 (cont.}

Item

Number

Unit Price

Total Cost

Saddlecloths Helmets Total 10%

25,500 78,000

.172 .75

4,386 58,500 613,948.50 61,394.85

The new formation regiments also had significant costs for consumables and food. As the government did not yet have a commissary service, I assume that troops still had to send their food ahead or buy it at the front. Fortifying a camp (oboz) in 1652 of four regiments of infantry soldiers required 1,100 spades, 1,000 iron shovels, 200 picks, 8,000 large and medium nails, and so on.29 These can be converted into per capita expenditures. These items are detailed in Table 18. Table 18. New-Formation Regiment Costs of Consumables and Food (Rubles) Item

Number

Unit Price

Powder Junt Bullets funt Wads Fuses funt Spades Shovels Picks Nails @10 Horse fodder /oats chetvert' Food* "Known" total

78,500 x 2 78,500 x 2

.08 .05 ? .04 0.14 0.05 0.15 0.014

12,560 7,850 0 3,140 2,040.50 662.50 397.50 1,484.00

.30 .04

22,950.00 773,800.00 824,884.50

Unknown

78,500 x 1 53,000/4,000 53,000/4,000 53,000/4,000 53,000/4,000

x x x x

1,100 1,000 200 8,000

25,500 x 3 53,000 x 365 dys/yr

Total Cost

*Stevens gives the food demand as "one and one-half or two pounds of bread daily" (Soldiers, 9). Elsewhere, 2.2 pounds (ibid., 113). In 1686, 26,694 chetoert's of grain were calculated to feed more than 40,000 infantrymen for two months (ibid., 94). The median cost of hardtack was the same as rye, 59.5 kopeks per chetvert' (Hellie, Economy, 86). Dudintsev's response (in another context) was ne khlebom edinom.

Hellie, Enserjment, 193, citing AMG, vol. 2, no. 482.

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

63

The sums in Table 18, over four-fifths of a million rubles, were an enormous sum alone.30 Another way of presenting the food and fodder bill is presented in table 19. Those who had to feed themselves and horses were typically paid in iufty, an equal number of rye and oats, whereas those who fed only themselves got only rye.31 This amounts to over 130,000 rubles, assuming that the men ate only rye and salt, the horses only oats. The large discrepancy between the costs in Table 18 and those arrived at by calculating 4 kopeks per day are first due to the fact that no one could possibly live on 2 chetvert's of rye per year, which would be 6 poods/chet' or 36 Ibs/pood = 218 Ibs/pood X 2 = 436 Ibs. of rye per year.32 Table 19. Feeding Costs of the New Formation Regiments, Plus Musketeers (Rubles) Rank

G avalry = reitary Again Dragoons Again In{a.ntry=soldaty Musketeers/ Moscow Musk's/provincial Salt, 30 grams/ day** Total

Amounts Issued

Cost Each Unit

23,500 23,500 2,000 2,000 53,000

2 2 « « 1

chet's rye chet's oats chet' rye chet' oats chet' rye

0.60 x 2

10,000 45,000

4 chet's rye 1 chet' rye*

0.60 x 4 0.60

Numbers

133,500

0.30 x 2 0.60 x .5 0.30 x .5 0.60

0.10 per pood

Total

28,200 14,100

600 300 31,800 24,000 27,000 8,924.45 134,924.45

*Added by R. H. **Hellie, Economy, 464-65.

As always, the major cost of the new formation regiments was the wages paid to the troops.33 This is discussed in table 19. 30

A 1704 list of supplies (artillery, bombs, hand grenades, powder, long guns, pistols, sabres and bayonets) seized in Ivangorod and Revel' can be found in Beskrovnyi, Khrestomatiia, 135. I don't know how typical the list was for the early eighteenth century nor the extent to which it would be useful for the 1650s. 31 Stevens, Soldiers of the Steppe, 167. 32 This would be the equivalent of the 127 kilos of potatoes and 124 kilos of bread a Russian ate in 1993. In addition, the 1993 Russian ate 59 kg. of meat, 294 kg. of milk and dairy products, 250 eggs, 31 kg. of sugar, 12 kg. of fish, 71 kg. of vegetables, 29 kg. of fruit and berries, etc. (Hellie, Economy, 465-66). 33 A 1681 list of the armed forces can be found in Beskrovnyi, Khrestomatiia, 112.

64

RICHARD HELLIE

Table 20. Annual New Formation Regiment Personnel Costs (Rubles) Rank

Numbers

Oklad

Foreigners Cavalrymen Infantry Dragoons Lancers Hussars Captains Colonels Total

2,100* 19,000** 50,000*** 6,000** 1,000** 400**

40 J5#### j 2**** j 4**** ^ 2**** OQ#***

216A 240A

% of Oklad Paid 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100

Total 84,000 285,000 650,000 84,000 13,000 8,000 1,124,000

*Enserfment, 269. It is assumed that most of the officers of the new formation regiments were foreigners. **Ibid. ***Ibid., and 195, where it is noted that over 100,000 were drafted from the provinces during the Thirteen Years' War. Casualties were high, so not all of them were serving at any one time. Three levies of 1658, 1659, and 1660 alone yielded 51,000 recruits. ****These are my estimates. I do not know how many of these officers there were. They may have been at the high end of the pay scale for foreigners, which in the years 1605-1725 ranged from 1 ruble to 20,000 rubles per year (N = 1,169). Petrine-era foreign salaries were higher at the high end than Muscovite (Economy, 418).

A salary bill of over a million rubles per year for the new formation regiments was obviously an expensive proposition. Conclusions Table 21 sums up preliminarily this investigation of the costs of the Muscovite military defense and expansion establishment. There are two columns of numbers in an attempt to avoid double counting of expenditures. Table 21. Annual Costs of the Defense and Expansion Establishment, 1650s (Rubles) Item Chancellery 25-year depreciation Chancellery 10-year depreciation Chancellery consumables Chancellery wages Fortresses (unknown; assumed 0 by 1650s) Fortified lines, 25-year depreciation

Method 1 Accounting 9.60 9.60 72.66 4,040 0 8,175

Method 2 Accounting 9.60 9.60 72.66 4,040 0 8,175

THE COSTS OF MUSCOVITE MILITARY DEFENSE AND EXPANSION

65

Table 21 (cont.) Item

Method 1 Accounting

Method 2 Accounting

Artillery, 25-year depreciation Traditional cavalry 10-year depreciation Traditional cavalry disposables Traditional cavalry, cash payments to Traditional cavalry rent Lower service class 10-year depreciation Lower service class consumables Lower service class wages Cossacks New formation 10-year depreciation New formation consumables New formation wages Total

29,200 163,202.50 485,250.00 0 0 11,561 81,521.875 208,380 153,848.57 61,394.85 824,884.50 1,124,000 3,155,551.155

29,200 0 0 488,495 541,500 11,561 81,521.875 208,380 153,848.57 61,394.85 824,884.50 1,124,000 3,537,094.655

From these figures we can conclude that the real cost of the Muscovite military establishment in the mid-1650s must have been at least three million rubles a year. The Method 2 Accounting total seems to be somewhat higher when peasant rents paid to the traditional cavalrymen are calculated. The Method 1 Accounting neglects the fact that the cavalrymen (as well as their families, slaves, and horses) had to eat and live someplace year-round, not only when they were in service.34 These significant sums, which have always been conservative in the calculations, must be considered in other terms, such as median day wages (4 kopeks) or chetverti of rye (@ 60 kopeks). Rounding Method 1 Accounting down to 3 million rubles (no doubt too low), we can conclude that the annual cost of the army was equal to 75 million days' median wages. Method 2 Accounting gives higher numbers. Calculating 300 days per year, we can conclude that it took the labor of close to a quarter million men just to pay the annual

M

Compare this with Kira Stevens's comment that the Muscovite government spent about one million rubles, half of its revenues, in 1680 "to support a field army of [116,000] mustered against the Ottomans" (Soldiers on the Steppe, 8). I seem to recall reading a similar figure in Miliukov. Several points must be made. First, I am trying to calculate the costs of the entire army, not solely the costs of the field army on campaign. Secondly, prices typically were slightly below the median in 1680. Third, depreciation probably is not taken into account in the 1680 figure.

66

RICHARD HELLIE

costs of the army. For a country of perhaps 8 million people (half of whom would be male, half of whom would be able-bodied = 2 million), about one-eighth of Muscovy's productive resources went just to pay for the army.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM: RUSSIAN ARMS TRADE AND PRODUCTION IN THE SEVENTEENTH AND EARLY EIGHTEENTH CENTURY J. T. Kotilaine This article examines one of the key challenges of Russian economic and military policy in the early modern period, that of developing a secure supply of weapons for the country's army. Throughout its long land border in Europe, Muscovy was flanked by aggressive neighbors intent on expanding into its economically and strategically important borderlands. As a country with basically no natural borders, Russia needed to devise new ways of mobilizing its limited economic resources to contain these increasingly aggressive incursions. The magnitude of the task ahead, and Russia's relative backwardness compared to her Western rivals, became obvious during the Time of Troubles when the country's leading cities—Moscow and Novgorod—fell temporarily into foreign hands. The early modern era marks an important transition in Russian defense policy. Instead of the highly mobile mounted enemy of the steppes, Russia increasingly had to contend with the latest European weapons technology. In response, Muscovy needed to create a more or less standing army that could be mobilized with relative ease. Yet the challenge of equipping this force was a great deal more daunting in Russia than in either Sweden or Poland-Lithuania. At the beginning of the seventeenth century, Russia had practically no domestic metal industry. All domestic iron came from swamp ore and was neither voluminous nor high-grade enough to produce reliable weaponry. Muscovy was thus forced, in the first instance, to import an adequate volume of either weapons or inputs for their production. The long-term objective was to promote the development of domestic metal production, and—ultimately—to create a Russian arms industry. This paper seeks to demonstrate that late Muscovy made significant headway toward meeting both of these goals, though Russian metals and arms production never reached a sufficient scale to make the country independent of foreign imports during the period reviewed here.

68

J. T. KOTILAINE

Russian weapons trade has not been the subject of a systematic treatment to this day, in spite of the fact that there exists a great deal of both published and unpublished material on it. The most important recent secondary contributions are by T. Esper, N. N. Repin, A. V. Demkin, V. N. Zakharov, and J. W. Veluwenkamp.1 There exists a more substantial literature on various aspects of early industrialization in Russia.2 Metal and Arms Imports

Military considerations played a central role in Russian trade policy. Efforts to secure firearms supplies were of necessity a permanent element of Muscovite commercial diplomacy and merchants who ventured out of the country, especially into Swedish possessions, could always rely on a guaranteed demand for goods deemed to be of military importance. Russian imports for military purposes fell into three broad categories: 1. Metals. Large quantities of copper and iron were required in arms production: "A large cannon . . . required between three and four tons of bronze. The carriage and accessory devices needed 1 Thomas Esper, "Military self-sufficiency and weapons technology in Muscovite Russia," Slavic Review 28 (1969), 185-208; Nikolai Nikolaevich Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia cherez Arkhangelsk i vnutrennyi rynok Rossii vo vtoroi polovine XVIIpervoi chetverti XVIII w." (Candidate of Sciences diss., Moskovskii gosudarstvennyi universitet, 1970); Nikolai Nikolaevich Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia Rossii cherez Arkhangelsk i Peterburg v 1700-nachale 60-kh godov XVIII v." (Doctor of Sciences diss., Akademiia nauk SSSR, 1985); Andrei Vladimirovich Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestoo v Rossii v XVII v. (Moscow: Rossiiskaia Akademiia Nauk, Institut Rossiiskoi Istorii, 1994); Viktor Nikolaevich Zakharov, ^apadnoevropeiskie kuptsy v Rossii: epokha Petra I (Moscow: ROSSPEN, 1996); Jan Willem Veluwenkamp, "De Nederlandse wapenhandel op Rusland in de zeventiende eeuw," Armamentaria 31 (1996), 71-76. Jan Willem Veluwenkamp, Archangel: Nederlandse ondememers in Rusland 1550^1785 (Amsterdam: Uitgeverij Balans, 2000). 2 Petr Ivanovich Liashchenko, Istoriia narodnogo khoziaistva SSSR, vol. 1, 4th ed. (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe Izdatel'stvo Politicheskoi Literatury, 1956); Pavel Grigor'evich Liubomirov, Ocherki po istorii russkoi promyshlennosti (Moscow: Gospolitizdat, 1947); Fedor lakovlevich Polianskii, Pervonachal'noe nakoplenie kapitala v Rossii (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo sotsial'no-ekonomicheskoi literatury, 1958); Stanislav Gustavovich Strumilin, Ocherki ekonomicheskoi istorii Rossii (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo sotsial'no-ekonomicheskoi literatury, 1960); Elizaveta Ivanovna Zaozerskaia, U istokov krupnogo proizuodstua v russkoi promyshlennosti XVI~XVII vekov: K voprosu o genezise kapitalizma v Rossii (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo "Nauka," 1970); Joseph Theodore Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism in Russia: Industry and Progress in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1972).

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

69

between 4,500 and 5,000 pounds of iron. And a medium-sized cannon ball weighed from 25 to 30 pounds, a large one weighing up to 120 pounds."3 Production of cast-iron cannon became a high priority for the Russian government in the seventeenth century, since they were far superior to forged-iron cannon in terms of durability and labor-costs and far cheaper than bronze cannon.4 2. Chemical products, most notably gunpowder, but also sulphur and saltpeter which were key inputs in powder production. 3. Finished weapons, mainly muskets, carbines, harquebuses, and pistols. Three main categories of people supplied military equipment. Firstly, the government customarily relied on the so-called "Muscovite foreigners" (moskovskie inozemtsy) who were often specifically dispatched abroad for this purpose, especially during major armament campaigns.3 Secondly, Russian diplomats were frequently given instructions to acquire weapons and they often used military supplies as a bargaining chip in negotiations on other issues. Finally, there were foreign merchants operating in Russia, the most important category. Several of them were commissioned by the Tsarist government to purchase military equipment in the West, something that carried important rewards. Merchants could expect special passes to operate in the Russian interior, instead of being confined to designated border towns, especially Arkhangel'sk. Similarly, they could expect preferential treatment in purchasing goods from the Treasury, etc. Most foreign weaponry reached Russia via the White Sea port of Arkhangel'sk which, until the 1720s, constituted the leading center of Russian foreign trade. Dutch merchants were, by the early seventeenth century, the largest group of foreigners active on the Muscovite market and they accounted for the vast majority of Western weapons imports to Russia. Initially, the English also played an important role but over time, northern German merchants of Hamburg and Bremen established themselves as the second most important group.

3

Esper, "Military self-sufficiency," 194. Ibid., 199. 3 The Muscovite foreigners were Westerners who had taken up permanent residence in Muscovy and granted special privileges by the Russian government. Thanks to their knowledge of the West and language skills, they often played an important part in Russian trade and diplomacy. 4

70

J. T. KOTILAINE

Armaments trade was an important part of Dutch-English commercial rivalry in the early part of the seventeenth century. One of the main reasons for the special privileges of the English Muscovy Company in the late sixteenth-early seventeenth century was the Company's role in supplying the Muscovite government with firearms. The Company viewed the vagaries of the Time of Troubles as an opportunity to regain favor with the Russian authorities and may have been the leading arms supplier at least during some of this period.6 After the initial dislocations of the Polish invasion, the Dutch were also able to capitalize on the warring parties' need for weapons by selling large quantities of lead, gunpowder, etc.7 In 1617, the English supplied the government with R 3,032 worth of gunpowder which had been purchased in Hamburg. Two years later, the Company imported 494 musket barrels worth R 370. Apparently, however, this fragmentary data constitutes part of a general decline in English arms supplies to Russia, something that became one of the main sources of tension in the two countries' relations in the post-Smuta years. The Russian government wrote to the English ambassador Christopher Cox in May 1624 complaining that "The English merchants did bring heretofore into the Empire of Russia ordinance to sell, and munition, as pouder, Brimstone, and Saltpeeter, but nowe there is none of this brought, but that litle they doe bringe is sould at double price."8 Table 22: Arms Imports from Europe through ArkhangePsk in the 1620s and Early '30s Date

Source

Goods supplied

1626

5 Dutch merchants 1 Hamburg merchant 2 Dutch merchants

196 pud copper, Iron 403 pud sulphur (sera goriachaid)

Russia Company (England) f>

118 pud tin Copper

Approx. value, R

902

1,643 241 475 1,441

For more details on the rivalry, see: Anatolii Nikolaevich Ivanov, "Anglo-gollandskoe torgovoe sopermchestvo na russkom rynke (1587-1633 gg.)" (Candidate of Sciences diss., Moskovskii gosudarstvennyi pedagogicheskii institut, 1964). ' Indeed, a March 24, 1614 resolution of the States-General made a special commitment to support the new Russian government by selling them weapons and gunpowder, Ven'iamin A. Kordt, Ocherk snoshenii Moskovskago gosudarstva s Respublikoi soedinennykh Niderlandov po 1631 god (Sbomik imperatorskago istoricheskago obshchestva, vol. 116) (St. Petersburg, 1902), LXXXI. 8 Public Record Office (PRO) SP 91/2, fol. 98V.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

71

Approx. value, R

Table 22 (cont.) Date

Source

Goods supplied

1630

Russia Company (England) The Netherlands, Hamburg Karel du Moulin (Netherlands)

708 pud tin

Iron

3,118 374

4,000 pud copper, 4,000 pud Swedish iron, 1,500 pud sulphur 21,075 David Ruts 4,000 pud iron, 1,500 4,200 (Netherlands) pud copper c. 20,000 Alexander Leslie, 2,000 swords, Paul de Willem, 750 pairs pistols, Jan van Lier 5,000 muskets, (Netherlands) 2,000 suits of armor, 100,000 Ibs matches, 500 carbines, 2,000 partisans and halberds 1631 Thomas Wich (England) 2,000 muskets Karel du Moulin 20,000 pud iron, muskets (Netherlands) Thomas de Swaen 50,000 muskets, partisans, (Netherlands) halberds, pistols, etc. Iron: 5,000 pud (1631), 17,929 1631-32 du Moulin, Ruts (Netherlands) 25,000 pud (1632) 1632 John Cartwright 5,000 swords 5,000 (England) 1633

1634

1636

John Cartwright (England)

Elias Trip, Thomas de Swaen (Netherlands) Thomas de Swaen (Netherlands)

Zacharias Zachariasz (Netherlands)

2,000 swords, 1,000 muskets, 3,000 cartridges, 1,000 bolts, 600 pairs of pistols, 400 pairs of barrels 10,000 pud gunpowder, 15,000 iron cannon balls, 3,000 saber belts (contract) 12 copper cannon, 58,300 iron cannon balls, 141 partisans (from Trip's contract), 301 halberds 30~42(?) cannon (based on a 1634 contract by Trip to deliver 72 cannon)

(Source: Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo 2, 42~3, Veluwenkamp, Archangel, 82, 93, 95)

72

J. T. KOTILAINE

As is shown by the available data in Table 22, the Dutch rose in the 1620s to fill the vacuum left by the Muscovy Company and tapped a growing market as the fiscal consolidation of Muscovy after the Smuta permitted a gradual military buildup. The disparity became all the more pronounced by the early 1630s as Muscovy began to prepare for its war of conquest against Poland-Lithuania which had (re)claimed the Principality of Smolensk during the Time of Troubles. Starting in 1630, the Russians began to create regiments of a new kind equipped in the West European fashion and trained by Western specialists.9 Equipping the army of 92,555 for a war anticipated after the expiry of the Truce of Deulino in 1633 imposed a serious strain on the Muscovite treasury which was still recovering from an unprecedented fiscal calamity.10 Fortunately for the cash-stripped state, largescale grain sales became an important component of Russian foreign trade in the late 1620s-early 1630s. Following accelerating grain price inflation in Western Europe, especially in 1630-31, Dutch and English efforts to gain access to the Russian market grew increasingly frantic. The Dutch sent their first formal embassy to Russia (Albert Koenraadsz Burgh and Johan Veltdriel, 1630-1) and made repeated official requests for grain sales. Karel du Moulin—a leading arms supplier—was among the Dutch merchants to receive permission to export 80,000 chetvert' of Treasury grain.11 Muscovite policy makers were clearly determined to exploit this Western interest in their favor. Grain sales were accompanied by elaborate diplomatic negotiations and the Westerners were made to see that strategically important supplies could work in their favor. The Dutch even proposed creating a monopoly of grain and saltpeter exports, for which they would pay with finished armaments. In 1631, the English gave the government 2,000 muskets for 30,000

11

Robert I. Frost, The Northern Wars: War, State and Society in Northeastern Europe, 1558-1721 (Harlow: Longman, 2000), 143. 10 Anatolii Vasil'evich Chernov, Vooruzhennye sily Russkogo gosudarstva v XV XVII vv. (Moscow: Voennoe Izdatel'stvo Ministerstva Oborony Soiuza SSR, 1954), 130—31. " Kordt, Ocherk snoshenii Moskovskago gosudarstva s Respublikoi soedinennykh Niderlandov po 1631 god, CLXXXII-CLXXXIII; Sbomik Imperatorskago Russkago istoricheskago obshchestva, CXVI, 64, 147, 149-50, 188-90; Nicolaas Wilhelmus Posthumus, Inquiry into the History of Prices m Holland, 1 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1946), 19-20; Maria Bogucka, "Zboze rosyjskie na rynku amsterdamskim vv pierwszej polowie XVII wieku," in Przeglad Historyczny 53 (1962), 3.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

73

chetoert' of grain which Thomas Wich of the Muscovy Company was allowed to export.12 In addition, Sweden, seeking support in the Thirty Years' War, supplied at least 10,000 muskets and undoubtedly also iron and copper, 10 bronze cannon and 2,000 muskets were donated in 1635.13 The total value of Muscovite arms purchases almost certainly reached at least R 50,000, which would have been at least one-fifth of the total value of Arkhangel'sk's annual imports at the time. Even spread over a couple of years, this represented a considerable financial sacrifice for the government. Large-scale grain sales made it possible to finance these purchases without straining the Treasury to the limit. It is tempting to consider a possible relationship between grain exports and the timing of the Muscovite offensive. While the available sources shed little light on this issue, we can assume that, without the additional revenue generated by grain, it would have been difficult to bring the planned offensive forward to 1632 when Zygmunt's death provided an unexpected opportunity. A relative lull followed after the war, but arms imports still continued with the Dutch now ever more dominant. Hendrik van Ringen sold 30,000 pud of iron cannon balls in 1635-37. He, with two partners, supplied guns, carbines, pistols, muskets, and lead in 1636, whereas T. de Swaen delivered 30 cannon. Tielmans Akkema imported 5,000 swords in 1640, followed by 6,000 musket barrel the year after. In 1643, Peter Marselis visited Poland for the purpose of buying saltpeter and a year later, he shipped 10,000 muskets from Denmark to Arkhangel'sk. In 1643, de Swaen delivered 4,000 swords as did Marselis the year after.14 The hypothesis of a link between grain trade and military purchases is further supported by data from the 1640s. Coenraet Burgh, heading a Dutch embassy to Russia in 1647 8, proposed an arrangement under which the Dutch would have exported grain and saltpeter in exchange for arms and munitions. Not faced with a military emergency, Aleksei Mikhailovich diplomatically promised to consider the offer at a later date.15 12

Ivanov, "Anglo-gollandskoe torgovoe sopernichestvo," 346. Esper, "Military "self-sufficiency," 205; RGADA f. 96, 1639g., No. 2, fols. 236-9; No. 3, fol. 1. 14 Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo, 2, 43; Veluwenkamp, Archangel, 97. !) Mikhail Ivanovich Belov, "Niderlandskii rezident v Moskve Baron logann Keller i ego pis'ma" (Candidate of Sciences diss., Leningradskii gosudarstvennyi universitet, 1947), 133-4. 13

74

J. T. KOTILAINE

A new series of purchases starting in 1647 effectively marked the beginning of another major round of import-led armament in connection with the Thirteen Years' War.16 In 1653, a number of Muscovite foreigners and Russian officials were sent to the West to buy weapons. These included Andries Winius and russian officials, Ivan Marsov, Roman Boldinov, Joost van Kerckhoven, as well as Scribe Golovnin and interpreter Deriabin—the latter three with a brief to acquire 20,000 muskets, gunlocks, and 30,000 pud gunpowder and lead. Sweden supplied 20,000 muskets, and weapons were also imported from Germany.17 Muscovite foreigners Andries Winius and Ivan Eremeeu Marsov traveled to the Netherlands in 1653 to buy weapons (20,000 muskets) and cloth for army uniforms. They were ultimately permitted to export 12,000 cuirasses and 10 pud lead bullets, but no gunpowder. The first wares reached Arkhangel'sk in 1654 when, during his visit to Arkhangel'sk, William Prideaux witnessed the arrival of 300 barrels of munitions from the Netherlands. In 1655, Jacob Westhof—a Musovite foreigner—was dispatched abroad for the purpose of selling Treasury grain, potash, and train oil in exchange for military supplies. Stol'nik Ivan Amirev sailed off on a mission to acquire 20,000 muskets. All the Russian requests were met by the dutch States-General.18 Table 23: Muscovite Arms Imports through Arkhangel'sk in the late 1640s~60s Date 1647

Source

Goods supplied 5,000 muskets, 2,721 musket barrels, 2,267 carbines, 1,344 carbine barrels, 2,348 pairs of pistols, 12,578 swords, etc.

Approx. value, R

40,000+a

16 For background details, see a recent treatment in: Henadz' Sahanovich, Neviadomaia vaina 1654-1667 (Minsk: "Navuka i tekhnika," 1995), 10. 17 Sahanovich, Neviadomaia vaina, 10; Erik Amburger, Die Familie Marselis: Studien zur russischen Wirtschqftsgeschichte (Giessen: Wilhelm Schmitz Verlag, 1957), 117; RGDA f. 50, op. 1, 1653g., Nos. 2, 3, 7. 18 Stefan Troebst, Handelskontrolk—"Derivation"—Eindammung: Schwedische Moskaupolitik 1617-1661 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1997), 411. Troebst further provides data on Swedish reports of these supplies. Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo 2, 43; Belov, "Niderlandskii rezident", 136.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

75

Table 23 (cont.)

Date

Source

1654

The Netherlands

1655

1656 1658

1659

1660

1661

Goods supplied

Approx. value, R

4,014 swords, 1,163 suits of infantry armor, 528 carbines, 539 pairs of pistols, 1,410 pairs of holsters; 25 chests and 5 barrels of weapons Ivan Amirev, 20,000 muskets (petition to the Hendrik Bos States-General) Ivan Marsov 4 pairs of pistols, 117 (Netherlands) carbines John Hebdon 17,344 muskets, 1,059 (Netherlands) barrels of gunpowder, three boxes of protazany H. Swellengrebel 1,000 pairs of pistols (Netherlands) 2,500 muskets Swellengrebel, Van 2,000 pairs of pistols Sweeden (Netherlands) J. van Sweeden 6,000 muskets, 1,000 (Netherlands) pairs of pistols, 1,000 carbines, 1,000 swords, 1,000 suits of armor Swellengrebel, Van 20,000 muskets, 6,000 Sweeden carbines, (Netherlands) 6,000 pairs of pistols 12,500 muskets, 2,225 Swellengrebels carbines, (Netherlands) 2,049 pairs of pistols 15,000 carbines, H. Swellengrebel (Netherlands) 15,000 pairs of pistols, 5,000 muskets (contract) John Hebdon 12,800 muskets 4,566 pud gunpowder (Netherlands) Swellengrebel, Van 10,000 carbines, Sweeden 10,000 pairs of pistols (Netherlands) J. & R. Hebdon muskets (Netherlands)

2,300 3,250

13,200

24,578

65,000 10,249 15,068

36,200

76

J. T. KOTILAINE

Table 23 (cont.) Date

Source

Goods supplied

Approx. value, R

1662

H. Swellengrebel (Netherlands)

3,000 carbines, 3,000 pairs of pistols, 5,000 muskets+ 8,602 pairs of pistols, 8,602 carbines, 8,500 muskets 1,000 carbines, 1 ,000 pairs of pistols

21,165+

gunpowder

18,690

Swellengrebel, Van Sweeden (Netherlands) Swellengrebel (Netherlands)

1663

John Hebdon (Netherlands)

a

Estimated based on the median value reported in: Richard Hellie, The Economy and Material Culture of Russia: 1600-1725 (Chicago: The Univesity of Chicago Press, 1999) 232-33. (Source: Petr Pavlovich Epifanov, "Uchenie i khitrost' ratnogo stroeniia pekhotnykh liudei," Uchenye zapiski kafedry istorii SSSR MGU 167 (1954), 85; Sahanovich, Neviadomaia vaina 10; Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo 2, 43-4; Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia," 272-73; Nikolai Nikolaevich Bantysh-Kamenskii, Obzor vneshnikh snoshenii Rossii (po 1800 god) 1 (Moscow: Tipografiia E. Lissnera i lu. Romana, 1894), 184-85; Natal'ia Apollinar'evna Baklanova, "Privoznye tovary v Moskovskom gosudarstve vo vtoroi polovine XVII v.," Trudy Istoricheskogo muzeia 8 (1928), 72).

In 1658-60, the Russian government chose a different tack. It appears to have turned almost exclusively to foreign merchants and concluded contracts with three Dutchmen and one Englishman.19 In 1658, John Dumble was engaged to buy or order weapons in England. In 1659, an agent, Torms, and a Dutch-man, Johan van Sweeden, were dispatched to the West to buy muskets and sabers. Even Novgorod Cost' Petr Mikliacv appeared before the States General to purchase 100 cannon, guns, and pistols.20 In 1659 62, Van Sweeden and his compatriot Hendrick Swellengrebel emerged as the leading suppliers of Western weaponry to Russia. Even as foreign merchants dominated weapons supplies, the tsar's special commissar, John Hebdon, also acquired large quantities of

19 20

Demkin, Zjipadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo, vol. 2, 43. Ibid.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

77

military supplies in the Netherlands.21 In 1660, Hebdon dispatched western weapons from Arkhangelsk to the De Vogelaer brothers in Moscow. In 1661, he operated with his son Richard instead and dispatched muskets from the Netherlands.22 In 1663, Hebdon bought gunpowder from the Netherlands.23 The volume of known military imports can be compared against weapons distributed by the Russian arms office before the Lithuanian campaign: 31,464 muskets, 5,317 carbines, and 4,279 pairs of pistols, which left reserves of 10,076 muskets and 12,998 gun barrels.24 The reliance on Western weaponry was extremely high and, in 1660—1 alone, Russian arms imports from the West attained well over R 100,000. At the time, this would have been at least 15 percent of the total value of Arkhangelsk's exports and probably onequarter of the total imports. Even more than with the Smolensk War, it is possible to speak of large-scale mobilization of very limited financial resources. The Russian dependence on foreign arms imports may have reached its peak in the 1650s and 60s, which was marked by protracted warfare and still very little domestic production of either metals of weapons. As in the 1630s, the Muscovite government once again had the good fortune of being faced with a dramatic increase in the Western demand for grain. Prices at the Amsterdam Bourse peaked in 1648-53 and shipping from Arkhangelsk experienced a protracted boom between 1650 and 1666. Grain exports were clearly the driving force behind the boom, their total value equaling some R 250,000, or some one-fifth of the total, around 1653.25 Indeed, Tsar Alcksei Mikhailovich repeatedly authorized large-scale sales of grain, potash, and other goods in return for western arms and munitions. The remarkable correlation between grain sales and military need is much 21 Baklanova, "Privoznye tovary," 72; Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestoo, vol. 2, 43~44. 22 Il'ia lakovlevich Gurliand, Ivan Gebdon: Kommissarius i resident (Mater'ialy po istorii administratsii Moskovskogo gosudarstva vtoroi poloviny XVII veka) (laroslavl': Tipografiia Gubernskogo Pravleniia, 1903), 21, 26. 25

24

Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo, vol. 2, 44.

lurii Vasil'evich Arsen'ev, K istorii Oruzheinago prikaza v XVII veke (St Petersburg: Tipografiia P. P. Soikina, 1904), 143-44. 23 Posthumus, Inquiry into the History of Prices in Holland, 1, 19-20; J. T. Kotilaine, "Quantifying Russian Exports via Arkhangel'sk in the XVIIth Century," The Journal of European Economic History 28 (1999) 2, 250, 260; Riksarkivet (Swedish National Archive) Muscovitica, vol. 601; Belov, "Niderlandskiirezident," 137.

78

J. T. KOTILAINE

stronger than the relationship between grain exports and prices in Amsterdam. The opportunity to export grain throughout the period of war preparations and the subsequent campaigning afforded, once again, a way of shouldering an enormous fiscal burden. Table 24: Arms Imports through Arkhangelsk in the Closing Decades of the Seventeenth Century Date

Source

Goods supplied

1670

Willem de Hartuch (Netherlands) Daniel Hartman (Netherlands)

475 carbines, 475 pistols arms

1671 1680

1681

Heinrich Butenant (Hamburg) Egidius Tabbert (Netherlands)

1682 1678-82 1687 1688 1689

1687-89 1690

Egidius Tabbert (Netherlands) Daniel Hartman (Netherlands) Egidius Tabbert (Netherlands) Thomas Kelderman (Moscow) Thomas Kelderman (Moscow) Egidius Tabbert (Netherlands) Daniel Hartman (Netherlands) The Netherlands D. Hartman and E. Tabbert

Approx. value, R

7,318 sluzhby, 7,318 pairs of holsters, 7,318 pereviazi s kriuki 2,611 complete sets of cavalry equipment (each inc. a carbine and a pair of pistols) 800 muskets, 1,800 sets of cavalry equipment 1,500 musket, pistol, and carbine bolts 4,000 Spanish musket bolts pistols, carbines, muskets 2,087 pud sulphur 2,000 sets of cavalry equipment 100 sets of cavalry equipment carbines, harquebuses, pistols 600 muskets 1,000 suits of armor 2,000 carbines and pistols muskets

487

14,713

8,565

2,000 42,175 1,662 (8,500) 427 2,930 960 8,525

36,000

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

79

Table 24 (cont.) Date

Source

1698

Egidius Tabbert (Netherlands)

1695-99

1700

Andries Brest (Netherlands) D. Hartman (Netherlands) Rudolf Meijer (Netherlands) A. Dix and E. Tabbert (NL) B. Andrews P. Westhof Christoffel Brants (Netherlands) Zacharias Dix (Netherlands)

Goods supplied

Approx. value, R

10,000 pud lead (for the Cannon Chancellery) 13,000 muskets 3,500 muskets 5,625 muskets 1,000 muskets 800 muskets 2,100 muskets 3,997 muskets

4,796

10,000 bayonet blades

1,600

(Source: Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia cherez Arkhangel'sk," 272; Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo 2, 44^45; Mikhail Ivanovich Belov, "Rossiia i Gollandiia v poslednei chetverti XVII v.," in Mezhdunarodrye sviazi Rossii v XVII XVIII vv. (ekonomika, politika i kul'tura): Sbornik statei, ed. Liubomir Grigor'evich Beskrovnyi, (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo "Nauka," 1968), 72; RGADA f. 50, op. 1, 1687 g., No 3, 1. 66)

Weapons imports continued, albeit on a smaller scale, after the Andrusovo peace with a small number of Western merchants again dominant as suppliers. The Hamburg merchant Heinrich Butenant von Rosenbusch brought arms to Russia in 1679^80, the Dutchman Daniel Hartman in 1691 and 1696, Hart's son-in-law Andries Brest in the closing years of the century, the Dutchman Egidius Tabbert in 1687 and 1696, etc.26 Following a marked diplomatic rapprochement since 1685, Dutch and Russian strategic interests coincided around the beginning of the 1690s as damage suffered by Dutch ships in the Mediterranean prompted Amsterdam merchants to support Russian in her war against the Ottoman Empire. The 2,000 carbines and pistols exported by Thomas Kelderman and Ivan Pankrat'ev (Table 24) appear to have been a direct response to this.27 2() 27

Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia," 272. Belov, "Niderlandskii rezident," 220; RGADA f. 50, op. 1, 1690 g., no. 4, 11. 1-2.

80

J. T. KOTILAINE

The steady military buildup in the 1690s was followed by a further expansion during the Great Northern War (Table 25). The conflict, which was eventually to fundamentally alter the balance of power in the Baltic region, initially revealed the limited capacity of the domestic arms industry, as well as the vulnerability of the Russian army to sudden reversals of fortune, such as the 1700 defeat at Narva which left them with little military hardware to fall back on. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, a Dutch merchant, Jan Lups, supplied Russia with 19,213 rapier blades, 67,792 musket locks, 7,116 pairs of pistols, 11,546 muskets with bayonets, 3,000 regular muskets, 750 dragoon carbines, 12,098 musket barrels, 13,000 dragoon broadswords, and 6,900 blades.28 Lups, along with Christoffel Brants, appear to have been the leading, and at times the only, foreign supplier of weapons to the Russian army. In 1706, he supplied weapons worth R 54,000, to be followed by R 176,639 worth over the ensuing two years. In 1709, Lups undertook to supply standardized muskets for which he received R 44,705.91 in 1710, along with R 15,652 for other weapons. In 1712, Lups' sales were down to R 31,253 and apparently he stopped importing weapons by 1714.29 In 1710, metal and metal products made up 50 percent of the R 322,984 worth of goods acquired by the Treasury. In 1711, metals and metal products accounted for 65.1 percent of such purchases (R 89,200). By 1712, their share already stood at 86 percent (R 124,600).30 Data on Arkhangel'sk's metal imports is presented in Table 26. While Arkhangel'sk was the absolutely dominant center of arms trade, the Baltic region played an important secondary role. Northwestern Russian merchants regularly supplied the Cannon Chancellery with Swedish iron. Indeed, metals—almost entirely copper and iron— accounted for virtually all Russian imports from Stockholm. During periods of Russian-Swedish rapprochement, most notably in the 1630s,

28 The total value of these deliveries was at least R 51,363, since in 1706 Lubs and Dicks were commissioned to purchase weapons for R 25,463, to which R 25,900 was to be added. Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia," 278. 29 Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia," 277-78. 30 Lead purchases by the government totaled R 11,700 in 1710 and R 5,475 in 1712. The figures for tin were R 7,055 in 1710 and R 2,692 in 1711. Ruf losifovna Kozintseva, "Vneshnetorgovyi oborot Arkhangelogorodskoi iarmarki i ee rol' v razvitii vserossiiskogo rynka," in Issledovaniia po istorii feodal'no-krepostnicheskoi Rossii, ed. Sigizmund Natanovich Valk (Moscow: Izdate'lstvo "Nauka," 1964), 122; Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia cherez Arkhangel'sk," 276-77.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

81

there were ambitious plans establish trade in weapons. The Swedish envoy Anton Monier in 1630 explored the possibility of exchange 3,000 pud of Russian saltpeter p.a. free of duty for Swedish copper, weapons, and other goods. The Russian diplomats F. Plemiannikov and A. Aristov arrived at the Swedish headquarters in Germany in early 1631 with instructions to buy 10,000 muskets and 5,000 swords, some of which were indeed purchased. In the spring of 1632, Gustav II Adolf offered to supply Russia with 10,000 muskets with cartridges, 5,000 sets of cavalry equipment, and 2,000 pistols in exchange for 50,000 chetverti of Russian grain. The Russians expressed interest in 2,000 cavalry outfits and received at least 1,510 of them.31 Novgorod merchants played a leading role in this trade. In 1641, Ivan Stoianov brought 26 Swedish copper pistols to Moscow. In 1649, Semen Stoianov supplied nearly 420 pud of iron to the Chancellery. Mikifor Mikliaev brought over 230 pud. In 1630, Peter Mikliaev sold, along with 630 pud iron, 30 muskets, to the Iverskii Monastery. In 1656, Semen Stoianov imported 9,471 muskets from Narva and Nyer.32 During the Thirteen Years' War, Liibeck merchants played a small part in the weapons trade. In 1660, a Russian was sent to Liibeck to buy 2,000 pairs of pistols and 1,000 carbines. The same year, the Liibeck merchant J. von Horn sold cannon and 10,000 pud copper. In 1661, his agent Sebastian Ritter sold 100 pairs of pistol and 100 carbines, which were delivered in Pskov. In 1665, 2,500 pairs of bandoleers were delivered in Novgorod. In 1663, an agent of the De Vogelaer-Kleck partnership sold 450 pud gunpowder there for R 1,575.33 Cost' Semen Gavrilov of Novgorod frequently carried out commercial missions for the Tsar in the 1660s—'80s. In 1686, he supplied the Cannon Chancellery with 2,500 pud lead.34 Some 44,000 pud iron and some 14,000 pud copper were sent from Stockholm to Russia in 1685. The combined value was over D 230,000. Iron

31

Igor' Pavlovich Shaskol'skii, Ekonomicheskie otnosheniia Rossii i Shvedskogo gosudarstva (St Petersburg: "Dmitrii Bulanin," 1998), 39-41, 45-46. 32 Vladimir Alekseevich Varentsov, Torgovlia i tamozhennoe upravlenie Novgorod v XVIXVII vekakh (Novgorod: Novgorodskaia tamozhnia—Novgorodskii gosudarstvennyi universitet im. laroslava Mudrogo, 1996), 59; Vladimir Alekseevich Varentsov, Privilegirovannoc Kupechestvo Novgoroda XVI-XVJII vv.: Uchebnoesposobie po spetskursu (Vologda: Ministerstvo narodnogo obrazovaniia RSFSR—Vologodskii gosudarstvennyi pedagogicheskii institut, 1989), 55. 33 Amburger, Die Familie Marselis, 117; Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo 2, 44. 34 Varentsov, Torgovlia i tamozhennoe upravlenie, 58-59.

82

J. T. KOTILAINE

imports from Sweden between September 1692 and 1699 totaled at least 127,326 pud of rod-iron and 15,723 pud of sheet-iron. The cost of these purchases must have been at least R 75,000.35 The growing Russian interest and involvement in the Ukraine in the middle of the century presented the Muscovite government with new sources of supply of a various strategically important goods. From the very beginning of the Ukrainian war against Poland, grain, salt, harquebois and all manner of weapons, lead, and saltpeter were taken across the border to Russia.36 The Military and Cannon Chancelleries were particularly eager to import Ukrainian saltpeter, as well as potash. In January 1648, Prince S. Bolkhovskii, with the Tsar's explicit instruction, bought 44.5 pud of saltpeter from Ukrainian merchants at R 1.60 a pud.31 In June 1652, the Diplomatic Chancellery ordered the Putivl' Voevody F. Khilkov and P. Protas'ev to establish contacts with Ukrainian merchants for the purpose of establishing new supply sources of saltpeter. The authorities were ordered to use Putivl's customs and tavern duty receipts for the purchases at R 1.80-2 a pud. If necessary, they were ordered to borrow more from the local merchants.38 After establishment of Russian control in the Left Bank, Ukrainian saltpeter appears to have been brought to Moscow on a fairly regular basis.39 During the wars of the turn of the century, the Ukraine became one of the main suppliers of saltpeter among Russian dominions. In 1693-4 alone, 1,686 pud saltpeter, valued at R 4,200 reached Moscow from the Left Bank. In 1700, the Treasury acquired 30,000

35

This is based on price the government paid Peter Marselis on domestically produced iron after 1668. Fuhrrnann, The Origins of Capitalism, 107-08; Bertil Boethius and Eli Filip Heckscher, eds., Svensk handelsstatistik 1637-1737: Samtida bearbetningar (Stockholm: Bokfbrlags Aktiebolaget Thule, 1938), 166-67, 740-55. 36 An August 1649 letter by Ukrainian merchants to Trubechevsk Voevoda N. Nashchokin. Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi arkhiv drevnikh aktov (RGADA), f. 79, 1649 g., d. la, 1. 357. 37 RGADA, f. 210, Sevskii stol, stb. No 137, 1. 66; Fedir Pavlovych Shevchenko, Politychni ta ekonomichni zu'iazky Ukrainy z Rosiieiu v seredyni XVII st. (Kyiv: Vydavnytstvo Akademii Nauk Ukrains'koi RSR, 1959), 434. 38 Volodymyr losifovych Borysenko, Sotsial'no-ekonomichryi rozvytok Livoberezhnoi Ukrainy v druhii polovyni XVII st. (Kyiv: Naukova dumka, 1986), 150-51. 39 In 1685, K. Dorofieiev, who served Hetman I. Samoilovych, brought 221 pud saltpeter to the Russian capital. The same year, a Kiev merchant O. Sorodka brought R 5,000 worth of goods to Moscow, in large part saltpeter. Borysenko, Sotsial'no-ekonomichnyi rozvytok Livoberezhnoi Ukramy, 157; RGADA, f. 124, op. 1, d. 21, 11. 1-3; f. 229, op. 1, stb. no. 174, 1. 79.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

83

pud saltpeter in the Ukraine. The following year, one contingent alone contained over 10,000 pud.w Russia also received some military supplies from Asia. For instance, some saltpeter came from Persia. In 1649, the Shah's envoy Magmet Kulibek brought R 8,500 worth of goods including saltpeter. In 1658, another envoy, Khanadakul Saltan brought R 9,097 worth of raw silk and saltpeter.41 At the end of the century, China became another source of saltpeter. In 1685, I. Chir'ev exchanged sable furs for 1,700 pud saltpeter.42 Table 25: Weapons deliveries to Russia by Western European merchants, 1701—10 Muskets (fazei}, musket barrels 2,786 1701 423 1702 9,511 1703 1704 3,457 6,814 1705 16,458 1706 28,101 1707 10,140 1708 1,788 1709 34,903 1710 Sum total 114,381

Carbines

793

Musket locks

100 743 1,096

3,723 400 9,438 532 3,562 37,506 21,919 11,169

2,732

88,249

Pistols, pairs

Sword blades

Rapier blades

124

84 11,996 5,098 5,503 1,241

1,304 3,677

14,820 11,049 12,815

1,672 4,814 40,762 22,805 24,228 12,258 26,289 8,861 148

19,544

62,606

141,837

40 1,918 5,304 7,177

(Source: Zakharov, ^apadnoevropeiskie kuptsy v Rossii, 225)

40 Berngard Borisovich Kafengauz, "Ekonomicheskie sviazi Ukrainy i Rossii v kontse XVII-nachale XVIII stoletiia," in Vossoedinenie Ukrainy s Rossiei 1654-1954: Sbornik statei, ed. Aleksei Ivanovich Baranovich et al. (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1954), 424; Pavel Mitrofanovich Luk'ianov, Istoriia khimicheskikh promyslov i khimicheskoi promyshlennosti Rossii do kontsa XIX veka, II (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1949), 163. 41 Nina Grigor'evna Kukanova, Ocherki po istorii russko-imnskikh torgovykh otnoshenii v XVII-pewoi polovine XIX v.: po materialam russkikh arkhivov (Saransk: Mordovskoe knizhnoe izdatel'stvo, 1977), 47-48. 42 Mark Mancall, Russia and China: Their Diplomatic Relations to 1728 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971), 163-71; Vadim Aleksandrovich Aleksandrov, Rossiia na dal'nevostochnykh rubezhakh (vtoraia polovina XVII v.), 2nd edition (Khabarovsk: Khabarovskoe knizhnoe izdatel'stvo, 1984), 106.

84

J. T. KOTILAINE Table 26: Foreign metal imports at Arkhangelsk, 1710-22

Copper, pud

Iron, pud Barrels Steel, barrels Lead, pud

Tin, pud

1710

1715

1720

21,347

3,713 + 572 pieces, 100 rolls of wire, 490 "books"

8,093

260 + 467 bars, 67 polity 685

193 249

391 + 3 pud

809 + 5 boxes

5,762 svinki

5 svinki

4,482

2,609

2,600

211 311 22,657 3,593

(Source: Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia cherez Arkhangelsk," Table 38, after p. 240)

Import Substitution: Domestic Production of Metals and Military

Supplies

The search for Russian sources of metals was a constant feature of late Muscovite history and an important priority of the government's economic policy. While the country had a long tradition of iron production, inputs were invariably low-grade swamp or lake ore. S. G. Strumilin's largely conjectural—and probably sig-nificantly exaggerated—estimate of Russian iron production at the end of the sixteenth century was 1,800 tons a year.43 There was no domestic copper or tin production, which left Russia completely at the mercy of foreign exporters. For instance, when the Livonians discovered in the late fifteenth century that Russians were using imported copper to cast cannon, they imposed curbs on copper exports.44 The Swedes in the seventeenth century regularly limited the sale of their copper to Russia.45 This dependency on the West was naturally of utmost concern to the Russian government and, in order to curb it, the Muscovite 43 Strumilin's estimate is based on extrapolating from the known civilian and military consumption, and it is thus possible that a realistic estimate should be even lower to take into account iron imports. Stanislav Gustavovich Strumilin, Istoriia chernoi metallurgii v SSSR (Moscow: IzdatePstvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1954), 25-26. 44 Esper, "Military self-sufficiency," 195. 43 For examples, see: Helmut Piirimae, Kaubanduse kiisimused Vene-Rootsi suhetes 1661.— 1700. a. (Tartu Riikliku Ulikaoli Toimetised, 113) (Tartu: Tartu Riiklik Ulikool, 1961), 56-60; Shaskol'skii, Ekonomicheskie otnosheniia, 152.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

85

authorities ironically turned to the West for assistance. Western specialists were hired to locate possible deposits as well as to exploit those discovered. Two important centers of metal industry were built in the seventeenth century: (i) the Tula-Kashira region to the south of Moscow and (ii) the Olonets area on the northern shores of Lake Ladoga.46 In addition, there was some substantial artisan production in the Urals and in Siberia.47 The Russian state in 1630—31 built an iron works on the Nitsa River in the Urals. Exploiting the local marsh ore and the labor of 16 peasant families, the facility attained an annual production level of 2,700 pud. By 1634, the state opened the Pyskorka copper mill in the region. Moved to the Kama in 1640, the facility attained an annual total of only 600 pud and was closed down by 1666. Dmitrii Tumashev in 1669 opened an iron mill on the Neira with an annual output of some 1,200 pud. The facility was closed down in 1669.48 The short life-span and limited output of these mills highlighted the difficulties of import substitution by means of local resources. There is no evidence of any of these iron works, or other smaller facilities, producing military equipment. However, local artisans were sometimes commissioned to produce military equipment for the government. For instance in 1631, the Treasury ordered 3,000 pud of gun barrels from Ustiuzhna ZhelezopoPskaia Smiths. Two years later, they produced cannon balls and in 1647, they received a commission for 1,000 bear-spears.49 The central Russian region was the first one to be more systematically developed after the Dutch entrepreneur Andries Winius, with his brother Abraham and Julius Willeken, received in 1632 a

4t> Much of the surviving source material has been published in: Krepostnaia manufaktura v Rossii, Tom 1: Tul'skie i kashirskie zheleznye zavody, ed. Mikhail Nikolaevich Pokrovskii (Leningrad: Izdatel'stvo Akademii Nauk, 1930); Krepostnaia manufaktura v Rossii, Tom 2: Olonetskie mednye i zheleznye zavody, ed. Mikhail Nikolaevich Pokrovskii (Leningrad: Izdatel'stvo Akademii Nauk, 1931). 47 N. A. Minenko, L. A. Dashkevich, I. V. Poberezhnikov, S. V. Ustiantsev, A. G. Tomilov, V. G. Zhelezkin, V. A. Shkerin, D. V. Gavrilov, S. V. Golikova, "Ural before in the Industrial Revolution," in Ironmaking in Sweden and Russia: A Survey of the Social Organisation of Iron Production before 1900, ed. Goran Ryden and Maria Agren (Uppsala: Historiska Institutionen, 1993), 43ff.; Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 136-39. 48 Minenko et al, "Ural before the Industrial Revolution," 44-46. 49 N.V. Ustiugov, "Remeslo i melkoe tovarnoe proizvodstvo v Russkom gosudarstve v XVII v.," Istomheskie zapiski 34 (1950), 176.

86

J. T. KOTILAINE

charter with a three-year tax exemption for iron mills in the Tula region. Soon, their compatriot Akkema became involved in the project.50 From the very beginning, armaments production was high on the agenda. The initial complex of four factories had two furnaces and four hammer shops for the production of cannon and projectiles.51 Labor, however, remained a serious constraint and Winius waited until 1638 before requesting that the 250 serf households of a neighboring area be assigned to his factories, a demand which was met on the condition that he deliver to the government "grain and military equipment" equal in value to the serfs' old R 470 quit-rent. Labor costs were clearly minimal compared to the scale of Russian iron imports from the West and highlight the embryonic nature of the project. The tsar further provided Winius with 50 miners from among the local Cossacks and musketeers. The workers were divided into five groups working in shifts. Four miners worked at a single pit, and each man produced one cartload, 25 pud., of ore a day. Each team had to provide 100 carts of ore without pay, or a total of 1,250 carts p.a. Another 1,750 carts were to be provided by the Cossacks and other free people.52 The production process was modeled on the most up-to-date Dutch technology which Winius adapted to local conditions. The blast furnaces at used 200 pud of ore and 300 carts of fuel to produce a maximum of 36,000 pud p.a. but probably as much as 30 percent less. The methods of production often remained highly wasteful and potential production levels were never attained.53 Similarly, low pay and interventions by the local administration resulted in recurrent strikes by the workforce. In spite of this, the Tula mills with their advanced division of labor were quite efficient in weapon production. In 24 hours, one master could cast 2-3 large cannon balls, 5-6 small ones, 100 large and small grenades, or 15^20 iron sheets 2 arshin in length. A team of one master and two workers could produce two cannon in 24 hours. In another Tula factory three groups each composed of one master and two workers could bore 12 mus-

50 Tsar Aleksei confidant B. I. Morozov joined the project as a silent partner. Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 63. 51 Ibid., 68. 52 Ibid., 75. 53 Strumilin, Istoriia chemoi metallurgii, 130; S. Tomsinskii, "Nachal'naia stadiia krepostnoi manufaktury v Rossii," in Krepostnaia manufaktura v Rossii, 1, XXII.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

87

kets per day, or 3,600 musket barrels p.a. Three other teams of one master and three workers each could manage 18 a day, or 5,400 p.a. A single hearth in a hammering shop produced 30 sazhen of rod-iron in 24 hours, or 9,000 sazhen (c. 7,000 yards) p.a.54 The mills made some substantial deliveries to the government: for example 2,537 cannon balls in 1641. By 1647, the factory was producing over 5,000 pud of joint-iron p.a., which demanded as much as 10,000 pud of pig iron. Annual production of cannon and cannon balls probably reached at least 20,000 pud. Strumilin estimates the value of total production at R 10,000 or more. Yet quality varied with some of the cannon exploding, which Kilburger attributed to the use of cold-short (kholodnolomkoe) instead of red-short iron (krasnolomkoe zhelezo).55 The 1640s saw a major turning-point in the development of Russia's incipient iron industry. Growing tensions among the Dutch partners erupted into the open and Winius' efforts to discredit Marselis and Akkema even became an issue in Dutch-Russian diplomacy. In an effort to settle the issue, the government in November 1647 nationalized the Tula mills. Not for the last time in Russian history, state control led to a total disintegration of operations. Largely as a result, Marselis and Akkema were restored as owners less than a year later with a 20-year charter exempting them from taxes and duties. Swedish resident Karl Pommerening, who used the disruption to try to induce the remaining iron masters to leave Russia altogether, claimed as late as January 1649 that the Tula mills were lying idle.56 The resolution of the ownership question marked the beginning of a new phase in the expansion of iron production. Between 1648~62, eight new ironworks were established in central Russia.57 Boris Morozov set up a mill at Pavlovskoe in 1651, although output quality appears to have been low.58 A much more significant step was the creation

54

Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 71-72. Ibid., 78; Strumilin, Istoriia chemoi metallurgii, vol. 1, 105. 56 Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 80ff.; Strumilin, Istoriia chemoi metallurgii, vol. 1, 118; Sochinenie Kil'burgera o russkoi torgovle v tsarstvovanie Alekseia Mikhailovicha, ed. B. G. Kurts, 455. 57 Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 91. 58 J. Kilburger's testimony from 1674, when the factory was operated by the Privy Chancellery suggests that the mill may have relied primarily on local swamp iron. Sochinenie Kil'burgera o russkoi torgovle v tsarstvovanie Alekseia Mikhailovicha, ed. Boris Grigor'evich Kurts (Kiev: Tipografi ia I. I. Chokolova, 1915), 90. 55

88

J. T. KOTILAINE

of four new factories by Marselis and Akkema in the Kashira district near Tula in 1653. At least three of these facilities produced musket and carbine barrels, among other things.09 The largest facility, at Chentsova, was estimated in 1662 to have an annual production of 7,200 musket barrels. The eight masters of the factory were able to produce eight complete suits of cavalry armor in one week.60 Marselis and Akkema subsequently acquired two more mills in the area—one on the Porotva and the other on the Ugodka— which were under contract to supply the state with 15,000 pud of iron p.a. in the 1660s. They produced, among other things, cannon, projectiles, grenades, cannister shot, arquebuses, swords, armor, and helmets.61 Table 27: Estimates of iron and arms production at the Tula and Kashira mills Year

Iron, pud Iron plates Cannon

1648 10,000 1658 20,000 1669 5,000 1674-96

Cannon balls

Muskets

Hand grenades

20,000 5,000

6,000

10,000 2,000

(Source: I. V. Chekan, "Tul'skie i kashirskie zheleznye zavody XVII v.," Trudy Istoricheskogo muzeiia 8 (1928), 159; Liubomir Grigor'evich Beskrovnyi, "Proizvodstvo vooruzheniia i boepripasov na russkikh zavodakh v pervoi polovine XVIII v.," Istoricheskie zapiski 36 (1951), 106)

Another period of confusion followed in the 1660s. Marselis' fortune was confiscated in June 1662 after he was implicated in an embezzlement scandal. The state became Akkema's partner, an arrangement that the latter found highly unsatisfactory. Akkema's plea for a divorce was accepted and, in 1663, he was given the Porotva and Ugodka mills for a 20-year tax exempt period and R 5,000 in compensation for the Tula-Kashira factories retained by the state.62 However, in 1667 the Tula-Kashira complex was returned to the Marselis family for a 20-year period. Apparently, the complex had

Krepostnaia manufaktura v Rossii, vol. 1, 31-32, 35-36. 39. Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 96-97. Amburger, Die Familie Marselis, 108-09. Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 99-102.

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

89

again declined during the period of government control, and the Tula mill was basically idle, which may have been the reason for this "re-privatization." However, the state continued to burden the Marselis family with various demands for loan repayments from the very beginning.63 In addition, the state initially commissioned no deliveries, which made it difficult to hire workers and to get largescale production started. The initial payment of R 2,690 for R 3,690 worth of goods delivered in 1668 was made with a year's delay.64 Starting in April 1668, the state formally ordered a range of goods from him on annual basis. These consisted of 25,000 pud rod, angle and sheet iron, 20 cannon, 6,000 cannon balls, 10,000 grenades, 100 hand-mills, 1,000 tuyeres, 50 iron ingots, 50 grinding mortars, and 100,000 nails, the total cost of which reached R 18,020.65 Although deliveries were never made at this scale, they were still quite significant. For example, between September 1673 and August 1674, Marselis supplied the state with R 10,077.55 worth of iron, a total weight of 17,255 pud.66 A contemporary description by J. P. Kilburger points to expanded production facilities in Tula by the 1670s. There were three blast furnaces and ten water-hammers, each with a double hearth. He says that the Marselis family produced three kinds of rod-iron for construction purposes but suggests that Akkema's products were of higher quality, with his inputs and outputs being consistently somewhat more expensive than Marselis'. Both producers, especially Akkema, began to reorient their production increasingly toward the domestic market and Akkema even abandoned weapon production in 1663. In 1684—5 the Marselis produced over 2,700 sheets of cast iron, 1,000 corrugated sheets, and 200 pud bar-iron for non-military purposes. However, in the late 1660s they built a small factory, wholly dependent on state orders of cannon, projectiles, and grenades, near Kashira and received a 20-year grant of privilege in 1671.67 In addition, in 1668-72, the state built two factories in the Zvenigorod

63 In 1670, the state maintained that the Marselis' loans totaled R 6,319. Krepostnaia manufaktura v Rossii I, 258, 290-92; Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 104-06. 1)4 Krepostnaia manufaktura v Rossii, vol. 1, 219-22, 373-77, 382. '" Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 107-08; Krepostnaia manufaktura v Rossii, vol. 1, 276. <)() Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 108. "7 Ibid., 111-13.

90

J. T. KOTILAINE

area, which produced exclusively for the army and other government needs.68 Werner Muller, with the help of cannon and grenade masters from Austria, set up the Istenskii iron works in the late 1670s in Borovskii uezd.^ Even as the Tula mills managed to produce 2,000 muskets a year between 1674 and 1696, gun barrels remained an area of weakness. In response, the government in 1648 set up a special chancellery (Stvol'nyi prikaz) to promote barrel production. A contract with the Dutch master Hendrik van Aken in 1648 for a barrel mill on the lauza very soon came to nought with his death in 1650.70 Yet, by the middle of the 1670s, the chancellery was producing 1,600-2,000 barrels a year.71 In 1689 Butenant built a new mill for the Marselis in Aleksin uezd, although in 1690 it was transferred to Naryshkin and a forging shop built on the site. By the 1690s, the only foreigner to build iron works was Evert Isbrand Ides who established a mill near Moscow. According to Kafengauz, "Isbrand's armaments factory was so famous that masters and government officials were sent there to study the factory's specifications and operation and calculate the productivity ratios."72 Another important center of metal production in the seventeenth century, the Olonets region, was virtually on the Swedish border. Some copper and iron had been produced in the area for centuries, but the last decades of the century saw the establishment of industrial production. The first serious attempt to exploit local resources was made by a Novgorod Cost' Semen Gavrilov in the 1660s, but it was largely unsuccessful. At the same time, Leonhard Marselis, Peter's son, conducted some of his own prospecting. In 1669 the family was granted a R 600 loan and authorized to expand their activities into copper production. Following a series of deaths in the Marselis family, Heinrich Butenant von Rosenbusch effectively took control of the enterprise by the late 1670s and established at least one more copper works in Foimogubskaia volost' by 1676. However, 68

Ibid., 113-14. Ibid., 130. 70 Ibid., 93. 71 lurii Vasil'evich Arsen'ev, "K istorii Oruzheinogo prikaza v XVII veke: Oruzheinichestvo boiarina Grigoriia Gavrilovicha Pushkina (1647-1655)," in Vestnik arkheologii i istorii 16 (1904), 138-39, Beskrovnyi, "Proizvodstvo vooruzheniia i boepripasov," 106-07. 72 Berngard Borisovich Kafengauz, Istoriia khoziaistva Demidovykh v XVIII-XIX vv.: Opyt issledovaniia po istorii ural'skoi metallurgii (Moscow: IzdatePstvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1949), 23. 69

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

91

the small scale of production prompted Butenant in 1681 to switch to iron production in 1681 and he soon built a blasting enterprise and a forging shop, followed by two more factories by 1700.73 Water power was used to operate two furnaces and hammers and hearths and mining took place in the summer. According to the 1681 charter, issued for 20 years, he was to deliver rod- and angle-iron and other items to the state, while the remainder could be sold within Russia or exported. The iron masters were local Russian and Karelian artisans. There were considerable tensions with the local peasant population, however, which periodically burst into open violence.74 The data on levels of production in Olonets is scarce, but we do know that at least 34,000 pud pig-iron was produced in 1701-2. Almost certainly, the levels achieved in the seventeenth century were much lower.73 Overall, the seventeenth century effectively saw the creation of a domestic Russian metal industry from scratch. Starting at a modest total of 450 pud in the late 1630s, the Russian iron industry expanded to churn out some 150,000 pud (2,700 tons) in the 1670s and perhaps as much as 250,000 pud by the end of the century.76 While still a mere tenth of the output of the Swedish industry, this significantly cut Russia's dependency on her Western rivals. Advances in metallurgy translated into a sharp increase in domestic weapons production, although some technological bottlenecks were not completely solved until well into the eighteenth century. The increase in production levels was accompanied by a considerable standardization of the output. For instance, [cjannon began to be produced according to field experience, and a primary concern . . . was to increase the mobility of the pieces by decreasing their weight. In the 1660s the Moscow armory manufactured a number of two and three-pounders. In the 1690s, the manufacture of five, seven, nine, ten, fifteen, and fifty, and seventy-pounders was suspended, as well as of one and one-half, two and one-half, and three and one-half, and four-pound mortars. This reduced the variety of ordnance considerably.77

73 74 75 76 11

202.

Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 116-21. Ibid., 124-28. Ibid, 128. Ibid., 262. Esper, "Military self-sufficiency and weapons technology in Muscovite Russia,"

92

J. T. KOTILAINE

As impressive as the seventeenth-century developments were, Peter Fs reforms marked a dramatic transition to a completely different scale of industrial production. While there were 12 works producing 2,000 tons of cast iron a year at the beginning of the century, by 1725, Russia had 52 works producing over 20,000 tons of cast iron and 3,600 tons of copper. Weapons production remained insufficient until 1716. Thus in 1711, the army needed 122,600 muskets, 49,800 carbines, and 200,000 swords, sabers, and lances. In addition 12-15,000 guns a year were needed as replacements. The state demanded 18,000 firearms a year from the Tula works but received only 2 4,000, which necessitated the large-scale imports described above. The problem was solved only with reorganization of the Tula works in 1715 and the implementation of a new finishing process for barrels which increased the level of production eight-fold. In 1715, the Tula mill produced 11,000 muskets, 7,000 carbines, and 8,000 pistols. Between late 1715 and early 1718, the works turned out over 45,000 muskets and carbines and nearly 19,000 pistols.78 Another important precondition for military self-sufficiency was the development of a Russian chemical industry. Muscovy made considerable progress in both saltpeter and gunpowder production in the seventeenth century. Manufacturing methods were adopted in an activity traditionally dominated by small-scale artisan production. The first gunpowder factory was built near Moscow in 1626. In 1636 the Dutch merchant Hendrik van Ringen received a 10-year monopoly for saltpeter production. All production was to be delivered to the state at R 2—2.20 a pud during the first two years and thereafter at R 1.80-2.20.79 Van Ringen set up a mill near Novgorod but quickly ran into local opposition. The operation soon closed and another attempt to produce saltpeter in Velikie Luki was similarly unsuccessful.80 In 1637, Van Ringen moved his operations to Mtsensk and Karachev and requested R 15,000 for a saltpeter factory. In return, he agreed to supply 8,000 pud saltpeter in the first year, to be followed by 10,000 and 12,000 pud in the second and third year, respectively.81 Also Marselis and Akkema had produced 78

Ibid., 207. The high price applied to the first third and the lower to the remainder of the production. 80 Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo, vol. 2, 25. 81 Ibid., 26; A. S. Muliukin, Ocherki po istorii iuridicheskago polozheniia inostrannykh kuptsov v Moskovskom gosudarstve (Odessa: Tipografiia "Tekhnik," 1912), 92, 204-05. /9

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

93

gunpowder on a small scale since 1644. In 1650, a Dutch merchant David Bacheracht built a powder works on the Ucha River near Moscow and gained permission in 1655 to build another large factory in Moscow on the lauza near the New Foreign Quarter. The capital for the mills, which initially amounted to R 13,000, was almost entirely provided by the Dutch merchants Daniel and Jean Bernarts. Bacheracht undertook to supply the Treasury with 50,000 pud of gunpowder p.a. The actual production data is sketchy, although we know that 2,397 pud—worth R 11,340—was produced in 1652 and 1654. In 1662, Bacheracht produced 1,823 pud worth R 5,670, and in 1668, he supplied the Treasury with R 8,000 worth of gunpowder.82 The state evidently converted the lauza facility into a paper mill soon after Bacheracht's death in 1671, until Hermann Lofken re-established gunpowder production there 11 years later at 9,000 pud p.a. Isbrand also began operating a gunpowder mill in 1698.83 Throughout the century, gunpowder continued to be produced by artisans, as well. For instance, Astrakhan' had its own armory (Artillerskii dvor) which, among other things, produced gunpowder from local saltpeter and sulphur.84 According to Beskrovnyi, seventeenth-century Russia was largely self-sufficient in gunpowder production. However, O. L. Vainshtein argues that certain types of gunpowder continued to be imported, because domestic powder was large-grained and not suitable for all weapons.83 In fact, both explanations may be somewhat unrealistic in that large quantities of powder were still imported in the middle of the century. The availability of new saltpeter supplied in the Left-Bank Ukraine may have reduced this dependency somewhat and there is much less evidence of powder imports toward the end of the century. Indeed, complete self-sufficiency was probably attained by the turn of the century, since gunpowder and related

82

Liubomirov, Ocherki istorii russkoi promyshlennosti, 513; Demkin, ^apadnoevropeiskoe kupechestvo, vol. 2, 26-27. 83 Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 134. 84 Apparently, also the local saber and harness producers were known across the country. Liubov' Konstantinovna Ermolaeva, "Torgovye sviazi Astrakhan! v XVIIpervoi chetverti XVTII v. (K probleme formirovaniia vserossiiskogo rynka)" (Candidate's diss.: Leningradskii gosudarstvennyi pedagogicheskii institut, 1981), 274. 85 Beskrovnyi, "Proizvodstvo vooruzheniia," 107; Osip L'vovich Vainshtein, Rossiia i tridtsatiletniaia voina, 1618-1638 gg.: Ocherki iz istorii vneshnei politiki Moskovskogo gosudarstva v pervoi polovine XVII v. (Leningrad: Gospolitizdat, 1947), 94-95.

94

J. T. KOTILAINE

products which were no longer imported via Arkhangelsk at the beginning of the eighteenth century.86 There were times when the Russians actually exported military supplies to the West. Thus in 1628, 55 tons of saltpeter were given to the Dutch.87 The Tula iron works exported 600 30—6l-pud cannon to the Netherlands in 1646 and another 360 the year after.88 On April 5, 1644 the Tsar authorized Marselis and Akkema to export their products to non-hostile countries under a 20-year charter authorizing duty-free trade. Similarly, foreign owners of the central Russian iron mills exported at least some cannon balls. The explanation for this puzzling phenomenon seems to be twofold. Exports by Winius, Marselius et al. were tolerated, since the export revenues constituted one aspect of the entrepreneurs' financial compensation. Similar, saltpeter and other exports were at times permitted by Moscow for political reasons when they could reasonably be expected to be used to weaken Russia's enemies. Concluding Remarks: How

Self-Sufficient?

Military considerations were of paramount importance in Russian economic policy-making in the seventeenth century. During the first half of the century, the state, devastated and impoverished during the Smuta, had limited resources to commit to developing domestic weapons production. Enormous financial sacrifices were made to import weapons so as to equip the Muscovite armed forces for the Smolensk campaign and the Thirteen Years' War. In the 1650s, the scale of these imports rose to one-fifth of Arkhangel'sk's annual imports. The state was able to cover these fiscal emergencies be permitting large-scale grain exports. Indeed, it seems likely that the Russian authorities, who closely controlled all grain trade, exploited record high grain prices in Western Europe to pursue their military objectives. With the gradual fiscal consolidation of the state and the modernization of the army, armaments trade become more regular in the second half of the century.

86

Repin, "Vneshniaia torgovlia cherez Arkhangelsk," 279. Vainshtein, Rossiia i tridtsatiletniaia voina, 76-77, 94-95; Amburger, Die Familie Marselis, 78. 88 Fuhrmann, The Origins of Capitalism, 78. 87

IN DEFENSE OF THE REALM

95

In addition to weapons, large quantities of Swedish iron and copper were brought in every year and volumes increased rather dramatically in the closing years of the century. Naturally, not all iron and copper went into weapons production, but a significant enough proportion did to make trade with Sweden a high strategic priority. While perhaps fiscally expeditious, the heavy reliance on Western imports of military supplies entailed serious risks by leaving the country vulnerable to various contingencies. The seventeenth century consequently saw a highly concerted effort on the part of the Muscovite authorities to reduce their dependency on imports. Two important centers of iron-production were created and manufacturing methods were adopted for gunpowder production. By the end of the century, Russia had a relatively developed iron and arms industry with a dozen factories. Overall, Russia advances were far from sufficient to ensure complete independence from foreign suppliers. While peacetime armament imports declined—especially in relative terms—in the second half of the century, the purchases during the Great Northern War again paralleled—and at times exceeded—the import levels of the mid-century. However, the relative weight of these imports was much smaller after a dramatic expansion of foreign trade volumes in the second half of the century. Moreover, the demands of the Great Northern War triggered a supply-side response which increased weapons production tenfold. By the time of the Nystad Peace, Russia was definitely self-sufficient in gunpowder and had nearly reached the same position in weapons.

This page intentionally left blank

THE SECOND CHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN (1678): LATE MUSCOVITE MILITARY POWER IN TRANSITION Brian Davies In April 1678 Grand Vizier Kara Mustafa assembled an army of 70,000 men in Dobrudzha for an invasion of Right Bank Ukraine. His objective was to unite with the Crimean Khan and achieve what Ibrahim Shaitan Pasha had failed to accomplish the previous summer: to capture the Right Bank fortress of Chigirin—former headquarters of the Sultan's vassal, Herman Petr Doroshenko, now occupied by the Muscovite troops and the cossacks of Left Bank Hetman Ivan Samoilovich—install there the Sultan's new puppet lurii Khmel'nitskii, erect bridges across the Dnieper, and then march against Kiev and the towns of the Left Bank.1 Moscow entrusted the relief of Chigirin to Grigorii Grigor'evich Romodanovskii (senior voevoda of the Belgorod polk since 1658) and Hetman Ivan Samoilovich. They followed essentially the same strategy that had led them to victory over Ibrahim Pasha the previous year. But this time, for reasons unclear, they delayed and halted their armies on the far side of the Tias'min River, just two miles from Chigirin, making no serious effort to attack the Ottoman camp. On 11 August Romodanovskii ordered the Chigirin garrison evacuated across the river and its citadel burned to prevent it from falling into enemy hands. This decision was greeted with outrage by a number of Ukrainian political and military figures; the annalist Samuil Velichko subsequently judged that Chigirin and the entire Right Bank

1

Colonel Patrick Gordon, commandant of the Chigirin garrison, estimated from prisoner testimonies that Kara Mustafa's army consisted of 15,000 janissaries; 3,000 sipahis of the Porte; 25,000 provincial infantry and timariot cavalry; 2,000 gunners; a special engineering battalion of 800 men, responsible solely for digging assault galleries and placing mines; several thousand Moldavians and Wallachians; 59 great siege guns, 130 field guns, and 15 mortars; and a train of 8,000 wagons, 5,000 camels, and 8,000 shepherds. He thought the Crimean Tatars under Khan MuradGirei I numbered about 50,000, although it is more likely they were fewer than 30,000. M. A. Obolenskii and M. E. Possel't, eds. "Dnevnik generala Patrika Gordona. Chast' vtoraia (1661-1684 gg.)," Chteniia v Obshchestve istorii i drevnostei rosstiskikh pri Moskovskom univemtete, vol. 162, no. 3 (1892), pt. 3, 145.

98

BRIAN DAVIES

fell to the Turks "because of the incompetence and perfidy of Romodanovskii."2 Closer examination of the conduct of the second Chigirin campaign provides the opportunity to determine whether Romodanovskii had sound reason to abandon Chigirin, as well as assess the effectiveness of Russian war planning, logistics, command-and-control, discipline, and tactics in the late Muscovite period. In a series of memoranda and consultation with emissaries from Moscow over the winter and spring of 1677—78 Romodanovskii and Samoilovich had advanced several arguments for the feasibility and necessity of holding Chigirin: that continued Russo-Ukrainian occupation of Chigirin was crucial to maintaining the loyalty of the towns and villages of the Right Bank; that it would also rein in the Zaporozhian Host's koshevoi ataman Ivan Serko, who had stubbornly refused to fully acknowledge Samoilovich's authority as Hetman over unified Ukraine and might be colluding with the Turks and the Crimean Tatars, having even signed an armistice with the latter; that the forests around Chigirin were an important source of lumber for fortifications projects on the Left Bank; and finally—the argument most weighty in Moscow's eyes—that the fall of Chigirin to KhmePnitskii and the Turks might lead to the Turkish capture of Kiev and invasion of the Left Bank.3 But the defeat of Ibrahim Pasha in 1677 had shown it was possible to hold Chigirin against even the largest Ottoman armies. The odds against Ottoman victory were now even greater, they thought. The Sultan had been compelled to depose Khan Selim-Girei for his lack of zeal on behalf of Ibrahim Pasha's expedition of the past year, and the new Crimean Khan, Murad-Girei, was thought to have little stomach for a second campaign against Chigirin because the establishment there of a Turkish garrison would further limit his sovereignty over his own Ukrainian yurt* Samoilovich's correspondence with Lithuanian Hetman Michat Pac had also raised given him hope that King Jan Sobieski could

2 A. N. Popov, "Turetskaia voina v tsarstvovanie Fedora Alekseevicha," Russkii vestmk 8:1 (April 1857), 322. 3 Akty, otnosiaischiesia k istorii luzhnoi i ^apadnoi Rossii, sobrannyia i i^dannyia Arkheogrqficheskoiu kommissieiu, vol. 13 (St. Petersburg, 1884), nos. 83, 92, 93, 132. 4 "Dnevnik Gordona," 115, 117, 118.

THE SECOND GHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

99

be convinced to repudiate the shameful Zurawno Treaty and negotiate an alliance with Muscovy against the Ottomans.5 Moscow had serious reservations, however, and not merely because of its healthy respect for Ottoman military power. Samoilovich's conflicts with Serko, his requests that Col. Hamilton's reitar regiment be attached to him as a personal guard, and his remarks betraying anxiety that the cossacks garrisoning Chigirin might surrender the fortress without a fight all suggested that Samoilovich exaggerated the support he enjoyed among the Ukrainian population. Moscow placed no credence in Samoilovich's repeated insistences as to the perfidy of Serko and worried that such propaganda might have the effect of depriving the Russo-Ukrainian army of any significant assistance from the Zaporozhian Host.6 While the Crimean Khan probably had no strong desire to help establish an Ottoman garrison at Chigirin, neither would he be indifferent to a Muscovite military presence there; the outcome least provocative to the Khanate would be the removal of Chigirin. As for King Jan Sobieski, he had thus far rebuffed Chaadaev's and Ukraintsev's efforts at Lublin to propose a Polish-Muscovite alliance, responding that in such a coalition the task of fighting the Turks would fall upon the Commonwealth while Muscovy merely skirmished with the Crimean Tatars. There was reason to think Sobieski welcomed resumption of war between the Sultan and the Tsar because it diverted Muscovite attention from the Baltic, giving the Swedes a freer hand against Brandenburg and possibly even giving the Commonwealth the opportunity to regain control over the Right Bank. In fact the Diet was still insisted upon the return of Kiev and Chigirin as the price of any alliance with Muscovy.7 Furthermore, if Samoilovich should realize his ambition of consolidating his authority as Hetman over the reunified Right and Left banks it might prove all the harder to negotiate a renewal of the Andrusovo Armistice and Muscovy might become embroiled in a new war with the Commonwealth over the status of the Right Bank. 3 Zbigniew Wqjcik, Rzezcpospolita wobec Turcji i Rosji 1674-1679 (Wroclaw, Warsaw, Krakow, Gdansk: Wyd. Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 1976), 120. f> Serko's role in the 1678 campaign was limited to the burning of Ottoman bridges on the Bug and the raiding of some Ottoman supply ships. AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 93, 102; "Dnevnik Gordona," 113. 7 Wqjcik, Rzeczpospolita, 107-08, 123, 159.

100

BRIAN DAVIES

There was already dismay at the rumors overheard at the Sultan's court by the diplomat Afanasii Porosukov in December 1677 that Jan Sobieski had proposed to the Sultan an alliance against Muscovy upon the lapse of the Andrusovo armistice and had even urged the Sultan to march upon Kiev in the summer.8 Nor was the Muscovite government entirely convinced of the strategic value of Chigirin. It was certainly of great symbolic importance to Samoilovich because Doroshenko had made it the de facto capital of hetman authority over the Right Bank; but it did not command the approaches to the Left Bank, the nearest crossing of the Dnieper lying some distance off at Buzhin. If Chigirin fell to the Turks, Kiev would of course be placed in greater danger; but if Chigirin was destroyed in the course of siege the Turks could not proceed on towards Kiev until they had rebuilt Chigirin and installed Khmel'nitskii.9 On April 12 the Tsar and Duma decided to order Romodanovskii and Samoilovich to mobilize their forces for a second campaign on behalf of Chigirin, with the larger aim of defending Kiev and the Left Bank. But they made clear their reservations about the costs of an all-out commitment to Chigirin by dispatching stol'nik Semen Almazov with additional instructions for Romodanovskii and Samoilovich: Romodanovskii was to initiate negotiations with the Turks in a final attempt to forestall war; and if unable to prevent the fall of Chigirin to the enemy, he was to evacuate and burn Chigirin and fall back to Kiev to assist in its defense.10 The 50,000-man expeditionary army Romodanovskii assembled at Kursk in March consisted of essentially the same units he had commanded in 1677: 22,131 troops from the Belgorod polk and 8,971 troops from the Sevsk polk (foreign formation cavalry and infantry, gunners, some prikazy of Moscow strel'tsy, and a few Don Cossacks); a force of a few thousand cavalry under skhodnyi voevoda I. P. Likharev, from Belgorod; and about 10,000 mounted and foot reserves under V. A. Zmeev, from Izium. Samoilovich had anywhere from 30-50,000 foot and mounted cossacks at Baturin. In mid-June Romodanovskii and Samoilovich rendezvoused at the Artopolot' River and marched 8

N. A. Smirnov, Rossiia i Turtsiia v XVI XVII vv. Tom vtoroi (Moscow: Uchenye zapiski MGU, vyp. 94, 1946), 145-6. 9 AIuZR, vol. 13, nos. 156, 132. 10 Smirnov, Rossiia i Turtsiia, 147-50.

THE SECOND GHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

101

to Lubny, from where they could hasten to the relief of either Chigirin or Kiev. They apparently left Lubny for Chigirin after 21 June, reaching the Dnieper on 26 June. Chigirin was being garrisoned by a slightly smaller force than the year before—11,713 men, of whom 4,050 were Muscovite soldaty, sfrel'tsy, and gunners, and the rest Samoilovich's cossacks; the Muscovites were stationed in the fortress citadel, while Samoilovich's men protected the lower town and its outer defenses. Other divisions were stationed at strategic points on the Left Bank: V. V. Golitsyn commanded the Bol'shoi polk and Dolgorukii's Kazan' polk at Putivl'; M. A. Golitsyn's strel'tsy and Kozlovskii's soldaty guarded Kiev; and Khovanskii's Novgorod polk stood at Ryl'sk.11 It is difficult to reconstruct the logistics of this campaign, as transport and supply matters were not centralized in a single chancellery and the Razriadnyi prikaz apparently preserved no log of interchancellery memoranda on such arrangements. The cost of payments towards troops' zjialovan'ia seems to have been considerable: the infantry and cavalry of the Belgorod and Sevsk polki were paid 1—2 rubles each on mobilization at Kursk, and such payments were also made to some of Zmeev's, Likharev's and even Samoilovich's troops, for a total of 79,000 rubles. Moscow also "loaned" Samoilovich 10,000 gold chewontsy to pay a force of Ukrainian volunteer infantry (actually datochnye liudi levied from Right Bank settlements at the rate of one man from every three or five households) with the understanding that Samoilovich would repay this sum from coinage he would mint at Putivl'. This was essentially a gift, however, for Moscow supplied the silver and copper for the mint.12 Romodanovskii's middle service class cavalry of course provided their own rations; his foreign formation units were provisioned with grain from government granaries at Kiev, Chernigov, and Briansk.13 According to Samoilovich 11 AIuZR, vol. 13, nos. 93, 102, 131; "Dnevnik Gordona," 143; K. A. Sofronenko, "Malorossiiskii prikaz Russkogo gosudarstva vtoroi poloviny XVII i nachala XVIII veka," (Moscow: MGU, Kand. diss., 1960), 160; Smirnov, Rossiia i Turtsiia, 150-51. 12 AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 115; Smirnov, Rossiia i Turtsiia, 150-51. 13 Carol Stevens has shown that by the mid-1670s the government was generally able to feed its foreign formation regiments in the field through most of the campaign season because of improvements in the payment rate of the chetverikovyi khleb levies; despite growing arrears in certain regions because of the heavier rate per household, total receipts were up due to immigration into Sloboda Ukraine (see below) and the accelerated colonization of the steppe beyond the Belgorod Line (resulting from the 1676-81 suspension of the Forbidden Towns decree). Carol

102

BRIAN DAVIES

the army experienced no serious provisioning problems until they camped on Buzhin field awaiting reinforcements, and then only for a short while, 400 longboats having come down the Dnieper with grain and hay from the Right Bank settlements by June 26.14 The provisioning of the Chigirin garrison was badly handled from the start, however. Moscow had pledged to send it 20,000 chetverti, but Samoilovich was long unable to come up with the 5000 wagons needed to transport the grain from Kiev. Most locally available wagons were already being used to haul lumber for Chigirm's refortification, and the going rate for hiring a wagon, team, and driver was four or five rubles. As Samoilovich had been able to raise only 700 volunteer infantrymen, Moscow suggested he use the remainder of the 10,000 chervontsy to obtain transport. The matter dragged on, and the government reminded him it viewed his failure to provision Chigirin for siege sufficient grounds to consider again the possibility of abandoning and destroying the city. Eventually it was decided to ship the grain by boat to Buzhin, and use Romodanovskii's transport to take it overland to Chigirin.13 To what extent did the tradition of centralization of decision making in the Razriadnyi prikaz—the prevailing principle at least until the 1680 territorial razriad reform—interfere with the prosecution of this campaign? N. A. Smirnov thinks that not only was the initial general war plan worked out by the secretaries of the Razriadnyi prikaz. and presented to the field commanders in their nakazy as dictate, but subsequent operational decisions, even as to how to deploy troops for battle, were decided in Moscow and announced to the field commanders by special courier. Although Romodanovskii and Samoilovich were both experienced field commanders, their judgments were ignored or overridden by secretaries far off in Moscow, whose decisions took ten or eleven days to transmit back to Buzhin. Intelligence gathered in Ukraine first had to be submitted to Moscow (through Golitsyn at Putivl') before being shared with Samoilovich and Romodanovskii. While such extreme centralization of command authority aimed at preventing deadlocks between feuding comman-

Stevens, Soldiers on the Steppe: Army Reform and Social Change in Early Modem Russia (De Kalb: Northern Illinois, 1995), 62, 67, 71. 14 AIuZR, vol. 13, nos. 120, 150, 152. 15 AIuZR, vol. 13, nos. 95, 114, 118, 121, 128, 129, 132.

THE SECOND GHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

103

ders, Smirnov thinks it had the greater disadvantage of significantly slowing the army's response time.16 But Smirnov does not seem to take into account that planning for the 1678 campaign began as early as 2~6 October 1677, when Vasilii Tiapkin consulted with Romodanovskii at Sudzhi and Samoilovich at Baturin, after which Samoilovich sent Moscow his own 18point memorandum on strategy and provisioning; that Romodanovskii and Samoilovich held their own council of war at Ryl'sk in November; that the Tsar's decree appointing the commanders and setting the place and date of mobilization was issued only after Samoilovich had submitted new memoranda with further recommendations in early December; and that Moscow's 22 1678 orders to Romodanovskii, instructing him to begin his march from Kursk to the Dnieper, were open-ended, letting him use his own judgment as to where to rendezvous with Samoilovich, and were otherwise stereotypical in their injunctions to proceed cautiously, gather intelligence, and keep in regular communication.1' The additional orders subsequently delivered by courier were usually carried by stol'niki charged with the task of consulting with Romodanovskii and Samoilovich and carrying their responses back to Moscow. Even the "secret instruction" read to Romodanovskii and Samoilovich at Kryza on 8 April by Semen Almazov presented the idea of evacuating and burning Chigirin as an option of last resort, not a command, and Romodanovskii and Samoilovich responded at the time with objections as to why it was undesirable and infeasible.18 It is of course possible, even likely, that Moscow more explicitly stressed the need to seriously consider this option in the last week of the Chigirin siege, especially after it received reports an attack upon Kiev was expected. The most explicit and detailed instruction from Moscow—the fourteen-point instruction delivered in April from the Posol'skii prikaz— dealt not with military operations but with how to initiate and carry on peace talks with the Sultan. It was entirely appropriate that the Posol'skii prikaz exercise the closest supervision over the negotiating process.19

Smirnov, Rossiia i Turtsiia, 137-38. AIuZR, vol. 13, nos. 83, 92, 93, 120. AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 132. Smirnov, Rossiia i Turtsiia, 148-50.

104

BRIAN DAVIES

Even if command initiative was as inflexibly centralized at Moscow as Smirnov thinks, such centralization must not have been by itself fatal, given that such procedures were supposed to have been in force during the successful 1677 campaign. What mattered more was that central supervision was exercised for a different purpose during the 1678 campaign. It now placed greater emphasis on restraining Romodanovskii lest he throw away on an objective of diminishing value to Moscow an army that might soon be desperately needed for the defense of Kiev. Moscow had first expressed its reservations about making a full-out effort to hold Ghigirin as early as October 1677. These doubts also underlie its instruction to attempt peace talks with the Turks and its instruction to consider the destruction of Chigirin if it proved impossible to keep it from the enemy's hands. Both of these instructions were delivered to Romodanovskii early in the campaign, long before his army had even reached the Dnieper. There was an additional political reason for closer surveillance of the army on the Dnieper. The campaign for Chigirin was above all Samoilovich's project. To maintain the Tsar's credibility as patron and protector of Samoilovich, it was important to acknowledge the Hetman's claims over the Right Bank, claims symbolically embodied in the continued occupation of Chigirin, Doroshenko's former stronghold. In keeping with the general thrust of Moscow's Ukrainian policy since the Glukhov Articles (1669), it was also important to conduct the war in a manner acknowledging the autonomy of the population of the Left Bank; hence Moscow's instruction not to proceed with the evacuation and burning of Chigirin if this might unduly antagonize the Ukrainian population, and hence Moscow's considerable attention to communications protocol, to the sharing of intelligence, to reassurances that reinforcements were on the way, and to the subsidization of Samoilovich's militia. These concerns required that the Prikaz Maloi Rossii exercise over Samoilovich the kind of guidance the Razriadnyi prikaz maintained over Romodanovskii. To be effective such central chancellery control had to be reinforced and monitored at the regional level, in the Left Bank rear. During the 1676 and 1677 campaign seasons, Romodanovskii's political rival V. V. Golitsyn had been stationed at Putivl' as voevoda of the Bol'shoi polk with the primary function of collating and interpreting intelligence and liaisoning between the Ra^riadnyi prikaz and the Left Bank garrisons and field army. This had the advantage of minimizing the semi-literate Romodanovskii's responsibility for diplo-

THE SECOND CHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

105

matic correspondence with the Poles and Zaporozhians, and it had no apparent negative repercussions for Romodanovskii's military operations until spring 1678, when Romodanovskii was officially subordinated to Golitsyn (as were Dolgorukii, Khovanskii, and Lykov) and Golitsyn's corps was greatly expanded and assigned the mission of serving as pribylyi polk, i.e., the principal concentration of reserves for operations on both sides of the Dnieper. To some extent this change in the chain of command was linked to factional rivalries at court (Golitsyn was the rising star of the Miloslavskii bloc, while Romodanovskii and Samoilovich were associated with the Naryshkins), but it above all reflected Moscow's growing skepticism as to the political advantage to be derived from a second costly campaign to defend Chigirin. By placing Golitsyn above Romodanovskii (and between Romodanovskii and the Razriadnyi prikaz) Moscow could more easily limit the scale of Romodanovskii's operations, denying him reinforcements once it became apparent to Moscow further struggle on behalf of Chigirin was now in vain or might divert manpower needed for the more important task of defending Kiev. It appears to have been by denying Romodanovskii reinforcements, not by withholding or distorting intelligence concerning Ottoman and Tatar intentions, that Golitsyn played some role in "sabotaging" the final stage of the 1678 Chigirin campaign (see especially the matter of the halting of Shcherbatov at Lokhvitsa, below). Golitsyn's corps was in fact within a quick march of Chigirin by 4 August but did not come in reinforcement.20 Samoilovich's associate Ivan Mazepa later testified that disunity among Romodanovskii's generals and colonels had also been a major factor in the campaign's failure; there were so many officers it had been difficult for Romodanovskii to coordinate their actions and bring them to recognize the supremacy of his command authority. Samoilovich confirmed this; he noted that whenever Romodanovskii ordered some new troop disposition "there would start up such protests and insubordination among the colonels that reprimand was ineffective. We don't have such men in our regiments—we are at liberty—but when I order my army to march, it marches without making excuses for itself."21 20 N. N. Danilov, "V. V. Golicyn bis zum staatsreich vom Mai 1682," Jahrbiicher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 1 (1936), 13-24. •' V. N. Zaruba, Ukrainskoe kazatskoe voisko v bor'be s turetsko-tatarskoi agressiei (posledmam chetvert' XVII v.) (Khar'kov, 1993), 72-73.

106

BRIAN DAVIES

One might speculate that these conflicts derived in part from the composite organization of Romodanovskii's army—many smaller foreign formation regiments under foreign as well as Russian colonels alongside larger traditional formation divisions—exacerbated by distrust and jealousy between Romodanovskii's Russian officers and Samoilovich's cossack colonels.22 To illustrate the opportunities lost because of the lack of coordination among units, consider that on the night of 10 August General Franz Wolf arrived at Chigirin with 15,000 reinforcements, but failed to inform Gordon where in the town his force was located; the following morning Wolf made his own halfhearted and unsuccessful attack upon the enemy, ignoring Gordon's pleas to coordinate it with a sortie by Gordon's garrison.23 Foreign formation (inozemnyi stroi] infantry and cavalry had comprised two-thirds of Romodanovskii's army in 1677, probably roughly the same proportion in his 1678 army, and about 60% of the 110,000 Muscovite troops deployed across the Ukrainian front in 1679.24 Since Richard Hellie's Enserfment and Military Change in Muscovy it has become widely accepted that the military obsolescence of the traditional formation middle service class cavalry sotny and musketeer prikazy became ever more obvious over the second half of the seventeenth century.25 There is less consensus as to when the superiority in combat of the foreign formation infantry became undeniable, however. Some maintain it had already become apparent in the reign of Aleksei Mikhailovich.26 I have argued elsewhere that the conditions under which the Thirteen Years' War was fought did not offer much test of the Muscovite foreign formation infantry's proficiency in the line tactics conventionally associated with the Military Revolution, much less of its ability to match the performance of Swedish or Polish infantries. The kind of superiority Muscovy achieved in the 1660s by increas-

22

"Dnevnik Gordona," 97, 107, 112, 114, 134-35. Popov, "Turetskaia voina," 317. la. E. Vodarskii, "Mezhdunarodnoe polozhenie Russkogo gosudarstva i russkoturetskaia voina 1676-1681 gg.," Ocherki istorii SSSR. Period feodalizma XVII v., ed. A. A. Novosel'skii, N. V. Ustiugov (Moscow: AN SSSR, 1955), 522; A. K. Il'enko, ed. Stoletie voennago ministerstva. Glavnyi shtab. Istoricheskii ocherk, Tom 4, chast' pervaia, kniga pervaia, otd. pervyi, 69. 23 Richard Hellie, Enserfment and Military Change in Muscovy (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1971), 202-08, 211-33. 26 David Ralston, Importing the European Army (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1990), 18; Jeremy Black, European Warfare, 1660-1815 (New Haven: Yale University, 1994), 114. 23 24

THE SECOND GHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

107

ing the proportion of foreign-formation infantry to traditional formation infantry and cavalry was more likely numerical, not tactical, soldat mobilization relying mainly upon peasant conscription, thereby making soldat regiments easier to rebuild after heavy battlefield losses than the traditional formation cavalry sotny and musketeer prikazy mobilized from closed service corporations; because of the foreign formation infantry regiments' greater cost to the treasury this numerical superiority could not be permanently sustained, but the nature of the Muscovite political system made it possible at least to carry these costs long enough to exhaust the Commonwealth in a war of attrition.27 The tactical effectiveness of the foreign-formation regiments was limited by their semi-regular, semi-standing character. Observers complained that the provincial infantry regiments did not know how to maintain formation and advanced like a mob of cossacks—as was to be expected when most soldaty spent no more than a month each year in town drilling under their colonels.28 Even the two standing elite Guards regiments—the Moscow Select infantry regiments formed mostly of men of middle service class origin and stationed in special settlements outside Moscow—devoted much of their time to working their plowlands and drilled intensively, that is, twice daily, only just before the beginning of a campaign. Given that the ordinance used for infantry evolutions, firing systems, and tactics remained the outdated Uchenie i khitrost' ratnogo stroeniia pekhotnykh liudei, a 1647 translation of a 1615 kriegsbuch by Johann von Wallhausen (which sold only 134 copies in Muscovy in its first decade of use), it continued to be crucial to hire genuinely qualified foreign officers to train and command the infantry regiments, and to this end the government offered generous remuneration and subjected candidates to special examination in the Razriadnyi prikaz. But anecdotal evidence suggests the officer corps continued to vary considerably in proficiency and character.29 The proportion of musket to pike was relatively high, but this was due less to improvements in firearms (the tendency in Western Europe 2/ Brian Davies, "The Development of Russian Military Power, 1453-1815," European Warfare, 1453-1815, ed. Jeremy Black (London: MacMillan, 1999), 165-67. 28 P. P. Epifanov, "Uchenie i khitrost' ratnogo stroeniia pekhotnykh liudei," Uchenye zapiski MGU. Kafedry istoni SSSR 137 (1954), 95. 29 Epifanov, "Uchenie," 95-96; A. Baiov, Kurs istoni russkago voennago iskusstva. Tom pewyi (St. Petersburg, 1909), 144.

108

BRIAN DAVIES

by the last third of the century) than to the traditional Muscovite preference for firing from behind field fortifications, a guliai-gorod, or wagon tabor. This preference was still displayed in the Thirteen Years' War (as at Cudnow, the Basia River, and Mscibow in 1660), the Muscovite foreign formation infantry being less likely to hold their ground when in the open field protected only by their pikemen and cavalry. Small calibre matchlocks continued to prevail until the very end of the century, when faster-firing snaphaunce muskets were finally introduced. The rate of fire was low, and if we are to believe Jan Chryzostom Pasek, the Poles were unimpressed with its accuracy.30 Little is known about firing systems. Firing by rank, file, or division seem to have been familiar enough, but volley by three-rank firings was apparently not introduced until much later in the century, when Patrick Gordon's elite Butyrskii Regiment demonstrated it to Peter I.31 Gordon's diary speaks to the question of the combat effectiveness of Muscovite troops in the 1677 and 1678 Chigirin campaigns. It notes several instances of inadequate training and lack of discipline among Romodanovskii's troops on both expeditions, in foreign formation as well as traditional formation units. Gordon was especially critical of the Muscovite troops under his command inside Chigirin. The majority of these troops were traditional formation gunners ("so inexperienced in firing and concealing their guns that in a short while the Turks rendered seventeen of the best guns useless") and elite Moscow musketeers (who were "not especially well trained"). But he was also critical of his foreign formation soldaty, who lacked discipline. He considered the Russian musketeer golovy and infantry officers to blame for this. His account of the Chigirin garrison under siege in 1677 (from details presumably provided by commandant Trauernicht) and 1678 (from his eyewitness perspective) belies the rebuke made by Samoilovich's cossacks in 1677, that the Russians "showed not the slightest bravery; they could hardly keep their positions along the wall, much less undertake sorties or any other measures to hurt the enemy." It was only in the final days of the 1678 siege that Gordon's troops simply refused to emerge from their trenches when ordered to sor30 Catherine Leach, trans. Memoirs of the Polish Baroque: The Writings of Jan Chryzostom Pasek (Berkeley: University of California, 1976), 66-73, 80-88; S. K. Bogoiavlenskii, "Vooruzhenie russkikh voisk v XVI-XVII w.," Istoricheskie z.apiski 4 (1938), 272. 31 O.Leonov,I.U\'ianov,Reguliamaiapekhota, 1698-1801 (Moscow: AST, 1995), 9.

THE SECOND GHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

109

tie, and that was because they were convinced further risk and sacrifice was no longer necessary, Romodanovskii's relief army having arrived just across the river. But Gordon makes it clear the Russian officers deserved little of the credit for the many successful sorties and repulses the Chigirin garrison had made up to that point. The cowardice of certain of these officers had even forced him to assign command of sortie parties by casting lots.32 One would expect Gordon's diary to excoriate the Russian officers, celebrate its author's own superior skills and judgment, and maintain that Chigirin could have been saved if not for the blunders of Romodanovskii. His criticisms of indiscipline and low combat effectiveness among Muscovite troops are confirmed by other witnesses, however. Samoilovich reported numerous desertions from Romodanovskii's ranks after the Russian-Ukrainian army had remained camped at Buzhin for fifteen days; Mazepa complained that not only the traditional formation cavalry but the reitary were essentially useless, "good only for raising a shout." Mazepa had a higher opinion of the soldaty and strel'tsy, but thought it a shame that too few of them were sent into combat and too many kept in reserve at the baggage train.33 On the other hand, there is sufficient evidence to support V. P. Zagorovskii's contention that the campaigns of 1677 and 1678 marked the point at which Muscovy's foreign formation infantry clearly demonstrated its effectiveness in combat.34 This was particularly true of the elite Moscow Select regiments of Shepelev and Kravkov; despite the occasionally unwise decisions of their commanders, these troops displayed the ability to carry out operations of considerable complexity and to hold formation on open ground under heavy fire, protected only by their pikes and field guns. An especially striking example of this had occurred in the 1677 campaign: the successful 26 August night descent by longboat and barge Shepelev's First Moscow Select Infantry Regiment and 2,000 of Samoilovich's cossacks had undertaken across the Sula River. Despite heavy fire from ten Turkish field guns and several thousand janissaries and Crimean Tatars, the landing force managed to get across without casualties, entrench themselves on the opposite bank, set up their own four field guns, and push the enemy back far enough "Dnevnik Gordona," 108, 113, 114, 120, 139, 149, 151, 154, 171, 193. AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 152, 658; Zaruba, Ukrainskoe kazatskoe voisko, 72-73. V. P. Zagorovskii, Iziumskaia cherta, (Voronezh; VGU, 1980), 96.

110

BRIAN DAVIES

to secure a landing zone for the rest of the Russian-Ukrainian army. By morning about fifteen thousand troops had been ferried across, and on the twenty-eighth the cavalry of Colonel Kosagov crossed over and joined with Samoilovich's Chernigov Regiment in attacking the camp of the Turco-Tatar observation corps, overwhelming it and pursuing the enemy as far as Krylov. This operation determined the outcome of the first Chigirin campaign, for on the following day Ibrahim Pasha hurriedly lifted his siege and withdrew his army to the InguP River.31 The most successful operation of the 1678 campaign was the August 3 assault on Strel'nikov Hill about a mile south of Chigirin. An enemy observation corps of 10,000 Ottoman troops (the silahdar and muteferrika cavalry, the £avus Guards, and sekban irregulars) under the command of Serasker Kaplan Mustafa Pasha, with several thousand Crimean Tatars under Khan Murad Girei I and a good number of field guns, was well entrenched along its heights, blocking Romodavovskii's and Samoilovich's road to Chigirin. To dislodge them Romodanovskii and Samoilovich sent a third of their army up the hill, in formation with pike in front, under heavy enemy bombardment; in the first wave were 6,000 streltsy, the 6,000 soldaty of Shepelev's and Kravkov's First and Second Moscow Select Infantry regiments to their right, and Samoilovich's cossacks on the left flank. First over the top were Shepelev's and Kravkov's infantry. Instead of immediately digging in and awaiting the ascent of the center and left flanks, Shepelev and Kravkov pushed on, driving the enemy out of their trenches, but the enemy then counterattacked and surrounded them, leaving Shepelev badly wounded and about half his regiment killed. Five hundred of his men managed to form a square "and closed order around their pikes and started up a strong fire from their muskets and two field guns," throwing back several fierce Turkish and Tatar attacks over the course of two hours until they were finally rescued by the arrival of their reserves, Zmeev's ten thousand infantry and cavalry. Two charges by Zmeev's reitary drove the enemy from the hill, capturing their camp and 28 guns; according to a contemporary Ottoman source, the Ahval-i Icmal-i Sefer-i Cehrin, the Turks "fell into utter disorder and disarray. The sekbans and other undisiciplined irregulars [levendat] in particular turned their backs on the 35 AIuZR, vol. 13, nos. 80, 82, 88, 89; "Dnevnik Gordona," 105; Popov, "Turetskaia voina," 167—69.

THE SECOND GHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

111

enemy and wished only to put ground behind them. . . . Soon the entire army fell into headlong flight until they reached the head of the bridges" across the Tias'min, which they burned to cover their retreat to Chigirin. By some accounts this battle cost the Turks and Tatars 5,000 dead, the Russo-Ukrainian forces 1,500 dead and 1,000 wounded. Upon reaching Kara Mustafa's camp the Khan urged the Grand Vizier to lift his siege and withdraw from Chigirin "because of the arrival of so innumerable a foe."36 The soldaty and streltsy garrisoning Chigirin also demonstrated proficiency in sortie tactics (most effectively when led by Gordon, of course). They made much use of grenades of Russian manufacture as well as halberds and muskets to clear the front Turkish trenches, sometimes occupying the trenches for several hours before falling back slowly in good order under protection of their pikes, halting when necessary to fire volleys at the enemy.37 Even during the army's difficult and undoubtedly embarrassed August 12~ 13 march from Chigirin back to Buzhin with a Turkish force behind them, the Crimean Tatars ahead, and constant skirmishing along their right flank, most of Romodanovskii's and Samoilovich's troops reportedly maintained good discipline and "a willing and cheerful mood" while marching in close formation, the cavalry dismounted, their artillery train guarding both flanks. Gordon did note some disorder among the traditional-formation cavalry in the column's center, however.38 The military reform of December 1678—which redefined minimum standards of wealth, lineage, and status eligibility for campaign service in such a way as to reduce assignments to the traditional formation cavalry sotny and greatly expand enrolments in the foreign formation infantry—acknowledged that the Chigirin campaigns had finally demonstrated that "new formation troops, particularly the infantry, were by far the most effective elements in the Russian

3<) AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 154, 673; Lubomyr Hajda, "Two Ottoman Gazanames Concerning the Chyhryn Campaign of 1678," Harvard University, Ph.D. Diss., 1984, 229-30; Popov, "Turetskaia voina," 312-13; "Dnevnik Gordona," 188-90. The most detailed account of the Chigirin War by an Ottoman contemporary, the Silahtar tarihi of Findikli Mehmed Aga, has not yet been translated into a European language. 3/ "Dnevnik Gordona," 147; V. D. Smirnov, Krymskoe khantsvo pod verkhoventstvom otomanskoi party do nachala XVIII veka (St. Petersburg, 1887), 592. 38 AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 156, 683; "Dnevnik Gordona," 191.

112

BRIAN DAVIES

army."39 In further acknowledgment of this V. V. Golitsyn reorganized the strel'tsy in 1681, replacing their old decimal/prikaz structure with the foreign formation company/regiment structure and drill.40 The original warplan for the 1678 campaign had followed in most respects the same strategy that had led to victory the previous summer. In seeking more specific explanations for why the 1678 campaign failed, most historians are in agreement that its execution was botched by four serious blunders that wasted precious time and brought Romodanovskii's army to the walls of Chigirin too late: 1) The army of Romodanovskii and Samoilovich reached the Dnieper on 26 June. Their vanguard, under Kosagov, had already secured a crossing site at Maksimovka, about three miles from Chigirin. But Romodanovskii and Samoilovich decided that the road leading from this landing through the woods and marshes to Chigirin was too narrow for their army and vast baggage train. They therefore decided to proceed farther down the Dnieper to cross the Sula River at Buzhin, the crossing they had used the year before. They reached Buzhin only on 3 July. 2) Kosagov was ordered to take his vanguard from Voronovki towards the Tias'min River and secure a crossing over the Tias'min at Krylov. But on July 10 Romodanovskii ordered Kosagov to leave this position to escort Samoilovich's Akhtyrka regiment to Chigirin in reinforcement. The next day the Crimean Khan and Kaplan Mustafa Pasha seized control of the Krylov crossing and moved their troops across the Tias'min to dig in atop Strel'nikov Hill—thereby blocking Romodanovskii's road to Chigirin. 3) By order of the tsar, Romodanovskii and Samoilovich were to remain encamped at Buzhin until the arrival of reinforcements— Kabardian and Kalmyk cavalry under the command of Prince Kaspulat Cherkasskii, and strel'tsy from Astrakhan and other lower Volga garrisons under the command of Kuz'ma Kozlov. For almost three weeks Romodanovskii and Samoilovich remained inactive at Buzhin. Prince Cherkasskii did finally arrive on 29 July, but with only 5,000 men, many of them unfit for combat. By 29 July Kara Mustafa's forward trenches had reached Chigirin's outer ditch.

39 Polnoe sobranie zakonov Rossiiskoi imperil. Tom vtoroi (St. Petersburg, 1830), no. 744; Stevens, Soldiers on the Steppe, 77-83. w Epifanov, "Uchenie i khitrost', 89; A. Z. Myshlaevskii, "Ofitserskii vopros v XVII veke," Voennyi sbomik 5 (1899), 31.

THE SECOND GHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

1 13

4) The August 3 battle on Strel'nikov Hill opened Romodanovskii's road to the Tias'min. But he decided not to attempt to bring his army across because the Turks had burned their bridges across the Tias'min and the terrain was marshy; he and Samoilovich instead spent August 4—12 encamped on the far side of the Tias'min, just two miles from Chigirin. He did send reinforcements to Chigirin, but not in sufficient number and, despite Gordon's pleadings, without instructions permitting an effective attack coordinated with a sortie by the Chigirin garrison. Gordon now found it increasingly difficult to conduct his own sorties, his troops refusing to risk their lives because they were convinced Chigirin would be relieved at any minute.41 It should be noted that the first and fourth of these decisions may have been sensible and unavoidable given the terrain, the condition of the army, and the nature of intelligence concerning the enemy's strength. The decision to call Kosagov's 12,000 men away from Krylov does appear inexplicable in retrospect, however. The most damaging of these four decisions—the halting of the army at Buzhin to waste three precious weeks waiting for the arrival of Cherkasskii and Kozlov—was made by Moscow, not by Romodanovskii. Judging from a 29 July despatch from Samoilovich, however, Cherkasskii's expected arrival was only part of the reason for the halt; the more compelling reason was that M. A. Golitsyn had reported intelligence (subsequently discredited) that the Turks were about to lift their siege of Chigirin and march upon Kiev.42 la. E. Vodarskii believes Romodanovskii may have begun considering the evacuation and destruction of Chigirin as early as August 4, when his army halted on the banks of the Tias'min.43 This seems unlikely, given that on August 8 stol'nik Afanasii Khrushchev brought him instructions from Moscow urging him to defend Chigirin and announcing that Kasimov Tsarevich Vasilii Arslanovich and voevoda K. O. Shcherbatov were ready to march in reinforcement with thirty thousand men. Probably Romodanovskii did not decide to sacrifice the town until the morning of August 11, when the Turks began to overrun Chigirin's posad and it had become clear that Shcherbatov, still a hundred versts away at Lokhvitsa, had not received orders

41 Popov, "Turetskaia voina," 306, 309-10, 314, 324; AIuZR, vol. 13, nos. 148-51, 154; "Dnevnik Gordona," 143-4, 186-7, 190. 42 AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 150, 648. 43 Vodarskii, "Mezhdunarodnoe polozhenie," 527.

1 14

BRIAN DAVIES

from Moscow to march to Chigirin.44 If, as Gordon charged, Romodanovskii was indeed overly cautious and in error in having concluded the town was now doomed, these developments at least gave him a credible excuse to invoke the secret instruction of 8 April and order Chigirin's evacuation. But given Romodanovskii's reputation for valor and his many past insistences on the necessity of holding Chigirin, it is difficult to imagine him coming to this decision unless he was now genuinely convinced the situation was lost. A. P. Bogdanov points out that the seemingly incompetent manner in which Romodanovskii communicated the evacuation order— transmitting it first to the regiments guarding Chigirin's gates, so that the cossacks were already in flight from the lower town before Gordon in the citadel had any idea an evacuation was underway—may actually have been the product of political calculation, a ploy guaranteeing that the Muscovite withdrawal would occur only after Chigirin had already been abandoned by Samoilovich's cossack garrison. In this regard Romodanovskii may have been trying to retrieve some political advantage for Moscow from what was in purely military terms a defeat.45 Bogdanov even sees Romodanovskii as knowingly and selflessly "taking the fall" for Moscow: his blunders over the course of the 1678 campaign were actually a demarche calculated to guarantee Chigirin could no longer be saved by the time of his army's arrival, Romodanovskii having recognized early on that his government never intended to allow him to risk heavy losses in a second campaign to hold Chigirin.46 This is an intriguing idea but unlikely ever to find verification, and Bogdanov does not adequately explain Romodanovskii's motive for such actions. The secret instruction given Romodanovskii by stol'nik Semen Almazov in April had made it clear the responsibility for determining whether Chigirin could be rescued or would have to be destroyed rested with Romodanovskii himself.47 If Romodanovskii was already convinced of the impossibility of holding Chigirin, why would he accept such responsibility and then take a series of steps over the next four months to guarantee his mis-

44 AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 154, 674, 679 and no. 156, 686-89; Smirnov, Rossiia i Turtsiia, 155-56. 45 Andrei Bogdanov, V teni velikogo Petra (Moscow: Armada, 1998), 141. 46 Bogdanov, V teni, 141. 47 AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 132, 176.

THE SECOND CHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

115

sion's failure and the destruction of his reputation and career—especially as those with the most to gain from his defeat were Golitsyn and the Miloslavskii faction? It is difficult to imagine with what they could blackmail him into such a scheme, unless it was Romodanovskii's dependence upon Moscow for the money to ransom his son Andrei Grigor'evich from Crimean captivity.48 The official casualty rate for Romodanovskii's army in the 1678 campaign was 3,290 killed or missing and 5,430 wounded. Losses in Samoilovich's regiments are thought to have been comparable. The Muscovite garrison in Chigirin officially lost 332 killed and 1,047 wounded, but Gordon considered the Russian death toll at the fortress underreported by about a thousand. Estimates as to the number of Turkish and Tatar dead range from 12,000 to 20,000.49 News of the destruction of Chigirin was received with gloom in official circles in Moscow and Right Bank Ukraine, and the subsequent fall of Kanev, Cherkasy, Moshnia, Korsun', and Zhabotin to lurii Khmel'nitskii (now supported by twenty ordas of janissaries detached from the withdrawing army of Kara Mustafa) led Serko to blame Samoilovich for "the decline and total devastation of our homeland."30 Some historians, viewing the Chigirin campaigns as the centerpiece of the 1676-81 Russo-Turkish War and the 1681 Bakhchisarai Treaty as a ratification of the status quo ante bellum, consider Chigirin's destruction as marking at least a stalemate if not a Russian defeat insofar as it led to the Right Bank falling under the control of Khmernitskii and the Sultan.51 This interpretation assumes that Moscow's war aims had coincided entirely with Samoilovich's, and that the Right Bank remained within the Ottoman sphere of influence after 1681. But if Moscow's primary objective in the war was the protection of Kiev and the Left Bank, the Bakhchisarai Treaty could be said to have ended the war on terms advantageous to Moscow, terms won through the action of the Muscovite and Left Bank Ukrainian armies following the destruction of Chigirin. The enormous military buildup across the Hetman's 48

AIuZR, vol. 12 (1882), no. 183. Smirnov, Rossiia i Turtsiia, 159-60; Zaruba, Ukrainskae kazatskoe voisko, 69; AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 157, 693. 30 Popov, "Turetskaia voina," 322. 31 Werner Philipp, "Russia: The Beginning of Westernization," The New Cambridge Modern History, Volume Five: The Ascendancy of France, 1648-1688, ed. F. L. Carsten (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1969), 576. 49

1 16

BRIAN DAVIES

Left Bank, Sloboda Ukraine, and southwestern Muscovy in 1679 and 1680 was successful in deterring any Ottoman strike against Kiev or across the Dnieper. In the spring of 1679 over 110,000 Muscovite troops were stationed across the front in twelve corps; 69,321 of these troops were deployed in the Kiev region, on both sides of the Dnieper, and were reinforced by 30,000 of Samoilovich's cossacks. By autumn much of the new 400-kilometer Iziuma Line shielding Sloboda Ukraine and the Muscovite towns along the Muravskii Trail had been completed.52 An even larger deployment of 129,300 Muscovite troops occurred in the following year, with V. V. Golitsyn at Putivl' given overall command. This so reduced the threat to the Left Bank that large troop concentrations were no longer needed in the Kiev region and Samoilovich could afford to demobilize most of his regiments.33 Towards the end of August 1678 one of Samoilovich's colonels, lakim Golovchenko, had tried to reassure the Prikaz Maloi Rossii that the destruction of Chigirin was unlikely to lead to a significant Ottoman military presence on the Right Bank comparable to the foothold the Turks had gained in in Podol'ia. The Turks would not rebuild Chigirin, as "few grain stores would be reaching this place— cossack detachments would threaten them all—and Chigirin is far from their frontier, and it is all steppe."54 Most of lurii KhmePnitskii's Turkish and Tatar troops left after the capture of Kanev, and his fortunes rapidly declined after his failed attack across the Dnieper against Pereiaslav in January 1679. At this point Samoilovich and the Muscovite army responded with a counteroffensive that proved considerably more important than the Chigirin campaigns in shaping the destiny of the Right Bank. This operation, launched in February 1679 by Samoilovich's son Semen and the Muscovite voevoda of Pereiaslav, L. Nepliuev, would come to be called the Great Expulsion. It marked a radical shift in

52 Letopis' samovidtsa: The Eyewitness Chronicle, Harvard Series in Ukrainian Studies 7, 1 (Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1972), 148; Zaruba, Ukrainskoe kazatskoe voisko, 79-80; Stoletie, 69. 53 Letopis samovidtsa, 150; Bogdanov, V teni, 159. 54 AIuZR, vol. 13, no. 156, 685. Even Kamenets-Podol'sk, just across the Moldavian border, eventually proved to be a strategic overextension of Ottoman power. Dariusz Kolodziejczyk, Podole pod panowaniem tureckim. Ejalet Kamieniecki, 1672-1699 (Warsaw: Polczek, 1994), 219-20, 225-26.

THE SECOND CHIGIRIN CAMPAIGN

1 17

both strategy and tactics, a return to the highly mobile terror attacks by smaller forces upon civilian populations that had characterized Doroshenko's campaigns in the late 1660s and early 1670s. On February 8 Semen Samoilovich and Nepliuev burned Rzhishchev and drove its inhabitants across the Dnieper to resettle within the Pereiaslav polk. Between March 1 and March 4 Semen Samoilovich's cossacks, now assisted by the foreign formation infantry of Grigorii Kosagov, retook Kanev, Korsun', Moshnia, Zhabotyn, Cherkasy, Drabovka and several other towns and villages. Hetman Samoilovich proudly reported that these settlements' inhabitants were all "driven out and pushed away from the enemy, and the towns and villages . . . where they formerly resided on that side [of the Dnieper] have all been burned to the ground."53 lurii KhmePnitskii now controlled no more than a small part of Bratslav palatinate, far to the west. By the end of the year some 20,000 Right Bank cossacks and their families had been driven across the Dnieper. It proved politically infeasible to resettle them all in the hetman's polki on the Left Bank, where competition for plowland rights was already intense; therefore Samoilovich and the Moscow government eventually agreed to settle most of them on virgin steppe land along the Northern Donets River. Here they would be allowed to elect their own polk colonels and officials as before and would enjoy exemption from the fiscal and judicial authority of the Muscovite gorodovye voevody, but in one crucial sphere—campaign and local defense affairs—they would come under the authority of the Belgorod razjiad. This decision had the crucial consequence of beginning the military-administrative differentiation of Sloboda Ukraine from the Left Bank Hetmanate.36 The Great Expulsion resulted in the depopulation until the 1690s of much of the Right Bank between the Dnieper and the Bug. By transforming this region into an empty no- man's land, a buffer zone temporarily closed to both Ottoman and Muscovite territorial aggrandizement, it offered the Porte sufficient reason to ratify the Bakhchisarai Treaty ending the war. The rollback of Ottoman power from the eastern half of the Right Bank also had the effect of eliminating the

" Zaruba, Ukrainskoe kazatskoe voisko, 76~78; Nikolai Kostomarov, Ruina (Moscow: Charli, 1995), 352-55. 3b D. I. Bagalei, Ocherki iz istorii kolonizatsii stepnoi okrainy Moskovskago gosudarstva (Moscow, 1887), 395, 397, 400-07.

118

BRIAN DAVIES

basis for a modus vivendi between the Porte and the Commonwealth and made it necessary for King Jan Sobieski to begin pursuing the objective of a Holy League.^

37

"The Turks in 1679 offered to return all lands seized from Poland after the Treaty of Buczac (1672) with the exception of Kamieniec-Podolsk, in return for Poland's breaking off negotiations and truce with Russia. What is more they promised to compensate Poland for the loss of Kamieniec with part of the provinces they hoped to capture from Russia." Zbigniew Wojcik, "King John III of Poland and the Turkish Aspects of His Foreign Policy," Turk Tarih Kurumu: Belkten 44:176 (1980), 669.

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH: MUSCOVITE MILITARY COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY TO RUSSIAN MILITARY HISTORY Peter B. Brown Whether entrance into the 21st century constitutes a perelomnyi moment— a decisive turning point—in Russian history remains at this time actuarial. This is nonetheless the first time in four centuries in which a Russian government bore neither the name "Imperial" nor "Soviet." It is to coming generations of historians to assess more definitively the unfolding contours of Russian history, especially its military history, in the 21st century. Both the Imperial and Soviet periods, with which we are much more familiar, possessed several supreme leaders acting as aggressive, military strategists and even, in one instance, as a field commander: Peter the Great, Paul, Nicholas I, Lenin, Stalin, and perhaps others. But just as no investigator would deny antecedents to these men, who performed their roles from the 18th century onwards, likewise it would be erroneous to assume that only with Peter did Russia know charismatic military leadership combined with the person of the sovereign. More than any other early modern Russian ruler before Peter, his father, Aleksei Mikhailovich (1645-76) embodied these characteristics, served as a model for his son. By integrating his own charisma, military talents, and managerial flair and by imbuing them into a reasonably well-organized army and governmental apparatus, Aleksei established a pattern for future rulers.1 During the 13 Years' War 1 Russia, to be sure, had by no means asserted any monopoly over political leaders doubling as military palladins; e.g., one need only recall various Bourbon rulers, the first and third Napoleons, Winston Churchill, and a slew of Prussian and German statesmen and rulers from Frederick the Great to Hitler. There are no good Russianlanguage biographies of Aleksei Mikhailovicha, although the best is probably the venerable Vasilii N. Berkh, Tsarstvovanie tsaria Alekseia Mikhailovicha, pt. 1 (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia Kh. Gintse, 1831); in English there are Philip Longworth, Alexis Tsar of all the Russias (New York: Franklin Watts, 1984) and Joseph Fuhrmann, Tsar Alexis, His Reign and His Russia (Gulf Breeze, Florida: Academic International Press, 1981). Two solid monographs on the reign of Aleksei Mikhailovich remain Ilia la. Gurliand, Prikaz. velikogo gosudaria tainykh del (laroslavF: Tipografiia gubernskogo pravleniia, 1902) and Aleksandr I. Zaozerskii, Tsar' Aleksei Mikhailovich v svoem kho^iaistve (Petrograd,

120

PETER B. BROWN

(1654 67), Muscovy's most portentous conflict, Aleksei created a single operational theater, stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea, a strategic concept that has survived in Russian military thinking ever since. Aleksei initiated hostilities against the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth (Rzeczpospolitd) and soon found himself involved in struggle against the Swedes, the Crimean Tatars, and even some Ukrainians.2 In so doing, Aleksei surpassed the more limited geographical scope of Ivan the Terrible's forlorn Livonian War (1558^83) that was intended to garner control of the eastern Baltic for Muscovy.3 Aleksei ranks as a pioneering Russian diplomatic and military strategist on the strength of his grandiose thinking, i.e., joining Ukraine 1917). Second rev. ed. published as Tsarskaia votchina xvii v. Iz istorii khoziaistvennoi i prikaznoi politiki Alekseia Mikhailovicha, 2d rev. ed. (Moscow: Sotsekgiz, 1937). Of the many biographies on Ivan the Terrible see Sergei F. Platonov, Ivan Groznyi, 1530-1584 (Petrograd: Brokgauz-Efron, 1923. [Eng. trans., Joseph L. Wieczynski, ed., trans., Ivan the Terrible {Gulf Breeze, Florida: Academic International Press, 1974}. See Richard Hellie's introductory article in this volume.]); Boris N. Floria, Ivan Groznyi (Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 1999); Sigord O. Shmidt, Rossiia Ivana Groznogo (Moscow: Nauka, 1999); Ruslan G. Skrynnikov, Velikii gosudar' loann Vasil'evich Groznyi; (Smolensk: Rusich, 1998). 2 To date no comprehensive study on the entirely of the 13 Years' War has been executed. There are nevertheless several works, of varying quality, on facets of this conflict: Aleksandr N. Mal'tsev, Rossiia i Belorussiia v seredine xvii veka (Moscow: MGU, 1974); Henadz' Sahanovich, Neviadomaia vaina (Minsk: Navuka i tekhnika, 1995); Ludwik Kubala, Wojna Moskiewska. R. 1654-1655 (Warsaw: Naklad Gebethnera i Wolffa, 1910). In English see Robert I. Frost, The Northern Wars. War, State and Society in Northeastern Europe, 1558-1721 (Harlow, Great Britain: Longman-Pearson Education Limited, 2000), 164-69, 171, 173, 176-78, 181-87. For comparison to the 30 Years' War, see Geoffrey Parker, ed., The Thirty Years' War, 2d rev. ed. (London, New York: Routledge, 1997); C. V. Wedgwood, The Thirty Tears War (London, New York: Methuen, 1981); Josef V. Polisensky, The Thirty Years War, trans. Robert Evans (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971). 3 Scholarly coverage of the Livonian War fares somewhat better. Biographies of Ivan the Terrible typically provide commentary of varying perception into the causes, policy decisions, operational history, and domestic and foreign relations' implications of the Livonian War. See also these specialized studies on the Livonian War: V. D. Koroliuk, Livonskaia voina. Iz istorii vneshnei politiki russkogo tsentralizovannogo gosudarstva vo vtoroi polovine xvi v. (Moscow: Nauka, 1954); ibid., "Vneshniaia politika russkogo gosudarstva i livonskaia voina 1558-1583 gg.," in Ocherki istorii SSSR. Period feodalizma konets xv v.-nachalo xvii v. Ukreplenie russkogo tsentralizovannogo gosudarstva (konets xv-xvi vv.), krest'ianskaia voina i bor'ba russkogo naroda protiv inostrannoi interventsii v nachale xvii v., eds. Arsenii N. Nasonov, Lev V. Cherepnin, and Aleksandr A. Zimin (Moscow: AN SSSR, 1955), 369-93; leronim Gralia, et al., comps., Dokumenty livonskoi voiny; podlinnoe deloproizvodstvo prikazov i voevod, 1571-1580 gg. (Moscow: Arkheograficheskii tsentr, 1998); R. Geigenshtein, ^apiski o moskovskoi voine (1578-1582) (St. Petersburg, 1893); Norbert Angermann, Studien zur Livhindpolitik Ivan Groznyjs (Marburg/Lahn: J. G. Herder-Institut, 1972); Erich Donnert, Der livlandische Ordensritterstaat und Russland; der livlandische Krieg und die baltische Frage in der europaischen Politik 1558-1583 (Berlin: Rutten and Loening, 1963).

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH! COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

121

to Muscovy in 1654, conquering Belarus in that year and the next, striving to reach Riga in the following one, and in the process temporarily enervating the Rzeczpospolita and blunting Sweden. And in so doing he directed large armies (the total number of Russian menat-arms numbering some 200,000, including strel'tsy [musketeers]) and caused enormous casualties, two features of Russia's military culture that persisted in that country's Eastern European theatre well into the 20th century and whose direct and indirect social consequences are probably incalculable.4 More than Ivan the Terrible, who to some extent anticipated Aleksei as a military reformer and as a Baltic theater strategist, Aleksei thought in macro-geographical terms and felt capable of commanding armies fighting in separate geographical arenas—the eastern Baltic, Belarus, and Ukraine. Ultimately, Aleksei's spectacular feats in the first two and most successful years of the 13 Years' War were to be diminished significantly, because of the tsar's return to Moscow from the battlefield and preoccupation with other matters, disadvantageous diplomatic changes by the late 1650s, a string of Russian defeats at the hands of the Poles between 1659 and 1663, and too much bureaucratic meddling in military affairs. The 1667 Andrusovo Armistice between Muscovy and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth left Russia with little of its initial Belorussian conquest but in control of left-bank Ukraine and in temporary possession of Kiev, soon to become permanent.5 In the end, given the magnitude of the territorial roll-back, Aleksei did not emerge as a clear-cut winner, but he nonetheless had delivered a critical setback to the Polish Crown that without any doubt served as prolegomenon for the Partitions more than one century later. It is the first two years of the 13 Years' War, during the 1654 55 Muscovite Belorussian campaign, that provide the best insight into Aleksei's behavior as a military commander. A major reason why the Muscovite forces performed so successfully during the first two years was Aleksei's presence at the front, where he directly participated 4 "Dom Romanovykh i russkoe voennoe iskusstvo," ^hurnal imperatorskogo russkogo voenno-istoricheskogo obshchestvo 12 (1913), 27; Nikolai I. Pavlishchev, Pol'skaia anarkhiia pri Jane Kazimire i voina za Ukrainu, 2d ed., 2 vols. (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia V. S. Balasheva, 1887), vol. 2, 128; Aleksandr N. Mal'tsev, "Voina za Belorussiiu i osvobozhdenie Smolenska v 1654 g.," Istoricheskie zapiski, vol. 37, 136; Richard Hellie, Enserfment and Military Change in Muscovy (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1971), 32. 5 See C. Bickford O'Brien, Muscovy and the Ukraine. From the Pereiaslavl Agreement to the Truce of Andrusovo, 1654~1667 (Berkeley, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1963).

122

PETER B. BROWN

in—if not monopolized—military planning and conferred with his senior commanders on or near the battlefield. The presence of Aleksei and part of his court at Smolensk was instrumental in subduing, though not eliminating, precedence (mestnichestvo) feuds that might otherwise have derailed military operations, a major concern of Russian monarchs since 1550.6 Of the 31 Duma members of boyar rank, six accompanied Aleksei and that figure did not include four generals already in active service in Belarus and in Ukraine who were boyars.7 Press-ganging a portion of the royal court to bivouac near the battlefield helped maintain the impression of elite consensus in prosecuting the war, and could explain the paucity of top-level opposition to the 1654-55 campaign among senior court members.8 Locating military headquarters close to the battle zone and frequently shifting them also greatly reduced reaction time, and thereby unquestionably improved Russian military performance. The energizing presence of Aleskei, who proved himself an able strategist and executive, must have been one key to the success of Muscovite arms in the conflict. Aleksei, though he composed no systematic records of his own thoughts on military strategy, stands out as a notable 17th-century royal student of warfare in his passion to direct military affairs firsthand, to involve himself in tactical art and to assume a very active role in commanding subordinates. The extraordinary Muscovite string of victories in the early phase of the mid-17th-century Russo-Polish War is all the more remark6 For the historiography on precedence see Nancy Shields Kollmann, By Honor Bound. State and Society in Early Modem Russia (Ithaca, London: Cornell University Press, 1999), 139-43. 7 The boyars accompanying Aleksei included Gleb Ivanovich Morozov, Il'ia Danilovich Miloslavskii, Nikita Ivanovich Romanov, Vasilii Vasil'evich Buturlin, Boris Aleksandrovich Repnin, and Ivan Nikitich Khovanskii (Mal'tsev, "Voina za Belorussiiu," 136; Robert O. Crummey, Aristocrats and Servitors. The Boyar Elite in Russia, 1613-1689 [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982], 176, 185-86, 188-91). Boyars Vasilii Petrovich Sheremetev, Vasilii Borisovich Sheremetev, Aleksei Nikitich Trubetskoi, and lakov Kudenetovich Cherkasskii were already commanding troops in the various theaters. 8 Aleksei Mikhailovich wrote Trubetskoi on 31 May 1654 that some members of the royal court opposed the war (Mal'tsev, "Voina za Belorussiiu," 136-37). Voevoda Konstantin lur'evich Poklonskii, probably in March 1655, wrote a letter, remarkable for its pacifistic tone, to an unnamed member of the royal court (the beginning of the letter has been torn off) calling for reconciliation between the Poles and Russians and for the two to forge an alliance against the Turks. He furthermore stated that some boyars hated Buturlin (Akty, otnosiashchiesia k istorii iuzhnoi i

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH: COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

123

able as it occurred in the midst of a Plague epidemic. This contagion wiped out much of the Russian government,9 and an unknown part of the Russian armed forces. The staying power of the Russian state during this disaster was a marvel. It was then that the strengths of the autocracy were most apparent—order was maintained and the bureaucratic process kept moving along. During the first two years of the 13 Years' War, the Russians enjoyed lopsided numerical preponderance, and fared well in set-piece battles, especially in the subduing of Commonwealth fortresses against which Russian artillery was particularly effective. In summer and autumn of 1654, the three Belorussian fronts had over 100,000 Russian troops and Ukrainian Cossacks committed against the beleaguered Lithuanian forces numbering no more than 20,000 to 30,000 men. Usually, no more than 10,000 to 20,000 of the Russian and Ukrainian troops were ever committed to battle at one time.10 The number of troops the defenders had at their disposal during the numerous sieges of 1654 and 1655 often was several thousands at most; Russian forces enjoyed troop ratios of as high as 20:1 at Smolensk and 17:1 at Staryi Bykhou (Russ., Bykhov).11 Muscovite strategists and fighters displayed a resoluteness in defining goals, in fighting for them tenaciously, and in not hesitating to

zapadnoi Rossii, sobrannye i iidannye arkheograficheskoiu kommissieiu, 15 vols. (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia P. A. Kulisha, tipografiia Edvarda Pratsa, tipografiia V. V. Pratts, et al., 1863-92), vol. 14, 509-14; Belorussiia v epokhufeoda.liz.ma. Sbomik dokumentov i materialov, 4 vols. (Minsk: AN BSSR, 1959-79), vol. 2, 121-23. 9 Imperatorskoe russkoe arkheologicheskoe obshchestvo, ^apiski otdeleniia msskoi i slavianskoi arkheologii imperatorskogo russkogo arkheologicheskogo obshchestva, 1 vols. (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia losafata Ogrizko, 1851-1918), vol. 2, 730; John T. Alexander, Bubonic Plague in Early Modem Russia. Public Health and Urban Disaster (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980), 17-20; Kazimierz Valishevskii, Pervye Romanovy (1911, reprint. Moscow: Nauka, 1975), 302. 10 AIuZR, vol. 14, 468-70; Rafail M. Zotov, Voennaia istoriia rossiiskogo gosudarstva, 2 vols. (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia Aleksandra Smirdina, 1839), vol. 1, 188-90; Vitebskaia uchenaia arkhivnaia kommissiia, Trudy vitebskoi uchenoi arkhivnoi kommissii (Vitsebsk: Tipografiia Nasl. M. B. Neimana, 1910), vol. 1, 1; Mal'tsev, "Voina za Belorussiiu," 129; BEF, vol. 2, 108; ZORSA, vol. 2, 725-27; Jan Wimmer, Histona piechoty polskiej do roku 1864 (Warsaw: Ministerstwo obrony narodowej, 1978), 224; idem, "Materiafy do zagadnienia," 491, 497, 499; Arkheograjicheskii sbornik dokumentov otnosiashchikhsia k istorii severozapadnoi Rusi, 14 vols. (Vilnius: Pechatnia gubernskogo pravleniia, 1867-1904), vol. 14, xxvii, xxx. For an overview of the 17th-century Russian army, see Istoriia russkoi armii i flota (Moscow: Obrazovanie, 1911), 68-79. 11 BEF, vol. 2, no. 55, 84; vol. 2, no. 70, 102-03; Pamiatniki, izdannye vremennoiu kommissieiu dlia razbora drevnikh aktov, 4 vols. (Kiev: Universitetskaia tipografiia, 1845-59), vol. 3, 89-96.

124

PETER B. BROWN

employ harsh measures such as deportation, imprisonment, and execution to extirpate Belorussian opposition where it existed. At times Muscovite enthusiasm lurched into fanaticism and cruelty. Towards the end of May 1654, Aleksei wrote Aleksei Nikitich Trubetskoi, one of his generals, to present the inhabitants of Belorussian towns written surrender requests, but if they spurned them, to burn alive Poles or Belorussians subsequently captured who would not convert to Orthodoxy.12 Russian skill in siege warfare, a tradition dating to the reign of Ivan the Great, underlay Muscovy's capture of its primary target, the enormous fortress of Smolensk. Under Polish domination it was called "His Majesty's Fortress Smolensk" (^amek lego Krolewskiej Mosci Smolensk], but unrelenting Russian cannonade from July through September reduced it to a burning hulk.13 All the important Russian objectives in Belarus were cities that the Muscovites were able to besiege, exploiting their advantages in sheer numerical strength, siege guns, and combat engineering.14 During these battles, the Russians were able to dictate the terms of engagement by botding up the opposing forces and depriving them of room to maneuver. The Muscovites repeatedly acquired useful information from native informants and prisoners of war on the size, armaments, living conditions, and morale of trapped Commonwealth garrisons.15 The Russians' ability to organize a transportation network over long distances enabled them to exploit overland and water communication in the upper Dnepr and Western Dvina basins. Moreover, the fortresses under attack lay so far to the east that the Poles derived 12 ZORSA, vol. 2, 715, 724; BEF, vol. 2, 103; htoriko-iuridicheskie materialy, izvlechennye iz aktovykh knig gubernii vitebskoi i mogilevskoi, khraniashchikhsia v tsentral'nom arkhive v Vitebsk*, 32 vols. (Vitsebsk, 1871-1906), vol. 17, 202; vol. 28, 119-20. 13 ASDISZR, vol. 14, xxxiii-xl; Sobranie gosudarstoennykh i chastnykh aktov, kasaiushchikhsw, istorii Litvy i soedinennykh s nei vladenii (ot 1387 do 1710 goda), i^dannoe vilenskoiu arkheologicheskoiu kommissieiu, pt. 1 (Vilnius: Tipografiia Osipa Zavadzkogo, 1858), vol. 1, 100-15; Mal'tsev, "Voina za Belorussiiu," 141. The Muscovites originally had built the fortress of Smolensk, but lost Smolensk to the Poles in 1612 during the Time of Troubles. A brief description of Muscovite military engineering and siege warfare is contained in Christopher Duffy, Siege Warfare. The Fortress in the Early Modern World 1494-1660 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979), 167-74. See also Hellie, Enserfment and Military Change, 157-59. 14 See the description of the 16 May 1654 battle of Belaia in Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi arkhiv drevnikh aktov [RGADA], f. 210, prikaznoi stol, d. 589, 11. 454, 463. 15 AIuZR, vol. 14, no. 12, 443-48.

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH: COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

125

no advantages from possessing interior lines of communication. The region the Muscovites invaded was fairly compact, and the targeted cities were close together, thereby accentuating the impact of the Russian forces. Aleksei's field headquarters, military commanders, and Moscow bureaucracy displayed skill in strategic planning and undeniable leadership qualities in their prosecution of the Russo-Polish War of 1654 and 1655. Aleksei and his senior commanders in 1654 and 1655 on the whole possessed clear strategic vision, aggressiveness, and usually good tactical art in targeting and subduing cities and towns. As Aleksei himself explained in a January 1655 letter to Trubetskoi, the Muscovite military leadership from the beginning employed a strategy emphasizing active offensive and thorough pursuit and destruction of enemy forces.16 Muscovite planners set themselves ambitious goals in fielding the largest army equipped with firearms that Russia had ever assembled and in coordinating fighting on its longest battlefront in Europe before World War I. In 1654-55 the Belorussian and Ukrainian combat zone measured some 600 miles north to south and nearly 400 miles east to west. The coordination of three separate army commands spread over several hundred miles was all the more remarkable an achievement in the absence of a modern general staff. Aleksei's headquarters always seemed to be quickly and well informed of all developments and capable of reacting swiftly and decisively to surprises. The Muscovite war effort was supported by a well-functioning bureaucracy with fairly clearly delineated tasks and lines of authority. It provided funds, weaponry, cannon fodder, and logistical support, and kept an ever-lengthening logistical tail functioning as the battlefront moved steadily west. Without this capability the Muscovite war effort would have been inconceivable. It was the possession of a credible central administration that gave Russia the edge over Poland-Lithuania, which lacked an effective counterpart.17 In 16

ZORSA, vol. 2, 722. The preference of the Commonwealth for decentralized administrative organs and a comparison of their strengths and weaknesses with the Muscovite central organs is analyzed in Peter B. Brown, "Rzeczpospolita et Eius Magistratus: Measuring the Effectiveness of Seventeenth-Century Polish Government" (paper presented at the III World Congress for Soviet and East European Studies, Washington, D.C., November 1985), 1-29. 17

126

PETER B. BROWN

1654 the central administration in Moscow consisted of 53 chancelleries (prikazy), 21 of which discharged explicitly military-related functions. After the war started, all of them, except the Secret Chancellery (also called the Chancellery of Privy Affairs—prikaz velikogo gosudaria tainykh del}., to be discussed below, were subject to Military Chancellery (Razriad} command.18 This department was without a doubt the most important organization within the bureaucracy because of its service appointment and interdepartmental responsibilities, and its key role in organizing any Russian military effort. Aleksei was 24 years old in 1654 and evaluating his role as leader and decision-maker, military strategist, and administrator is crucial for comprehending the direction and success of the Belorussian campaign. As was true for his son, Peter the Great, Aleksei when at war was absent from his capital for lengthy periods. While conducting his campaigns against the Commonwealth from 1654 to 1655 and against Sweden from 1654 to 1656, Aleksei most of this time remained in the theater of military operations; he often located his headquarters as near as possible to major targets his forces were assaulting, and frequently shifted his headquarters in response to changes in battlefield objectives. Being on the spot enabled Aleksei to gauge at first hand military situations and minimized time lost in communicating with his commanders. Ordinarily dependent upon capital bureaucratic guidance, their reaction time was now cut down. We can establish with precision Aleksei's field headquarter locations, as his scribes typically noted his whereabouts at the bottom of documents issued by his command post. Examples are "written 18 Inozemskii prikaz (Foreign Mercenary Chancellery), prikaz shorn datochnykh liudei (Recruit Mobilization Chancellery), prikaz sbora ratnykh liudei (Mobilization Chancellery of Military People), pushkarskii prikaz (Artillery Chancellery), reitarskii prikaz (New Formation Cavalry Chancellery), streletskii prikaz (Musketeers Chancellery), oruzheinyi prikaz (Armory Chancellery), prikaz mushketnogo dela (Musket Barrel Chancellery), prikaz stuol'nogo dela (Artillery Barrel Manufacturing Chancellery), kamennyi prikaz (Stonework Chancellery), prikaz denezhnogo i khlebnogo sbora (Money and Natural Collection Chancellery), galitskaia chet' (Galich Tax Collection Chancellery), kostromskaia chet' (Kostroma Tax Collection Chancellery), novgorodskaia chef (Novgorod Tax Collection Chancellery), pomestnyi prikaz (Service Land Chancellery), prikaz bol'shogo prikhoda (Chancellery of the Grand Revenue), prikaz bol'shoi kazny (Chancellery of the Grand Treasury), prikaz velikogo gosudaria tainykh del (Secret Chancellery), ustiuzhskaia chef (Ustiug Tax Collection Chancellery), vladimirskaia chet' (Vladimir Tax Collection Chancellery), Razriad (Military Chancellery) (Peter B. Brown, "Muscovite Government Bureaus," Russian History 10, pt. 3 (1983), 294, 297-98, 300, 302-03, 305, 308, 312, 314-15, 317, 321, 323-26, 328). Razriad, when referring to "Military Chancellery," will be capitalized to distinguish it from razriad, "military district."

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVIGH: COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

127

in Viaz'ma in the 7163d year (1655) on the 10th day of January," "written in our patrimony, Smolensk in the 7163d year (1655) on the second day of April."19 Sending messages to his generals, who might be only 20 or 30 miles away, made it possible for him to conduct military operations at a faster pace and to remain better informed than communicating with his commanders at a distance of several hundred miles from Moscow. The running commentary between Aleksei and his military commanders in the field reveals a fascinating view of operational planning in the making and other top-level decision-making. Aleksei's absence from Moscow potentially complicated government and court business by depriving the capital of its chief executive. But the tsar smoothed over this difficulty by creating in late 1654 or early 1655 the Secret Chancellery. Aleksei desired to have a secretarial board constantly with him, and the Secret Chancellery filled this need. The prikaz tainykh del was attached to Aleksei's field headquarters, traveled wherever the tsar did, and served as Aleksei's amanuensis, helping him to remain in close contact with Moscow while away from the capital. Secret Chancellery personnel in 1654-55 consisted of Aleksei's trusted State Secretary Dementii Bashmakov, constantly at the tsar's side for his dictation, and a few clerks. The Bashmakov-Aleksei relationship will be commented upon at greater

19 Nikolai A. Popov, ed., Akty moskovskogo gosudarstva, izdannye imperatorskoi akademieiu nauk, 3 vols. (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia imperatorskoi akademii nauk, 1890-1901), vol. 2, no. 629, 394; no. 647, 403. Below are locations and dates for Aleksei's field headquarters: Bouslav (Russ., Bogoslav), 31 May 1654; Viaz'ma, 4, 10, 14-15, 17, 20-21, 23, 27-28 January 1655; Mozhaisk, 15 March 1655; Smolensk, 2 April-3 May 1655; Shklou (Russ., Shklov), 13 June-2 July 1655; Kosino, 23 September 1655; Mahilou (Russ., Mogilev), 11-20 October 1655; Smolensk, 16 November 1655; Mozhaisk, 6 December 1655; Smolensk, 10-14 June 1656; Polatsk (Russ., Polotsk), 8-14 July 1656; outside Daugavpils, 25-30 July 1656; mouth of the Dybna River, 5 August 1656; outside Kukonos, 12-14 August 1656; Tsarev Dmitriev 17-18 August 1656; outside Riga, 27 August-5 October 1656; Ishkula, 6 October 1656; Kelirov, 13 October 1656; Viaz'ma, 6 December 1656 (AMG, vol. 2, no. 629, 394; no. 642, 400-01; no. 647, 403; no. 648, 403; no. 650, 403-04; no. 655, 405-06; no. 656, 406; no. 657, 406-07; no. 658, 407; no. 660, 408; no. 678, 417; no. 682, 418-19; no. 683, 419; no. 686, 420; no. 717, 436-39; no. 721, 441; no. 724, 442-43; no. 725, 444; no. 731, 446; no. 754, 460; no. 826, 503; no. 829, 504-05; no. 848, 516; no. 850, 517; no. 855, 519; no. 856, 520; no. 858, 520; no. 861, 523; no. 863, 523; no. 870, 527; no. 880, 531; no. 881, 531; no. 884, 532-33; no. 889, 534-35; no. 892, 535; no. 899, 538-39; no. 915, 546; no. 919, 547; no. 929, 552; no. 930, 553; no. 934, 554; ZORSA, vol. 2, 715, 718-25, 729-31, 733, 738, 740).

128

PETER B. BROWN

length later, but it is worth noting that Bashmakov became the tsar's confidant and devout sycophant. Through the Secret Chancellery Aleksei ran the government in Moscow, and could keep tabs on the rest of his court there, as well as operate the war effort. These demands greatly increased the amount of paperwork that had to be brought to the tsar's attention and answered promptly. Aleksei would instruct Bashmakov to write down in detail information such as lists of service people, reports of military activities, and his forces' campaign routes. Pouring over such information and deciding who could be assigned to the new model regiments preoccupied him.20 Daniel Waugh has even observed that the Secret Chancellery ". . . appears to have acted as his personal secretariat and the repository for his private papers."21 The record of Aleksei's activities at the front reveals a competent and domineering executive with managerial flair, organizational prowess, and an omnivorous hunger to know everything. Aleksei's pretensions to omniscience came through in his desire to know everything about military and diplomatic events and insistence for quick responses to his commands. No important matter could be decided upon without an edict from Aleksei.22 His edicts and correspondence to his commanders show how Aleksei enjoyed writing, and, indeed, he exhibited a certain passion, if not fanaticism, for it. Peter's father employed a blunt, businesslike expository style that revealed a wellorganized and focused mind.23 Aleksei penned more private missives than did any other Russian monarch before Peter, and like his son displayed keen interest in military affairs. Aleksei's correspondence with his commanders provides clues on the degree of control he exercised over them.24 The Aleksei correspondence reveals a clear-headed, authoritarian leader, impatiently demanding to be kept well-informed of events and intolerant of incompetence.23 If one reads through his correspondence 20 21

Zaozerskii, Tsarskaia votchina, 236-37, 242-43. Daniel Clarke Waugh, "The Library of Aleksei Mikhailovich," FzOG 38 (1986),

306. 22

Zaozerskii, Tsarskaia votchina, 252. Zaozerskii, Tsarskaia votchina, 236, 243, 251. 24 See Sobranie pisem Tsaria Alekseia Mikhailovicha s prilozheniem ulozheniia s okoVnich'ia pud, s poiasnitel'noiu k nemu zametkoiu S. T. Aksakova, s portretom tsaria i snimkami ego pocherka, ed. Petr I. Bartenev (Moscow, 1856); ZORSA, vol. 2, 702-88; Zaozerskii, Tsarskaia votchina, 236. 23 More recent collections of Muscovite personal correspondence do not include 23

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH: COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

129

and compares it to edicts from his field headquarters and the capital bureaucracy, one can divine Aleksei's contributions to military decisions. The Secret Chancellery edicts, too, bear his own imprint, for these he personally dictated, unlike routine edicts written in Moscow, which were usually compiled without his personal involvement or even knowledge. Orders emanating from Aleksei's various field headquarters were written in Aleksei's name and reflected in varying proportions his own contributions and those of his senior military people, courtiers, and other officials present. Gauging the content and tone of Aleksei's correspondence to his commanders and of edicts written in his Belorussian campaign headquarters is a useful way of inferring Aleksei's input into orders sent from his field headquarters to his generals in 1654 and 1655, and it appears to have been considerable.26 What, then, do these various written sources tell us of Aleksei's modus operandi during the Belorussian campaign? First of all, Aleksei liked to write out agendas of business. Prior to meeting with members of his elite, he would draw up a list of questions that he wished to discuss with them and declarations that he wished to make. In a list compiled at some point during the 13 Years' War, Aleksei wrote out queries on whether his theater commanders should winter in certain Belorussian towns and on possible punishments to be inflicted upon an errant Vasilii Borisovich Sheremetev.27 It is because of Aleksei Mikhailovich's balance of power insights, his successful prosecution of the 1654-55 Russo-Polish War, and his remarkable winning streak that he might well deserve to be placed in the pantheon of seventeenth-century captains such as Gustavus Adolphus and Oliver Cromwell. In addition to their strategic and tactical ideas, all three leaders provided the sheer momentum to see through the respective contests that so preoccupied them.28 Unlike any correspondence between Aleksei and his commanders (see Pamiatniki russkogo narodno-razgovornogo iazyka xvii stoletiia [iz. fonda A. I. Bez.obraz.ova], eds. Sergei I. Kotkov and Nina I. Tarabasova [Moscow: Nauka, 1965]; Moskovskaia delovaia i bytovaia pis'mennost' xvii veka. eds. Sergei I. Kotkov, A. S. Oreshnikov, and I. S. Filippova [Moscow: Nauka, 1968]; Gramotki xvii-nachala xviii veka, eds. Sergei I. Kotkov, Nina I. Tarabasova, and Nataliia P. Pankratova [Moscow: Nauka, 1969]). 26 ZORSA, vol. 2, 713-88. 27 ZORSA, vol. 2, 733-35. 2!i On Gustavus Adolphus: Michael Roberts, The Swedish Imperial Experience, 1560-1718 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 1-42; David Kirby, Northern Europe in the Early Modem Period. The Baltic World 1492-1772 (London, New York: Longman, 1990), 139-44, 163, 168-80; Frost, Northern Wars, 108, 111-12, 118. On Oliver

130

PETER B. BROWN

the other two, Aleksei did not stand out in conducting cavalry warfare, though by exercising some direction over the Ukrainian Cossacks, the tsar was involved in prosecuting a more mobile state of conflict. Indeed, it might seem that Aleksei's military flair was not for rapid, fluid warfare in open countryside but rather siege warfare, for which he combined so well his army and the bureaucracy. In fact the tsar had more "hands on" expertise with siege warfare since his headquarters were located near sites where this type of conflict predominated. Like the Swedish monarch, Aleksei brought to bear a military bureaucracy most effectively. As did Gustavus, Aleksei loved artillery, but did not exhibit the same spirit of technical innovation that the Swedish paragon did with his invention of the light, highly mobile "leather cannon."29 Aleksei integrated more effectively than his predecessors the various technological, personnel, logistic, and administrative ingredients of Muscovy's "gunpowder revolution," and thereby made his army and the bureaucracy into "one fist," a formidable tool of offensive strategy.

Cromwell: Frank Tallett, War and Society in Early-Modern Europe, 1495-1715 (London, New York: Routledge, 1992), 31; Felix Gilbert, The Norton History of Modem Europe (New York: W. W. Norton and Co., 1971), 328-29. On the efficiency of Cromwell's new model army and on his emphasis upon cavalry, see John Gillingham, Cromwell. Portrait of a Soldier (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1976), 36, 73-90. Prior to the outbreak of the 13 Years' War, the 1653 Assembly of the Land (zemskii sobor], with its fervent reaction against the alleged slight by the Polish monarch of the tsar's title; Russian desire to avenge past defeats and insults endured during the Time of Troubles (1598-1613) and the Smolensk War (1632-34) against Poland; and the drive to reincorporate Smolensk and regain control of the upper Dnepr are somewhat reminiscent of the Swedish urge to fight in the 30 Years' War: "Defiant patriotic pride, mingled with a desire to bring the trappings of civilization—if needs be, by plundering the libraries and collections of conquered cities—to their impoverished native land helped motivate the Swedish nobility during the age of greatness. It was not in vain that Gustav Adolf [Adolfus] bade them in his farewell speech to the estates on 19 May 1630 to go to war to restore the ancient honour of their Gothic ancestors, though his hint at broad acres to be won was probably a more powerful inducement" (Kirby, Northern Europe. The Baltic World, 163). For more on the "Gothic cult" and kindred nativist preoccupations of the Swedes and how these sentiments fueled a desire to visit cultural rapine upon the German and Czech territories the Swedes conquered (with telling parallels to the plunder of Belorussian towns by the Muscovites in 1654 and 1655), see Frost, Northern Wars, 134-35. 29 Richard A. Preston, Alex Roland, and Sydney F. Wise, Men In Arms. A History of Warfare and Its Interrelationships With Western Society, 5th ed. (Fort Worth, Texas, et al.: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich College Publishers, 1991), 98-99; Michael Roberts, ed., Sweden's Age of Greatness, 1632-1718 (London: MacMillan, 1973), 267; idem, Swedish Imperial Experience, 56-61.

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVIGH! COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

131

Aleksei's was a directive style of leadership that required compliance to his wishes, and helped induce a certain sheepishness and lack of discerning policy review amongst his generals.30 Later, the Russians were to dearly pay for this. Aleksei's real talent lay more in being an administrator, instructing his subordinates clearly and firmly and getting them to do what he wanted, rather than in being a charismatic leader who would personally exhort his troops, though his indulging in such behavior was not unknown. In the middle of a fray, the early stages of the Smolensk seige being one such case, he could indulge in battlefield hortatory. Aleksei was more a manager than anything else, and this talent surfaced in his fastidiousness to detail. He was a quick study in military art, and he demonstrated this in his comprehension of the need for good "reconnaissance, timing, psychological preparation, and tactical method" in warfare. Nevertheless, Aleksei did display a certain boldness, theatricality, and oratorical magnetism that are part of the ingredients of what John Keegan terms "heroic leadership."31 While at the Smolensk front, Aleksei, fully in view of his men, inspired them to heroic exploits and commemorated their sacrifices. The late 17th-century Ukrainian Cossack literary monument, The Eyewitness Chronicle, relates these episodes: Many [Ukrainian] Cossacks under Brother [Hetman Ivan] Zolotarenko came to his Tsarist Majesty at Smolensk, where they manfully launched attacks, scaling by ladder the fortress walls of Smolensk. The Cossacks repulsed the foreigners, but many Cossacks who had fallen inside the fortress perished. His Tsarist Majesty pleased them greatly by his witnessing their valor. Smolensk commander Glebowicz32 and his soldiers beheld the marvelous array of his Tsarist Majesty's forces and their assault by day and by night, and they despaired. They requested terms [of surrender] from his Tsarist Majesty in order to live, and received them. And so they surrendered fortress Smolensk, bowed down in submission, and were expelled in their entirety into Lithuania [Belarus]. And his Tsarist Majesty with his commanders and forces occupied Smolensk, and after consecrating Catholic churches as Orthodox ones, they consecrated the fortress walls along which his Tsarist Majesty himself walked during this ceremony.33

30

Irving L. Janis and Leon Mann, Decision Making. A Psychological Analysis of Conflict, Choice, and Commitment (New York, London: The Free Press, 1977), 131. :il John Keegan, The Mask of Command (New York: Penguin Books, 1988), 43, 47, 85. !2 Glebowicz served under Korf or Obuchowicz. :w Letopis' samovidtsa po novootkiytym spiskam s prilozheniem trekh malorossiiskikh khronik:

132

PETER B. BROWN

Arguably, Aleksei's charisma to a significant extent derived from his office, but his personal qualities were evident as well; his predecessors, such as Fedor Ivanovich (1584-98) and Mikhail Fedorovich (1613-45), and Aleksei's own son, Fedor Alekseevich (1676-82), were wanting in them. That Aleksei was in so many ways the mirror image of his son, Peter the Great, is evident from the former's attentiveness to detail, imagination in the prosecution of the 1654-55 war effort, energy level, and personal magnetism.34 While at the front, Aleksei personally established military objectives, decided upon troop movements, drew up battle orders, and communicated his decisions to his senior commanders forthwith. Great though his attachment was to military affairs, we do not hear of Aleksei testing battlefield accouterments as did Charles XI of Sweden, who reputedly instructed his soldiers to slice in half with their swords feathers in midair to determine the instruments' sharpness.35 Aleksei's ad hoc government contributed significantly to the Russian victories from 1654 to 1656. Of 15 edicts and other instructions in Akty moskovskogo gosudarstua written in Aleksei's name from May 1654 through 1656, 12 were composed in Aleksei's encampments. Two, whose place of composition remains unclear, could have been drawn up either in Moscow or in Aleksei's field headquarters, and only one definitely was written in Moscow.36 Temporarily, Aleksei diminished the Military Chancellery's role in drawing up battle orders and directing troop movements, although the Razriad in the interval of nearly three years when Aleksei was absent from the capital seems to have processed ordinary quartermaster and manpower replacement matters as much as it had always done.37 Therefore, we may conclude Khmel'nitskoi, "Kratkogo opisaniia Malorossii" i "Sobraniia istoricheskogo," ed. Orest Levyts'kyj (Kiev: Kievskaia vremennaia kommissiia dlia razbora drevnikh aktov, 1878; reprint, Harvard Series in Ukrainian Studies, ed. Omeljan Pritsak, vol. 7, pt. 1 [Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1972]), 37. The Eyewitness Chronicle, an important source on Ukrainian history during the second half of the 17th century and written in Middle Ukrainian in the late 17th century, provides interesting accounts of battles between the Commonwealth and Muscovite forces, 1654-55. 34 See Lindsey Hughes, Russia in the Age of Peter the Great (New Haven, London: Yale University Press, 1998), 17-18, 26-61, 63-80, 89-91 for her descriptions of Peter's personal qualities, organizational feats, and of his victories and defeats. 33 Roberts, Sweden's Age of Greatness, 285. 36 AMG, vol. 2, no. 639, 398-99; no. 642, 400-01; no. 647, 403; no. 650, 403-04; no. 655, 405-06; no. 657, 406-07; no. 658, 407; no. 679, 417; no. 682, 418-19; no. 747, 456; no. 852, 518; no. 918, 547; no. 927, 552; no. 929, 552; no. 930, 553. 37 See AMG, vol. 2, 357-558 for the period from 1654 through 1656.

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH: COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

133

that Aleksei deliberately effected a subdivision of bureaucratic labor, reserving to himself the most immediate battlefield decisions relating to troop movements and attack. We encounter in Aleksei's correspondence and in edicts to his commanders well-structured, businesslike, even terse, discourse. But Aleksei's letters exhibit greater imperativeness and quite often an abrasive, deprecatory—even abusive—tone absent from the edicts composed in his name. Aleksei's trade-mark—a boldly obtrusive register that was noticeably more extroverted and headstrong than the language of his bureaucracy's edicts—informs us that he assuredly took the lead in stating his views and in expecting them to be heeded to the letter and without delay. Aleksei's headquarters demanded promptness, exactitude, comprehensiveness, and frankness of its commanders in their written responses to headquarters' inquiries of whatever subject. Aleksei in his letters and edicts often inserted the expression, when demanding a reply from a subordinate, "quickly, by speedy courier" ("s narochnym gontsom na spekh").™ Other such injunctions frequently encountered in decrees emanating from his headquarters were "with all haste" (bezsrochno), "quickly" (naspekh), and "without any delay" (bez vsiakogo motchan'id). Such language, to be sure, was standard parlance in Moscow chancelleries' discourse. But the incidence of it seems to have been higher in Aleksei's field headquarters' edicts, which commonly strung together two or three such expressions to absolutely nail down the exceptional import of such instructions and to enforce immediate compliance. Aleksei's language towards his subordinates was typically overbearing and nitpicking, as in his 10 March 1655 communication to Trubetskoi. In this edict Aleksei ordered Trubetskoi to call up military units to the southern Russian town of Briansk in preparation for the resumption of the Muscovite offensive: And when you receive our orders, you should write—in accordance with our earlier instructions and with [our] latest [instruction] to the governors and government officials in the towns—[an order] that they dispatch to Briansk, to you, for our military service, quickly, immediately, and with all haste your units of our military people of any rank. And you already should have notified them ardently and emphatically so that they would not delay in carrying out their order and would ZORSA, vol. 2, 744.

134

PETER B. BROWN send to our military service all of our military people of any rank to the last man without fail, without any alteration of instructions.39

Aleksei's zeal for military planning extended as well to the smallunit level, to matters that should have been shunted to junior officers. Aleksei could involve himself in deploying units of 100 men. In April 1655, Aleksei from his Smolensk encampment ordered Afanasii Lavrent'evich Ordyn-Nashchokin to receive into his ranks "100 Pskovian Cossacks," formerly attached to Vasilii Petrovich Sheremetev's forces.40 It is difficult to gauge how such "over-involvement" in lowerlevel unit affairs may have affected officers' morale. Commanders, regardless of their position in the service hierarchy, were accustomed to dependence upon orders from above, and therefore might not have been offended. In any event there would have been little the higher-ranking commanders could have done about it. Regardless of his mistrust of his commanders' talents and the degree to which his insistence upon discipline sapped initiative, Aleksei's penchant for micro-management appears not to have harmed the Belorussian operation. Aleksei's abhorrence of subordinates' trying to conceal from him the full extent of negative events shines through in his famous 1659 rebuke of Ivan Ivanovich Lobanov-Rostovskii, who reported to Aleksei only 24 military servitors killed instead of 47: "From of old it has been unheard of for noble slaves to write a falsehood and lie to their sovereign about military matters, on campaigns and on casualties."41 But Aleksei, who was masterful at mental harassment, tended not to physically punish his woebegone subordinates, choosing to castigate them instead. Aleksei displayed time and again this pattern of imperial displeasure: anger, abuse, threat of dire punishment, and then subsidence of his ire and revocation of sentence, often a capital one. Judging by the juxtaposed, biblical references in his personal correspondence, it would seem as if he were counter-balancing one part of his personality, that identified with the Mosaic image of Yahweh the warrior god, with another part, that identified with New Testament charity and meekness as interpreted by the Eastern Christian tradition.

39

AMG, vol. 2, no. 639, 398-99. AMG, vol. 2, no. 647, 403. This would be comparable to the U.S. commander-in-chief, the U.S. president, ordering about a company (ca. 130 men), instead of letting a battalion (ca. 500 men) commander perform this task. +l ZORSA, vol. 2, 741, 743; Hellie, Emerjment and Military Change, 273. 40

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVIGH! COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

135

Aleksei's missives illustrate the enormous concern of the tsar and his bureaucracy for accurate military paperwork. In this correspondence Aleksei parades his obsessive insistence that his commanders compile records for the center and maintain a scribal apparatus to discharge this function. Aleksei bluntly remarked to Lobanov-Rostovskii: "Are you being truthful when you claim that you have no clerks? There are military scribes in the new model cavalry and infantry units. Why can they not take time to write and send communiques to us, the Great Sovereign?"42 Aleksei assumed that he habitually knew more than his generals about military operations. The tsar on another occasion once scathingly criticized Lobanov-Rostovskii for failing to write Moscow for further instructions upon completion of preliminary missions against Mstsislau (Russ., MstislavF), south of Smolensk, and for then assaulting this stronghold without proper reconnaissance. These transgressions were repugnant to the suspicious Aleksei, who believed that his errant general had deemed himself more knowledgeable than his supreme commander and desired to circumvent central control. The degree of specificity in Aleksei's headquarters' rules of engagement to field commanders varied directly in relation to knowledge of the particulars of a situation that headquarters might feel could evolve into battle. For example, during the Belorussian campaign if headquarters lacked precise information on enemy troop movements and the size of enemy forces, Aleksei would not saddle his commanders with detailed rules of engagement for battles in open countryside. During 1654 and 1655, Aleksei's rules of engagement to his commanders were usually rather general. This stands in contrast to the hyper-specific instructions issued to governors, who built and maintained fortified lines along the southern frontier. Examples abound of Moscow bureaucrats ordering the governors to carry out a myriad of physical tasks demanding exacting specifications such as wall, redoubt, and ditch construction. In one case the capital repeatedly directed the Kozlov governor, whose town was southeast of Moscow and directly on the Belgorod fortified line, to ensure that a specific number of cubic yards of dirt be placed in particular spots on the earthen wall or that a specified quantity of timber of precise dimension be inserted into a watchtower.43 The working orders (nakazy]

ZORSA, vol. 2, 744. See Brian L. Davies, "The Role of the Town Governors in the Defense and

136

PETER B. BROWN

presented to governors, prior to the assumption of their duties in provincial towns and districts, contained a plenitude of minutia that deprived these officials of initiative at virtually every step.44 Edicts on military operations to Muscovite commanders in the Belorussian campaign often provided some opportunities for senior officers to exercise limited initiative. One could never be sure, though, when this would be tolerated, and commanders frequently preferred to await more detailed provisos and clarification from Aleksei rather than risk incurring his displeasure through acting on their own. Several examples survive to convey the limited discretionary latitude that Aleksei might grant to the recipient of his martial edicts. On 14 April 1654 the government sent from Moscow orders to Central Front commander lalov Kudenetovich Cherkasskii that he and his forces leave their Briansk staging area for Smolensk "without delay" and deploy outside Smolensk "according to your judgment" (po svoemu razsmotren'iu).*5 In a series of orders to Ivan Zolotarenko and his brother Vasyl', Bohdan Khmel'nyts'kyj, Andrei Vasil'evich Buturlin, and Gherkasskii from August 1654 into August 1655, Aleksei's headquarters in proximate terms required these commanders to attack towns, fight in the open, cross rivers, and rendezvous. Aleksei's staff did not dictate to these leaders precisely where they should position their units, what secondary tasks they should accomplish, and exactly when they should execute them.46 An example of the general vein of these orders is the December 1654 order to Ivan Zolotarenko: ". . . we have ordered you, our hetman, and all our tsarist majesty's Zaporozhian forces to rendezvous with our stol'nik and voevodas and oberegatel' (protector) in the town of Mahiliou and other places and attack as one the Poles and Lithuanians."4' Military Colonization of Muscovy's Southern Frontier: the Case of Kozlov, 1635-1638," 2 vols. (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1983), 444-63, 470, 506-08, 560-62. 44 For a typical governor's working orders, see AMG, vol. 2, no. 331, 205-11 on the appointment of three governors to the southern border town of lablonov. 45 RGADA, prikaznoi stol, f. 210, d. 413, 11. 123-24. This order may have been nullified at the time of issue as a vertical line was drawn down the middle through its entire length. The customary horizontal cross-bar at the top page was missing although one was present at the bottom. 4(1 AIuZR, vol. 14, no. 1, iv, 6, 56; no. 2, i, 67-70; no. 12, xvii, 471-74; no. 14, iii, 517-18; no. 31, iv, 715-18; no. 33, iii, 747-48; no. 35, xi, 789-92. 4/ AIuZR, vol. 14, no. 12, xvii, 472. Another illustration of this occurred on 31 May 1654, when Aleksei instructed Trubetskoi to join his forces with Khmel'nyts'kyj's and using their own judgment (smotria po tamoshnemu delu) to attack the Poles and Lithuanians from the rear (za khvostom u nikK} (ZORSA, vol. 2, 715).

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH: COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

137

Despite the well-known predilection of the Muscovite bureaucracy for minute detail in its papers, it would have been unfeasible for Aleksei's headquarters to orchestrate every move of Russian units maneuvering deep in often unfamiliar enemy territory. The record shows that his headquarters did not try. When confronted by unknown terrain, Aleksei was disinclined to position troops in precise locations. It would have been foolish for him to commit exact numbers of troops and to determine the precise time of such deployments for either offensive or defensive operations of yet unknown time and place against enemy forces of unknown size and whereabouts. To have done so would have been too risky, if not irrational. Aleksei restrained his proclivity to snoop in others' military domains. He evidently grasped the absurdity of hyper-specific regulation in an environment where the number of imponderable factors was simply too great. That the Russians abjured such planning is hardly surprising. Neither headquarters nor Russian field commanders possessed detailed maps, and could not be expected to have intimate knowledge of topographical detail in enemy territory yet to be penetrated. Furthermore, Russian forces did not possess accurate timekeeping devices and compasses. Field headquarters in 1654-55 recognized their inability to surmount physical-environmental constraints and did not—beyond articulating general routes of movement and zones of operation—attempt to orchestrate almost every move, unless it involved an operation against a fixed objective like Smolensk or Vitsebsk (Russ., Vitebsk).48 Such targets occupied a confined space where the temporal and physical variables were finite and more predictable than combat maneuvers in open countryside and for which headquarters usually possessed less information. On at least one occasion during the first two years when suddenly confronted by an unexpected circumstance, Aleksei and his advisers speedily made a momentous and ultimately sound decision even though it entailed major deviation from an earlier plan. In the opening days of the Smolensk operation during early July 1654, headquarters took the risk of diverting some of its forces from Smolensk to Orsha in order to crush marauding units that had suddenly materialized under the command of Radziwill. This change in strategy

48 Ivan S. Beliaev, ed., "Boiarin V. P. Sheremetev pod Vitebskom v 1654 g.," Russkii arkhiv, 1914, no. 10, 153-54.

138

PETER B. BROWN

temporarily endangered the Smolensk siege by sapping Muscovite strength there and even could have forced a Muscovite withdrawal from Smolensk, the primary goal of the 1654 campaign. Splitting forces was furthermore dangerous since the Dnepr downstream from Smolensk was entirely in enemy hands. However, the tsar took the risk and trouble-shooter Cherkasskii by mid-August had routed Radziwill's forces and systematically captured a series of Polish-Lithuanian strongholds southwest of Smolensk. Cherkasskii thereupon rejoined his compatriots, Aleksei pressed home the attack, and Smolensk capitulated soon after.49 Aleksei's pragmatism and ability to react conferred a flexibility upon his armies in 1654-55 that was lacking later in the Thirteen Years' War, when the tsar lost immediate contact with battlefield events and when the nature of the fighting changed and altered tactics and outcomes. In the early years Aleksei could explicitly grant his commanders wide-ranging discretion to decide when to press or to break off an attack. In May 1655, Aleksei instructed Ordin-Nashchokin to besiege the major Commonwealth stronghold at Daugavpils (Ger., Dunaburg, Russ., Dyneburg), but to withdraw if "large numbers of Lithuanian troops" appeared and regroup with Vasilii Petrovich Sheremetev's forces.50 The language is rather vague. It suggests, in light of Aleksei's inability to predict the size of Lithuanian reinforcements which might arrive, that it would be better for Ordin-Nashchokin himself to determine when his situation might become untenable, without further time-consuming recourse to higher authority. As much as possible, though, Aleksei insisted on retaining his initiative in military decision-making,51 and expected his military leaders to ask his permission before acting and report to him on everything. Aleksei once remarked to Ivan Zolotarenko: "You should write about whatever you are doing," and warnings of this ilk were routine for others.52 On 11 July 1655, Aleksei's headquarters ordered Vasyl' Zolotarenko to cross the Neman (Russ.) River, but after fording this waterway, "he shall write the Sovereign, and he shall remain there until he receives the Sovereign's order." This order's terseness is

49

Mal'tsev, "Voina za Belorussiiu," 139-41. AMG, vol. 2, no. 669, 412. 31 Zaozerskii, Tsarskaia votchina, 252~53. 52 BEF, vol. 2, no. 94, 131; AIuZR, vol. 14, no. 31, 710; no. 35, x, 787-88; no. 35, xiii, 797-98. 50

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVIGH! COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

139

intelligible inasmuch as the Neman River marked the western boundary of Muscovite expansion during the Belorussian operation and Aleksei anxiously felt it necessary to reign in the Zaporozhian Cossacks lest they provoke an incident with Sweden. One might question headquarters' apparent lack of concern in this document over Vasyl' Zolotarenko's possibly facing a Polish-Lithuanian counter-attack that would render his remaining in position impossible and its intimation that Zolotarenko was incapable of deciding for himself how to respond should such emergency arise. To reiterate, it seems clear that Aleksei could make up his own mind and arrive at decisions independently, and did so quite often. Beyond this generalization, we remain ignorant of the exact input into field headquarters' discussion from the 25-year-old ruler and his courtiers, though Aleksei's advice, we can safely generalize, was considerable. Muscovite records rarely noted the content of discussion except the final decision or verdict, nor do they record who the participants were and what their relative weight in deliberations was. To penetrate the opacity of Muscovite decision-making remains a frustrating endeavor for historians. Our knowledge of the exchange of opinion within Muscovite governmental councils and departments is limited and impedes efforts to clarify for the Belorussian campaign: (1) what the procedures were for planning military operations, (2) who planned military operations, (3) who initiated discussion of general strategies and tactical issues, (4) how such goals were determined and how disagreements over them were resolved, (5) what the "weight" of specific individuals' input was in discussion, and (6) what norms of collegiality and one-man decision-making (edinonachalie) prevailed among Aleksei, his senior commanders, and courtiers and whether these norms were variable. Neither Aleksei's correspondence nor governmental paperwork provides much assistance. The Aleksei correspondence was episodic, and the young ruler evidently never intended it to serve as a diary, in which he might have systematically confided how his government planned, came to decisions, and then implemented them. Secondly, though the edicts provide the words of decisions reached, there is almost no discussion on how the decisions themselves were obtained. Nonetheless, it is possible to deduce from extant Muscovite battle orders that the Muscovite high command jealously insisted on spelling out proposed operations and resolutely denied subordinates the right to modify decrees sent them.

140

PETER B. BROWN

Expatriate Foreign Affairs Chancellery clerk (pod'iachii} Grigorii Kotoshikhin's account of Russian government, drawn from his personal experience while working in the chancellery system during Aleksei's reign, provides important information on Aleksei's arbitrariness in military matters.53 But Kotoshikhin's descriptions remind us that informal traditions of the tsar's consulting with his leading magnates likewise intruded in deliberations over questions of military policy: And when he (Aleksei) wishes to wage war or make peace with any state, . . . or when he wishes to decide any other great or small affairs of his realm as he sees fit, he takes little counsel with the boyars and Duma (royal council) men; it is in his power to do what he wishes. However, on various matters the tsar does seek the advice and counsel of these boyars and Duma men and ordinary men whom he likes and favors.34 When discord and warfare break out with neighboring powers, the tsar at that time consults with the patriarch, metropolitans, archbishops, bishops, and with other hierarchs of the prominent monasteries. He (the tsar) informs the boyars that hostility between him and the other sovereigns exists and that accordingly, he wishes to inflict vengeance upon that sovereign through war. Together with the tsar, the hierarchs and boyars give their assent to such action . . .5a

Kotoshikhin's observations on issues of war and peace were strongly influenced by the events of the 13 Years' War from its inception to 1664, the year he defected from Muscovy. His non-specifically worded accounts juxtapose Aleksei's theoretically unrestrained executive authority with the informal constraints of the Russian monarch's having to seek the advice of top members of government. Kotoshikhin's remarks give clues, but certainly no exact explanation, as to how Aleksei and others in his government planned and conducted the mid-1650s Belorussian campaign. That Aleksei was emboldened to decide military issues on his own may furthermore be inferred from Kotoshikhin's testimony that Mikhail Fedorovich never acted without consulting

33

Grigorii Kotoshikhin, 0 Rossii v tsarstvovanie Alekseia Mikhailovicha. Sochinenie Grigor'ia Kotoshikhina, 4th ed. (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia glavnogo upravleniia udelov, 1906), 99; Benjamin P. Uroff, "Grigorii Karpovich Kotoshikhin. On Russia in the Reign of Alexis Michailovich: an Annotated Translation" (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1970), 187. 54 Kotoshikhin, 0 Rossii, 126; Uroff, "On Russia," 233™34. 55 Kotoshikhin, 0 Rossii, 130; UrofF, "On Russia," 239.

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH: COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

141

his magnates, implying that his son, Aleksei, could.56 We may conclude that there were occasions when Aleksei made military decisions independently and unilaterally, and other times when he did not. Aleksei and his bureaucracy held his generals to imposing standards of quartermastery itemization. The costliness of firearms and other accouterments of early modern European warfare obligated attentiveness to their preservation and maintenance. Commanders, through the clerks attached to their headquarters, frequently reported to Aleksei's headquarters on the condition of their weaponry and other devices as did Vasilii Borisovich Sheremetev and Fedor Vasil'evich Buturlin on 15 April 1654 when complaining of deficient firearms and lack of other equipment: . . . they say that the muskets with locks were not as reliable as the muskets . . . and that the rifled harquebuses in the dragoon regiments are unsuitable and are [unfit] . . . for shooting. The dragoon regiments are without muskets, swords, powder, cartridge bags (liadunki} . . . halberds, trumpets, and drums.37

The same document, in time-honored Muscovite fashion, lists servitors, many of them members of the middle service class (dvoriane, deti boiarskie), who failed to report for duty. In theory such dereliction could entail loss of service land and monetary compensation, although by this time the government was less strict in enforcing this penalty.58 Aleksei could be caustic in his denunciation of generals who acted on their own or who were wayward in carrying out their instructions. In one of his numerous upbraidings of Grigorii Grigor'evich Romodanovskii, who was stationed on the Belgorod Fortified Line, Aleksei drenched Romodanovskii with invective, thick with hyperbole: "To the enemy of Christ's cross and to the new Ahithopel, Prince Grigorii Grigor'evich Romodanovskii . . . you are a thrice-debased and shameful hater of the Christian people . . . and our resolute 56

Kotoshikhin, 0 Rossii, 126; Uroff, "On Russia," 234. RGADA, f. 210, sevskii stol, d. 153, 1. 75. 58 RGADA, f. 210, sevskii stol, d. 153, 11. 80-81. "Dvoriane: Zakharei son of Timofei Fustov, Fedor son of Mikhail Petrov, Ivan son of Semen Kursakov, Marko son of Petr Burtsov, Grigorei son of Mikita Pashkov, Sergei son of Vasilei Larionov, Aleksei son of Matvei Khotsogrev. ^hiltsy: Mikhailo son of Demid Muromtsov, Dmitrei son of Perfirei Albychev, Polukhet son of Vasilei Shamordan, Foma son of Osip Krivtsov, Fedor son of Stepan Rekov, Ivan son of Stepan Rekov, Fedor Mikiforov Sherenov, Ferepontei son of Semen Krivtsov, Trofin son of Fedor Krivtsov, Konstantin son of Stepan Rekov. (signed) Miki[f]o[r] Golov[in]" (RGADA, f. 210, sevskii stol, d. 153, 1. 81). 57

142

PETER B. BROWN

traitor, the most veritable son of Satan, and a friend of devils . . ,"39 Whatever Romodanovskii's reaction was to this remains unknown. Aleksei berated Vasilii Vasil'evich Buturlin in April 1655 as an "enemy and debased scoundrel" for failing to write headquarters, although even Aleksei retrospectively exhibited self-control by crossing out in the text a string of mother oaths ("whoreson" \bliadin syn], "son-of-a-bitch" [sukin syn]} that initially he had hurled at the hapless Buturlin.60 One month earlier, Aleksei threatened to put General Ivan Fedorovich Buturlin in ". . . our Sovereign's disgrace without any investigation, in brutal punishment..." should he fail to carry out an unspecified order immediately.61 On 2 April 1655, while in Smolensk, Aleksei threatened dire harm to okol'nichii Vasilii Aleksandrovich Choglov [Choglokov] should he fail to effect timely juncture of his forces with those of Sheremetev "immediately, not delaying an hour, and if they [Choglov's forces] will not hurry, you will be brutally punished by us, the Great Sovereign, without any mercy."62 The medieval and early modern Russian institution of slavery (kholopstuo) influenced the interaction between Aleksei and his generals. No formal constraints were placed upon the Muscovite Grand Prince's/Tsar's power in his relations with his administrators. It is because of the Muscovite slave heritage that any subject, regardless of social status, obligatorily had to demean himself literally as kholop (literally, "slave") and use the diminutive of his first name in any written communication addressed to the ruler. Arguably, a modern observer, drawing upon, say, 17th- and 18th-century English history might construe the sense of kholop, when employed in written communication by a member of the Moscow service class to the tsar, as equivalent to the deferential "most humble obedient servant," "most humble obliged Servant," "Your most humble faithful servant," and so on regularly used by English correspondents to one another.63 But the sense of abasement associated with the Russian °9 ZORSA, vol. 2, 771-72; Zaozerskii, Tsarskaia votchina, 253; Longworth, Alexis, 163. 60 ZORSA, vol. 2, 733. 61 ZORSA, vol. 2, 716-17. 62 ZORSA, vol. 2, 737-38. 63 Peter Sterry, Select Writings, ed. N. I. Matar (New York: Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., 1994), 50; Lord Chesterfield, Letters, ed. David Roberts (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 34-38, 241-42, 266-67, 320-21. The literature on Muscovite slavery is substantial. For references on the sense of what the word kholop ("slave") meant to the Muscovites, see Marshall T. Poe, "A People Bom to Slavery."

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICHI COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

143

term must have been appreciably greater since juridically a kholop was an unfree person. He was personally immobilized; treated in the eyes of the law as a lord's property to be bought and sold, presented as a gift, or willed to whomever; limited in access to property and justice; and circumscribed in ability to marry and maintain family integrity—to name a few of the limitations put upon him—that were unique to Muscovy and minutely spelled out in the 119 articles of Chapter 20 of the 1649 Sobornoe Ulozhenie.64 Savvy practitioner of the "carrot-and-stick" approach, Aleksei astutely employed incentives in the form of letters of commendation, promotion, and gifts for senior commanders who pleased him and threats, insults, demotions, and even humiliating physical abuse for those who did not.65 Not for nothing were army commanders afraid of criticism and punishment that could take the form of demotion, disgrace, and corporal punishment, any one of which could hinder or scuttle career advancement. Aleksei's gusto and obtrusiveness aided Russian success, but also hindered it as well. Russian generals who customarily felt inhibited in taking initiative might become paralyzed when confronted by unanticipated circumstances demanding quick response, lest they incur their hyperactive ruler's stormy ire. Vasilii Petrovich Sheremetev's reluctance to mount offensive warfare in his delayed seizure of Vitsebsk is the most conspicuous example of this during the Belorussian campaign, but this episode remained an unheeded "straw in the wind." Seventeenth-century monarchs tended not to question their command styles, and neither Aleksei nor any of his scribes ever wrote down any misgivings he might have entertained on his role as supreme commander.

Russia in Early Modem European Ethnography, 1476~1748 (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2000), 210-14; ibid., "What Did Russians Mean When They Called Themselves 'Slaves of the Tsar'?," Slavic Review 57 (1998), 585-608; H. W. Dewey and A. M. Kleimola, Russian Private Law xiu-xvii Centuries. An Anthology, Michigan Slavic Materials, vol. 9 (Ann Arbor: Department of Slavic Languages and Literatures, University of Michigan, 1973), 4. The general treatment on Muscovite slavery is Richard Hellie, Slavery in Russia 1450-1725 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982). To gain more of a sense of how the formulaic word "slave" was used in Muscovite legal documents, see Dewey and Kleimola, Russian Private Law, passim. M Richard Hellie, trans., ed., The Muscovite Law Code (Ulozhenie) of 1649. Part 1: Text and Translation (Irvine, California: Charles Schlacks Jr., Publisher, 1988), 161-94. 65 ZORSA, vol. 2, 737-38.

144

PETER B. BROWN

Indeed, one can fault Aleksei for departing for Moscow, where he remained for the rest of the 13 Years' War, never again to direct his armies from the front itself.66 From the late 1650s until the end of the conflict, army direction was exclusively a bureaucratic affair, and that fact can help explain the string of Muscovite disasters in the middle phase of the conflict, 1658^63, when the Russians lost nearly all they had gained in the first two years. Aleksei, to be sure, presented his opinions and orders to the Boyar Duma, the Military Chancellery, the Secret Chancellery, and other bodies; but distance from the battlefield and proceeding through administrative intermediaries diluted the effectiveness of his wishes. The supreme commander's remoteness from actual combat, while he simultaneously was heavily involved in making strategic (if not tactical) military decisions, and his tightly binding field commanders to the capital's administrative machinery, to the extent that it would even implement tactical military decisions and throttle initiative, was an uneven if not baneful legacy for future generations of Russian leaders, given the power of Russian leaders over their generals. The success of Aleksei's military command technique hinged upon the tsar's presence near the combat zone, where he could gather information, sense outcomes, plan, and draw up appropriate orders. However, his capacity to lead could not compensate for the friction of time and distance when he was in the capital. Herein lies a major flaw in his military modus vivendi, and one that can be inferred from his extensive conveyance of personal instructions via the Secret Chancellery to both the Military Chancellery and his first-line commanders between 1657 and the mid-1660s.67 It is no stretch of the imagination to suppose that Aleksei was aware of the changed command atmosphere, created by sheer physical circumstances. Previously, he had been able to command personally his generals at or near the front line, but then he had to relocate to great distance from the front and had to command indirectly through his capital's offices and might even allow his generals, as a further concession to distance travail, the discretion of making

bh

Upon his return to Moscow, matters such as the Nikon affair, the mounting raskol, and the usual flow of governmental and court business absorbed Aleksei's attentions. Sovereigns usually prefer to govern from capitals, and Aleksei was no exception. 67 Zaozerskii, Tsarskaia votchma, 276-80, 298-304, 312-13.

TSAR ALEKSEI MIKHAILOVICH: COMMAND STYLE AND LEGACY

145

command decisions on their own. It is also inferable, from his subsequent tactics involving the Secret Chancellery, that the tsar grasped how reliance upon bureaucracy as a substitute for personal, handson command was an incomplete strategem and could engender major performance gaps in military performance. That he fathomed this becomes apparent from his using his own personal department, the Secret Chancellery, to reduce turn-around time for processing incoming data and response by instructing this body to pen orders overriding or even nullifying Military Chancellery edicts and hectoring his field commanders to act with great dispatch. But even here, much as he belatedly strove to reconstruct an erstwhile command environment and its attendant successes through the instrumentality of the prikaz tainykh del, autocratic prowess ran up against external limitations that no Russian sovereign could evade. Aleksei's persistence, in the middle phase of the 13 Years' War, in relying upon overbearing bureaucratic presence could be indicative of a willful obstinancy, though he may have believed he had no option in view of his having now to dwell in Moscow. Regardless of what he might have felt and of his undeniable technical virtuosity in refracting his wishes through the chancellery medium, the nature of what was by now a mature bureaucratic system imposed its own desiderata impossible to circumvent. With Aleksei we see a confluence, in their Muscovite context, of autocracy and bureaucracy. All the evidence highlights his unwavering belief that personal, autocratic control, exercised through a centralized military administration could enable his armies to maneuver, fight, and even win, whatever the impoverishment of initiative upon junior commanders that this might inflict. In various degrees this scenario prevailed in Russian military history thereafter. Overall, Aleksei established—and perhaps in some cases reinforced—continuities that profoundly influenced the military psychology and actions of future Russian heads of state.

This page intentionally left blank

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY: THE IMPACT OF INTERNAL ORGANIZATION Carol B. Stevens When Peter the Great inherited the Russian throne, he also inherited its military establishment. As he came to power, the army's earlier record of quite impressive accomplishments had been marred by defeats and retreats. A quarter century later, Russia's military forces were transformed, and, having defeated the Swedish Empire, were now viewed with increasing alarm by their European neighbors. By many accounts, Peter's reforms were sweeping and profound, dispatching the complexities and hesitations of the pre-Petrine era and beginning anew to create permanent, standing forces worthy of a European empire. To some degree, the tsar himself was the source of this perspective, which included attempts to influence the interpretation of changes that were underway. His activities in this respect ranged from his sponsorship of military engravings intended to promote a Europeanized military ethos at home, to his hiring individuals in European capitals who, in another age, could only have been called his public relations agents.1 Many a scholarly study has concluded, relying heavily on the innumerable decrees and letters written by the royal reformer, that Peter was engaged in thoroughgoing reform. Comparisons to west European armies have suggested ways in which the Russian military matched, or even surpassed, its models.2 Not that this perspective on Peter the Great has gone unchallenged. Scholars have long disputed the perspective of radical and systematic transformation.3 Recently, in particular, it has been noted 1

James Cracraft, The Petrine Revolution in Russian Imagery (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997) with O. G. Ageeva, "Severnaia voina i isskustvo graviury," in Russkaia kul'tura v usloviiakh inozemnykh nashestvii i voin, ed. A. N. Kopylov (Moscow: AN SSSR, 1990), 154, 164; Peter Petschauer, "In Search of Competent Aides: Heinrich van Huyssen and Peter the Great," Jahrbiicher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 26 (1978), 492. 2 See, inter alia, Pavel O. Bobrovskii, Perekhod Rossii k reguliarnoi armii (St. Petersburg: Tip. V. S. Balasheva, 1885); Liubomir G. Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia i flot v XVIII veke (Moscow: Nauka, 1958) and Voennaia istoriia otechestua s drevnykh memen do nashikh dnei 3 vols. (Moscow: Mosgorarkhiv, 1995), vol. 1, chapter 7 (hereafter VOI). 3 For example, various works by Nikolai I. Pavlenko, most recently, Petr velikii (Moscow: MysP, 1990).

148

CAROL B. STEVENS

that the Petrine efforts in some ways bore a striking resemblance to the military reform projects of the seventeenth century. Others have pointed out that early eighteenth-century reforms were carried out unevenly and with unpredictable results,4 and perhaps failed to create a standing, regular army at all, notwithstanding the victory over Sweden.5 Still others cite the enormous costs paid by Russia for its victory: greater centralization, the soul tax, and social rigidity.6 In the telling and retelling of the Petrine military transformation, there has been relatively little analysis of the army's basic organization: the distribution of its forces, regimental size, membership, composition, and stability.7 Such issues arguably helped to define the character of the Russian land forces and some of its capabilities. These choices had very broad implications because they became the context within which a new social integration took place. They also reflected significant fiscal and organizational pressures. The evolution of Russian military organization can be divided into quite distinct periods under Peter I. Abrupt modifications to army organization and force distribution suggest that Peter seriously reconsidered the nature of his army at several points during his reign. The first stage occurred prior to 1705, when national-level conscription resumed. The focus of organizational change was to bring Russia's military population back into the campaign army in massive numbers. The new regiments differed little from the Muscovite new-formation regiments in structure; their emphasis on infantry reflected standard west-European practice. It was a period of almost constant organizational flux. There was no target number of regi-

4 Lindsey Hughes, Russia in the Age of Peter the Great (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), especially chapter 3; Brian Davies, "The Development of Russian Military Power, 1453-1815," in European Warfare, 1453-1815, ed. Jeremy Black (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1999), 168-70; Anatolii V. Chernov, Vooruzjiennye sily Russkogo gosudarstva (Moscow: Voennoe izd-vo Ministerstva oborony Soiuza SSR, 1954), 223; Moishe Davidovich Rabinovich, "Formirovanie reguliarnoi armii nakanune severnoi voiny," in Voprosy voennoi istorii Rossii, ed. Viktor I. Shunkov (Moscow: Nauka, 1969), 221-33, and many others. 5 William C. Fuller, Strategy and Power in Russia, 1600-1914 (New York: Macmillan, 1992), 44. 6 Evgenii V. Anisimov, Vremia Petrovskikh reform (Leningrad: Lenizdat, 1989), for example. ' See, however, Nikolai I. Solov'ev, Istoricheskie ocherki ustroistva i dovol'stviia Russkikh regul'iamykh voisk, vyp. 1 (St. Petersburg, Trenka & Fiusno, 1900), 1-62; Richard Hellie, "The Petrine Army," Canadian-American Slavic Studies 8 (1974), 243-45; Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia i flot, 33-73.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

149

merits in the army, for example,8 and troops were formed where possible. A second stage in the evolution of Russian military organization occurred in 1704—05. The exclusive focus of these new plans was the regular field army, whose role was defined overwhelmingly by the Swedish war. The new plans called for regular campaign troops to grow in number, with particularly rapid expansion in the regular cavalry. In a third stage, the army faced the threat of Ottoman and Tatar invasion in 1711, and regular defense regiments were added to the army along the southern frontier, even as the Swedish war continued. This defensive element of the armed forces continued to grow after 1713, as the army entered a period of slower change and organizational consolidation. By 1727, the institutional structure of the army had stabilized. Throughout, the same driving effort at transformation—and the same inconsistent and often contradictory reform initiatives—are identifiable in army organization as they are in Peter's efforts to centralize the government apparatus, create military support systems, or even promote cultural Europeanization.9 To elaborate somewhat: The first systematic, large-scale efforts at army reorganization followed Peter's return from the Grand Embassy to western and central Europe (1698).10 The army subsequently defeated by the Swedes at Narva in 1700 was made up of two infantry Guards' regiments (whose individual histories have been quite carefully studied),11 two supporting Preobrazhenskii dragoon regiments, and another 27 infantry regiments made up of volunteers and datochnye.n These units, temporarily organized into three divisions, reflected Peter's hopes for a new field army. Notably, they were overwhelmingly infantry regiments, and they contained most of the army's remaining foreign officers. These were far from the only men under arms, however. In addition, another 10 infantry regiments of conscripts and volunteers and nine more regiments of cavalry were 8

Solov'ev, Istoricheskii ocherk ustroistva, 5. See, for example, V. N. Avtokratov, "Pervye komissariatskie organy Russkoi reguliarnoi armii (1700-1710)," htwicheskie zapiski 68 (1961), 163-88. 10 Although not always acknowledged, reorganization began prior to Narva: VOI, vol. 1, 248. 11 Petr Osipovich Bobrovskii, Istoriia Leib" Gvardii Preobrazhenskago polka (St. Petersburg, 1900), inter alia. 12 Datochnye were technically men 'on loan' to the state. In 1700, the possibility that conscripted peasants would remain in the army as full-time, life-long soldiers rather than returning to their owners after a season's campaigning, as previously, was not even mentioned beforehand. Rabinovich, "Formirovanie," 231-32. 9

150

CAROL B. STEVENS

formed during 1700—01.13 A few more units were still defined by their seventeenth-century landholding bases, including 13 regiments of landholding infantrymen and 14 regiments of reiters and lancers. Finally, despite their 1699 rebellion, the execution of their leaders, and the cashiering of their Moscow units, about 60 regiments of stre'tsy (musketeers) remained. Notwithstanding the variety of their composition, all of these units (except possibly some strel'tsy and a single cavalry regiment) shared the then-standard hierarchical command structure of a European army. Together with Kalmyk and Cossack cavalry, all of these forces were used during the early campaigns of the Great Northern War both on the northwestern front and in garrison defense. While the infantry had proven disappointing at Narva, the size and deployment of cavalry forces especially proved key to early Russian victories such as Erastfer.14 The second stage in Russian military organizational evolution began with further regimental reorganization (developed partially in consultation with Lieutenant General Oglivy, recently of the Habsburg army). This was announced in 1704, the year Narva was finally captured from the Swedes. It established new and quite different goals for the next five to six years, based upon the experience of the war to date. First, the size of the regular infantry was increased by twothirds. That is, based upon national-level conscription, 20 new regiments of foot soldiers were to be added to the existing Guards' and other regular infantry regiments. Although it was unclear that Russia could afford to support these units, infantry expansion was predictable, given west European practice and the example of seventeenth-century Russian reform. Most spectacular and rapid growth, however, was reserved for the dragoons, which leapt from two to 33 regular regiments. The enormous expansion in cavalry was less conventional, and the final dispositions certainly differed quite sharply from the proposals of Peter's Habsburg General.15 Finally, field artillery 13 Unanalyzed outline histories of all Petrine army regiments deriving from both archival and printed sources are in Moisei Davidovich Rabinovich, Polki Petrovskii armii (Moscow: Nauka, 1977) (henceforth R: #). 14 Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 111-113; Davies, "Development," 170; Robert Frost, Northern Wars (Harrow: Pearson, 2000), 242; Theodore Mackiw, English Reports on Mazepa (New York: Ukrainian Historical Association, 1983), 29. 15 Christopher Duffy, Russia's Military Way to the West. The Origins and Nature of Russian Military Power, 1700-1800 (London: Routledge & Keegan Paul, 1985), 18, notes that Peter exceeded Oglivy's recommendations for army size; the change in proportions, although greater, here passes without comment.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

151

and gunners, assigned to each regiment individually in the seventeenth century, had been united into a separate specialized unit in 1701, the continuation of which was affirmed in 1704.16 Organizational remnants of the preceding century persisted: 31 units of strel'tsy and several landholding infantry troops remained. Five lancer and reiter troops outlasted this reorganization, as did five regiments ambiguously described as "cavalry." This ambitious project was not fulfilled exactly as planned. By 1708, eight grenadier regiments (five infantry and three dragoon) amalgamated the grenadier companies previously attached to each regiment. The number of regular infantry units declined to 42 after Russia's great victory against Sweden at Poltava (1709), leaving the two Guards, five grenadier, and 35 fusilier regiments. Although the dragoons grew dramatically in numbers, they did not attain the anticipated totals. As late as 1706, only 28 of the projected 33 regiments existed. Meanwhile, other major military reforms were undertaken, such as the effort to consolidate the army's financial and administrative direction. By 1706, for example, the accounts for nearly all the infantry and about half the dragoon regiments were housed in the same institution, the Ratusha.17 The third major reorganization, which began in 1711, represented another sharp departure, this time from the pattern of regularization and expansion of campaign regiments. Indeed, the numbers of Russian field forces remained relatively untouched: 49 infantry regiments, 33 cavalry regiments, and an artillery unit. The new element was the creation of regular defense forces, to respond to the Ottoman and Tatar threats from the south.18 Such defensive concerns reflected a return to and a renewal of an important military orientation of the seventeenth-century. The reappearance on the Russian scene of a defense orientation is rarely discussed with Peter's other military reforms. Russia's many frontier and internal garrisons were no longer manned by campaign troops rotated in at need and 16

Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 42~43; Hellie, "Petrine Army," 242. Avtokratov, "Pervye komissariatskie," 167, 171; Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 40-42. 18 The lands along the southern Russian frontier were particularly hard hit by raids during the early Petrine period, as the army focused on the Northern War. Although the outcome of the war with Sweden was less doubtful after Poltava (1709), the timing of military reform here suggests that it nonetheless took the organized military threat of the Ottoman Empire to produce major military changes in the south. 17

152

CAROL B. STEVENS

bolstered by older-style, irregular troops. Instead, regular garrison regiments were created explicitly for defensive purposes: 30 infantry and two dragoons. They were less expensive to maintain than field regiments of the same kind. All but one of the earlier cavalry regiments and the three or four remaining strel'tsy were similarly disposed in practice, if not in name. The focus on defense forces and on the southern frontier was not temporary; it continued to grow toward the end of Peter's reign. In a further less dramatic reorganization that occurred in 1713—14, garrison troops were augmented by new resident landmilitsiia regiments. After these were dismissed, five or six landmilitsiias, created in 1723, became a durable part of the Russian military scene, guarding the southern frontier. In the 1720s, the garrison forces were further augmented to 48.5 infantry regiments and 4.25 dragoons. At the same time, a separate southern army corps (nizovoi korpus) was created largely from existing field units, expressly for the Persian campaign.19 The accompanying chart roughly tabulates the pace of change and intended character of the Petrine army, illustrating its non-linear development. Two important points should be made about this changing regimental distribution. Firstly, the new campaign regiments of Peter's field army maintained an unusually high proportion of cavalry after Summary of regiments of the Russian army, 1700-1725 1700

1704

guards infantry artillery dragoons garrison forces

2

2 47 1 33

other strel'tsy 17th c. cavalry

(10 infantry)

27 2

73

25

1711

1713-20

2

2 42 + 5g 1 30 + 3g 48.5 infantry 4.25 dragoon

42 + 5g 1 30 + 3g 30 infantry 2 dragoon

5—6 landmilitsii

31 10

3-4 4

g = grenadier regiments. Sources: L. G. Beskrovnyi, Russiakaia armiia i flat v XVIII veke (Moscow, 1958), 22, 40-46; N. I. Solov'ev, Istoricheskie ocherki ustroistva i dovol'stviia Russkikh regul'iarnykh voisk (St. Petersburg, 1900), 3-9.

Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 42, 45.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

153

1704. 'The eclipse of the cavalry by infantry,' and, in particular, the creation of large numbers of infantry troops, was for many armies a major element in the transformation of early modern European warfare.20 Indeed, by Peter's time, western European armies were often 75% infantry.21 Peter's first efforts at reform in 1700 suggested that the Russian army would replicate that infantry-heavy pattern. The inclination to generate an overwhelming proportion of regular infantry was, however, abruptly arrested in 1704-05. While the number of Russian foot soldiers grew from 27 to nearly 80 regiments by 1725, the Petrine forces thereafter remained unusually cavalry-heavy from a western European perspective. In fact, a significant percentage of the Russian infantry was concentrated in the garrison regiments, where it made up 90% of the defensive forces. The military expectations of these garrison regiments, many of which were based in southern fortresses, remained institutionally different from the rest of the army. After bearing this in mind, the field army on campaign presented a particularly high cavalry profile within its regular regiments. On the face of it, these troops were about 40% cavalry. However, the regular army was often supported by Cossack and Kalmyk irregulars while on campaign; in this case, of course, the functional percentage of infantry dropped well below 60%. The high rate of cavalry to infantry in the Petrine forces did not occur by happenstance.22 The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth had successfully used plentiful cavalry in the late sixteenth century and had painfully taught both Sweden and Russia its advantages early in the seventeenth century (Kircholm, 1605; Smolensk, 1632-34). The Swedish army adopted similar cavalry usage, particularly quickly and successfully.23 By the late seventeenth-century, the armies of Sweden, the Ottoman Empire, and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth all shared this feature.24 The same troop distribution was to 20 Geoffrey Parker, The Military Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 2nd ed., 24. 21 Peter Wilson, "Warfare in the Old Regime, 1648-1815," in European Warfare, 1453-1815, 85; Angus Konstam, Poltava 1709 (London: Osprey, 1994), 18. 22 Duffy, Russia's Military Way, 18. 23 Frost, Northern Wars, 64, 147, 235. German armies soon followed suit: Ronald G. Asch, "The Thirty Years' War," in European Warfare, 1453-1815, 57. On the Habsburgs: Jeremy Black, European Warfare, 1660-1815 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 104. 24 Konstam, Poltava, 18; Frost, Northern Wars, 246; Rhoades Murphey, Ottoman Warfare (New Brunswick: Rutgers Press, 1999), 35-49.

154

CAROL B. STEVENS

be found in the seventeenth-century Russian army, whose troops were 49% cavalry in 1681 and 46% on the second Crimean campaign of 1689.25 In the early 1700s, the Swedish army was still nearly half cavalry.26 It is hardly surprising that the Russians resumed similar cavalry proportions to fight the formidable Swedish army, particularly after their experiences fighting in the Baltic. These arrangements were not, as has been suggested, a relic of outmoded military practice on Europe's eastern edge. Robert Frost has recently emphasized both the tactical and strategic effectiveness in the east European theater of numerous and well-trained cavalry, operating in conjunction with infantry. That is, these horsemen certainly played a battlefield role that resembled their counterparts further west: charging battle lines, supporting the infantry, and mounting flanking attacks. Officers' accounts from the early eighteenth century make it dramatically clear, however, that in between such encounters, and during siege warfare, the Petrine cavalry played another set of strategic and tactical roles: constantly on the move, reconnoitering, skirmishing, gathering information and supplies.27 With long distances, sparse population and often harsh terrain, plentiful cavalry offered an advantage over more conventionally-proportioned west-European troops in this theater.28 Russian troop distribution thus reflected not only the requirements of the Northern War, but also a selective approach toward European military models from further west. The cavalry shared with the infantry a second feature of the Petrine army: the overall uniformity and absence of specialization among its troops. At least on paper, this represented a major change from the seventeenth century. The pre-Petrine army had had a variety of different kinds of troops. The infantry included new-formation foot soldiers and strel'tsy\ the cavalry was particularly diverse, including mounted strel'tsy, service cavalry hundreds, cossacks and other irregulars. In addition, the new-formation cavalry at various times had

25 Richard Hellie, Enserjment and Military Change (Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1971), 270-72. 26 Konstam, Poltava, 18. 27 See, for example, Russkii gosudarstvennyi voenno-istoricheskii arkhiv (hereafter RGVIA), fond 489, opis 1, ed. khran. 2451, 11. 95~98ob.: "lakov Grigor'ev syn Sytin." My thanks to IREX for funding this archival visit. 28 See Parker, Military Revolution, 169, for other armies' adaptation to specific kinds of terrain.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

155

included lancers, hussars, reiters, and dragoons. These distinctions were only partly based upon troop specialization; they also reflected some of the social distinctions of Muscovite society. The regular Petrine army was, by contrast, overwhelmingly simple: infantry and dragoons. A regiment of Serbian hussars was an isolated experiment; the surviving heavier cavalry saw limited battlefield use. Infantry units contained a mix of pikemen and fusiliers, but were otherwise also quite uniform. Grenadier units existed on horseback and on foot. A minimal amount of specialization remained the general rule in the Russian army to the end of Peter's reign. Such lack of specialization extended even to the distinction between cavalry and infantry. The Guards regiments, in particular, were universal troops and could be mounted as cavalry.29 Russian infantry troops generally were unusually flexible in this respect. Mounted infantry were part of the corps volant that helped to defeat General Leuwenhaupt at the battle of Lesnaia (1708). As the defeated Swedes retreated to the Ottoman border after Poltava, Russian troops successfully pursued them to Perevolochna (1709), the infantry, mounted two to a horse, keeping pace with the dragoons. Dragoons, by definition, could be used mounted or dismounted.30 If Russian army units were generally unspecialized, they were also employed in quite undifferentiated ways. Until at least 1711, regiments undertook a variety of military activities quite indiscriminately. Thus, active field regiments were used to reinforce garrisons along the Swedish frontier (altogether unsurprisingly). They also served in anti-Tatar garrisons along the southern frontier, an activity that would later be associated with lesser military preparedness.31 Fortress garrisons were also informal proving-grounds for fresh recruits, until garrison units were formally assigned that role in 1716. The activities of the Moscow infantry regiment read like a laundry list of every possible kind of military assignment. The regiment did hard labor in building St. Petersburg and guarded the Olonets wharf (more to keep other labor from escaping, than to protect the wharf from attack), before fighting major battles at Poltava and on the Pruth campaign.32 29 O. Leonov and I. Ul'ianov, Reguliarnaia pekhota, 1698-1801 (Moscow: AST, 1995), 13. 30 VOI, 259, 269-270; Konstam, Poltava, 86. 31 R: ## 119-141. :w Leonov, Reguliarnaia pekhota, 18; R: # 117; see also RGVIA, fond 490, opis 2, delo 59, 1. 56ob: 'Maior lakov lakovlev.'

156

CAROL B. STEVENS

Infantry troops also served on shipboard, and, particularly prior to the separation of garrison troops and landmilitsiia, did internal police duty and suppressed the Bulavin and Bashkir rebellions.33 The dragoon regiments also undertook a patchwork of military responsibilities. One unit was active in the field army through Pruth before moving to guard the Tsaritsyn defensive line. Another fought at Poltava and then helped to build the Ladoga canal.34 Some dragoon regiments appear to have been used almost exclusively as infantry troops.33 Only a few mounted artillery and grenadier troops were treated distinctively. The economic and administrative advantages of maintaining an unspecialized and undifferentiated army in a large, undergoverned area with a relatively poor agricultural economy have been elaborated elsewhere.36 There were, however, implied political and social questions involved in the accomplishment of both of these changes. That is, a large Russian military force that was only minimally differentiated by training, specialization, command structure, or other organizational format threatened to eliminate the kinds of social segregation that had persisted in the pre-Petrine army: segregation that acknowledged some differences among Cossacks, serfs, small freeholders, the often urban contract servicemen who constituted the strelets forces, and hereditary service. Perhaps more importantly, an army in which the cavalry, not just the infantry, required large numbers of men challenged the traditional understanding that cavalry was the preserve of the "nobly born," who had a family history of service to the crown.37 Neither the high percentage of cavalry nor a lack of differentiation among the troops in the Russian army and navy were achieved instantaneously, of course. In each case, similar seventeenth-century

33

The Moscow infantry regiment also served in the fleet. R: ## 117, 119, 160,

168, 186, 199. 34 R: ## 574, 604, 623. 35 R: # 513. 36 Walter Pintner, "The Burden of Defense, 1725-1914," Russian Review 43 (1984), 231-49. 37 The issue of year-round service in the army by both conscripts and landholders was another touchy one. The tension between state military requirements and private agricultural arrangements had been successfully accommodated in the seventeenth century. Serfs conscripted into the infantry returned home after a campaign or a season, and their landlords regained their labor. Meanwhile, although the army could not claim the benefits of permanence, neither did it have to supply winter quarters.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

157

efforts played a role. Some Petrine reform were initiated wholesale, by royal command, especially in the early years of war. In the long run, however, a principal vehicle for these changes lay in military organization: the rapid creation of new regiments and the almost equally rapid dividing, disbanding, cashiering, and dismissal of others. Among infantry troops, for example, some 272 new regular regiments of foot were formed between 1699 and 1725. Since there were supposed to be only about 90 infantry regiments in the entire army in the 1720s, many of these regiments clearly did not last. In fact, the regimental survival rate for the infantry was even lower than the one in three that these numbers suggest. The total number of foot regiments available in the early eighteenth century was much greater than those created by Peter himself. About 70 regiments of strel'tsy existed when Peter took power; although most of these were soon disbanded, a few even fought on the Pruth in 1711. The Butyrskii and Lefortovskii infantry regiments, which began as select Muscovite units in 1642, still existed in 1725. Finally, there were ephemeral regiments before 1711 whose purpose was exclusively to train recruits or to transfer them to their permanent regiments at the front.38 Regimental disappearance from the infantry rosters was thus even higher than two out of three. The causes of such turnover were diverse. New regiments were frequently created simply because infantrymen were needed at the front and in garrison forces. As the war with Sweden began (1699—1700), as Russia occupied more of Sweden's Baltic provinces (1703 04), as Russia tried to prolong the war in Poland (1706), and as the Swedes invaded Russia (1708), new regiments were formed under intense military pressure. Threats to the southern border from the Ottoman Empire and the Tatars led to the formation of garrison troops (1711), the first landmilitsiias (1713), and the second landmilitsiia units (1723—24). After the opening salvos of war, however, military need ceased to be the sole and primary cause for the appearance of new regiments. Although naturally driven by military demand, the need to maintain regiments at an appropriate size and level of training also led to the creation of new troops and disappearance of older ones. That is, calls for volunteers (before 1705) and conscription drives routinely 38

R: ## 21-23, 75-76, 386-511. See Moisei Davidovich Rabinovich, "Strel'tsy rannoi 18oi vek," Istoricheskie zapiski 59 (1956), 273-305 on the fate of the strel'tsy.

158

CAROL B. STEVENS

failed to yield the anticipated numbers. Desertions among conscripts and from the ranks, as well as deaths from disease and decimation in battle frequently resulted in regiments that were far below their statutory size, too. Units were, of course, brought up to size with new recruits (who were bolstered by the presence of veteran troops) and with individual transfers. Sometimes, however, frontline regiments were replenished from the garrison forces. Very shorthanded regiments could be disbanded, and the men transferred (vlity) into other undersized units to make up a full (new) regiment.39 Finally, the existence of already trained military men could hardly be disregarded, particularly in the early years of the war. Strel'tsy, even from disloyal regiments, were 'recycled,' by using them to fill up shorthanded units or by dividing them amongst loyal troops. Other regiments of streltsy who had not rebelled were not disbanded so much as reconstructed into new infantry regiments 'of the same name.' Under Peter, as when performed in the seventeenth century, the result of this maneuver was to give the strel'tsy the same command structure as other infantry units, while effectively diluting the old command. Thus, the Kazan' district strel'tsy fought as infantrymen under Colonels Sharf and Tolbukhin in Ingermanland and Estland, before they were assigned to garrison duty in St. Petersburg and on Kotlin Island. Under Catherine I, they became the Kronshlots garrison infantry regiment.40 Political and administrative reasons for the disappearance of infantry regiments could also be identified. Units were cashiered for active participation (against the government) in the Astrakhan or Bulavin rebellions.41 The men of the first landmilitsiia units were sent home in 1714 and disbanded five years later, presumably because attack from the south was politically unlikely. Administrative issues were key in other cases. Men of two different infantry units who had been stationed together in the fortresses of Dinament and Riga were joined into a single regiment in 1710; the new regiment's duties lay (unsurprisingly) in garrisoning Riga area fortresses.42 By 1711, the War Chancellery bore financial responsibility for most, but still not all, regiments. An inspection was held to identify and allocate the miss39

40 41 42

R: R: R: R:

## 121, 172, 250. ## 1-5, 8, 17, 57, 61, and others; ## 94, 95. # 15. # 304.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

159

ing regiments to appropriate administrative units. The process revealed the existence of seventeen infantry regiments in excess of means and expectation; most of these were disbanded in 1712.43 For the vast majority of cases, however, the record is incomplete, and the appearance and disappearance of regiments is unexplained. Such rapid regimental turnover proved to have advantageous longterm effects. It helped to mould military unity out of social heterogeneity and emphasized the continuities of Petrine military life over the social disparities of the pre-Petrine military. It has become a truism to identify the eighteenth-century military with the peasantry from which it was so largely drawn. This can mislead, however, since all conscripts were not serfs. Conscripts, volunteers, and recruits included some poor landholders, free craftsmen and other urban residents, as well as men of the former lower service class such as strel'tsy and service cossacks. The Petrine army placed all these men together in the infantry. On the face of it, this was not obviously different from the preceding century, when the need to keep large numbers of foot soldiers in the field had already made soldiers of all these groups. The seventeenth-century army had been cautious about issues of social status, however, and efforts had been made to retain social parity within individual regiments. Thus, former musketeers served in one unit, peasants in another. Hereditary servicemen who were too poor for cavalry service were individually demoted to particular infantry units and granted the right to return to cavalry should their circumstances change. Since few of these regiments were permanent or standing, and since they were disbanded at the end of a season (or at the end of the war), social distinctions were maintained in a somewhat diluted form.44 The Petrine infantry at first acknowledged this older social hierarchy. The vast majority of units formed prior to 1703 were homogeneous in internal social composition. The largest single group of regiments was formed from datochnye\ volunteers (whose social status was often ambiguous) made up another significant group. Other regiments were based on former service categories: former infantrymen, or strel'tsy, or Cossacks. Free urban taxpayers were sometimes mixed 43

Avtokratov, "Pervye komissariatskie," 170-71; R: # 187, for example. Carol B. Stevens, Soldiers on the Steppe (DeKalb, Illinois: Northern Illinois University Press, 1995), 82. 44

160

CAROL B. STEVENS

with volunteers, but few early regiments were of diverse social origin. This observance of social distinctions, very likely, was partially an administrative artifact. That is, military call-ups and conscriptions would necessarily have used extant seventeenth-century records for at least a decade.45 A draft based upon old lists of taxpaying peasant households produced regiments of peasant conscripts, while levies based on old service lists would gather strel'tsy, or Cossacks, or former infantrymen, but few peasants. Social parity within the permanent Petrine regiments did not last long, especially in wartime conditions. Later regiments were made up from new or conjoined lists, as the old categories ceased to yield adequate recruits. Occasionally regiments would still be manned largely by Cossacks (1706), exclusively by slaves (1709) and certainly by peasant recruits.46 After 1702, regiments were more often composed of men from a variety of social, military, and geographic origins. Soldiers, soldiers' sons, and churchmen were enrolled together in 1704 into what became the Galich infantry troop, for example.47 Churchmen were only one of the new groups to become eligible for infantry service. In ever-larger numbers, poorer hereditary servicemen became foot soldiers. Not only those whose families had been demoted to the infantry in the seventeenth century, but even those who had served as new formation cavalrymen, were enrolled into the Petrine infantry with others from their districts.48 Social mixing did not take place only in the formation of new regiments, but in the mixing of men from existing regiments. The Ingermanland infantry regiment was formed in 1703 by Field Marshall Alexander Menshikov from "the strongest and best-trained soldiers" of various regiments.49 A more ordinary infantry regiment, commanded by N. A. Neitert (Neidgart), was made up in 1703 of "officers and men of various regiments, at their will."30 More typically, kniaz' Shakhovskii's unit was made up in Kazan' in 1708 from infantry45

RGADA f. 210 Belgorodskii stol kn. 199 (1706), 11. 4ff. and 590ff.; V. N. Avtokratov, "Voennyi prikaz," in Poltava, ed. L. G. Beskrovnyi et al. (Moscow: Nauka, 1959), 232. 46 RGADA f. 210 Belgorodskii stol kn. 192 11. 16 and 29 for the mixing of service lists in 1705; R: ## 237, 243, 292, 311. 47 R: # 209. 48 R: ## 181, 185, 200, 202, 218-221, 233, 234, 240-241, 246-248 from the years 1703-1706. 49 R: # 209, 171 (also see note 38). This was hardly a typical regiment, however. ~M R: # 174.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

161

men of the Verkhnyi Lomov district. It took part in the battle of Poltava but was disbanded after the taking of Vyborg in 1710. Its men helped make up a garrison regiment for Lubnyi. By 1713, these soldiers had been further dispersed 'to various regiments' presumably to make up inadequate numbers, without regard to the social composition of their new units.al In addition to transfers among existing regiments, of course, recruits from nearly annual levies were also added to field and garrison units to make up numbers; such recruits could be of a variety of backgrounds, but by definition were mostly peasants. Furthermore, after 1708, most infantry regiments were eventually assigned to a particular guberniia upon whose revenues and support they were dependent. Recruits from that region replaced missing rank-and-file soldiers, gradually creating more geographically homogeneous regiments overwhelmingly (but not exclusively) from peasant backgrounds.52 In short, social intermixing in the regiments acted powerfully against the remaining links between social rank and varying conditions of infantry service. In wartime conditions, the transition was achieved with relatively little reaction or comment.53 The imposition of a more rigid but broader segmentation of Russian society, institutionalized in the soul tax, for example, could only have been advanced by this leveling within the military. In army life, however, once socially disparate groups of men may well have been drawn into a distinctive military ethos and lifestyle by daily experience: troop maneuvers, training exercises, the wearing of uniforms, granting of medals, and, above all, survival on the battlefield. Loyalty to and affinity with the men with whom one fights is widely acknowledged to be a militarily desirable characteristic of army culture. Although regiments themselves were often short-lived in Petrine Russia, the constituent parts of regiments were comparatively stable. When men were absent from home and family for long 51

R: ## 283, 300. PSZ # 2319; Solov'ev, Istoricheskii ocherk ustroistva, 6-7. The regiments were not named after these areas however, but after other gubernii. N. Zeziulinskii, K rodisloviiu 34-kh pekhotnykh polkov Petra I (Petrograd: tipografiia P. Usova, 1915), 10. 03 The issue of permanent, year-round sendee proved much more immediately troublesome. The streltsy complained of the hardship involved as early as the Azov campaigns. Serfholders, whose serfs unexpectedly became lifetime recruits rather than returning to agricultural labor and the support of their masters after seasonal campaigns, complained bitterly. Graeme P. Herd, "The Azov Campaigns, 1695-1596" typescript page 8; Rabinovich, "Formirovanie," 233. j2

162

CAROL B. STEVENS

periods, this helped to foster stronger internal loyalties. Initially, infantry troops had two battalions, each of which contained five companies (roty) of more than 100 men apiece. In 1704, it took nine companies (including one of grenadiers) to make a regiment. By 1708, each regiment had eight companies with 1487 men, including officers. The Guards and other select regiments were larger, with three battalions each. Changes thereafter were minor, such as the addition of 10 men and an officer. These smaller entities, the company and the battalion, were much more stable than the regiment itself. A regiment did not necessarily serve in one place, nor was it necessarily kept together when it was away from the front, especially prior to 1715.54 The unit of choice within the regiment seems to have been a battalion ideally numbering 500-600 men. Training was conducted by battalion, and military statistics were generally recorded by battalion.51 When regiments were posted or even disbanded, the smaller units were sometimes preserved. The infantry appears to have been posted to the navy in companies, for example.56 Transfers to new regiments were often by company, thus keeping men who had fought together with their field commander, a captain.37 When regiments were quartered on the population, this level of organization remained key. That is, quartering instructions insisted primarily on the proximity of companies. (As troops were quartered for longer periods on the peasantry, the equation of peasant life and the social condition of the infantry soldier, as discussed by Bushnell and others, may have been reinforced, however.)38 Local recruitment and training appear likewise to have gradually encouraged company loyalty. Although recruits went to their regiments from a training station in 1706, they trained with local garrison troops after 1716, and briefly (1718-20) with officers from their future 54

Solov'ev, Ustroistva, 14, 19-20; Hellie, "Petrine," 244. Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 113; A. Z. Myshlaevskii, ed., Sievernaia voina na Ingermanlandskom i Finliandskom teatmkh v 1708-1714. Dokumenty gos. arkhiva (St. Petersburg: Voenno-uchenyi komitet glavnogo shtaba, 1893), 402, 426, 440; D. F. Maslovskii, Sievernaia voina. Dokumenty 1705-1708 gg. (St. Petersburg: Voenno-uchenyi komitet glavnogo shtaba, 1892), 363 and others. 56 Myshlaevskii, Sievernaia, 462-63. 57 For example, the Narva infantry regiment was brought up to strength after the battle of Poltava by the infusion of whole companies from the Kiev infantry regiment. RGVIA f. 490, op. 2, delo 49, 11. 13-22. 18 John Bushnell, "The Russian Soldiers' Artel, 1700-1900," in Land, Commune, and Peasant Community in Russia, ed. Roger Bartlett (New York: St. Martins, 1990), 376, 391. 35

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

163

field regiments.59 Loyalty and affiliation were also encouraged by awarding distinctive names to the regiments.60 Despite the emphasis on numerous cavalry, the training and use of infantry always remained a key element in the Petrine military effort. Less social disparity and greater military loyalty were part and parcel of its increasing effectiveness, its greater tactical efficiency, and its growing similarity to west-European regiments, which were the subject of extensive contemporary and historical comment.61 The replacement of the seventeenth-century's cavalry by dragoon regiments in the Petrine army appeared to be institutionally parallel to the infantry—the creation and cashiering of regiments to help implement change. There were very important military and political differences, however. First, the comparatively slow turnover among dragoon regiments concealed a much greater change in military character than that experienced by the infantry. About 100 new dragoon regiments were created from 1698 to the 1720s. Most of these were added early in the reign, as the army dramatically increased its cavalry wing (1701, 1704—08). Regimental creation (and cashiering) were not, on the whole, complicated by large numbers of olderstyle troops, nor by questions of political loyalty. In fact, relatively few older cavalry regiments were called up at all in the eighteenth century (14 reiters, seven Cossack, and one hundreds regiment). Only very few of these were unquestionably restructured into Petrine regular-army units.62 More frequently, since the seventeenth-century cavalry was by definition not standing troops, cavalrymen from these regiments were dispersed to their homes when the early and immediate need for any cavalry at all had passed. Very quickly, these and other experienced reiters were called up into new dragoon regiments, but they were enrolled anew as individuals, not in their old regimental groups. Of the dragoon regiments so created, about 40% remained at the end of the reign. The dismissal of the other regiments took place slowly and regularly, a few per year, without any particularly large turnover in a given year, apparently for practical military reasons such as shorthandedness. Recruit and training regiments were particularly short-lived.

Leonov, Reguliarnaia, 18; Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 134. Zeziulinskii, K rodisloviiu, 10. VOI, 264, 292, for example. R: ## 512-34.

164

CAROL B. STEVENS

The slower pace of regimental turnover, however, concealed military reconfiguration. Militarily, the best cavalry troops in the seventeenth century had also been the most numerous, the reiters. They shared with other new formation troops considerable advantages over the older-style cavalry: the discipline of a month's training annually in the fall, a numerous and hierarchical command structure, some access to state salaries and support to provide weapons, equipment, and the replenishing of manpower. However, infantry, not cavalry, had been the focus of seventeenth-century reform, and reiters were a low priority with limited access to resources and information. They were not the seventeenth-century's best troops; contemporary comment also suggests that reiters may have been too heavy and slow for rapid steppe deployment.63 It is not surprising that, after 1700, Peter's army had only two squadrons of this cavalry, outfitted by and escorting Marshall Sheremet'ev. As noted above, some reiter regiments lasted past 1705, although most disbanded or became enduring elements of the garrison service; one sole troop of prestigious cavalry hundreds lasted until 1725. Otherwise, of course, the Petrine cavalry was almost exclusively made up of light cavalry— dragoons who were equipped for skirmishing and could also function as infantry. The exceptional flexibility and mobility of these dragoons made them strategically valuable both on and off the battlefield (and there were few decisive battles in the Great Northern War). Their presence in the Russian army was so overwhelming that the Military Commission of 1730 averred, with remarkable amnesia, that "the Russian army has never possessed any other category of horse . . . than dragoons."64 Dragoon cavalry emphasized the overall uniformity of the Petrine army, by minimizing the differences between cavalry and infantry. Dragoon arms and uniforms were similar to those of the infantry, and they could be used both mounted and dismounted.65 The choice to convert to unarmored light cavalry also carried important fiscal advantages. Because the dragoons were surprisingly similar in uniform and armament to the infantry, the task of arming and outfitting them was somewhat simplified. Light 63

Hellie, Enserfinent, 199, 361. Baiov, 1906, vol. I, 10, quoted in Duffy, Russia's Military Way, 46. 6) Dragoon regiments had appeared briefly in the seventeenth-century army; these men had had to dismount to fire (Hellie, Enserfinent, 200). 64

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

165

cavalry, furthermore, could use the kinds of mounts that the Russians found it easiest to supply.66 New social understandings about cavalry service also emerged from the relatively measured creation and dismissal of new dragoon regiments; this was perhaps as important an effect as the implementation of the military and fiscal decisions already discussed. Cavalrymen, as mentioned earlier, were traditionally associated with high social and political standing—in a variety of locations and cultures. The idea that the cavalry was the preserve of the hereditary service elite had certainly informed Russian military thinking well past 1650. When hereditary servicemen were too poor to support themselves in the prestigious cavalry hundreds, they were moved into the new-formation reiter regiments. That service too became socially protected. Cavalry service could not be limited to hereditary servicemen for long, however. The hereditary service was hard put to fill the 27,000-man cavalry of the 1630s, and Russian cavalry totals doubled and tripled after mid-century. From the 1660s on, Cossacks, soldiers, and even peasant conscripts were necessarily formed into separate reiter regiments in order to maintain the size of Russia's cavalry. When the wars were over, however, every effort was made to cleanse the reiters of such men and send them back to serve among others of their own social status. The number of reiters even dropped between 1681 and 1689.67 Notwithstanding these policies, the high demand for servicemen along the frontiers, coupled with the field army's need for cavalrymen, served quite dramatically to inflate the numbers of poor servicemen with claims to hereditary social status (as well as laying those claims open to suspicion).68 Army reform in the Russian context, in other words, required that cavalry should be a mass, not an elite, service. But in the seventeenth century, army reformers had moved only cautiously toward that goal. The political acceptance of reform, with this and other attendant consequences, was nonetheless signaled in 1682, with the agreement that the highest-born young noblemen should begin their service careers as junior officers in the modern regiments, rather than in the rank-and-file of the cavalry hundreds. 66 N. Zeziulinskii, 0 konozavodskom dele, Part II, 15-27; N. Ustrialov, Istoriia tsarstvovaniia Petra velikago (St. Petersburg, 1863), IV, 236, also cited by Fuller, Strategy and Power; 67. On uniforms: Angus Konstam, Peter the Great's Army 2: Cavalry (London: Osprey, 1993), 13-18. 67 Hellie, Enserfinent, 271-72. 68 Stevens, Soldiers, 142ff.

166

CAROL B. STEVENS

The social reconfiguration of the Petrine cavalry built directly on this acknowledgment, redirecting the shliakhetstuo to serve in the officer corps and reducing the pool of claimants to hereditary service status. The dragoon regiments, meanwhile, more and more visibly came to include a significant plebeian element. Granted, Peter initially drew heavily upon the shliakhetsteo for the cavalry regiments. The two dragoon units at Narva, for example, were drawn from men with court duties (tsaredvortsy), as were nine more dragoon regiments formed in 1701.69 Indeed, Peter insisted, in person if necessary, that the shliakhetstvo should serve, and as a matter of some priority, serve in the cavalry. As in the past, hereditary servicemen had joined the military by presenting themselves, their horses and weaponry at enrollments and inspections. At such events in the early eighteenth century (1699, 1701-02, 1704, 1706, 1711-14, 1716, 1718, and 1720), likely young noblemen were selected for dragoon service. As before, young men who lacked the requisite financial and physical attributes were sent into the ranks of the infantry or other less prestigious service. In 1702, Peter attended an inspection himself. In 1703, he checked the enrollment age of minors at another. As in the preceding century, horrible fates were predicted for those who failed to appear, including the traditional threat to confiscate estates.70 Thus, the cavalry remained an important, but not longer an exclusive, framework of service for men who claimed hereditary service rank. What was new in this process was the absence of any systematic segregation of the shliakhetstoo into a special kind of cavalry or even in isolated regiments. Instead, upper- and middle-level servicemen were assigned to brand-new dragoon regiments. (Dragoon service had, in the past, been considered a rather declasse branch of cavalry.)71 Their assignments as rank-and-file dragoons acknowledged that they were collectively an experienced group of cavalrymen, or at least had a tradition of military service. But, such assignments paid only limited attention to their social status. For example, two dragoon regiments were created in 1701 from former reiters, lancers and servicemen from both the cavalry hundreds and the 'new-formation' army corps of the Novgorod military district. These two reg69

R: ## 541-542, 543-552; Moisei Davidovich Rabinovich, "Sotsial'noe proiskhozhdenie i imushchestvennoe polozhenie ofitserov regul'iarnoi Russkoi armii v kontse Severnoi voiny," Rossiia v period reform Petra I, ed. N. I. Pavlenko (Moscow, 1973), 140. 70 Hughes, Peter the Great, 173; Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 23^24; PSZ, no. 2065. 71 Hellie, Enserfinent, 215.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

167

iments thus mixed the social elite of the cavalry hundreds with less exalted servitors. All of their names appear to have been drawn from the military records of the Novgorod regional command.72 In the Smolensk district, similar regiments explicitly included cossacks.73 In Muscovite terms, this mixed hereditary servicemen with the lowly, if freeborn. Servicemen from the Belgorod and Sevsk military districts also became dragoons; the service rosters from these areas listed an economically quite homogeneous group, but one that included both hereditary and lower-level servicemen.74 Such mixtures became quite common, taking men from a variety of walks of life, after they had had some experience of military life, and placing them in the dragoons with the more nobly born. Thus, in a particularly clear example from 1712, a regular infantry regiment was redesignated as the Kazan' garrison dragoons.75 By the latter part of Peter's reign, this idea was explicitly stated at military inspections. In 1720, orders for a dragoon review indicated: "that the relatives of Belgorod area dvoriane (who had served as lancers, reiters or soldiers) could be substituted for old, infirm and incapable dragoons. However, outside of the Belgorod area, in the place of the old, infirm and incapable, recruits from the common people (muzhiki) should be substituted: gunners, sentries, Cossacks . . . and others without lands."76 Social mixing in the dragoons included men from even further down the Russian social pyramid. That is, national conscription (which resumed in 1705) drew one recruit from every 80 peasant households for cavalry service. At least 12 dragoon regiments were made up of just such conscripts.77 Still other units were predominantly former slaves. It is unclear how frequent or lasting such regiments proved.78 After 1711, members of the shliakhetstvo, former servicemen, volunteers and peasant recruits also served side-by-side in the same regiments. Recruits filled the empty slots left in established regiments by casualties, desertions, and other calamities. And,

72

R: ## 553, 554; parallels, from outside Novgorod: R: ## 562, 563. R: ## 569-570. 74 R: ## 575-577; Stevens, Soldiers, 79-80. 75 R: # 625. /h Myshlaevskii, Sievernaia, 308-314, is an early smotr; "Viedomost' iz voennoi kollegii," in Sbornik voenno-istoricheskikh materialov, ed. N. F. Dubrovin, vyp. 3 (St. Petersburg, 1893), 3-4. 77 R: ## 593-594, 611-612; PSZ no. 2065. 78 R: ## 601-603. 73

168

CAROL B. STEVENS

recruits and volunteers "completed" shorthanded new regiments as they were formed.79 The process by which dragoon regiments were created and disbanded thus clearly demonstrated that the shliakhetstuo had no exclusive claim on the cavalry. Until the end of Peter's reign, the nobly born may have been distinguished by an enrollment ceremony that was uniquely theirs, and many of their number were not only encouraged, but preferred, to serve as dragoons. But these distinctions could not conceal the shift to a mass-based Russian cavalry. Final acquiescence in this major military and political shift by the shliakhetstuo after seventy years of reform was abetted by two further Petrine military changes. The most immediate of these was the existence of the Guards— two regiments of infantry and, after 1719, one of cavalry. Many of the first Guardsmen had been courtiers. Later, even rank-and-file service in these units could imply high social status, proximity to the tsar, and, in subsequent reigns, great political clout. That the Guards regiments were initially intended as training regiments for officers did little to depress their social pretensions, whatever Peter's own motives may have been.80 Beyond the Guards, however, it was the officer corps as a whole that became increasingly definitive for the elite, helping to limit the size of the shliakhetstuo and clearly to distinguish it in law. The creation of a largely Russian and mostly noble officer corps in Russia was quite a slow process. In the seventeenth century, Russians of a variety of backgrounds had become officers in the new-formation regiments, alongside Europeans whose military knowledge was valued, but who stood outside elaborate elite political interactions. Becoming an officer offered considerable advantages to Russians of hereditary service rank who were neither wealthy nor particularly well-connected: officers received salaries and had an opportunity for advancement outside the complex network of service families. Before the reforms of 1682, however, the structure of command above the regimental level and promotion generally were ill defined.81 Even 79

R: ## 586, 609; Rabinovich, "SotsiaPnoe," 140; Avtokratov, "Voennyi prikaz,"

237.

80

John H. L. Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar. Army and Society in Russia, 1462-1874 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), 122. 81 Hughes, Russia, 66; William M. Reger III, "In the Service of the Tsar," (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Illinois, 1990), 188-91; Avtokratov, "Pervye," 186-87.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

169

when the reforms were complete, there was a shortage of qualified individuals to fill officers' positions. The Petrine officer corps in turn suffered sharply from a shortage of suitable officers, especially at the beginning of the reign. In 1700, officers were drafted from among Russian of hereditary service status; at general inspections, not only cavalrymen but potential officers were identified. Not just men of the shliakhetstvo, but also their sons, were drawn into the officer corps in growing numbers. In 1708, a reserve corps of officers was created from minors of highranking service families; in 1711, highborn youngsters again were enrolled as officers. Given the high casualty rates among line officers, these and other Russians rose quite rapidly through the ranks, given minimal competence.82 Although these efforts, the Guards' regiments, and even Peter's personal inclinations helped to create an officer corps that was largely noble in origin, it was not socially exclusive. Instead, non-nobles were recruited and promoted as officers. Menshikov's Ingermanland regiment was an important source of such non-noble officers. For most of Peter's reign, improvements to the officer corps did not change the roster of officers commanding individual regiments very much. Petrine officer positions (40 staff and upper-, 80 under-officers) were mostly familiar from seventeenth-century new-formation troops, although their responsibilities and the requirements for promotion were better defined.83 Later in the reign, a certain amount of attention was also paid to the appointment, presence, and activities of support staff and officers.84 In 1720, for example, a financial overseer was assigned to every regiment. His position shifted administrative responsibility to the military at a time when the civilian bureaucracy was declining in size.80 Positions like this one provided

82 Keep, Soldiers, 104, 122; Bobrovskii, Perekhod, 152-53; Leonov, Reguliarnaia, 22-23. 8:5 A. Z. Myshlaevskii, "Ofitserskii vopros v XVII vcka," Voennyi sbornik (1889) nos. 5-6 (vols. 246-47), 27-28; VIO, 269; Claes Peterson, "Dcr Morskoj Ustav Peters des Grossen," Jahrbucher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 24 (1976), 355-56. 84 Myshlaevskii, Sievernaia, 386-91; Avtokratov, "Pervye komissariatskie," 177, 186; Rabinovich, "Sotsial'noe," 153; Keep, Soldiers, 127. !b Solov'ev, Istoricheskii ocherk ustroistva, 33, lists regimental (non-command) functions added in 1711 and 1720; A. N. Medushevskii, "Petrovskaia reforma gosudarstvennogo apparata," in Reformy vtoroi' polovine XVII-XX vv., ed. F. Shelov-Kovediaev (Moscow, 1989), 76-77; Rabinovich, "Sotsial'noe," 133-71.

170

CAROL B. STEVENS

important access to officer status for at least some non-nobles.86 On the other hand, a specific officer rank—vakhmistr in cavalry regiments—helped to identify commoners in the eighteenth century.87 By 1720, the Russian officer corps had taken new shape. While officer shortages persisted (about 20% of positions were unfilled), a very large proportion of those serving were Russian (88%), and nearly two-thirds (62%) of all officers were of noble background, without even including the Guards regiments. A disproportionate number of these noblemen served as officers in the cavalry regiments, a fact that reflects their initial service assignments as well as their social preferences. More than one-third of officers, however, were not of hereditary service background. The Table of Ranks, introduced several years later, would include such experienced professionals into the ranks of the nobility. The shliakhetstvo itself, however, had obviously responded with some success to the challenge of the new officer's role. The Table of Ranks thereafter provided new definition to the service nobility, limited its size without offering a socially exclusive relationship with military rank.88

This brief snapshot of organizational change in the Petrine army characterizes regimental formation and links it to with important military, economic, and social changes in the early eighteenth-century military. First, the distribution of forces within the Petrine military developed in a non-linear fashion, quite abruptly changing in the focus of army organization. Further, the Petrine army was, by and large, a mass of undifferentiated troops, respectively soldiers and dragoons. Particularly in the opening years of the Northern War, these men were used indiscriminately as labor power, internal police, garrison forces, and front-line regiments. There were also resemblances between dragoons and the infantry. This absence of differentiation carried not only military but economic and administrative advantages. 86 Rabinovich, "SotsiaPnoe," 152-53. See the extraordinary example of a 'mountain Cherkess' taken into the Shcherb(atov) family, described by himself in RGVIA f. 490 op. 2 del. 49, 11. 112ob.-113. 87 John LeDonne, Absolutism and the Ruling Class (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 44. 88 Rabinovich, "Sotsial'noe," 170-71, 138-39; Keep, Soldiers, 126-27; S. M. Troiskii, Russkii absoliutizm i shliakhetstvo v XVIII v. (Moscow: Nauka, 1974), 96-7.

EVALUATING PETER'S ARMY

171

The transition to light-cavalry dragoons, in particular, helped create a military force that was both flexible and mobile in the field, traits that echoed not only the opposing Swedish army but also armies generally operating in the sparse and little populated territories of eastern Europe. These characteristics became a pronounced element in Russian military behavior under Peter, the result of experience, and an increasing independence from the west European model with which Peter himself had initially been deeply impressed. Peter's reign also saw a quite steep decline in the diversity of social distinctions that had been acknowledged by military rank in the prePetrine army. Regimental turnover, for example, quickly produced a socially mixed, but militarily cohesive, infantry. Almost as rapidly, the cavalry ceased to be socially exclusive, and it too became a part of the mass army. For the shliakhetstvo, social exclusivity instead came with service in the Guards and the officer corps. Military position itself, it is suggested here, generated loyalty and gained importance in the face of changing social realities. Such ideas, however, coexisted with rather than eradicating older social and military categories. While much remains to be evaluated about the Petrine legacy, further examination of organizational change within the army seems likely to yield a greater understanding of the methods by which the social relationships within the military were reconstructed.

This page intentionally left blank

PART II

MILITARY AND SOCIETY IN IMPERIAL RUSSIA

This page intentionally left blank

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650-1831 John LeDonne It is always useful to begin with definitions. Grand strategy encompasses a vision, political objectives, and strategic planning. A government, a ruling elite, must have a comprehensive vision of what is needed to achieve security and gain political objectives. That vision is not static; it evolves with circumstances, but it proceeds from some basic assumptions. Grand strategy also includes strategy in the narrower sense—which is the art of making war on the map and moving armies across the whole theater of operations—industrial policy, and an ideology of cultural symbols that embodies the vision, informs strategy, and rationalizes policy. Grand strategy, then, means the management of the totality offerees and resources in war and peace.1 I postulate the existence of three theaters. One was the western or Baltic theater, encompassing the basin of the Baltic Sea east of the Norwegian Alps and the Elbe River. The dominant powers in the seventeenth century were Sweden and Poland, both of which invaded Russia during the Time of Troubles (1598-1613), and the Polish king even reached the Kremlin. But the rollback of the Polish empire began soon afterwards, and the peace of Andrusovo (1667) gave Russia Kiev and Smolensk. Russia's strategy would be to destroy the political and military capability of both powers, and the radius of its operations, taking Moscow as the epicenter of Russian expansion, would be about 2,000 kilometers. The second was the southern or Black Sea theater, encompassing the basin of that sea, although its western part, the Dniepr-Dniestr corridor, also belonged to the western theater because it was part of the Polish empire. The offensive there began with the establishment of a protectorate over the LeftBank Ukraine in 1654. Russia subsequently aimed at the destruction of the Crimean Khanate and the establishment of a permanent

1

Jomini's "Art of War," in Roots of Strategy: A Collection of Military Classics, vol. 2 (New York, 1987), 460; Raoul Castex, Strategic Theories, trans, and ed. Eugenia C. Kiesling (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1994), 44.

176

JOHN LEDONNE

presence on the Danube. The radius of operations would likewise be about 2,000 kilometers. This southern theater also included the western basin of the Caspian with its "capital" in Astrakhan, the great military headquarters matching Kiev in the west. Finally, there was an eastern or Siberian theater, encompassing the basin of the Arctic Ocean, but also facing China beyond Lake Baikal and the Kazakh steppe. Because of the enormous distances involved—Irkutsk was 5500 kilometers from Moscow—it would remain a subordinate theater during the period under consideration. Nevertheless, Russian expansion also began in the 1650s, but was stalled in 1689 by the resistance of Manchu China. Peter's policies would build upon this legacy of expansionism and commit Russia to permanent rivalry with Sweden, Poland, Prussia, the Ottomans, and Persia, until it achieved hegemony in the western and southern theaters in the late 1820s.

One can distinguish three periods in the history of Russia's grand strategy between 1700 and 1831. The first stretched from the start of Peter's reign until the end of the second war with Sweden in 1743. This was a time of war, peace, and again war, during which three major principles of Russia's grand strategy were established and tested in practice.2 First, Russia must be able to carry out deep strategic penetrations in all three theaters either at the same time or in quick succession. The great conflict of this period was the Northern War with Sweden. After the Poltava victory of 1709, the Russians went on an offensive, which culminated in the 1716 expedition across the whole of Northern Germany to Denmark, from which a joint Russo-Danish force would cross the Sound into the southern provinces of Sweden. The crossing did not take place for logistical and political reasons; nevertheless, the Russians moved some 40,000 troops through Mecklenburg to Hamburg and Copenhagen, over 2,000 kilometers from Moscow. During the war of 1741—43 another 40,000 Russians again reached 2 The title of this paper and the conceptual approach were inspired by Edward Luttwak, The Grand Strategy of the Roman Empire from the First Century A.D. to the Third (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976). Luttwak, however, is little concerned with ideology or economics. For him, grand strategy remains an essentially military construct.

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650^183!

177

the Gulf of Bothnia, 1,500 kilometers from Moscow—but the gulf was a moat beyond which they could not establish themselves.3 There was another instance of deep penetration in the western theater. It is important to remember that during the entire period from 1700 to 1831 Russia's main enemy was France. France managed a system of alliances with Sweden, Brandenburg, Poland, and the Ottomans directed against Austria first, but by implication against Russia as well. Russia's strategy was to knock down the props of French hegemony in Europe and use them to support its own. Russia's natural ally was Austria. When Austria went to war with France over the election of Stanislas Leszczynski as king of Poland in 1733 and suffered reverses, it asked for a Russian expeditionary force of 20,000 men to link up with imperial forces in Heidelberg, only 20 kilometers from the Rhine. When the Russians reached Heidelberg in August 1735, they were 2,400 kilometers from Moscow. Russia was no less determined to assert power into the southern theater. Indeed, the first deep penetration took place there during Peter's reign. The Prut expedition of 1711 was caused by the activities of Charles XII, who had taken refuge in Ottoman territory after the battle of Poltava. The strike force consisted of 32,000 infantry and 12,000 cavalry. It advanced by forced marches in a vain attempt to prevent the Ottomans from crossing the Danube and met them on the Prut in July, some 1,500 kilometers from Moscow. The disastrous encounter exposed the limits of Russia's military capabilities at the time. The Northern War was barely over in 1721 when Peter launched an expedition against Persia in order to block an Ottoman advance to the Caspian shores and gain trade concessions that would facilitate commercial relations with India. The Russians won the entire southern shore of the Caspian but in fact did not go beyond Rasht, some 3,000 kilometers from Moscow. The Persian expedition, another remarkable example of deep strategic penetration, must be connected with an earlier expedition into Central Asia, in 1716. The same year Russian forces were poised in Denmark for an invasion of Sweden. Peter sent Alexander Cherkasskii with 4,000 men

3

The 1716 expedition is discussed in I. Haxlund "When Tsar Peter Changed His Mind," Scando-Slavica 43 (1997), 5-17. For a handy referenceoat times confused and biased howeveroto Russian military campaigns, see Liubomir Grigor'evich Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia i flot v XVIII veke: ocherki (Moscow: Voen. izd-vo, 1958), 181-290, 460-631.

178

JOHN LEDONNE

to Khiva with specific instructions: build a fortress at the mouth of the Amu Daria; induce the khan to recognize Russian suzerainty; and establish trade relations with India via the Amu Daria. The expedition reached Khiva, about 950 kilometers from Astrakhan and 2,700 kilometers from Moscow, only to be wiped out by the khan.4 These expeditions were not motivated by defensive considerations— they were offensive moves designed to destabilize an enemy and gain substantial strategic and commercial advantages. A second principle of Russia's emerging grand strategy called for the concentrated deployment of troops in the Moscow region when the army was not engaged in offensive operations beyond the imperial border. The deployment of 1725 withdrew all Russian troops from the Baltic provinces and the Left-Bank Ukraine.5 The army consisted at the time of 42 regiments of infantry and 33 of dragoons. Except for two regiments of infantry stationed in Siberia (which in those days stretched across the Urals as far as Viatka) and additional troops stationed in northern Persia as part of the so-called Southern Corps (Nizovyi korpus), all the regular troops were stationed in and around Moscow. There were eight regiments in Moscow itself, two in Kaluga, three each in Riazan, Tula, and laroslavl, five in Uglich, Tver and Poshekhon'e, six in Vladimir, Suzdal and lurev, and another three in Pereslavl-Zalesskii. These 33 regiments formed a ring around the old capital, the very core of the deployable force facing all directions. The other 36 regiments were deployed along a second ring. Eight were stationed in St. Petersburg, Novgorod and the towns gravitating toward it—Pskov and Velikie Luki, and even Olonets which had once been part of the Novgorodian empire. This region was Petersburg's immediate hinterland and faced the Baltic provinces and Belorussia. Regiments of dragoons were stationed in Viazma, Smolensk (on the road to Minsk and Brest-Litovsk), and in Briansk (on the Desna leading to Kiev), but six more faced south in the Elets-Tambov-Shatsk triangle across the old corridor of invasion for the steppe nomads toward Riazan and Moscow. More regiments were deployed on a huge semi-circle from Penza to Galich, including nine between Nizhnii-Novgorod and Simbirsk, with three guarding the arsenals in the Viatka area and the saltworks of Solikamsk. 4

D. Golosov, "Pokhod v Khivu v 1717 godu," Voennyi sbomik 10 (1861), 303-64. The deployment is included in Ivan Kirilovich Kirilov, Tsvetushch.ee sostoianie Vserossiiskogo gosudarstva (Moscow: Nauka, 1977), 368—80. 5

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650—1831

179

There was a definite vision behind this concentrated deployment of the army. After the exhausting war with Sweden and the expansion toward the Baltic, Peter realized the dangers of over-expansion from a base of operations that was insufficiently populated and developed. He needed to raise the density of the Russian population and may have even contemplated bringing settlers from the outlying regions back into the Muscovite core.6 Increased settlement would encourage trade; in turn, trade would foster the development of towns and facilitate the provisioning of the troops. Peter also carried out an extensive program of industrialization focused on the resources of the Urals, which now supplemented those of the Tula region, where muskets, pistols, and bayonets had been manufactured since the mid-seventeenth century. The production of the Urals had to be channeled westwards, and the Volga was the great axis of the Muscovite core from Kazan to Tver. The new capital on the Gulf of Finland was intended to eclipse Stockholm, as Russian hegemony replaced Sweden's domination in the eastern Baltic. But if Petersburg faced west, it also needed to develop its hinterland in the east: it had to be linked with the Volga. Thus, the purpose of the canal built between 1703 and 1708 linking the Volga at Tver with the Volkhov at Novgorod was to bring provisions and supplies to the northern capital. Once the Petersburg-Moscow-KazanEkaterinburg axis was completed and Petersburg had been fully integrated into the Volga basin, the managers of the military-industrial complex could take full advantage of Russia's interior lines, from which a single but highly mobile army could strike in any direction to dispose of an enemy before turning against another. There was a close relationship between the concentrated deployment of the army, the concentrated development of the Muscovite core's resources, and the protectionist tariff of 1724. Peter's vision was that of a Fortress Russia built on a maximum economy of force and bent on achieving hegemony in the Heartland "by means of awesomeness," as the Chinese were fond of putting it.7 The cult of h

For a reference to this project see Sergei Mikhailovich Solov'ev, Istoriia Rossii s drevneishikh vremen (Moscow: Sotsekgiz, 1960-66), vol. 11 (1963), 58. 7 Alastair Iain Johnston, Cultural Realism: Strategic Culture and Grand Strategy in Chinese History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995), 81. For the terms "Heartland" and "core areas" see John LeDonne, The Russian Empire and the World 1700-1917: The Geopolitics of Expansion and Containment (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 1-13.

180

JOHN LEDONNE

raw power exercised by a powerful ruler from a narrow but highly concentrated base was central to the imagery of Peter's reign. The great surge capability inherent to the concept of concentrated deployment projected effective power out of proportion to real military strength. It operated as a tool of political suasion without the need to use actual military force. The third principle guiding the imperial government and its ruling elite was the need to build a glacis of client states and societies through which imperial desires could be translated into reality without the use of force. This glacis had three constituent parts: the friendly state, client states, and client societies. The friendly state was Austria, with which Russia had many common interests. There were three client states. First, the Treaty of Nystadt enabled Russia to interfere in Swedish domestic affairs, and Sweden became the battleground between French and Russian ambitions. The rivals spent large sums to win legislative elections, with the Russians supporting the Caps, who wanted peaceful relations, and the French supporting the Hats, who wanted war to recover the lost provinces. The Russians also toyed with the idea of a Russo-Swedish dynastic union; when this failed, they imposed their own candidate on the Swedish throne. Poland was the second client state. The Saxon dynasty, which is synonymous with the country's decline, was installed in 1697, not without Russian pressure. During the Northern War, Poland was a junior partner not represented at the Nystadt negotiations. To confirm that the ruling house owed its election to Russia's assent, Petersburg ordered the invasion of Poland in 1733 to force the Poles to elect the son of Augustus II rather than the French candidate. The use of force made it clear that Poland could resist Russian demands only at the cost of an armed confrontation. Prussia was the third client state. During the first half of the century, Prussia consisted of Brandenburg and East Prussia, separated by the Pomerelian corridor. East Prussia was always at the mercy of a Russian invasion, especially after the annexation of Livonia: Riga was only 380 kilometers from Konigsberg. Brandenburg was poor with sandy soils and a barren coastline, and in the 1720s and 1730s it still had to follow the Russian line. Russia was the ally of Austria, which resented the growth of Prussian power under the ambitious Hohenzollern kings. Moreover, Peter had married one of his nieces to the duke of Mecklenburg, hoping to make the country

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650-1831

181

another client state and acquire a naval base. Brandenburg was thus surrounded, and Berlin had to be impressed by the "awesomeness" of Russian power. The issue of client societies is complex. Some were within the administrative boundary of the empire, while others remained outside. Among those within the empire were the Baltic Germans, who were badly shaken by the Northern War but recovered during the 1730s. They remained an autonomous society, but by participating in the governing of the empire they developed a dual and by no means contradictory allegiance: to their old way of life and to the empire as a whole. Some of the great nobles of Lithuania, descendants of those who had surrounded Grand Prince Gedimin in the fourteenth century, such as the Golitsyns, the Trubetskois, and Kurakins, had also emigrated to join the imperial ruling elite. They formed a transnational network, still powerful in the 1730s.8 In the south, Moldavian families, some of which retreated to Russia after the Prut campaign of 1711 to escape Ottoman retribution, constituted another client society. The most famous were the Kantemirs, who married into the ruling elite; one of them became ambassador to France and Britain and a famous poet. Georgian families, who emigrated in 1725 after the Ottomans incorporated most of eastern Transcaucasia, formed their own lobbies in Moscow and Petersburg, entered upper levels of the imperial Russian government, and yet kept ties with their homeland. The Cossacks were both within the empire—like those on the left bank of the Dniepr and the basin of the Don—and outside it, like the Zaporozhians in that indeterminate zone between the Dniepr and the Crimea. Bound to the Russians by Orthodoxy, Cossacks complemented the imperial infantry with their light cavalry and kept the Crimean and Nogai Tatars away from the Russian center. Relations between the Russians and the Cossacks were not always friendly, it is true, but the Cossacks operated in an environment which left them no choice but to do the Russians' work: they were surrounded by Catholic Poles and Muslim Tatars. Each of these client states and societies—and we may add the Kalmyks as well—had its own political and strategic mission: to create 8 One may speak here of kinship diplomacy, in which families beyond the border were connected by ties of blood with members of the imperial ruling elite. On this "Gedimin network" see Solov'ev, Istoriia Rossii, vol. 10 (1963), 341.

182

JOHN LEDONNE

favorable conditions for the projection of maximum power by a highly mobile army concentrated in the Muscovite core. Baltic Germans, Lithuanians, Moldavians, Georgians, etc., facilitated the administration of the empire without requiring the employment of Russians and prepared the way for Russian expansion into the frontier. In other words, these client societies operated as fifth columns beyond the administrative borders of the empire. Fortress Russia needed this glacis of friendly or semi-friendly communities as it set about establishing its hegemony in the Heartland.

I now turn to the application of these principles during the second period, that of hegemonic expansionism, from 1743 to 1796. On four occasions the Russians were able to carry out deep strategic penetrations beyond Russia proper. First, in 1748, in the wake of the Austro-Russian struggle for hegemony in central Europe, the Austrians asked Russia to send 30,000 men to help fight the French on the Rhine once again. The Russian expedition followed in Lacy's footsteps thirteen years earlier and reached Ebensfeld north of Bamberg, about 2,200 kilometers from Moscow. A second example was the Seven Years War of 1756—63. Frederick II came to power in 1740 determined to challenge Austria in German affairs, and his first move was to make war on it to gain Silesia. He was successful in 1742. The Prussian client state thus acquired an industrial base and could no longer be expected to be obedient to Russian demands. It was feared in Petersburg that Frederick might challenge Russia in Poland and the Baltic provinces. The emotional reaction to Frederick's victories showed the strength of the assumption that Prussia had become Russia's client state, whose independent action was intolerable.9 From then on, Russo-Prussian relations deteriorated. Russian strategy in the war fell victim to its old belief that the maximum available power must be directed in a massive thrust against the enemy's capital to force him to capitulate. The Russian objective was not to destroy Prussia with an army of 70,000, but to reinforce its status as a client state, with the Austrians regaining Silesia and Russia gaining East Prussia. But by focusing on Berlin, the allies wasted their resources Solov'ev, Istoriia Rossii, vol. 11 (1963), 276-83.

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650-1831

183

against Frederick's superior ability to make the best of his interior lines. It was not until 1761 that the Austrians focused on Schweidnitz (Swidnica) in Silesia and the Russians on Kolberg (Kolbrzeg) in Pomerania, placing Frederick against the wall. The great battles were fought on the approaches to the Oder, 1750 kilometers from Moscow, the Russians moving their base of operations forward to the towns of the lower Vistula where they could count on adequate provisioning.10 The third major intervention was the Russo-Turkish war of 1768—74, in which a massive commitment of almost the entire army—about 150,000 men—was made against the Ottomans. The Russian army retraced Peter Fs steps in 1711 but went further, reaching Bucharest and the Danube, 2000 kilometers from Moscow. The empress insisted on taking the war another 900 kilometers south across Bulgaria to Constantinople. However, this penetration could not be sustained. The Ottomans had built a number of powerful fortresses along the right bank of the Danube, and there were more deeper in Bulgaria from which to launch flanking attacks against the Russian advance. The Russians also made a diversion in Transcaucasia, sending a small expedition across the mountains to Poti on the Black Sea, 2,400 kilometers from Moscow. Finally, they also retraced Peter's steps with the Persian expedition of 1796. The Russians had withdrawn from Transcaucasia sixty years earlier; they were brought back by the disintegration of the Georgian monarchy and the shah's attack on Tiflis in 1795. Logistics and distances presented formidable problems. The distance from Moscow along the Volga to Astrakhan is over 2300 kilometers, and from Astrakhan to Baku almost 1000 kilometers. The purpose of the expedition was to recover the provinces abandoned in 1732-35 and strike at Tehran, the new Persian capital, over 4000 kilometers from Moscow. Russian troops reached Baku but were recalled immediately after Catherine's death.11 The deployment of the army underwent basic changes during this period—the consequences of the empire's expansion and of changing 10 Beside Beskrovnyi consult Christopher Duffy, Russia's Military Way to the West: Origins and Nature of Russian Military Power, 1700-1800 (London and Boston: Roudedge & Kegan Paul, 1981), 74-118. 11 A. Petrov, Voina Rossii s Turtsiei i Pol'skimi honfederatami, 1769-1774 god. (Petersburg, 1866) and N. Dubrovin, "Pokhod grafa V. A. Zubova v Persiiu v 1796 godu," Voennyi Sbornik, vol. 2 (1874), 187-231; vol. 3, 5-32; vol. 4, 191-207; vol. 5, 5-33; vol. 6, 177-99.

184

JOHN LEDONNE

relationships with the client states and societies. Prussia became a recalcitrant client state, even after it barely escaped a staggering defeat in 1762, and the Russo-Prussian and Austro-Prussian antagonisms became dominant features of the period. But already in 1772 Austria and Prussia maneuvered the Russians into taking part in the partitions of Poland, which had the effect of forcing Russia to carry out a 700-kilometer strategic withdrawal from the Oder to the Niemen and the Bug. Russia's hegemonic expansionism had created a backlash in the two Germanic states and Poland became its victim. In Sweden likewise, the coup of 1772, which sought to pull the country out of its disgraceful political corruption, was openly antiRussian; it succeeded only because almost the entire strategic force was fighting on the Danube. Only in the east did the situation remain stable, despite the turbulence in the steppe. This period witnessed the great Manchu onslaught against the western Mongols, which created intense turbulence in the Kazakh steppe, but also strengthened the Kazakhs' gravitation toward the Russian lines. There could be no offensive operations there—the Russians were hopelessly outmanned by the Chinese and could only stay put behind the Orenburg and Siberian lines. Russian successes against the Ottomans radically changed the geopolitical situation in the southern theater, where the triumph of Russian arms at the peace of Kuchuk Kainardji in 1774 had immense repercussions. It created favorable conditions for the annexation of the Crimean khanate in 1783, leaving only Ochakov as the Ottoman beachhead on the northern shores of the Black Sea (it too was taken in 1792). The consequence was the elimination of the Cossacks as client societies. In fact, these societies had been undermined from within for some time, but the trend accelerated during the second half of the eighteenth century. As they became increasingly settled, Cossack societies split three ways. An upper layer of landowning Cossacks grew to form the elite of those societies, very much in violation of the Cossack principle of equality among the members. This elite was an eager client of the Russians, because it needed Moscow to recognize and confirm its newly acquired and uncertain status and because the empire offered attractive careers to a provincial elite. But the eighteenth century also witnessed the triumph of serfdom, not only in Russia proper but in the frontier regions as well, from the Baltic provinces to Georgia. Its impact on Cossack and Bashkir societies was profound. The great mass of Cossacks who had

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650-1831

185

not "made it" by acquiring landed properties was relegated to the status of serf and state peasant—the collective property of the ruling class. This convergence in the social order of Russian and frontier societies destroyed old client relationships by merging these new provincial elites into a multinational imperial elite. Finally, those who refused to accept their fate teamed up with members of the elite to form carbineer and hussar regiments in the regular army. These regiments retained their territorial base but lost their old territorial mission. Don Cossacks, Kalmyks, and carbineer regiments from the Ukraine of Settlements fought in Russia's campaigns against the Swedes, the Poles, the Prussians, and the Turks. The Zaporozhian Cossacks suffered a similar fate. After 1774, they became obsolete as a client society of the Russians against the Crimean Tatars. Some fled, some became enserfed, others were deported to the Kuban steppe to form the so-called "faithful" Black Sea Cossacks. There, the turbulence of an unsettled frontier allowed them to move backward in time and recreate for a while an egalitarian society. And in distant Transcaucasia eastern Georgia became a client state in 1783, only to be annexed seventeen years later.12 It became clear in the 1730s that the principle of concentrated deployment was not viable: the Muscovite core was too poor to support such a heavy military burden and there were tensions between the soldiery and the population. Moreover, because of the great distances involved, logistical support would benefit from the creation of regional sectors constituting base areas with depots and supply stores, each with a regional mission. Thus, this second period witnessed a gradual change from concentrated to territorial deployment. In 1763, the army was distributed among eight territorial divisions.13 Of the 100 regiments listed, only 47 were now deployed in the core area. Seventeen formed a first ring around the old capital, from Torzhok on the road to the Vyshnii Volochek canal, via Rzhev on the Volga on the road to the Dvina, with a cluster around Kaluga on the road to Briansk, another around Tula on the road to Orel and Kursk, and a third in Kolomna and Riazan on the road to Penza and the Volga. A second ring began in Narva and continued via Pskov to 12

For the reform of the Cossack territories see Zenon Kohut, Russian Centralism and Ukrainian Autonomy. Imperial Absorption of the Hetmanate, 1760s-1830s (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988), 213, 216-22. 13 The 1763 deployment is in Stoletie voennago ministerstva (St. Petersburg: Voennoe Ministerstvo, 1902-1914), vol. 4, 35-41.

186

JOHN LEDONNE

Velikie Luki on the Belorussian border. Its southern section began in Briansk and continued via Trubchevsk to Rylsk facing Little Russia. The east was almost completely denuded of troops, a factor that would play a role in the progress of the Pugachev rebellion. There was only one regiment in Saratov and a smaller detachment in Simbirsk. By then, however, there were already 20 regiments echeloned across the entire length of Estland and Livland (including five in Riga and three in Reval). This Baltic forward strategy was not so much defensive as it was offensive. These troops faced Kurland and Lithuania and put pressure on Warsaw. Beyond Lithuania, they also faced Konigsberg and were an instrument of political suasion on Berlin. Another seven regiments in Vyborg province faced Swedish Finland. There were 22 regiments on the left bank of the Dniepr. Most were stationed in the old Hetmanate between the Desna and the Vorskla, where the Ukraine of Settlements began. They faced not only the Polish empire across the Dniepr but also, and chiefly, the Crimean khanate. The novelty was the existence of a Siberian Corps of nine dragoon and two infantry regiments stationed along the Irtysh Line, in the Altai Mountains, and in eastern Siberia (Irkutsk and Selenginsk). This deployment was defensive; the Russians remained on guard against the Chinese, especially in the area of Lake Zaisan, where they were feeling their way toward a common border with the Chinese empire. The deployment of 1796 marked the culmination of a trend.14 It must, of course, be placed in the context of the recent partitions of the Polish empire and the war with the Ottomans. Of the 115 regiments, only 28 or 24 percent were stationed in Russia proper, at the usual places: on the roads to Tver, Smolensk, Kaluga, Tula, Vladimir, and laroslavl; in Smolensk, between Petersburg and Novgorod; and in Orel and Kursk. By contrast, we find a heavy concentration in the western theater: only four regiments in Vyborg province, but 14 in Livonia (including eight in recently annexed Kurland) and 10 in Lithuania. They were stationed in the major cities and along the major roads leading to the Prussian border and to the Polish territories annexed by Prussia as far as the Niemen. Another six were in Belorussia, including two in the Minsk area, 14

Polnoe Sobranie ^akonov Rossiiskoi imperil, 1st series, 45 vols. (St. Petersburg, 1830), vol. 23 (1796), no. 17606.

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650^1831

187

annexed in 1795. Also stationed in the western theater were 15 regiments of the Ukrainian Division deployed on the Right-Bank Ukraine annexed in 1793 and 1795. After Livonia, this was the most sensitive sector: if the deployment was defensive in that it sought to consolidate Russia's dominion in the region, it was also offensive because it faced the new Austrian possessions in Poland and the Ottoman possessions in Moldavia-Wallachia. Thus 49 regiments or 43 percent were deployed in the western theater. The deployment of the Ukrainian Division merged almost imperceptibly with that of the Ekaterinoslav Division: most of its 15 regiments were stationed in the Ochakov steppe, acquired in 1792. There was a separate division in the Crimea (five regiments) and another in the Caucasus with nine regiments strung along the Caucasian Line from the Taman Peninsula to Kizliar, making a total of 29 regiments in the southern theater, or 26 percent of the total. Another nine regiments were in the Orenburg Territory and Siberia. These developments could not be divorced from economic and cultural policies. A major event was the abolition in 1755 of custom houses within European Russia, except along the border with the Baltic provinces. This paved the way for the creation of a vast internal market, protected by the tariff of 1757, which raised some taxes on foreign trade to a higher level than in 1724. Fortress Russia was slowly giving way to Fortress Empire. And although the 1766 tariff was influenced by free trade ideas, that of 1793 marked a return to protectionism. Meanwhile, the tariff in effect in the Baltic provinces since the days of Queen Christina was abolished in 1782 and the provinces were integrated into the imperial market. The Muscovite core's market expanded with troop deployment. And this emerging Fortress Empire was treated first to the spectacle of Baroque theatricality, with its powerful attraction on client states and societies, then to Catherinian classicism with its monuments inspired by memories of imperial Rome and the geometric vision of imperial administration articulated in the local government statute of 1775.15 The creation of a defensive perimeter by 1796 was sketching the outline 15 For this see Konstantin Lodyzhenskii, Istoriia msskogo tamozhennogo tarifa (St. Petersburg: Tip. V. S. Balasheva, 1886), 127-39; Richard Wortman, Scenarios of Power. Myth and Ceremony in Russian Monarchy, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995-2000), here vol. 1, 93; and John LeDonne, "The Territorial Reform of the Russian Empire 1775-1796," Cahiers du monde russe et sovietique 23 (1982), 147-85 and vol. 24 (1983), 411-57.

188

JOHN LEDONNE

of an empire in which, paradoxically, cultural and administrative unity would coexist with regional diversity—of which the army would become the standard bearer.

The third period, from 1796 to 1831, witnessed the final territorialization of the army: the continuous expansion of the empire brought about the fragmentation of the strategic force and the creation of regional formations with clearly defined regional missions. Before that became clear, however, a major principle of Russia's grand strategy remained the determination to carry out deep strategic penetrations in order to strike at the capital of the enemy core area. Indeed, never had Russia projected such overwhelming power at such great distances in any of its previous wars. There was a fourth and last Russo-Swedish war in 1808-09 for the ostensible purpose of forcing Sweden to join the Continental System. Its real purpose, however, was to transform the Gulf of Bothnia into an impregnable moat behind which Russia's Baltic possessions and Petersburg itself would be secure. The three-pronged offensive—along the Aland archipelago, across the Gulf of Bothnia, and around the Gulf's end—was an impressive strategic operation. It did force the Swedes to cede Finland and the Alands, bringing the Russians to within 45 kilometers of the Swedish coast and 120 kilometers of Stockholm. There was another moat in Russian strategic thinking: the Danube. By 1812, the Russians had established themselves on the northern arm of the river's delta. The war of 1828-29 gave them the entire delta. In the Persian sector, they had established themselves in Tiflis, 2,000 kilometers from Moscow, and were poised for an invasion of Persia: the operational plan for 1827 called for a march on Tehran, 1,250 kilometers from Tiflis. Paskevich did not make it to the Persian capital because peace was made in time, but he reached Tabriz. These projections of military power were impressive enough, but they took place in familiar directions: Peter had been in Finland in 1714, on the Prut in 1711, in northern Persia in 1722. They paled in comparison with Russian operations during the French Revolution. Russia felt threatened by the message of the Revolution, but its vital interests were not affected until Napoleon's own hegemonic expan-

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650-1831

189

sionism began. There was no defensive justification for the two unprecedented Russian interventions of 1799. The lesser one was a landing in Holland in alliance with the British for the purpose of creating a beachhead from which to carry the counter-revolution into northern France. The other was Suvorov's Italian and Swiss expedition: its mission was to take the counter-revolution to Paris. Both deep penetrations into the European Coastland failed, but in 1805 the Russians intervened again, committing 70,000 men to help the Austrians as far as Bavaria. Of course, the most impressive projection of power took place during the campaigns of 1813 14. Russia once again, as in 1735 and 1748, marched toward the Rhine, but this time went much farther. It committed 150,000 men (instead of 30,000 in the earlier campaigns) to an Austro-Prussian-Russian coalition, and in March 1814 the Russians entered Paris, nearly 3000 kilometers from Moscow. This victory had a symbolic meaning. France had been a key enemy throughout the eighteenth century. This time, the Russians had advanced the war to the enemy core area's capital and taken it. They would never take Stockholm, Constantinople, or Tehran. The army returned to Russia in 1814 and was redeployed.16 By 1819, of 253 regiments 107, or 42 percent of the total, were stationed in Russia proper, as opposed to 24 percent in 1796, 47 percent in 1763, and 100 percent in 1727. These troops were deployed in three formations around Moscow. There were 12 regiments in Moscow province, six each in Smolensk, Kaluga, Vladimir, and laroslavl provinces and 10 in Riazan and Tambov provinces. Their mission was traditional: to protect the city against disturbances and to form a first base in echelons of troops radiating outward from the city. The second formation was deployed between Petersburg and Tver along the Volga-Volkhov waterway and in the environs of Petersburg. This too was traditional. South of Moscow, there was a third cluster between the Desna announcing Belorussia and the Khoper, beyond which began the land of the Don Cossacks. This was the old steppe zone between Tula and the Ukraine of Settlements. Not surprisingly, all its 28 regiments were cavalry. All these troops belonged to the First Army, headquartered in Mogilev in Belorussia. 16

Composition de 1'armee russe, 1819: Ministere des Affaires Etrangeres, archives diplomatiques, vol. 27, Russie 1819-27. Forces et colonies militaries, fos. 1-37.

190

JOHN LEDONNE

They formed a strategic force no longer available for deep strategic penetration but to reinforce the Second Army, headquartered in Tulchin in Podolia, and other corps of the First Army with distinctly regional missions. The First I Army Corps in Mitava (Kurland), for instance, was deployed in the Baltic provinces and along the Petersburg-RigaKonigsberg highway. It faced East Prussia and kept up military pressure as an instrument of political suasion toward Berlin. The Lithuanian Separate Corps and the Polish Army were commanded by Grand Duke Constantine in Warsaw. Both created a military infrastructure for a reconstituted Polish empire, albeit one associated with the Russian empire under the same crown. Their mission was to maintain internal security in an area still marked by considerable turbulence. The deployment was also offensive. The annexation of Congress Poland was a political disaster but a strategic victory, for it gave Russia control of a salient between the Berlin-Konigsberg highway and Silesia, placing the Prussians at a considerable disadvantage. The Lithuanian Corps also faced L'vov, then part of the Austrian empire. Its deployment was an incipient threat to Austria: backed by additional troops from the First Army, it could be used to launch an expedition against Vienna. Similar considerations apply to the deployment in the southern theater, where 88 regiments, or 35 percent of the total, were stationed. The army had two regional missions there: against the Ottomans and in the Caucasus. The Second Army was deployed in Podolia, along the Dniestr, in Bessarabia, and the Ochakov steppe. In the event of war, it would go on the offensive toward the Danube. But it was also backed by an army corps of the First Army headquartered in Kiev and another based in Kremenchug on the Dniepr. Behind these two army corps was another based in Kursk in the core area. We thus see concentric rings of deployment centered for the most part in Moscow. The first ring was around the old capital. The second ran from Tver to Riazan via Smolensk and Kaluga; the third was formed by the Mitava corps, the Lithuanian, Kiev, and Kremenchug corps, the fourth by the Polish Army and the Second Army. This fourth deployment was an offensive one directed against Prussia, Austria and the Ottomans, but it was also part of a grand strategy that was becoming increasingly defensive. The crushing of the Polish uprising in 1831 strengthened the defensive posture of the

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650-1831

191

empire. In the Caucasus, the separate corps had a purely regional but offensive mission once the Russians had established themselves in Tiflis: to roll back the Persians behind the Araks and the lower Kura, another moat of the empire, and the Ottomans from western Georgia. But once this was achieved in 1828-29, Russian strategy assumed a defensive posture because the war in the mountains absorbed all the energies of the high command. Only in the Orenburg Territory and in Siberia, where no field troops were stationed after 1809 (the Orenburg and Siberian separate corps consisted only of garrisons and Cossack troops) was the Russian posture defensive only: there was no enemy core area against which to assume the offensive. What were the consequences of these developments for Russia's relationship with its client states? Sweden's defeat in 1809 was final: there would never be another Russo-Swedish war. After 1809, Russia proceeded to reorient Swedish foreign policy by encouraging Stockholm to annex Norway and forget Finland. This goal was achieved in 1814. Once they were present in Torneo and on the Aland Islands, the Russians held Stockholm at their mercy. Sweden remained what it had been for most of the period since 1725: a client state of the Russian empire. A new Poland came into being in 1815, joined with the empire under the Romanov scepter. The experiment was interesting and unique: the Russians sought to create a client state within the imperial periphery. The government, its courts, and its parliament were Polish, and they were represented in Petersburg by a Pole. But there was no doubt that the relationship with Russia was one of complete dependence: the Polish army was commanded by the tsar's brother who resided in Warsaw, and another Russian, the Imperial Commissioner, kept a watchful eye on Polish domestic politics. Poland, like Sweden, remained a client state, but one much more subservient to Russian interests and under the constant threat of offensive deployments in Kurland and Lithuania. Despite appearances, Prussia remained a client state. Its defeat in 1806 served Russian interests well because it threw the Prussians into Russia's arms. At Tilsit, Alexander posed as Prussia's savior while snubbing Frederick William III, and Alexander Kurakin wrote to Maria Fedorovna that Russia had become Prussia's "guardian angel."17 17

N. Shil'der, "Rossiia v eia otnosheniiakh k Evrope, 1806-1815 gg.," Russkaia stanna (1889), vol. 1, 1-52.

192

JOHN LEDONNE

Guardian angels are generous patrons and keep a close watch over their clients' interests. Prussia, it is true, remained a recalcitrant client state, harboring a streak of resentment against its guardian angel, which was only exacerbated by Prussian nationalism. Moreover, the annexation of the Rhineland gave Prussia a second industrial base, and Prussia would soon acquire the wherewithal of a great economic power. In fact, Russia facilitated this outward reorientation of Prussian foreign policy by encouraging its client to gain the Rhineland and forget the Prussian Polish provinces annexed by Russia to form Congress Poland. But Russia pointedly continued to refuse to accept Prussia as a great European power, as if to remind it of the true nature of the client relationship. What was expected of Prussia was to protect Fortress Empire against subversive influences from western Europe. Petersburg at least once reminded Berlin that it would intervene militarily should Prussia deviate from its assigned role. As to Austria, it remained a "friendly kingdom"18 because it had no choice, and the growth of the revolutionary movement in the empire made Russia the arbiter of its destiny, as would happen in 1849. Austria also was turned outward, to gain Lombardy and Venetia and forget some of the Polish provinces acquired in 1795. Russia's grand strategy continued to make use of client societies, new as well as old. In Finland, a Swedish nobility had developed a strong esprit de corps and separatist tendencies in the course of the eighteenth century. Most of these nobles welcomed the annexation of Finland. The Russians made generous concessions, and Finland continued to live a life of its own until the end of the nineteenth century. These "Finnish Swedes" controlled the entire machinery of government and Swedish remained the official language. They fulfilled the major obligation of a client society: to administer its territory on behalf of the imperial power. The Baltic Germans remained another client society within the Imperial periphery. Despite occasional tensions, their role in administering their provinces on behalf of Petersburg was never challenged. In Georgia, the client state came to an end with the elimination of the dynasty in 1801, but a client society came into being when key members of the Georgian nobility (with the Armenian merchants) accepted Russian rule and made the contribution expected from a client society: to administer the territory and 18

The term was coined by David Braund, Rome and the Friendly King. The Character of the Client Kingship (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1984).

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650-1831

193

supply provisions and light cavalry to the regular troops of the imperial power. They did even more: they contributed to setting the imperial agenda in Transcaucasia. Yet another client society within the empire was the Polish aristocracy in Right-Bank Ukraine, descendants of those who had welcomed the Russian invasion of 1793. Extensive marital connections existed between them and the NaryshkinTrubetskoi kinship network, to form what I have called a "Black Sea network."19 Outside the empire, the Greeks remained a client society: their main purpose was to destabilize the Ottoman empire in the Balkans and to encourage the creation of an independent Greece that would grant the Russians naval bases in the Mediterranean. On the other side of the Caspian, the Kazakh client society was disintegrating because, like the Cossack, it had lost its raison d'etre: to be Russia's clients against the western Mongols. But there was a new client state in the region: Persia. The assassination of the Russian embassy sent to Tehran in 1829 served Russia's interests well: Persia, forced to make amends, was overwhelmed by demonstrations of Russian power and turned outward like Sweden, Prussia, and Austria, to become Russia's avant garde in the advance toward Afghanistan and Russia's glacis against British influence.20

*

*

*

In the 1640s, the Romanov dynasty faced encirclement. Even if that encirclement was not specifically directed against it, because it was not coordinated and followed its own momentum beyond the sphere of immediate Russian interests, Moscow felt a potential threat to its freedom of action as it overcame the traumatic shock of the Time of Troubles. This awareness was transformed into an offensive posture which found its full development during Peter's reign. More than twenty years of war shaped three basic principles of Russia's grand strategy. One was the determination to destroy the military and, if possible, the political capability of the core areas surrounding the Muscovite operational base. In order to achieve that

19 LcDonne, "Frontier Governor Generals, 1772-1825," Jahrbucher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 48 (2000), 161-83. 20 "Persidskoe posol'stvo v Rossii 1829 goda," Russkii arkhw 1 (1889), 209-60.

194

JOHN LEDONNE

goal, when circumstances allowed, Russian forces carried out deep strategic penetrations across the entire western and southern frontiers. When peace returned, Peter and the high command established as a second principle the concentrated deployment of a single mobile strategic force capable of striking out in the western and southern theaters in the event of another war. The army was withdrawn within the periphery of the core area. The prohibitive tariff of 1724 reinforced this conception of Fortress Russia, invincible to its enemies. As a corollary of this strategic withdrawal to the core area, a third principle was established: Russia must depend for its lasting security on a ring of client states and societies, some within the imperial periphery, others still beyond it. How did these three principles evolve as Russia entered a period of hegemonic expansionism? The determination to project power over considerable distances did not change, as the interventions in Poland and the wars with Prussia and the Ottomans clearly showed. But Russia's expansion into the eastern marches of the Polish empire and to the northern shores of the Black Sea from the Dniestr to the Kuban brought about a redeployment of the army from the core to the periphery and the abandonment of the principle of concentrated deployment and of Fortress Russia. By the end of the period, most of the army was deployed in what had become the inner frontier of the empire, and several client societies and one client state had ceased to exist. Fortress Russia was slowly becoming Fortress Empire. The third period, from 1797 to 1831, witnessed the apogee of Russia's hegemony. Never before had the Russians penetrated so deeply into Europe and never before had they been able to establish a permanent presence on the three moats: the Gulf of Bothnia, the Danube (at least its delta), and the Araks. These victories were reflected in the cult of ancient Rome, especially in the monumental architecture of Petersburg which, by 1831, had eclipsed Stockholm as the imperial capital of the eastern Baltic, a city where monster parades brought back to contemporaries echoes of the tramping of Roman legions. The paradomania of the period was also a symptom of consolidation and retrenchment. It was the theatrical entertainment of the garrison state, of the new Fortress Empire. Peter's Fortress Russia had been a garrison state, too, but one poised to attack in any direction across the western and southern frontiers. Most of the frontier had disappeared by 1831 and become the empire's inner frontier.

THE GRAND STRATEGY OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1650^183!

195

Fortress Russia had expanded to become Fortress Empire. It was no coincidence that the tariff of 1822 had much in common with that of 1724: both were highly protectionist and in some cases prohibitive. In such conditions, the deployment of the army across the entire empire (excluding Orenburg and Siberia) was to be expected. It contributed mightily to the consolidation of the conservative political order imposed after 1815 with the support of the "Internal Guard" and the gendarmes stationed in every provincial capital. But as the deployment spread outward, it broke the unity of the strategic force and created regional formations with regional missions independent of any overall strategic plan. The humiliation of the Crimean War would be the logical consequence of this fragmentation, worsened beyond all expectations by the neglect of road and railroad building. Peter's dream had turned into a nightmare.

This page intentionally left blank

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR John L. H. Keep Students of European military affairs in the early modern era have long since lost their taste for the smoke of battle. From strategy and high policy they have turned towards the social aspects of soldiering and warfare. Today the focus is on the experience of men in the ranks, whether on campaign or in peacetime conditions. Historians ask themselves how much soldiers were paid, how adequately supplied with food as well as with military goods, how they reached the field of operations, and what proportion of them deserted, fell victim to disease, died while in the service, or survived to become veterans. Another fruitful field of inquiry is the impact of military endeavors on the civilian sphere, which covers such matters as billeting and plunder as well as, more obviously, the relative share of state expenditure on the armed forces, the changes brought about in government administration, or the first efforts to stem international violence. All these matters are best considered in comparative international context, but where eastern Europe is concerned many of the basic facts remain to be established. Scholarly research has hitherto centered on the western half of the continent, for which sources are more abundant. However, there are at last welcome signs of change in this regard.1 This paper surveys the Russian army's experience during what contemporaries called the "Prussian War," more generally known as the Seven Years War (1756-63), which for Russia lasted not seven 1 Matthew S. Anderson, War and Society in Europe of the Old Regime 1618-1789 (Leicester, Eng. and New York: Fontana, 1988, 2nd ed., Stroud: Sutton, 1998) devotes more space to eastern Europe than Jeremy Black, ed., European Warfare, 1453-1815 (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1999). Bernhard R. Kroener, ed., Krieg und Frieden: Militdr und Gesellschqft in der jriihen Neuzeit (Paderborn and Zurich: F. Schoningh, 1996) contains an article by H. Carl on foreign invasion and occupation of German territories during the Seven Years War. On the Russian occupation of Finland during the Great Northern War of 1700 see Christer Kuvaja, Forsorjning av en ockupationsarme. , . (Turku/Abo, 1999; summary in English 335-48), which breaks much new ground. In Russia, unfortunately, study of the armed forces and society is still in its infancy.

198

JOHN L. H. KEEP

years but five. Though less traumatic than the great conflict with Sweden under Peter the Great, or the wars with revolutionary and Napoleonic France a century later, this struggle, in coalition with Austria and France against Prussia, was a major test of the new empire's military capabilities and saw Russian forces for the first time undertake extensive campaigning in central Europe. It has received no definitive treatment in either prerevolutionary or Soviet historiography. The standard three-volume study by Dmitrii F. Maslovskii (1886-8)2 is poorly constructed, weak in analysis, and suffers from nationalist bias. This latter defect was taken to an extreme (but with Prusso-German militarism rather than Habsburg duplicity as the main target) by Soviet historians, although in the late Stalin era N. M. Korobkov and others edited a valuable collection of documents.3 The present article is a reworked, abbreviated version of an essay that appeared in German in 1989 and contained a more extended discussion of the recruitment system, army organization, command structure, the qualities of successive commanders-in-chief, and their relations with the Conference at the Imperial Court (the supreme policy-making body).4 After some remarks on the number of effectives, this article discusses the war from the common soldier's viewpoint, considers logistical problems, and closes with some general remarks about the army's performance and the outcome of the war. Hopefully, this account will encourage more detailed study based on material in Russian archives (closed to researchers until recently) and further comparative work—both on conditions in all the belligerent armies in this conflict and on Russian experience in earlier and later European wars. Particularly valuable would be an examination of the parallels and differences between the Russian and Ottoman empires.

2 Dmitrii F. Maslovskii, Russkaia armiia v Semiletnuiu voinu, 3 vols. (Moscow: Tipografiia okruzhnogo shtaba, 1886~91), hereafter cited as RASV; references to vol. 3 are to the German edition: Maslovskii, Der siebenjahrige Krieg in russischer Darstellung mil Automation des Verfassers ubersetzt und mit Anmerkungen versehen von A. von Drygalski (Berlin: R. Eisenschmidt, 1888-93). 3 N. M. Korobkov, ed., Semiletniaia voina: materialy o deistviiakh russkoi armii i flota v 1756-62 gg. (Moscow, Voennoe izd-vo, 1948), cited as SLV. The standard work on the eighteenth-century army is L. G. Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia iflot v XVIII v.: ocherki (Moscow: Voennoe izdatel'stvo Ministerstva Oborony SSSR, 1958). 4 John L. H. Keep, "Die russische Armee im Siebenjahrigen Krieg," in Europa im ^eitalter Friedrich des Grossen: Wirtschaft, Gesellschaft, Kriege, ed. Bernhard R. Kroener (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 1989), 133-69.

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

Effectives

199

and Military Training

Nearly a quarter of a million of Tsarina Elizaveta Petrovna's subjects were called to the colors just before or during the Seven Years War, about a third of whom seem to have succumbed to their burdens, especially to disease.3 A contemporary observer who offered a guess of over 100,000 fatalities was in the right order of magnitude.6 The Soviet historical demographer Boris Urlanis estimates the total deaths as follows: 18,000 5,000 97,000

killed in action died of woundsa died of disease.

120,000

Total fatalities7

a

Urlanis takes the ratio of killed to wounded as 1:2.4, of whom 10% may have subsequently died.

According to Dietrich Bangert, the army lost one-half its combat strength in 1758 and one-quarter in 1759.8 Unfortunately there are few official figures as to how many men, whether sick, wounded or fit, were discharged. In 1762 the army was apparently about 290,000 strong (including irregulars);9 in July 1755 the corresponding figure

5 One estimate is 231,644: I. Blinov and L. Sukhotsky, "Istoricheskie materialy, izvlechennye iz Senatskogo arkhiva," ^humal ministerstva iustitsii (Petrograd, 1915), vol. 21, pt. 3, 251, cited in SLV, 853; Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 36-7, who does not cite this source, comes close with 232,234, and gives annual recruitment figures. For the decrees see Polnoe sobmnie zakonov, coll. I (St. Petersburg, 1830; hereafter cited as PSZ), xiii. 10326 (1755), xiv. 10613, 10785 (1756-7), xv. 10874 (1758). No data were published for 1759; in 1760 only small levies were raised from certain groups, and in 1761-2 only the arrears from earlier levies were collected. Cf. PSZ xv. 10990, 11025, 11099, 11497; Christopher Duffy, Russia's Military Way to the West: Origins and Nature of Russian Military Power, 1700-1800 (London—Boston:Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1981), 96; SLV, 512. 6 C. F. Schwan, Merkwiirdigkeiten der russischen Geschichte unter Peter dem Dritten . . . (Narva, 1790), 122. 7 B. Ts. Urlanis, "Liudskiye poteri vooruzhennykh sil v evropeiskikh voinakh," in idem, Narodonaseleniye: issledovaniia, publitsistika: sbomik staler (Moscow: Statistika, 1976), 156; A. Kahan, The Plow, the Hammer and the Knout: an Economic History of Eighteenth-Century Russia (Chicago-London: University of Chicago Press, 1985), 9. 8 Dietrich E. Bangert, Die russisch-osterreichische ^usammenarbeit im Siebenjdhrigen Kriege in den Jahren 1758-1759 (Boppard am Rhein: H. Boldt, 1971), 362. '' A. Lebedev (ed.), Russkaia armiia v nachale tsarstvovaniia imp. Ekateriny II: materialy dlia russkoi voennoi istorii (Moscow, 1898), 2^3, gives data for different branches of service; the Guards need to be added—say 12,000.

200

JOHN L. H. KEEP

had been 323,000.10 Adding the recruits and subtracting Urlanis's estimate of fatalities, we arrive at a figure of 144,000 survivors, or rather less than one-third of all those involved. In addition, losses through desertion were officially estimated at seven percent of total losses in 1757, and probably rose later.11 All eighteenth-century data on military strength are liable to a high margin of error, partly because officials tried to mislead opinion at home and abroad, partly owing to over-reporting by commanders, who could pocket sums allocated to such "dead souls," and partly from sheer inefficiency. Establishment strengths existed only on paper and the real figure might fall short by one-quarter or more.12 Christopher Duffy notes that the active army's size increased as the war progressed, reaching a peak of circa 100,000 in 1761.13 Many of the new fighting men were drawn from garrison regiments, which were designed to provide a reserve of trained manpower. Despite the fact that loading—let alone discharging—a musket required a great deal of technical skill (loading a heavy (5.7 kg.) musket necessitated no less than 17 successive manual operations), training in the Russian army was elementary.14 The results were clear. In one exercise at marksmanship held by the Kiev regiment, for example, 2,709 bullets were fired, of which only 691 hit the target; the average for several units from the southern provinces was between 15% and 35%.lo One critic writes disparagingly that rather than improving their marksmanship, for Russian soldiers "the height of perfection was the carrying out of [firearm] movements on command, when the signal was given; each time the men had to 'slap their satchels' or 'strike their weapon firmly,' [which led them to] damage their muskets by cutting holes in the butt and stuffing them with pieces of glass and metal."16 10

Arkhiv kniazia Vorontsova, vol. 3 (Moscow, 1871), 657-58; A. K. Baiov, "Ocherki voennogo iskusstva i sostoianiia russkoi armii pri blizhaishikh priemnikakh Petra Velikogo," Istoriia russkoi armii iflota, 16 vols. (Moscow: Obrazovanie, 1911-13), vol. 2, 26 gives only 260,000. 11 RASV 2(2), 5-7. 12 For estimates at nine different junctures of the war, see Keep, "Die russische Arrnee," Appendix 1. 13 Duffy, Russia's Way, 118. 14 Baiov, "Ocherki," 28. My count is 23 to the moment of firing; see "Opisanie pekhotnogo polkogo stroia," PSZ 14, 10494e, 83-85. 10 Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 160. "' N. V. Anisimov and A. K. Zinevich, Istoriia russkoi armii: epokha Petra Velikogo, 1699-1762 (Chuguev, 1911), 23.

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

201

In the cavalry the main problem was the poor quality of mounts: the horses were as a rule undersized and too weak to carry heavy loads or to support their riders well in battle. The Cossack light cavalry and native troops (Bashkirs, Kalmyks, etc.), which served as scouts and provided a defensive screen for the army when on the march, displayed more initiative than the regulars but posed serious disciplinary problems. They maintained a "wild West frontier" lifestyle and "pursued goals of their own" (a euphemism for looting). With time, army commanders managed to bring these embarrassing and harmful depredations under better control, and native cavalry played a vital role in reconnaissance.17 Russia's artillery was traditionally of high repute. It benefited considerably from the powerful Peter Shuvalov's patronage. Shuvalov closely supervised development of howitzers (called "unicorns") and was particularly proud of his "secret weapon": a gun which had a slit instead of a round mouth and was designed to fire shot at approaching infantry with devastating results. Opinion as to its merits varied, and it was removed from the inventory lists after the war, once its patron had fallen. As early as 1757 von Rail, the Austrian military attache, noted that some Russian artillery units could fire 18 rounds a minute, a rate as yet unparalleled.18 The army also had its engineering corps, with equipment for building pontoon bridges and improving roads, as well as other support units. Foreign observers were surprised at the size of its train (oboz), which absorbed a high proportion of effectives; but there were good logistical reasons for this seeming extravagance.

17 RASV 1(2), 195; Duffy, Russia's Way, pp. 71, 96, 102, 119; Bruce Meaning, "The Origins of the Modern Russian Military Tradition: the Eighteenth-Century Army" (unpub. paper, ca. 1980), 32. On native troops' and Cossacks' depredations: A. T. Bolotov, £hizn' i prikliucheniia (Moscow, 1870-71, repr. with cuts MoscowLeningrad: Akademiia, 1931), vol. 1, 490-92; T. I. Belikov, Kalmyki v bor'be z.a ne&ivisimost' nashei rodiny, XVII-nachalo XIX v. (Elista: Kalmgosizdat, 1965), 84-9, where they are exonerated as "progressive"! An Insterburg churchman reported that the Kalmyks "ate all kind of carrion" yet committed fewer atrocities than the hussars. A. Rogge (contrib.), "Der Schreibkalender des Erzpriesters Hahn: Beitrage eines Augenzeugen zur Geschichte der russischen Invasion im Jahre 1757," Altpreussische Monatsschriji 20 (Kdnigsberg, 1883), 648. 111 E. von Frisch, Geschichte der russischen Feldzuge im Siebenjahrigen Kriege, nach den Aufzeichnungen und Beobachtungen der dem russischen Hauptquartier zugeteilten osteneichischen Offiziere, vornehmlich in den Kriegsjahren 1757-1758 (Heidelberg, 1919), 27.

202

JOHN L. H. KEEP

The Experience of the Common Soldier

The Seven Years War was one of maneuver, in which opposing armies marched to and fro across the east German plain to threaten enemy concentrations, or to cover themselves against the risk of surprise attack, rather than to seek decisive battles. This cautious, uninspiring strategy did the commanders credit, in so far as they were conscious of the need to conserve valuable manpower and supplies. The sources do not reveal what soldiers themselves felt about the endless marching and counter-marching, but common sense suggests that their morale depended largely on such mundane matters as the number of rest days allowed, the amount of equipment they had to carry, and the availability of food supplies. According to A. W. von Hupel, an authority on Catherine IPs army, Russian soldiers marched 30 versts (30 km) a day; as every third day was set aside for rest, cooking, etc., their overall speed was 20 km per day—although forced marches of 40 km, without rest days, were not unheard of.19 During earlier stages of the "Prussian War," the pace seems to have been more leisurely. In May-June 1757 Bolotov's regiment took a month to move 240 km from Riga to Kovno (approximately eight kilometers per day), but this was because of "incorrect distribution of [vehicles] in the column, which led to multiple halts and made the move very tiring."20 On the other hand the troops that marched on Konigsberg, across frozen ground, the following January took only six to nine days for 200 km (22~33 km per day). Similar speeds were recorded in 1760 by some of the units involved in the raid on Berlin, who had left their heavy baggage behind.21 In 1758 the main army, which was encumbered by its vast train, took 12 stages with 13 rest days (10 km per day) to cover 230 km.22 In 1759, Duffy writes, "the daily rate of march increased from four or five miles to a respectable ten [16 km];"23 he attributes this 19 August Wilhelm von Hupel, Beschreibung der russisch-kaiserlichen Armee nebst anderen kurzeren Aufsatzen (Riga, 1782, reprinted Hanover-Dohren: Hirschheydt, 1972), 55. 20 N. G. Nikolaev, Istoriia 17-go pekhotnogo Arkhangelogorodskogo polka, 1700-1900 (St. Petersburg: Tip. P. P. Soikina, 1900), 144. 21 G. G. Frumenkov, "Rossiia i semiletniaia voina," Voprosy istorii, no. 9 (1971), 117. See also his Rossiia v XVIII v.: voiny i vneshniaia politika, ekonomika i kul'tura (St. Petersburg, 1996). 22 Bangert, ^usammenarbeit, 85; but cf. 87: Posen-Pinne (40 km.) in 11 days, or only 4 km. a day! 23 Duffy, Russia's Way, 120.

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

203

to the fact that regiments now marched by divisions in separate columns. Another key factor was the food supply. Russian soldiers lived mainly off biscuit (double-baked bread) or half-baked dough cakes with a kind of stew or porridge (kasha), which they prepared themselves, by ingenious ways, in their arteli (informal messing communities) during halts. The frequency of halts can by reconstructed from official sources and the account compiled by J. G. Tielke, a Saxon engineer who accompanied the Russian forces. He noted that the biscuit "requires good teeth and better gums" and that the dough cakes were "moist inside and not fit to eat," adding admiringly: "our soldiers, who are used to better living, would not relish this sort of food; the Russian is not only content with it, but he will undergo hunger and the greatest hardships without murmuring, if he is told that the Empress has ordered it."24 Despite his purported enthusiasm, Quartermaster-General von Weymarn, a knowledgeable and reliable observer, reported that already when leaving Riga in 1757 the men "were so tired and weakened that many of them, having stowed their packs and cloaks on the artel' carts, found it hard to carry their weapons in proper order, even though the daily marches were so short." The debility was due, he correctly noted, to their having been kept for months in close quarters in Livonia, to excessive drill in wintry months, and to deductions from their paltry pay for cleaning materials rather than this being spent on extra food and beverages.25 Such dietary supplements were vital since the official ration (portslid) consisted of little other than cereal products (milled or unmilled grain and groats); when distributed in full, the ration sufficed in quantity but was otherwise inadequate to maintain health.26 Unit quartermasters were expected to use their own initiative to obtain meat, alcoholic beverages and anything else they fancied. For such purposes they received extra funds, although these were less clearly

24 J. G. Tielke, An Account of Some of the Most Remarkable Events of the War Between the Prussians, Austrians and Russians, from 1756 to 1763 . . ., tr. C. & R. Crauford (London, 1787), vol. 2, 99-100n. ^ A. W. von Hupel, ed., Ueber den ersten Feldzug des russischen Kriegsheeres gegen die Preussen im Jahre 1757 (Riga, 1794), 24-26 (von Weymarn's statements to officials investigating his suspected malfeasance). 2f) J. L. H. Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar: Army and Society in Russia, 1462-1874 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 113, 185.

204

JOHN L. H. KEEP

distinguished from the men's pay than had been the case in Peter Fs army. Cattle and sheep were distributed among units after a successful engagement; for example, on June 30, 1758, "each regiment received 60 head of cattle and 150 of sheep collected in Pomerania."27 These beasts will hardly have been slaughtered and consumed all at once.28 Sutlers (markitanty) followed the army on the march, but their wares were usually too expensive for the average soldier.29 According to an official schedule of 1761, they were to charge one kopek for a charka of beer, two kopecks for a cake (kalach, weighing 614 grams) or pie (pirog), 7'/2 kopecks for a chicken, 12 kopecks for 15 eggs, and 50 kopecks to 1.20 rubles for a shtof of vodka: remarkably, caviar cost no more than fish or soap (10 kopecks per funt - 409.4 gr)— but one wonders how often it was available.30 As for quarters, each regiment was supposed to have enough tents for its full complement (the men sleeping 25 to a tent in the infantry, 16 in the cavalry).31 However, during the campaign season, which normally lasted from May to October, the heavy baggage might well be left far behind and the troops billeted on the local population or bivouacked in the open. It was the quartermaster's job to select camp sites, a task that was not always performed well, especially where the ground was swampy. The annual withdrawal to winter quarters (from 1758, on the lower Vistula) had good logistical and security reasons. Neither Pomerania nor the central Oder valley had enough food stocks from which to feed a large army for several months (see below); nor did they offer a network of fortified places to shelter the invaders from harassment by enemy troops or partisans. Irregular food supply, deficiencies of clothing and footwear,32 fatigue and exposure to the elements while on the march were all major causes of sickness—far more lethal, as noted above, than injury in

27

Tielke, Account, vol. 2, 83; cf. 105, 109, 127; RASV 2(1), 105; SLV, 286, 304. Von Weymarn records that on an earlier occasion his men suffered health problems from a surfeit of meat, washed down with poor-quality water. (Von Hupel, Feld&ig, 60.) 29 SLV, 276. 30 RASV 2(2), 166-67. 31 Keep, Soldiers, 108. 32 "As far as soldiers' boots are concerned," a general reported after an inspection tour in April 1759, "the generals and colonels say that the poor men have to pay 15 to 30 kopeks to have them repaired." This service was likely provided by artisans in the unit—if they were able to acquire scarce leather through regular supply channels. AKV 7, 355~6; SLV, 224, 491; RASV 1(2), 208-11. 28

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

205

battle. Arrangements were made to pick up those wounded on the battlefield and to escort or transport them to dressing stations in the rear.33 After Zorndorf the Russians are said to have recovered more of their casualties than their adversaries did (85.5% as against 76.6%),34 although these figures seem suspiciously over-precise. What was a surgical operation on the battlefield actually like? Pastor Tage of Marienwerder, who had been induced to serve as a chaplain with the Russian forces and was captured at Zorndorf, some days after the battle noticed a Russian soldier, both of whose legs had been shot to pieces, crawling towards the town of Kiistrin. "Despite the indignation against the Russians, he was carefully entrusted to a [Prussian] surgeon . . . While an incision was made on his leg with a curved knife he bravely bore the pain, but as the bone was sawn through he uttered such terrible cries that I had to turn away."35 Those lucky enough to survive such treatment might be taken (two men to a cart instead of four from 1757 onwards) to one of several base hospitals. These institutions are known to have existed in Konigsberg (two) and in five other places in or near East Prussia, and in the deep rear at Riga, Mitau and both capitals.36 The army's medical services, run by two German doctors, I. A. Ungebauer and his successor Kuhlmann,37 comprised both qualified and semi-qualified personnel, including veterans who acted as nurses. According to Miiller-Dietz there was one attendant for every 200 men;38 but one wonders how accurate this figure can be, since the infantry regiment establishment provided for only one doctor (lekar'} and two assistants (podlekari)*9 and a generation later (1776) the army still had a total

33 Von Weymarn notes casually that at Gross Jagersdorf the wounded "received bread, medicines, and other necessities." (Von Hupel, Feldzug, 106.) 34 H. Miiller-Dietz, Der russische Militararzt im 18. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1970), 41. 35 "K istorii Semiletnei voiny: zapiski pastora Tege," Russkii arkhiv 2 (1864), col. 302. 36 AKV, vol. 3, 377; SLV, 149, 413, 587 (para. 12); on carts: RASV 1(2), 206. On conditions in Moscow, see the devastating picture drawn by la. P. Shakhovskoi in his ^apiski, 1709~1777 (St. Petersburg: Russkoi stariny, 1872), reprinted with introduction by R. E. Jones (Cambridge: Oriental Research Partners, 1974), 88.

37

38

SLV, 314, 575.

Muller-Dietz, Militararzt, 40. SLV, 33. For headquarters staffing and pay rates: PSZ, vol. Sept. 1756), 10668 (11 Dec. 1756), 10675 (17 Dec. 1756), 10690 10728 (15 May 1757). Civilian doctors were mobilized, too: PSZ, (15 July 1760). Qualified doctors in the operational zone received 25 (RASV 3(1), 280), as much as the lowest officer of staff rank. 39

14, 10611 (28 (7 Feb. 1757), vol. 15, 11032 rubles a month

206

JOHN L. H. KEEP

of only 42 "staff-surgeons," 406 ordinary surgeons, and 120 battalion orderlies.40 The figures found in official sources for the ratio of invalid to healthy soldiers should also be treated with caution. In May 1757 Apraksin reported 10,600 men sick, of whom 4,450 were in two base hospitals and the rest "with their regiments," i.e. in lazarets.41 By July the figure had reached 12,800 and by October of that year, during the retreat, over 17,000,42 evidently excluding men in base hospitals—this out of a force perhaps 80,000 strong.43 Commanders of this era were concerned less with rehabilitating the sick than with obtaining substitutes for them, which may account for apparent discrepancies in their reports. The figures for casualties sustained in four major battles are also of interest. The most lethal was Zorndorf (1758), where 11—12,000 were killed and rather more than that wounded. At Kunersdorf a year later the figure for wounded was much the same but fatalities were only a quarter as high.44 A proportion of wounded (say 10%?) should be added to allow for those whose wounds proved fatal. The official casualty data relating to minor affrays are often less plausible. For example, P. D. Yeropkin claimed that at Friedberg (July 1758) his troops killed 105 enemy for the loss of four men; the next summer a colonel commanding a party of hussar and Cossack raiders operating in Silesia claimed a "kill ratio" of 41 to nil!4;) Battles were confused affairs, especially as seen from the viewpoint of the common soldier.46 In their subsequent official reports commanders naturally endeavored to impose logic on the course of events, and professional military historians have followed them, attempting to trace the evolutions of various units, speculating on their chiefs' motives, and estimating the degree of operational "success" achieved. The utility of such reasoning seems dubious. What combat was really 40

PSZ 20, 14839 (14 Feb. 1779); cf. Miiller-Dietz, Militararzt, 59. SLV, 149; this estimate is reiterated in a letter from S. F. Apraksin to I. I. Shuvalov of 7 July (I. N. Tolstoy (contrib.), "Iz bumag Ivana Ivanovicha Shuvalova," SIRIO 9 (1872), 468, where he states curiously that 500 cases were "serious" yet the less grave ones were not responding to treatment!). 42 SLV, 157-59, 210. 43 For five later junctures in the war we have breakdowns of sick and healthy: cf. table in Keep, "Die russische Armee," 150. 44 Ibid., 151. 45 SLV, 303, 437. 46 Cf. the civilian Tage's account of Zorndorf: "K istorii," cols. 294-300. 41

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

207

like can be gauged from a point in General V. V. (Wilhelm) Fermor's "general dispositions" of July 14, 1758, that, "if a soldier should dare to [break ranks], he shall at once be despatched on the spot" by an NGO; parties of such men were kept in reserve between the lines for this purpose.47 As in other wars of this era and later, men under intense stress sometimes performed feats of valor (podvigi, literally "exploits"), which were more likely to be remembered than supposedly "dishonorable" acts such as giving way to panic.48 Tielke expressed amazement that Russian troops would deliberately stand up on the counterscarp of a fortified place to draw enemy fire, and commented: "in this army rash bravery is much respected, and if an officer wishes for the esteem of his troops he must expose himself with them in a manner that would be reckoned absurd in any other army."49 Two hundred years later the Soviet historian Frumenkov respectfully cited the Prussian captain Archenholz's praise of Russian soldiers who, "having expended all their cartridges, stood firmly . . . Fresh regiments took the place of the fallen and seemed anxious to share their comrades' fate . . ."50 He and his colleagues could not have admitted, as A. K. Baiov could do in 1911, that at Kunersdorf Shuvalov's grenadiers "rushed in complete disorder down the Miihlberg to the swampy bank of the Oder, carrying with them other regiments in the Observation Corps.'"1 An even less inhibited picture of "the face of battle" was given by von Weymarn, writing in self-vindication after Gross Jagersdorf. Many regiments "were terribly cut up ... and so disorderly that it took a lot of work to rally them again;" the rough country around "was full of men who had absconded and stayed behind to kill Prussian wounded and to undress and plunder both the enemy dead and their own.'"2 On the long retreat to Memel and Tilsit the men's morale cracked; the troops were on the point of fighting one another when Generals Petr A. Rumiantsev and V. V. Fermor intervened to restore calm; even so, some infantrymen whose

47

RASV 2(2), 188-93, paras. 8-9; also in SLV, 310-14. For the former see N. M. Korobkov, ed., /£ boevogo proshlogo russkoi armii: dokumenty i materialy o podvigakh russkikh soldat i ofitserov (Moscow: Voennoe izd-vo, 1947), 32-57. 49 Tielke, Account, ii. 88-9, 134 nn. 1(1 Frumenkov, "Rossiia," 114. 51 Baiov, "Ocherki," 39. 52 Von Hupel, Feldzug, 97, 99. 48

208

JOHN L. H. KEEP

carts had got hopelessly stuck in the mud were ridden down by Cossacks and crushed to death.53 Soviet military historians claimed that Russian troops demonstrated "the complete superiority of their tactics over those of the routineminded Prussians," who adhered to the formation of the curved line.54 Yet we know that Russian troops, like their adversaries, went into battle drawn up in (generally two) lines and that their commanders moved formations about the battlefield, and drew upon reserves to reinforce threatened sectors of the front, as the Prussians did. The tactical differences between the two armies were really of slight account and, as often happens in warfare, the combatants were quick to learn from each other's techniques. Supply Problems

Russian strategy was predicated on the inability to field an army in central Europe for more than a single campaign of a few months' duration. This limitation was due principally to the "supply difficulties" that feature so prominently in the correspondence between the courts of St. Petersburg and Vienna, as well as in the historical literature. It is not easy to ascertain the degree to which the army's growing needs for foodstuffs, forage, equipment, weapons and so on were met at different junctures in the war, or the importance of the different methods employed to this end.15 There seems to have been a mix of impromptu self-help measures and supply through regular channels. For much of the war the army lived from hand to mouth, constantly exposed to the risk of critical shortages; but matters evidently improved in the last two years, with the construction of a network of magazines and the adoption of more consistent policies in regard to both requisitioning and provisioning from the rear. The troops generally carried 10 days' supplies on their backs, and the regiment brought along enough for another 20 days.06

53

Ibid., 111-14. A. A. Strokov, Istoriia voennogo iskusstva (Moscow: Voennoe izd-vo, 1966), 97; Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 288. •™ For the following paragraphs see also our "Feeding the Troops: Russian Army Supply Policies during the Seven Years War," Canadian Slavonic Papers 29 (1987), 24-44. 36 RASV 1(2), 11, 88-90, 281. 54

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

209

The Glavnaia proviantskaia kantseliariia (GPK), which was responsible for foodstuffs, and the Glavnyi krigs-komissariat (GKK), which handled pay and auditing, the provision of uniforms, weapons, equipment, medical services etc., were autonomous entities within the War College bureaucracy; in 1764 they had a staff of 115 in the two capitals.57 Matters were complicated by the establishment in October 1758, on Fermor's initiative, of a Field Proviant Chancellery;08 and by 1760 the Senate was trying to exercise a greater degree of control. The result was administrative confusion. Supply officials, many of them officers deemed no longer fit for combat, were often reluctant to obey the orders of the commander-in-chief, to whom they were formally subordinate, or other field officers, especially when such orders were issued in ignorance of practical realities. Conversely, field officers, who derived little prestige by concerning themselves with such mundane matters as supply, looked down haughtily on the personnel in the support services, whom they suspected of malingering and malfeasance. In peace-time, the army obtained most of its cereal requirements from sales by civilian suppliers at prices determined according to a schedule which the local governor could adjust to meet seasonal and geographical market fluctuations. The procedure was laid down in detailed regulations of 1758, which codified earlier practice.59 The purchasing authorities preferred to deal directly with producers (mainly land-owners) rather than merchants, whom they distrusted as alleged profiteers.60 Stocks were held in a network of magazines classified as follows:

" Ibid., 53. The chief officials concerned with such matters were Major-Generals F. G. Ditz (Thomas von Dietz) and P. P. lakovlev; Lieutenant-Generals A. A. Menshikov, V. I. Suvorov (father of the later Generalissimo); and S. F. Volkonskii; Brigadiers Kh. F. Shtofel' (Ch. F. von Stoffeln) and N. Khomutov; and Colonel M. la. Maslov. Unfortunately next to nothing is known about their personalities or their official and unofficial relationships. 58 PSZ, vol. 15, 10895 (28 Oct. 1758). M Proviantskie reguly dlia uchrezhdennoi pri Observatsionnom korpuse komissii genemla-proviantmeistera-leitenanta, genvarii [9] dnya 1758 g., 3rd ed. (St. Petersburg, 1821) [also in PSZ, vol. 15, 10788]. 00 Ibid., sec. IV, § 2, sec. V, § 11.

210

JOHN L. H. KEEP

Table 28: Schedule of Magazines (1731)61 Type

Number

Main Regimental (polkovye) Campaign (putevye, pokhodnye)

13 15

22

Total

50

a

Total stock (chetuert'Y flour groats

400,000 155,000 37,500 592,500

25,000 9,687 2,337 37,024

l chetoert' = c. 130 kg.

This would have been sufficient for one year's consumption (at the rate of three funty of flour per man)—if all the magazines had existed in reality, which Beyrau doubts, on good grounds.62 Rear or base magazines are known to have existed at Riga, Libau, Rezhitsa, Diinaburg, Minsk, Velikie Luki and Smolensk, as well as in the two capitals, and there were "intermediate" (sic) ones at Keidany, Vilkamir, Vil'nius and Grodno.63 As the war progressed, magazines are known to have been set up in a number of other places.64 Most of them seem to have been small and temporary; some were taken over from the Prussians. Russian storage techniques lagged behind those of the West, where military authorities could draw on the experience of farmers and merchants.65 At one time the magazines set up in Konigsberg could not hold all supplies received, so that great heaps of cereals were left in the public squares; "the Russian soldiers often regarded these stocks as communal property and sold some of the produce to the inhabitants at very low prices."66

61

PSZ, vol. 14, 589 (2 August 1731); for slightly different figures see D. F. Maslovskii, Matenaly k istorii voennogo iskusstua v Rossii, fasc. 2, Tsarstvovanie Ekateriny II (St. Petersburg, 1894), vol. 2, 37; cf. also D. P. Zhuravskii, "Statisticheskoe obozrenie raskhodov na voennye potrebnosti v Rossii s 1711 po 1825 g.," Voennyi sbomik 9 (1859), 59. 62 Dietrich Beyrau, Militar und Gesellschqft im vorrevolutiondren Russland (CologneVienna: Bohlau, 1984), 78. 63 Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 268. For independent confirmation of the stores at Diinaburg, Grodno and Kovno see AKV, vol. 6, 444; Frisch, Geschichte, 103; SLV, 123, 222. 64 See map in "Die russische Armee," 169. 65 Beyrau, Militar, 77-78. 66 G. von Frantzius, Die Okkupation Ostpreussens durch die Russen im Siebenjdhrigen Kriege, mit besonderer Berucksichtigung der russischen Quellen, Inaugural dissertation (Berlin, 1916), 80.

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

21 1

In any case food resources were scarce in Russia, where the output-seed ratio was only 3 to 3.5:1 in normal weather conditions. Famine might afflict whole regions, as it did the northwest in 1756, hindering the buildup of stocks during the crucial first winter of the war.67 Matters were not improved by adherence to the lower procurement prices fixed in 1731.68 When General Stepan F. Apraksin set out on the first invasions of East Prussia he was accompanied by two GPK and three GKK officials "with their pertinent servants [= staff] and a sufficient sum of money." Simultaneously von Weymarn, the Quartermaster-General, was sent to Poland to drum up additional supplies there, by duress if need be. Much aid was expected from the traditionally pro-Russian Lithuanian magnates. Vehicles and foodstuffs were to be obtained on promise of "prompt payment," but with the stipulation that otherwise "you [Apraksin] will regrettably be forced to take them by coercion . . . for you have the right to demand everything [you need] in Poland, especially since you are going to the defense of its king."69 Much of the army's needs were indeed met from this source over the next two years, but only at the cost of antagonizing local opinion and provoking diplomatic protests, seconded by France.70 In 1758-9 there were problems over the prices which commissariat officials offered to contractors, the most important of whom were Jewish; the latter did not get all the money they were promised, partly due to a shortage of specie and partly, one suspects, to bureaucratic ill will or incompetence. In practice the line between voluntary purchase and forced requisitioning was blurred. Suppliers and contractors protested. Meanwhile at the top there were complaints that the military authorities were spending too much money on goods purchased from contractors, and suggestions that it would be more economical to squeeze the local inhabitants harder.71 In East Prussia the invaders were under less restraint than in Poland-Lithuania. In some places payment seems to have been made, or at least offered, but soon the soldiers were simply taking what 67

Kahan, Plow, 46, 48; von Hupel, Feldzug, 20. Kahan, Plow, 53. SLV, 64-8, §§ 4, 6, 22, 24, 25; cf. AKV 3, 452, 519; Bangert, ^usammenarbeit, 51. 70 AKV 34, 118; AKV 6, 370; H. Kaplan, Russia and the Outbreak of the Seven Years War (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1968), 95. 71 RASV 2(1), 340-1; 3(1), 174. 68 69

212

JOHN L. H. KEEP

they wanted by force.72 The notoriously headstrong Cossacks were mainly to blame, but regulars joined in the depredations of 1757. Von Weymarn (clearly defending his own reputation) stated that "from the very first day that the army crossed the border the foulest acts of violence [took place]; those who had not fled, even if they showed goodwill. . . and had letters of protection were beaten, robbed and plundered, not only by irregulars but also by regulars, including men from the best regiments; hardly a day passed without such excesses."73 At Stalluponen 12 Cossacks were arrested for looting; after summary proceedings two of them were knouted and physically mutilated.74 Similar quasi-judicial action was taken elsewhere, but only made matters worse. During the retreat even officers joined in the plundering.75 The root of the trouble was a breakdown in the regular supply organization, apparently due to over-reliance on local food sources. The shortages were partly due to the methods employed by the invaders and partly to the natives' timely evacuation of stocks remaining from the 1756 harvest. A partisan movement began spontaneously, as a reaction to the invaders' exactions. One local resident reported that peasants fled to the forests "and made trouble for the Russian army on its march, so that on 26 August Russian irregular troops were sent [after them] into the woods . . . in the 11 th week after Trinity they began to lay waste [villages] by fire."76 The partisans seem to have won a measure of popular as well as official support. The Russian command had counted on the local elite's cooperation in maintaining orderly administration, but many Prussian officials refused to switch allegiance or fled westward, leaving a vacuum which the occupiers were hard put to fill.77 St. Petersburg seems to have learned from these mistakes. After conquering the province in the following winter the government publicly dissociated itself from earlier excesses, set up a board to consider complaints, and installed a governor of Baltic German origin, N. A. (I. N.) Korf[f).78 An experienced diplomat, he played his difficult 72 73 74 75 76 77 78

Frisch, Geschichte, 31. Von Hupel, Feldzug, 55. Frisch, Geschichte, 32-33. Von Hupel, Feldzug, 57. Rogge, "Schreibkalender," 647; cf. Frantzius, Okkupation, 24-25. Von Hupel, Feldzug, 37, 51. Manifestos of 31 Dec. 1757 (RASV, 2(2), 19) and 6 March 1758 (PSZ, vol.

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

213

role skillfully and did his best to safeguard the province's interests.79 An initial "contribution" of one million taler was administered by local personnel and did not surpass the revenue previously collected by the Berlin government.80 It was, however, followed by other levies which had to be paid off largely in kind.81 In 1760-1 Russia set about exploiting East Prussia's resources more systematically. This harsher line owed much to V. I. Suvorov, general-fel'd-intendant, who succeeded Korf(f) as governor in September 1761.82 In December 1760 the value of requisitioned objects was put by General A. B. Buturlin at 400,000 rubles.83 In addition to foodstuffs and forage thousands of horses and vehicles were taken, which seriously damaged the province's agricultural economy—and in turn made the Russian supply authorities more dependent on what they could obtain elsewhere.84 Clearly the best way to reach an army operating between Posen (Poznan) and the middle reaches of the Oder was by sea. Naval ships could not very well carry goods, and the fleet was busy with other tasks, such as ferrying troops along the Baltic coast.83 However, a flotilla of transport vessels was assembled in Russian Baltic ports, and others were commandeered at Memel. Where were they to land their supplies? Konigsberg and Pillau soon lay far to the rear. Danzig (Gdansk), the obvious choice, was keen to preserve its semi-independent status and would accept only limited amounts; a plan to occupy the city and force compliance with Russian wishes had to be abandoned out of respect for allied sensibilities.86 This left Kolberg on the Pomeranian coast. But a half-hearted offensive in 1758—"too serious for a joke and too trifling for earnest"—was beaten off. By

15, 10807); the privileges granted to the province are discussed in RASV 2(2), 106-09. 79 Frantzius, Okkupation, 47-9; PSZ, vol., 15, 10833 (6 May 1758); SLV, 236-37, 252-54; AKV 34, 117-26, 178-87. 80 Frisch, Geschichte, 55. 81 AKV, 34, 117-18; RASV 3(1), 64-66; Frantzius, Okkupation, 71-75. 82 Duffy, Russia's Way, 119; Suvorov's office as per SLV, 874. 83

84 85

RASV 3(1), 286. RASV 2(2), 262-63, 280-1; 3(1), 285.

N. M. Korobkov, Russkii flot v Semiletnei voine (Moscow, 1946), 66. One must discount as propaganda Korobkov's claim that the fleet ensured "a correct planned supply of East Prussia with all kinds of armaments and provisions"—his own evidence clearly disproves the claim. 86 Frisch, Geschichte, ch. 6; Bangert, ^usammenarbeit, 149, 151; SLV, 362.

214

JOHN L. H. KEEP

the time the port fell to Rumiantsev in the last month of the war, it could no longer be of any service.87 The other alternative to the lengthy overland route from the western Dvina to the Oder was to secure aid from the Habsburgs. But Vienna would cooperate only on its own terms and showed little understanding of the particular difficulties under which Russians labored when operating so far from their rear bases. In any case, the two armies' magazine chains were too distant from each other for them to cooperate effectively, as Field-Marshal Leopold Daun noted in June 1759,88 even if the political will to do so had been there. No joint body was set up to demarcate the areas within which each ally might obtain supplies; such matters were discussed at various levels on an ad hoc basis and usually in ignorance of the other's requirements and capabilities. Moreover, Russian leaders were reluctant to reveal the precise extent of their stocks (even if they knew this), lest the information be abused; and their partners, notably Wenzel von Kaunitz, suspected them of deliberately exaggerating shortages in pursuit of their own advantage. The idea of economic aid was first mooted early in 1758, in connection with a project (later abandoned), to send a Russian auxiliary corps to help the hard-pressed Austrians.89 It was taken up again in the winter and spring of 1759 as part of an Austrian plan to induce Russian forces to cross the Oder, which Fermor rejected on political and strategic as well as economic grounds.90 Shortly before Kunersdorf, Saltykov even had to part with some supplies of his own for the corps of Field-Marshal Ernst London; not surprisingly, he regarded the latter's presence "as more of a nuisance than a help."91 After the battle it was the Russians' turn to raise the matter, now that their forces were at last across the Oder. The Austrian authorities duly set about collecting forage at various magazines and provided 60,000 guilders in cash. But Saltykov was disappointed that the stores held less than anticipated, and after several weeks of inconclusive correspondence ordered his army back to winter quarters.92 87

Tielke, Account, vol. 2, 361; Duffy, Russia's Way, 91-92, 116-17. Bangert, Zusammenarbeit, 196. Ibid., 58-59; SLV, 22. 90 Ibid., 144, 182, 317-22; SLV, 419, 427, 434-37. 91 Ibid., 373; cf. 228-31. 92 Ibid., 260-77, 373-74; SLV, 506, 509. Oddly enough, although the Austrian supply system was much more efficient, the Russians again had to supply their ally with five days' ration of bread at this time. (Bangert, ^usammenarbeit, 275.) 88 89

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

215

This unhappy story explains why in Brandenburg, Pomerania and Silesia the Russian armies employed the same harsh requisitioning policies that they were now increasingly resorting to in East Prussia.93 Their supply authorities also continued to conclude contracts with local merchants, but the main emphasis, it appears, was on more coercive methods: "if the inhabitants refused to sell," writes Maslovskii, "the produce was requisitioned, and the owners were left only with one-third of the cereals for their own needs."94 The authorities ordered foragers not to wreak violence on civilians; but to judge by the experience of the Neumark district in 1759 there was a good deal of plundering in rural areas.95 The army's logistical problems had many causes besides administrative inefficiency: execrable roads, rivers that flowed "the wrong way" and had to be forded when they could not be bridged, horses that were exhausted by overstrain, and vehicles that were too small and simply constructed for the heavy loads they had to carry. On top of all this there was the risk, in forward areas, of attack by enemy raiding parties. In the German lands roads were little better than they were in Poland or the Baltic, where according to von Weymarn they were "wholly impracticable" during the spring floods.96 Their surface consisted of "crushed sand or of clay, which was either stone hard or else lacking any foundation, according to the season." Nor did roads as yet cross the marshy meadows, lined by steep banks, along the rivers, which were rarely bridged.97 Indeed, East Prussian roads were so notorious that some inhabitants at first confidently expected that for this reason alone the Russian invasion would fail.98 As for the horse- or ox-drawn vehicles, these were ill adapted to their military role. In normal peacetime conditions a Russian peasant cart laden with produce had a maximum range of 150 kilometers;99 now such

93

SLV, 410, 430, 433, 445, 472, 478. RASV 3(1), 285-86. W. Bruchmiiller, "Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Russeneinfalls in die Neumark vom Jahre 1759," Forschungen zur Brandenburgischen und Preussischen Geschichte 26 (1913), 226. 96 Von Hupel, Feld&g, 22, 108. 97 G. Koster-Arnswalde, "Die Entwicklung der nordostdeutschen Verkehrsstrassen bis 1800," Forschungen zur Brandenburgischen und Preussischen Geschichte 48 (1936), 122. 98 Frantzius, Okkupation, 21. 99 Kahan, Plow, 283. 94

95

216

JOHN L. H. KEEP

rustic vehicles (and Polish or Prussian ones were little different) were expected to cover much greater distances. They broke down and hundreds of artisans had to be pressed into service to help repair them. The army also faced the temporary interruption of river traffic when the water level sank too low. There were many islands, sandbanks and weirs, which made the Warthe (Warta), for instance, impassable above Landsberg.100 When the Russians first reached the Niemen, the river stayed frozen much longer than usual and Apraksin had a hard job dragooning the local inhabitants to strengthen the banks for a bridge to be built. Later, the water level sank so low that the river could not be used for shipping.101 The Russians had better luck with the Vistula, where General A. M. Golitsyn took over and fortified an existing bridge at Thorn (Torun). Other bridges were later built on pontoons, but such constructions were liable to be swept away by sudden storms.102 The Netze (Notec) was found unsuitable for river transport, and "the great drought caused the water in the Warthe to fall so low that it could be forded at several points," as a Swedish officer in Prussian service noted.103 The bridge across the Oder at Schwedt was demolished by Frederick's soldiers, but the Russians managed to repair it speedily with local labor.104 When they eventually crossed this river it turned out to be a major operation which could take up to four days.105 In the steppe war of the 1730s the army's baggage train had consisted of no less than 90,000 wagons.106 This time there were fewer: a hostile critic put the number at 50,000 (1757). 107 He exaggerates, claiming that two-thirds of them were drawn by the soldiers themselves, although according to a more objective witness this practice was not uncommon.108 Each infantry regiment was supposed to have

100

Koster-Arnswalde, "Entwicklung," 121. Von Hupel, Feldzug, 22, 31, 48. For difficulties on the return in September see Frantzius, Okkupation, 32. 102 Tielke, Account, vol. 2, 56, 315; SLV, 399; Nikolaev, Istonia 17-go, 154; AKV 6, 366. 103 Comte (J. L.) de Hordt, Memories historiques, politique et militaires, ed. M. Borrelly (Paris, 1805), Vol. 2, 30. 104 Tielke, Account, vol. 2, 124; cf. SLV, 328. 105 Bangert, ^usammenarbeit, 279; cf. RASV 3(1), 141-2; SLV, 443, 445-46. 106 Beskrovnyi, Russkaia armiia, 124, citing Manstein's memoirs. 107 F. (Capt. Lambert), 0 sostoianii russkoi armii v semiletniuiu voinu (Leipzig, 1863; also in AKV 6), 20. 108 Von Hupel, Feldzug, 30, 141. 101

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

217

102 baggage carts, drawn by 268 horses—a number which in 1761 Fermor ordered to be reduced to 30 carts.109 In addition, "every artel'... of troops had its jealously guarded cart. . . and each officer was entitled to a private train of ten or more vehicles, a limit that was often surpassed many times over."110 Apart from the obstacles which this vast vehicle park represented to rapid movement, it required maintenance of countless beasts of burden, including horses, oxen, and even a few camels. "All the grain reaped in the fields has been used to feed the horses," reported Saltykov from an area near the Brandenburg border in July 1759.111 Nevertheless, it was not rare for the these wretched animals to be "almost worked down by long and difficult marches," or by excessive reliance on grass fodder whenever oats ran short.112 This explains the heavy demands for replacements made on the local population: already in the spring of 1758 Fermor said he was short of 10,740 horses (8,440 of them for the cavalry); in the next six weeks he secured 3,500 from East Prussia, Danzig and Kurland, but another month elapsed before the cavalry was ready to march.113 Cavalry mounts could not be substituted readily for draught animals since they had not been trained to pull vehicles; this was one reason why soldiers sometimes had to drag them along instead.114 On the whole, though, Russian commanders tried to look after their men, so far as they could within the limits of an absolutist and militaristic system. Likewise they endeavored to spare civilians the horrors of war. When it was put to von Stoffeln that Kolberg, then under siege, could be destroyed by setting fire to a magazine of straw and hay, he is said to have replied: "What good would that do? Do you think that a brave commandant will surrender the place because the houses are burned? By such an act we shall draw upon ourselves the epithets of barbarous and inhuman; let us then show that . . . we do not take pleasure in the sufferings of our fellow creatures."115 Not every Russian officer would have shown such 109 110

RASV 2(2), 11, 88-90.

Duffy, Russia's Way, 98; the last phrase seems somewhat exaggerated. 111 SLV, 458. 112 Tielke, Account, vol. 2, 100. 113 Bangert, ^usammenarbeit, 74, n. 46. 114 Von Hupel, Feldaytg, 106. lb Tielke, Account, vol. 2, 338. The store caught fire anyway but happily there was a sudden rain squall which put it out.

218

JOHN L. H. KEEP

self-restraint, and the war produced its share of atrocities (e.g. the burning of Kiistrin); yet there was a widespread sentiment that Russia and its army were on trial before European public opinion and that they should show themselves in the best possible light. Unfortunately Immanuel Kant had yet to develop his plea for international peace by the time the Russians got to Konigsberg. It is often said that some of their officers attended his lectures116 but, given Russian nobles' educational level at mid-century, one suspects that those who did so were of (Baltic) German extraction. Did exposure to a more advanced cultural environment leave some impact on their outlook (as it certainly did in central and western Europe half a century later), or was it the other way about? The evidence has only just begun to be explored,117 but already in 1916 G. von Frantzius was complimentary about the Russian influence on the locals: the foreigners' presence, he states, helped to break down social barriers and led to several mixed marriages.118 Even a mere concern to preserve good military order in occupied areas might have a positive effect. In the early stages of the war the Russian authorities required local officials to sign certificates to confirm that their men had behaved properly119—perhaps here emulating Prussian practices, for in the German lands billeting procedures were closely regulated.120 Frederick II's depredations in Saxony aroused genuine disapproval in St. Petersburg, where it was also realized that they could be exploited for propaganda purposes: Russia could be represented as a young, more civilized power which stood for noble aims, for the preservation of legitimate rights and for a just peace that would restore the natural order in Europe which the king of Prussia had so rudely disrupted. Of course things did not turn out this way. Russia neither won the incipient propaganda battle nor did she secure political advantages commensurate with the scale of her military victories. In fact, the outcome of the war could hardly have been more disappoint-

116

E.g. Duffy, Russia's Way, 82. See the stimulating sketches by G. V. Kretinin, Pod rossiiskoi koronoi, Hi Russkie v Kenigsberge, 1758-1762 (Kaliningrad: Kaliningradskoe knizhnoe izd., 1996). 118 Frantzius, Okkupation, 90-98. 119 RASV 1(1), 6; 2(2), 251 (§ 1); also SLV, 381; V. A. Bil'basov, "Semiletniaia voina po russkim istochnikam," in idem, Istoricheskie monografii (St. Petersburg: Tip. I. N. Skorokhodova, 1901), 244. 120 On German practices see R. Prove in Kroener, ed., Krieg und Frieden, 205-09. 117

THE RUSSIAN ARMY IN THE SEVEN YEARS WAR

219

ing. The sense of national humiliation that so much blood had been spilt for nothing, aroused by Peter Ill's reckless abandonment of the crumbling anti-Prussian alliance in 1762, contributed to that monarch's speedy overthrow.121 Although Russia's demonstration of military strength impressed contemporaries abroad and was a decisive factor in earning her great-power status,122 Russia's participation in the Seven Years War was an expensive and unnecessary mistake. It cost the treasury some 30 million rubles, which as a "developing country" Russia could ill afford.123 The human cost has been considered above. Prussia did not represent a serious threat to the Russian empire's security. At the worst Frederick might have made Prussian influence predominant in Kurland, a territory on which Russia was gradually encroaching; but the more easterly Baltic provinces were far beyond the king's ambitions. The same was true of Poland: Hohenzollern designs on her western provinces could have been neutralized, at a cost to that country's sovereignty, by corresponding Russian acquisitions in the east, as was done by the partitions of 1772-95. Moreover, any attempt to win lasting control over East Prussia would have brought about an anti-Russian coalition of German states under Prussian and/or Austrian leadership. Russia's true interest in 1756 was not to help hammer together a belligerent coalition but rather to allow Frederick to humiliate the Habsburgs. This would have made Russia the dominant partner vis-a-vis Austria in their alliance, which in future would then have been oriented more definitely than before towards freeing southeastern Europe from Ottoman rule. Both Realpolitik and common sense dictated

121 Catherine II was careful to adopt a more even-handed foreign policy which took greater account of her empire's presumed "national interests." She fought no war in central Europe yet achieved far more, judged by conventional criteria, than the prosaic and unimaginative Elizabeth could have dreamed of. 122 Hamish M. Scott, "Katherinas Russland und das europaische Staatensystem," in Katharine II, Russland und Europa: Beitrdge z,ur internationalen Forschung, ed. Glaus Scharf (Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 2001), 14, 20. 123 S. M. Troitskii, Finansovaia politika russkogo absoliutizma v XVIII v. (Moscow: Nauka, 1966), 231: over 31 million rubles, but the data are incomplete. Fermorput the cost of the 1757-58 campaign at 5 million rubles, which Bangert (^usammenarbeit, 319) reckons at approximately 90% of the annual budget. This may be a bit too high, for even under Peter I and in 1812-13 the share of the armed forces in budgetary expenditure did not exceed 75—80%: see Keep, Soldiers, 135-40 and "The Russian Army's Response to the French Revolution," Jahrbiicher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 28 (1980), 522~23 (reprinted in idem, Power and the People: Essays in Russian History (Boulder CO: East European Monographs, 1995), 236).

220

JOHN L. H. KEEP

circumspection, not a military adventure. The army leaders had no great desire to fight their Prussian drillmasters. The decision to intervene lay with the politicians, and the Empress Elizabeth herself was a prime mover in driving Russia towards a belligerent course. As on so many other occasions, the country stumbled into war. None of its leaders expected the conflict to last so long. Their mood of complacent over-confidence in the country's strength made it easy to underestimate the risks of military action.

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY: THE VIEW FROM EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY RUSSIAN THEATER Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter Across Russian society, service bound individuals and communities to the person of the monarch and to the administrative structures of the state. Promises of advancement and appeals to honor encouraged the individual serviceman to define himself in terms of the monarchy, civic society, and the common good. Yet at the same time that the obligation to serve called forth a transcendent identification with the imperial polity, it also exposed the gap between moral principles and concrete rewards. The injustices of everyday life not only contradicted proclaimed principles but also seemed more egregious because of the sacrifices service entailed. Through the prism of eighteenth-century theater—an institution where Russia's educated service classes imagined themselves as members of a larger social body—this essay explores the tension between service as a source of positive identification and service as a challenge to social hierarchy.1 The theatrical depiction of service raised difficult moral and practical questions for which it could offer no fully satisfactory answers. How, for example, could merit and performance be rewarded in a society where legal rights were unequal and hereditary, or where political power depended on patronage and family networks? How could strict hierarchies of command and discipline be maintained in combat conditions, where all men, regardless of rank or social status, were equally vulnerable to death and equally capable of heroism?

1 The relatively limited historiography on social attitudes toward service tends to emphasize sources of disaffection. My purpose is to explore ideas that promoted reconciliation. On the nobility, see I. V. Faisova, "Manifest o vol'nosti" i sluzjiba dvorianstva v XVIII stoletii (Moscow: Nauka, 1999); E. N. Marasinova, Psikhologiia elity rossiiskogo dvorianstva poslednei treti XVIII veka. (Po materialam perepiski) (Moscow: ROSSPEN, 1999), chap. 2; Michael Confino, "Apropos de la notion de service dans la noblesse russe au XVIIF et XIXC siecles," Cahiers du Monde russe et sovietique 34 (1993), 47-58; Marc Raeff, Origins of the Russian Intelligentsia: The Eighteenth-Century Nobility (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1966). On popular attitudes, see Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter, From Serf to Russian Soldier (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990).

222

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSGHAFTER

In confronting these questions, playwrights presented a complex and sometimes heart-wrenching portrait of tensions in the relationship of individuals and groups to the government and service. The solutions displayed on stage showed how, despite an acute awareness of these tensions, the governing classes of imperial Russia overcame cognitive challenges to constituted authority in order to preserve the comfortable exercise of power. Among educated Russians of diverse origins, social and political conflict led not to rebellion but to reconciliation: not to a desire to overthrow flawed institutions but to live within them despite a recognition of their costs. That an historian would turn to plays as a source for understanding social attitudes reflects the limited market for commercially produced culture in eighteenth-century Russia. Further west in Europe, historians have at their disposal a wider range of sources, from books and broadsheets to the records of parliamentary debates, from which the self-understanding and characteristic dilemmas of social groups can be extracted more easily. In Russia, where constituted political bodies did not exist, and where the periodical press was in its infancy, theater provided a unique civic forum for the debate of social issues. While it may seem an intrinsically elite phenomenon, theater reached a broader range of social groups than one might expect: its performers and audiences were drawn from all ages and social statuses, including serfs and rulers. Because plays were staged at court, in private homes and sheds, in seminaries and schools, and in commercial and state-sponsored settings, they were accessible to a socially diverse public. Plays were written not only by professional men of letters, but also by amateurs whose main vocations were as policy makers, courtiers, state officials, military officers, serf owners, churchmen, professors, teachers, or actors. Lacking pretensions to the status of poet, such amateur authors wrote to educate children, honor patrons, entertain family and friends, influence society, be useful to the father land, promote knowledge, and express feelings. In their works, the strains of social and political life found vivid expression.2 Because the primary purpose of this essay is to explain how Russia's educated classes understood the relationship between military service 2 The assumption of amateur status by authors also could represent literary convention, as in French autobiographical and epistolary novels of the eighteenth century. The fact remains, however, that educated Russians who had no professional literary pretensions wrote plays.

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

223

and social hierarchy, the analysis is limited to original Russian theater.3 But what was "original Russian theater" in the pan-European context of eighteenth-century enlightenment culture? Across eighteenth-century Europe, literary culture was cosmopolitan and imitative, plagiarism and piracy were rampant, authorial attribution was erratic, and literary classics of the highest value—Shakespeare immediately comes to mind—were appropriated and reworked without regard for origins, ownership, or creative integrity. Copyright laws were vague or nonexistent, and those that did apply only partially protected the proprietary claims of authors and publishers. Despite the threat of censorship, the literary culture of the eighteenth century constituted a freewheeling, relatively unregulated and unstandardized public arena where high and low forms of artistic expression overlapped and intermingled.4 Russian translator and adapter V. I. Lukin (1737—94) described the century as a time when the most distinguished writers "steal better than others" by presenting "skillfully covered up" work as their own.3 In the cosmopolitan cultural milieu of eighteenth-century Europe—where authors borrowed freely from existing works, where almost any educated person could claim the calling of writer, and where romantic notions of individual genius and originality were in gestation—an idea or a story did not have to originate in Russia in order to express a genuinely Russian point of view. Whether original, imitative, or plagiarized, a play associated with a Russian author or identified as a Russian work represented the articulation of ideas, attitudes, and beliefs held by educated Russians. Therefore, this essay defines as Russian those plays presented as original Russian works or as adaptations of foreign plays 3 The essay derives from a larger effort to reconstruct the social thinking of the educated service classes based on 259 secular literary plays, written and for the most part also published from the 1740s to the 1790s, the period when original Russian theater achieved national self-consciousness and European recognition. The plays represent the work of 79 known authors whose origins range from the serf M. A. Matinskii (1750-1820) to the Empress Catherine II. In terms of literary movements, this was a time of neoclassical ascendancy, with the incorporation of sentimentalism and pre-romanticism in the last third of the century and the eventual rise of romanticism proper in the first decades of the nineteenth century. 4 Robert Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History (New York: Basic Books, 1984); idem, The Forbidden Best-Sellers of Pre-Revolutionary France (New York: W. W. Norton, 1996); John Brewer, The Pleasures of the Imagination: English Culture in the Eighteenth Century (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1997). 5 V. I. Lukin, "Predislovie k Pustomele" Sochineniia i perevody Vladimera Lukina, 3 vols. (St. Petersburg: n. p. 1765), vol. 1, 154-55.

224

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSCHAFTER

to Russian mores. Precisely because the plays depicted stock situations and operated within formulaic terms of morality and personal worth, it is important to examine their specifically Russian implications. Noble Identity

When Tsar Peter I became effective ruler of Russia in 1694, he inherited a complex hierarchy of service ranks associated with multiple privileges and functions. Through various mechanisms Muscovite law and practice had linked the attainment of ranks to heredity and service. As the proprietors of estates held in hereditary and/or service tenure, Russia's landed serf-owning ranks derived their status from service to the tsar. Theoretically, their land holdings and peasants constituted grants from the ruler for services that they or their ancestors had performed. Of course, individual families also successfully augmented their estates through marriage, commercial purchases, and private gifts. But when Peter's government began to define an agglomerated noble category (shliakhetstvo or dvorianstvo), the ownership of populated estates did not automatically confer noble status. In contrast to the Muscovite rank ordering of elite families, which blurred the relationship between social status, service and heredity, Petrine legislation made clear that henceforth service would take precedence over heredity in legal definitions of nobility. Through the Table of Ranks (1722), which with minor alterations functioned until 1917, the principle of meritorious service became formally institutionalized as the primary basis for promotion and the sole basis for ennoblement. Service to the tsar, not the mere acquisition of noble lands or serfs, constituted the only legitimate source of noble status. Early in his reign, Peter I emphasized the disciplinary aspect of the obligation to serve when he subjected all male nobles to a harsh regimen of forced education and lifelong service that began in the lowest ranks. From the start, educational opportunity and childhood enrollments in elite guards regiments lightened the burden of service by allowing nobles to rise through the ranks in ways unimaginable for ordinary soldiers. After Peter's death, service duties continued to ease, beginning with a temporary military demobilization in 1727. The formalization of preferential treatment for nobles occurred in 1731 with the founding of Russia's first Noble Cadet Corps, grad-

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

225

uates of which entered service with officer rank. In 1736 the noble term of duty was reduced to twenty-five years, followed in 1762 by complete emancipation from compulsory service. It is generally believed that emancipation was a popular measure, even though it probably weakened the moral authority and political power of its putative beneficiaries. Nor did emancipation end the close relationship between noble identity and service. For the monarchy emancipation had become desirable precisely because sufficient numbers of qualified individuals were eager to serve. Policy makers assumed that most nobles would continue to serve, which in fact they did long after business and professional careers became plentiful in the nineteenth century. Ironically, however, by making the legal rights of hereditary nobles unconditional, the emancipation raised troubling questions about the meaning of nobility. If nobles no longer served sovereign and fatherland, on what grounds could their privileges be justified? Perhaps more disturbing for nobles, especially those with limited economic resources, if they no longer were entitled to appointments in service, how could they reap its rewards and preserve a noble way of life? Eighteenth-century theater moved beyond the question of noble privilege to the more difficult question of noble identity. Theater articulated the Petrine principle that noble identity derived from service but also suggested that the disjoining of noble status from service required new definitions of nobility. Representing the official ideal, enlightened patriarchs or misonneurs consistently associated noble virtue with a commitment to serving monarch and country. A typical statement appears in Upbringing, a comedy by D. V. Volkov (1727—85), one of the framers of the 1762 emancipation.6 The wealthy () Vospitanie (Moscow: Imperatorskii Moskovskii Universitet, 1774). Published anonymously, Upbringing was performed once in Moscow in 1774. For authorial attributions I rely on published anthologies or Svodnyi katalog russkoi knigi grazhdanskoi pechati XVIII veka 1725-1800, 5 vols. (Moscow: Kniga, 1963-67). Information regarding performances comes from Istoriia russkogo dramaticheskogo teatra (hereafter IRDT) 7 vols. (Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1977-87), vols. 1-2. D. V. Volkov, the son of an administrative clerk (pod'iachii) who achieved personal nobility in 1731, received his early education at home and in 1742 became a student in the College of Foreign Affairs. After achieving noble status in 1745, he served as a translator and secretary. In 1754 Volkov moved to St. Petersburg where under the patronage of Count P. I. Shuvalov he served as secretary of the Ministerial Conference. In 1761-62 he was personal secretary to Peter III. Briefly arrested after the coup that elevated Catherine II to the throne, Volkov became vice-governor in Orenburg in July 1762. In 1764 he returned to the capital as president of the College of Manufactures and from

226

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSCHAFTER

noble Dobromysl (Good-Thinking) has lost two sons in combat and now expects his daughter Sofia (Wisdom) to assume responsibility for the family debt to sovereign and fatherland. Equating female service with reproduction, he wants to see her married so that his family will have descendants who can serve: "I owe to Sovereign and Fatherland a most sacred debt. The degree to which our family has been elevated and the wealth in which our house abounds, derive from Monarchical munificence for the services of my father and grandfather: consequently, I am obligated to serve Sovereign and Fatherland eternally and to be as like my father and grandfather as possible." The service ideal so infuses Dobromysl's thinking that when Sofia invokes an archaic distinction, abolished by Peter I, between lands held in hereditary tenure and those granted on condition of service, he is indifferent to the patrimonial status of the family's property: the lands inherited from his father and grandfather were granted by the monarch for the loyal services of his ancestors. "I do not know," Dobromysl declares, "whether they [the lands] are called patrimonial: but I do know that a family possessing such tokens of Monarchical favor is incomparably more obligated to serve to the uttermost." For Dobromysl, it is absolutely essential that he and his descendants provide eternal evidence of the ancestral service and merits that elevated the family to its present degree and wealth. The notion of a family debt that continually must be repaid through service leads Dobromysl to a broader discussion of noble identity. He also believes that nobles are set apart by their ability to devote themselves to good deeds beyond the family context. Unlike the most well-behaved, kind, and honorable agriculturalist or poor townsman, who is burdened by labor and a large family and whose virtue rarely can function outside his own household, an educated noble possesses the means and ability to perform good deeds. As a military commander, he can be useful to sovereign and fatherland; to his subordinates, he can be a father and protector. As a state official, he can 1768 he was a privy councilor and senator. In 1776 Volkov became governorgeneral in Smolensk while remaining a senator and president of the College of Manufactures. In 1778 he returned to St. Petersburg as general policemaster, a post he retained until 1780. Slovar' russkikh pisatelei XVIII veka (hereafter SRP), 2 vols. (Incomplete) (Leningrad: Nauka, 1988; St. Petersburg: Nauka, 1999), vol. 1, 169-70; Entsiklopedicheskii slovar' (hereafter ES), 43 vols. in 86 pts. (St. Petersburg: F. A. Brokgauz-I. A. Efron, 1890-1907), vol. 13, 36-37.

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

227

eradicate slander and insure justice in his administrative domain. If he returns to his villages (presumably after service), all his peasants can rejoice in the presence of their father, guardian, and defender, who reduces ignorance and superstition, heals sickness, teaches improved methods of cultivation and handicrafts, eliminates idleness and drunkenness, and transforms quarrels into friendship and harmony. In Dobromysl's conception, service can be broadly defined, but nobility cannot be disjoined from service. That the 1762 emancipation had indeed disjoined noble status from service helps to explain Dobromysl's concept of rank, which incorporates the changed circumstances into the Petrine definitions.7 Dobromysl distinguishes genuine nobility, which represents a moral principle, from mere noble status in the legal sense. He insists that a noble cannot be a true son of the fatherland simply on the basis of legacy and the possession of estates, which in fact belong to the fatherland. In his view, nobles are not entitled to rank, which is separate from honor. Ranks are for the court to present; therefore, nobles should seek appointment to service, and if they perform their duties, they may then hope for recognition of their zeal and talents. If the monarch awards rank to an infant, the honor derived from that rank belongs to the parent whose services the monarch has favored; consequently the child recipient is forever obligated to emulate his father in service. Because all nobles theoretically attained their status in recognition of their own or their forebears' service, nobility and the honor of rank are meaningless in the absence of an earnest devotion to service. In the aftermath of emancipation, Dobromysl's understanding of nobility and honor implies a moral debt to monarch and country. Stage characters of Dobromysl's generation consistently share his commitment to service, and it is tempting to attribute their zealousness to the ideals of an earlier age when every noble was required to serve. Certainly in the plays depicting service, all the patriarchal figures, even those held up to ridicule, believe their sons should serve.

' Peter Fs Table of Ranks established an order of fourteen grades corresponding to specific ranks or offices in military, civil, and court service. Because promotion in service was based on the Table of Ranks, the attainment of a higher grade signified social advancement. Although nobles always rose more quickly than commoners and over time entered service at ever higher grades, noble status did not in and of itself guarantee the possession of rank.

228

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSCHAFTER

The sons exhibit more varied attitudes, though the virtuous among them also embrace the service ethic of the fathers.8 Sofia's future husband, Colonel Dobromysl, in Moscow recuperating from combat wounds, seems ready to sacrifice all for sovereign and fatherland. When the older Dobromysl notes that duty does not require nobles to neglect their property during long years of service, because a person who tends to his estate is better equipped "to perform State service," the colonel counters that his home and villages are not suffering. But even if they fall into ruin, "when the Fatherland demands service, one should think only of this." Especially in wartime, the only good reason to leave service is poor health. If nobles retire simply to manage their estates, and many do this, it follows that the more generously a family is endowed with properties, the greater right they have not to serve and not to be useful. This would mean "that Monarchical favor brings harm to Sovereigns," and rulers would find themselves contradicting the principle of generosity: the longer their true servitors served, the less they would reward them. Echoing the older Dobromysl, the colonel believes that the purpose of wealth is to possess the means to serve the fatherland. He also is uncomfortable with the practice of granting promotions at retirement: because his ancestors could not have obtained his present rank so quickly, he wishes to achieve higher rank through service, not retirement. The character of Colonel Dobromysl personifies the close relationship between virtue and the desire to serve, which is central to the older Dobromysl's thinking. In Colonel Zasluzhenov (Meritorious), the comedy Mitrofanushka in Retirement by G. N. Gorodchaninov (1772~1852), introduces another zealous young officer.9 Zasluzhenov sincerely believes that a man

8 The generational differences are metaphorical. There is no historical evidence that nobles of a particular generation were more or less likely to evade service. If anything, the most extensive evidence of resistance to service comes from the reign of Peter I, when new and harsher obligations were imposed. 9 Mitrofanushka v otstavke. Komediia v piati deistviiakh. Rossiiskoe sochinenie G. G. (Moscow: Universitetskaia Tipografiia, 1800). Published pseudonymously, Mitrofanushka in Retirement was performed once in Moscow in 1801 and has been described as an imitation of D. I. Fonvizin's The Minor. G. N. Gorodchaninov was born into a merchant family and received his education at the Nizhnii Novgorod seminary and Moscow University. In 1799 he began service at the postal department in St. Petersburg, became a junior assistant of Russian literature at Kazan University in 1806, served as librarian at the Medical Surgical Academy in Moscow from 1808, and finally returned to Kazan as professor of Russian literature in 1810. ES, vol. 17,

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

229

who devotes his youth to "useful labors" will be rewarded with a quiet and prosperous old age. Love for the fatherland, honor, and his own family obligate a noble to serve. In fact, Zasluzhenov declares, "we all are servants." Zasluzhenov's hostess, Mrs. Domosedova (Stayat-Home), objects that a noble cannot be a servant; servants are household serfs, and a person who is born noble is born a master. While she equates nobility with noble birth, the colonel draws a clear distinction between mere nobles, who are born, and noble souls who do good irrespective of personal interests. Because "all [people] are obligated to serve each other," assistance rendered to another represents nothing more than the fulfillment of a human duty. Zasluzhenov's idea of service as a human duty takes him beyond the particularist question of legal nobility to the universalist concept of noble souls. Thus, he concludes, the soul of a servant can be more noble than the soul of a master: "in the eyes of a right-thinking person, a kind servant is incomparably preferable to a dishonorable Lord." Alongside the zealous servicemen and enlightened patriarchs who internalize the Petrine service ethic, eighteenth-century theater portrayed another type of young noble who also possesses education and rank yet openly disdains service. In Upbringing, the ignorant Francophile Makhalov articulates a view of nobility and honor that separates these concepts from the notion of a moral debt to monarch and country. Believing he is entitled to recognition, Makhalov is willing to serve only if the court grants him a rank that a person of his "nature and education can accept with decorum." In his view, nobles should serve out of honor and not for reward, which is to say nobles possess honor by definition, as opposed to honor being the just reward for service. Furthermore, Makhalov insists, he already served and brought honor to the fatherland by cutting such a fine figure in France. It would be laughable, in his eyes, if he served under a commander who had never seen Paris. For young Makhalov genuine nobility is not a matter of service, because honor and social merit derive from nature (that is, birth) and education (that is, seeing Paris). Mitrofanushka in Retirement depicts an equally unworthy officer who retires from service the moment war is declared. Colonel Zasluzhenov 320-21; Russkie pisateli 1800-1917: biogrqficheskii slovar', 4 vols. (incomplete) (Moscow: Nauchnoe Izdatel'stvo "Bol'shaia Rossiiskaia Entsiklo-pediia," 1992-9), vol. 1, 641-42.

230

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSCHAFTER

recognizes that while Mitrofanushka, the son of Mrs. Domosedova, is both a noble and a captain, he also is "an unheard of ass, a boor, who has no respect for his parents, without education, without understanding of honor and decency; a scoundrel, who is completely ignorant of noble feelings; dissolute, self-righteous, capable of the most vile deeds; a parasite who does not want to serve the fatherland." Zasluzhenov is forced to question whether a noble with the personal qualities of Mitrofanushka can be useful to the fatherland. That Mitrofanushka has attained the rank of captain Zasluzhenov decries as "a blow for a person with merit" and "a stain for noble souls." The obvious contradiction between the idea of nobility and the everyday behavior of Mitrofanushka threatens to undermine the moral terms of noble identity. If the "important title of noble" is a reward for service, and service is an obligation of nobility, what becomes of the noble whose individual vices render him incapable of useful service? The solution to this conundrum, indicated by Zasluzhenov, is to reorient nobility from the particularist social realm of noble status to the universalist moral realm of noble souls. A further challenge to Zasluzhenov's concept of the relationship between nobility and service arises in the person of retired Ensign Khrabrilkin (Courageous), a landless noble living on the Domosedov estate. Burdened by poverty and the loss of a leg in battle, Khrabrilkin behaves in a soldierly manner out of nostalgia for military life. Determined to maintain the honor of officer rank, and proud of his military past, which understandably he prefers to his present life, Khrabrilkin condemns Mitrofanushka's decision to leave service. Yet even as he defends the dignity of servicemen, Khrabrilkin presents a pathetic figure. He embodies the ideal combination of noble identity and devotion to service, but is physically disabled and bereft of material security. Ordered to eat with the servants when esteemed guests visit, his retirement is a far cry from Zasluzhenov's image of the quiet prosperity that awaits the noble who spends his youth performing "useful labors." In contrast to Mitrofanushka, who refuses to accept service as a moral obligation, Khrabrilkin embraces the obligation to serve, yet his only reward is to suffer neglect and humiliation. Concrete experience clearly contradicts the service principle. The final threat to Zasluzhenov's understanding of service is the relationship between the enlightened patriarch Brigadier Zdravomyslov (Sensible) and a noble friend raised with him as a brother. The young men began military service together in the same regiment;

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

231

however, the friend turned out to be a good politician and a poor officer. After leaving the military, he obtained a position at court and, from this exalted position, received Zdravomyslov with preference. Expecting to benefit from the patronage of his friend, Zdravomyslov spent years wailing for promised—yet ultimately unfulfilled— appointments. Disillusioned by the realities of service, Zdravomyslov nevertheless retains the belief that all nobles are obligated to serve. At the same time, by questioning the moral worth of courtiers, he also questions the imagined relationship between service and virtue. Like Zasluzhenov, he is compelled to recognize that while Mitrofanushka's decision to retire is disgraceful, the young noble would be of little use in service. Nor, he notes, is it any longer fashionable to disdain an officer who does not want to sacrifice his life for the fatherland. The services that bring institutional rewards are not necessarily equivalent to true merit. Resourceful seekers who are ready to sacrifice tranquility, health, life, and honor in order to please a grandee, who also may lack merit, obtain rewards that a man with true merit dares not hope to receive. In Zdravomyslov, the combination of disappointment in service with belief in the noble obligation to serve places the obligation on a higher moral plane. Service is a duty even though the distribution of benefits is unpredictable and the unworthy often receive promotions. Clearly, the obligation to serve represented a fundamental yet inherently ambiguous source of noble identity. Plays written after the 1762 emancipation of nobles from obligatory service depicted service as a moral obligation that was indicative of nobility, enlightenment, and virtue. Given that nobles such as young Makhalov and Mitrofanushka were indifferent or even hostile toward service, a distinction arose between true nobility or nobleness and mere noble status in the legal or hereditary sense. Once virtue, enlightenment, and the desire to serve became crucial markers of nobility, the role of birth receded, and lowly servants potentially could possess the attributes of nobility. Once an association existed between noble identity and a moral obligation to serve, the social reality of noble status and the moral reality of nobility no longer necessarily coincided. As the worthy Colonel Zasluzhenov describes it, all people, including nobles, are servants. By making hereditary noble privileges unconditional, the emancipation encouraged a moral definition of nobility that transcended concrete legal distinctions. The utilitarian language of the Petrine common good remained, but instead of legitimizing

232

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSGHAFTER

coercive measures, usefulness became a moral obligation for all properly educated nobles. Because the legal possession of noble status no longer required service, the social obligation to serve became a personal moral obligation that fostered the internalization of service values and focused attention on the individual's relationship to civic society. Combat

A definition of nobility based on individual moral virtue accorded well with the principles of heroism and honor that were so central to the eighteenth-century understanding of combat. For Russian servicemen the eighteenth century was a time of almost continual warfare. The Great Northern War against Sweden dragged on for more than twenty years (1700-21), stretched from the Baltic to the Mediterranean, and included operations against Ukraine and Turkey. Military actions against Persia persisted for a decade (1722-32). During the 1730s, Russian troops fought the War of Polish Succession (1733-35), the Turkish War (1736-39), and four Crimean campaigns (1735-38). Following the Swedish War of 1741-43, the Russian army enjoyed a brief respite, until imperial troops were sent deep into Prussia during the Seven Years War (1757—62). 10 The reign of Catherine II brought aggressive diplomacy and unprecedented military fortune: the First Polish War (1768-72); the First Turkish War (1768-74), which began the military subjugation of the Caucasus; the annexation of Crimea (1783); the Second Turkish War (1787 91); the Swedish War (1788-90); and finally, the Second Polish (Insurrectionary) War (1794-95). In 1799 the wars against revolutionary France led to Russian campaigns in Holland, Italy, and Switzerland—campaigns that marked the beginning of one of the most dramatic periods in the history of European warfare." During the more than 150 years of territorial expansion and military engagement that culminated in the Crimean War (1853—56) and the era of the Great Reforms, broad sectors of the Russian educated public experienced warfare firsthand. Repeatedly, this military experience provided the inspiration for original literary creations. Though hardly deserving to be 10

The dates of Russian involvement are given here. On Russia's eighteenth-century wars, see A. A. Kersnovskii, Istoriia russkoi armii v 4 tomakh. Tom I: Ot Narvy do Parizha 1700-1814, reprint (Moscow: Golos, 1992). 11

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

233

included in the corpus of literary classics, eighteenth-century theatrical depictions of mobilization, combat, and the consequences of war confirmed both the visibility of military servicemen in civilian society and the presence of a military frame of mind that envisioned social relationships in terms of individual performance. Like the moral virtue of true nobility, the qualities of heroism in battle and zealousness in service accrued to individuals rather than social groups. Theatrical portrayals of war assumed that while conscription and mobilization caused painful social dislocation, soldiers and officers not only adapted to military life but also embraced its principles of courage, heroism, and glory. Two dramas by the officer-playwright P. S. Potemkin (1743-96) expressed a decidedly heroic view of military service, yet also communicated the bloody horror of combat. Russians in the Archipelago recounts the historic destruction of the Turkish fleet at Chesme in 1770.12 Although lavishly celebrated at the time, Russian victories in the Archipelago under A. G. Orlov proved less significant than those achieved on land under P. A. Rumiantsev and V. M. Dolgorukov. Anticipated uprisings of Greeks and Balkan Slavs failed to materialize, and the Treaty of Kuchuk-Kainardzhi (1774) returned the islands of the Archipelago to Turkish rule.13 Russians in the Archipelago is both a dramatization of these historic events and a political panegyric celebrating imperial military successes, the heroism and sacrifices of Russian troops, the wisdom of the empress, and the zeal of Aleksei and Fedor Orlov.14

12

P. S. Potemkin, Rossy v Arkhipelage. Drama in Rossnskii featr, ill polnoe sobranie vsekh Rossiiskikh teatral'nykh sochinenii (hereafter RF), 43 vols. (St. Petersburg, 1786-94), vol. 8, 33-96. First published in 1772, Russians in the Archipelago may have been performed in St. Petersburg that same year. Count P. S. Potemkin, a relative of Prince G. A. Potemkin, probably studied at Moscow University before beginning military sendee in the Semenovskii Regiment in 1756. He served in the Active Army during the First Turkish War (1769-74), reaching the rank of captain in 1772 and brigadier in 1774. Potemkin's role in the suppression and investigation of the Pugachev uprising brought promotion to lieutenant general in 1782 and appointment as commander of the two Caucasian corps. In 1784 Potemkin became governor-general of Saratov province and the Caucasus; he returned to active military service in 1787 during the Second Turkish War and distinguished himself at the storming of Izmail in 1790. In 1794 Potemkin fought with Suvorov against the Poles which brought him the rank of general en chef and the title of count. SRP, vol. 2, 484-86; ES, vol. 48, 730. 13 Kersnovskii, Istoriia russkoi armii, vol. 1, 125-37; I. A. Zaichkin and I. N. Pochkaev, Ekatenmnskie orly (Moscow: MysP, 1996), 108-21, 168-80. 14 A. G. Orlov (1737-1808) commanded the Russian naval expedition in the

234

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSCHAFTER

Throughout the drama, Potemkin glorifies Russian civilization by juxtaposing two themes: the moral and military superiority of Russians over Turks, Greeks, and foreigners; and the heroism of Russian fighters, who despite their generosity and deep-felt horror of bloodshed, always are ready to die for the good of the fatherland and society. In Potemkin's rendition of military glory, Russians represent the only real heroes. Just before the decisive battle, Rear-Admiral Elphinstone concludes that victory is impossible given Turkish numerical superiority. Aleksei Orlov counters that numbers are irrelevant; Russian bravery will insure success. As the Orlovs, Prince lurii Dolgorukov, and Admiral Spiridov declare their willingness to spill blood and die for the glory of society, the Scot Elphinstone and the Englishman Rear-Admiral Greig clearly are moved by the honor and zeal of the Russians.15 Unlike the barbaric Turks, the disorderly Greeks, and the cautious Scot, Russian warriors are dedicated to the pursuit of glory. Even as Aleksei Orlov grieves over the mistaken news that his brother has perished, he preserves the belief that love of the fatherland demands sacrifice. Even as he laments his own limited military accomplishments, Orlov maintains that victory brings glory to monarch, fatherland, society, and Russians. The heroic warfare of Russians in the Archipelago assumes identification with historical arenas beyond the immediate spheres of family and personal advancement. Instead of a profitable marriage, a secure social position, or a recognized service rank, the Russians in the Archipelago strive for glory, a quality that accrues less to the individual than to Russia. A more broadly conceived idea of glory informs Potemkin's lyric drama in verse about the Second Turkish War, ^el'mira and Smelon, or The Capture of Ismail.16 One of the legendary events of Russian Archipelago. F. G. Orlov (1741-96) served in the Mediterranean and at Chesme under Admiral G. A. Spiridov (1713-90), also a character in the drama, and repeatedly distinguished himself during the First Turkish War. ES, vol. 43, 169-70; vol. 61, 223. 13 Historical figures who served at Chesme and appear as characters in the drama include Prince lu. V. Dolgorukov (1740-1830); Captain Samuel Greig (1736-88), who was promoted to rear-admiral soon after Chesme and by 1782 became a full admiral in the Russian navy; and Rear-Admiral John Elphinstone, who left Russian service in 1771. ES, vol. 18, 606; vol. 20, 924; vol. 80, 690; Anthony Cross, "By the Banks of the Neva": Chapters from the Lives and Careers of the British in Eighteenth-Century Russia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 183-204. 16 ^el'mira i Smelon, Hi Vziatie Izmaila. Liricheskaia dramma (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia Korpusa Chuzhestrannykh Edinovertsov, 1795). Published anonymously, the drama is not listed in IRDT.

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

235

military history, the storming of Izmail, took place on December 11, 1790 under the command of A. V. Suvorov. Potemkin himself served with distinction at Izmail, and he recounts the experience through the eyes of two lovers torn apart by the war. Zel'mira is the daughter of Mukhafiz Osman, the commander of the Turkish forces; her beloved Smelon (Bold), though a mere colonel by rank, commands the Russian troops that are set to attack unless the Turks surrender Izmail.17 In the recent past, when Smelon had been a wounded prisoner in the home of Osman, he and Zel'mira had fallen in love. Now duty and honor force the lovers to sacrifice personal feelings for the higher good of the fatherland. Zel'mira is prepared to leave fatherland, parent, and home in order to follow her beloved, yet when Smelon urges her to persuade Osman to relinquish the city, she vehemently refuses. To use her father's love to betray duty, respect, and blood would be an evil act. Smelon possesses an equally strong sense of duty. During his imprisonment Osman had treated him like a son, and although the Turkish refusal to capitulate now impels him to view Osman as an enemy, he cannot be unfaithful to his benefactor by carrying off his daughter. Smelon's personal duty to Osman supersedes his love for Zel'mira. Osman is likewise pained by the inevitability of battle. As he explains to Smelon, "We cannot be personal enemies, but for the fatherland we must forget the bond of friendship. From the hour that we were born into this world we became subjects of the Tsars and sons of society."18 Personal honor and the common good demand the subordination of friendship to this transcendent identity. Faced with destruction, Zel'mira, Smelon, and Osman all display an unequivocal understanding of where duty lies. In word and deed, they uniformly embrace the belief that personal happiness must be sacrificed to the principle of duty. By contrast, the lovers portrayed in Soldier's Happiness, the 1779 adaptation to Russian mores of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing's Minna von Barnhelm, oder Das Soldatengluck (1767), draw attention to the unheroic consequences of war, particularly its wounded bodies and broken spirits.19 Evgeniia's betrothed, Major 17 Smelon's modest rank may represent an allusion to Suvorov's belief that he was not sufficiently rewarded for his military achievements. Oleg Mikhailov, Suvorov (Moscow: Molodaia Gvardiia, 1980), 281-83. 18 Although the Ottoman commander Osman expresses political loyalty in Russian terms, the meaning conveyed clearly is not limited to the tsarist polity. 19 Soldatskoe shchast'e. Komediia v piati deistviiakh G. Lessinga. Prelozhil s nemetskogo na

236

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSCHAFTER

Dobroserd (Good-Hearted), has returned from war dispirited, dishonored, and mutilated. He has lost the use of his right arm, faces charges of corruption, refuses financial assistance from trusted friends, and regards himself as unworthy of the wealthy and stylish Evgeniia. Toward the end of the comedy, Dobroserd receives an imperial ukase clearing him of all suspicion and inviting him to return to service; however, his response to the monarch's appeal for "Officers with your merits" is suggestively ambiguous. With his honor restored, Dobroserd initially declares his intention to serve but soon reveals a desire to live with Evgeniia in a remote, quiet corner of the country. More important than a soldier's glory and his sovereign's personal plea is Dobroserd's wish to serve Evgeniia. Dobroserd's understanding of honor also seems detached from military service. Sergeant-Major Tverdov (Steadfast) repeatedly tries to help Dobroserd, his former commander, who just as stubbornly insists that it would be improper to accept financial assistance. Such pridefulness offends Tverdov, who shared precious water with Dobroserd while on campaign and twice saved his life in combat. Now, in another time of urgent need, Dobroserd refuses to take money, which is no more precious than the water he drank on campaign. The equality of men in arms evaporates in civilian society where Dobroserd is unwilling to receive charity from a social inferior. Dobroserd expresses even greater alienation from military life when Tverdov reveals his intention to return to service. The major questions Tverdov's motivation: if his decision to serve reflects a penchant for the bestial, wandering life—a desire to shed blood, make other people unhappy, and then search for profit in their ruined shacks—he is a brigand, not a warrior. The only worthy reason to serve is to defend the fatherland. Evgeniia's attitude toward service is similarly ambivalent. She does not believe the investigation dishonors Dobroserd. Rather, she accepts that the monarch cannot recognize all meritorious contributions, and she does not allow Dobroserd to destroy the ukase inviting him to serve. Yet she also acknowledges a private sphere of romantic dreams that is distinct from the official world of service. Although preservation of the sovereign's ukase implies that Evgeniia and Dobroserd remain committed to the idea of service,

Rossiiskie nravy I. £. (Moscow: Tipografiia Imperatorskogo Moskovskogo Universiteta, 1779). Soldier's Happiness was performed four times in Moscow in 1779-90.

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

237

they also seem poised to subordinate this transcendent duty to the immediate satisfactions of love. The heroic view of war appeared strikingly muted in the story of Evgeniia and Dobroserd. Clearly, combat produced ambivalent responses in the hearts and minds of servicemen. This is evident from Campaign against Sweden, a comedy with chorus and ballet by I. A. Kokoshkin (1765-1835), that depicts honorable and dishonorable reactions to the call to arms.20 Both the Count and his servant are frantic over how to break the news of war to their lovers. The servant has no choice but to accompany his master; however, he clearly expresses indifference to duty and honor: "better to live a lifetime in leanness than die once in glory." The officer Skorodum (FastThinking) does not question the concept of glory but is distraught over his inability to carry out his wedding plans: instead of acquiring 2,000 souls through marriage, he must go on campaign.21 A quite different response comes from an adulterous wife eager to send her husband off to war so that she can freely enjoy her lover. Her amorous schemes are rightfully thwarted when her husband, convinced she is dying of grief, gives up his regimental place to the officer Modest, who is keen to fight but has been unable to obtain an assignment. Worse still, the lover receives orders to replace Mr. Trusov (Coward), who has bribed a doctor to certify that he is too sick to serve. The son of Cheston (Honest) grudgingly accepts the obligation to serve while feigning concern about his father's health. In reality, he is sorry to leave the social and cultural amenities of the capital. Alongside the unworthy characters who respond to war based on personal interest, Campaign against Sweden also portrays 20 Pokhod pod Shveda. Komediia v trekh ddstviiakh s khorami i baletom (St. Petersburg: n. p. 1790). The comedy was performed once in St. Petersburg in 1790, though according to ES, it played frequently in Catherine IPs Hermitage Theater. Identified as the first cousin of F. F. Kokoshkin (1773-1838)—a prominent actor, Moscow theater director, and writer—I. A. Kokoshkin was from a noble family and in 1816 became a member of the Free Society of Lovers of Russian Literature. ES, vol. 30, 630-31; SRP, vol. 2, 103-04. Following the outbreak of war between Russia and Turkey in 1787, Sweden unsuccessfully attempted to reassert its position in the Baltic. Land and naval operations began in the summer of 1788 and ended in the summer of 1790 with the Treaty of Verela. Kersnovskii, Istoriia russkoi armii, vol. 1, 156-58. 21 Population censuses introduced in the reign of Peter I to determine liability for conscription and the capitation counted numbers of male serfs, referred to as souls; consequently, the number of souls also became the primary measurement of noble wealth.

238

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSCHAFTER

virtuous characters who embrace the opportunity for sacrifice: a wife who insists on accompanying her husband while he defends the fatherland, two officers who are overjoyed at the prospect of testing the Russian sword and proving the worthiness of Russian fighters, and the young Modest, who is encouraged by his father to prove himself in battle and proudly prepares to join his comrades. Despite the fundamental association of virtue with a desire to serve, the news of war elicits complex emotions that tarnish the glory of the military calling. Because Russia's educated classes were painfully aware of the heavy social cost exacted by military service, stories of combat evoked bitter sorrow and suffering. At the same time, countervailing images of gaiety, fearlessness, and spirited anticipation conveyed an atmosphere of fellowship and cooperation. Juxtaposed to a sense of loss was a sense of belonging. Adding to the ambiguity was the realization that not every noble who questioned the obligation to serve or articulated an unheroic view of war necessarily deserved condemnation. A. P. Sumarokov's tragic hero Khorev speaks openly against the barbarism of war, where murder and robbery are called heroism, while V. K. Trediakovskii's King Lycomedes condemns war's evil, inhumanity, and violence.22 In la. I. Blagodarov's comedy Maternal Love, a mother who seeks glory and welcomes war as an opportunity for her son to distinguish himself becomes hysterical once he actually goes off to battle.23 Unable to see the glory, a broad range of sympathetic characters answers the call to arms with distress and uncertainty. 22

A. P. Sumarokov, Khorev. Tragediia in Dramaticheskie sochineniia, ed. lu. V. Stennik (Leningrad: Iskusstvo, 1990), 36-82 (act 2, scene 2). After the initial publication of Khorev in St. Petersburg in 1747, Sumarokov radically reworked the tragedy and republished it in 1768. Khorev was performed seven times in St. Petersburg in 1750-58 and 14 times in Moscow in 1760-97. A single revival performance occurred in St. Petersburg in 1811. In V. K. Trediakovskii's (1703-69) tragedy Deidamia (1750), King Lycomedes of Scyros condemns war in response to Odysseus (called Ulysses by Trediakovskii), who describes the Greek attack on Troy as "just revenge." Vasilii Trediakovskii, Deidamiia. Tragediia in RF, vol. 3, 177-314 (act 3, scene 5). 23 la. I. Blagodarov, Matemiaia liubov'. Komediia v odnom deistuii in RF, 29: 133-88. First published in Moscow in 1786, Maternal Love does not appear in IRDT. la. I. Blagodarov (1764-1833) originated from the Polish nobility and graduated from Moscow University in 1788. He reached the rank of state councilor in service where he remained until his death. Blagodarov's service assignments included translator and proof-reader at the university press, land-surveyor in Tambov province, bursar in Mozhaisk, and postmaster in V'iazma and Pereiaslavl'. Showing the influence of masonry, Blagodarov's literary activities began as a student and continued until 1803. His publications included translations from French and German as well as

MILITARY SERVICE AND SOCIAL HIERARCHY

239

Conclusion By allowing laudable nobles to express ambivalence about war and by elevating the principles of courage, heroism, and glory, which were not socially specific, theatrical images of combat raised cognitive challenges to established hierarchies of status and authority. Descriptions of military performance emphasized the natural human equality of all servicemen, regardless of rank, who devoted themselves to the fulfillment of duty. Alongside meritorious servicemen, there were ignorant young nobles who possessed undeserved rank, as well as arbitrary officers who readily abused their power. Yet whether or not command authority was deserved, based on moral virtue and professional competence, discipline remained crucial to victory and survival. As Modest's father explains, "before you can be victorious over the enemy, you must learn to master yourself." Precisely because war required extraordinary self-mastery, command authority, even though it tended to mirror social hierarchy, did not depend on social hierarchy for effectiveness. At moments of grave danger social differences could be transcended without weakening military discipline. Formal command structures receded, and hierarchies of strength, steadfastness, and courage emerged. The enlightenment virtue of self-mastery, which combined principles of Christianity and civic humanism, belonged to the individual serviceman. Nor were heroism and glory merely jingoistic concepts designed to gloss over the injustices of war. To the contrary, the belief in heroism and the pursuit of glory produced a state of mind that made it psychologically possible for soldiers to confront war and its atrocities by moving beyond immediate relationships to identification with the common good. Through this externalized identification, servicemen overcame emotional ambivalence and committed themselves to the moral principle of service. Although identification with the common good encouraged nobles to embrace the moral principle of service, the association of service with moral virtue appeared uncertain. In hierarchical terms, ambiguity arose because the rewards of service did not necessarily go to persons of merit. There was a contradiction between the idea of original works. During the period he served in the Tambov land-surveying office (1791-1801), Blagodarov also worked as a proof-reader for the publishing firm of I. G. Rakhmaninov. SRP, vol. 1, 92-94.

240

ELISE KIMERLING WIRTSCHAFTER

service and the reality of organized institutional life, where intrigue and deception frequently were decisive. A story recounted by Starodum (Old-Thinking) in D. I. Fonvizin's The Minor illustrates the potential for conflict.24 Starodum had been seriously wounded in combat, received no promotion, and decided to retire from service after a close friend who had avoided going to war obtained a higher rank. In old age he regrets the decision, having learned that a man of honor aspires to deeds not ranks, that ranks often are solicited whereas true esteem is earned, and that it is better to be overlooked without blame than to be rewarded, as was his friend, without merit. To maintain the association between service and virtue, the moral worth of the serviceman inevitably became disjoined from social origin, legal rights, and formal rank. Both institutional life and war required the temporary suspension of everyday morality in favor of a larger social stage where the rules of behavior were different and the rewards of virtue less immediate. To overcome the conflict between personal merit and social organization on a large scale, the serviceman assumed a moral relationship to society and polity—a relationship that, by emphasizing individual virtue rather than the righting of social wrongs, allowed him to subordinate justifiable expectations to broader needs.

24 D. I. Fonvizin, Nedorosl'. Komediia v piati deistviiakh in Ot russkogo klassitsizma k realizmu: D. I. Fonvizin, A. S. Griboedov, ed. E. Rogachevskaia (Moscow: Shkola-Press, 1995), 82^148. Published anonymously in 1783, The Minor was performed frequently in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries: in St. Petersburg there were 23 performances in 1782-1800 and 50 in 1802-25; in Moscow there were 27 performances in 1783-1800 and 26 in 1802-24.

THE NOBILITY AND THE OFFICER CORPS IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Walter M. Pintner Although most aspects of the interrelationship of the Imperial Russian Army and Russian society in general have been little studied, at least until very recently, the officer corps in the last decades of the old regime has received considerable attention.1 The focus of these studies has been on the officer corps itself: the social strata represented in it, their training, characteristic career patterns, values, and so forth have all been examined. The discussion that follows is partly an attempt to pull together what these various studies have to say. But beyond that it is an effort to assess the impact military service had on the nobility as a group in the last years of the empire. The first step is to try to sort out the quantitative relationship between the officer corps and nobility. The task is more difficult than it appears. In 1897 there were 885,754 hereditary nobles in the Russian Empire (excluding the Baltic Provinces, Poland, and Finland) according to the first modern census. However 46 percent of these (407,918) were in the nine Western Provinces where the bulk of the nobility were Polish. Because Poles were not heavily represented in the officer corps (see below) it seems reasonable to exclude that area from our calculations, giving a total of 477,836 hereditary nobles in 1897 in the remaining 41 provinces of European Russia (excluding the Baltic Provinces, Poland, and Finland), of whom

1 Peter Kenez, "A Profile of the Pre-Revolutionary Russian Officer Corps," California Slavic Studies 1 (1973); Matitiahu Mayzel, "The Formation of the Russian General Staff, 1880—1917: A Social Study," Cahiers du monde russe et sovietique 16 (1975); Allan K. Wildman, The End of the Russian Imperial Army: The Old Army and the Soldier's Revolt (March-April, 1917) (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980); P. A. Zaionchkovskii, Samoder^havie i russkaia armiia na rube^he XIX XX stoletii (Moscow: Mysl, 1973); Dmitry Ponomareff, The Political Loyalty and Social Composition of a Military Elite: The Russian Officer Corps, 1861-1903, The Rand Corporation, Paper No. 6052, November 1977; John Bushnell, "The Tsarist Officer Corps, 1881-1914: Customs, Duties, Inefficiency," American Historical Review 4 (1981); Hans-Peter Stein, "Der offizier des russischen Heere im Zeitabschnitt zwischen Reform und Revolution (1861-1905)," Forschungen zur Osteuropaischen Geschichte 13 (1967).

242

WALTER M. PINTNER

223,639 were males.2 According to A. P. Korelin, there were 21,906 army and navy officers of hereditary noble origin in service in 1897, or 9.8 percent of the total male nobility of European Russia (excluding the nine western provinces, the Baltic Provinces, Poland, Finland and the Caucasus).3 At the same time, a substantially larger number of hereditary nobles—31,151 (13.9 percent of the total male nobility—were serving in the civil bureaucracy at rank fourteen or above. In view of the traditional assumption that the Russian nobility was a predominantly military service class, the relatively low portion of the male nobility in military service is striking. This situation, however, was not new. Even in 1795 only 16 to 20 percent of male nobles were in military service; and by the mid-nineteenth century the figure was down to about eight percent. Civil careers overtook military careers during the first half of the nineteenth century. Ten percent or so in service as officers is not an insignificant fraction, particularly when one considers that it does not include former military officers or youths destined for a military career. Nevertheless it is fair to say that most Russian nobles did something else in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.4 A somewhat larger portion of the nobility went into the civil service, a body that grew more rapidly than the officer corps over the course of the nineteenth century. But what did the rest of the nobility do? Despite the famous decline in noble land holding in the postemancipation decades, Korelin estimates that even in 1905 some 30 percent of hereditary noble families had land—a substantial decline from 88 percent in 1861, 56 percent in 1877, and 40 percent in 2 N. A. Troinitskii (ed.), Pervaia vseobshchaia perepis naseleniia Rossiiskoi Imperil 1897 g. Obshchii svod imperil rezultatov razrabotki dannykh pervoi vseobshchii perepisi naseleniia proizvedennoi 28 ianvaria 1897 goda, vol. 1. (St. Petersburg, 1905), Table Ilia (36), Table Illb (56), Table VII (84-111); A. P. Korelin, Dvorianstvo v poreformennoi Rossii 1861-1904 gg, sostav, chislennosti, korporativnaia organizatsiia (Moscow: Nauka, 1979), 40. 3 Korelin, Dvorianstvo, 86. This figure is probably a bit high because the 21,906 does not exclude the non-Russian officers of noble status. The 223,634 hereditary male nobles excludes not only the nobles of the nine Western Provinces, but the whole of the Baltic Provinces, Finland, Poland, and the Caucasus. Some of the noble officers of these nationalities presumably did not reside in their "home territories" and are therefore included in the 223,639, but how many is uncertain. Seymour Becker, in Nobility and Privilege in Late Imperial Russia (De Kalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1985), 193, gives a somewhat lower estimate (7%) of the nobles in military service in 1897, perhaps because he is counting all adult males. 4 Walter Pintner, "The Burden of Defense in Imperial Russia, 1725-1914," The Russian Review 43 (1984), 256.

THE NOBILITY AND THE OFFICER IN THE igTH CENTURY

243

1895.5 Moreover, this does not mean that even thirty percent of the nobility were exclusively landowners by occupation. Of the total landowning group, 59 percent had under 100 desiatin and presumably could not have supported themselves solely from the land, while only eight percent had over 500 desiatin and might be expected to have a substantial income.6 Unfortunately, information on the actual occupations of the nobility outside of state service is not readily at hand in a satisfactory form. Korelin provides data for the occupations of the nobility in three major cities: St. Petersburg (1869), Tiflis (1876), and Moscow (1882). The largest employment category by far for these three groups of urban hereditary nobles was "state and social service," accounting for 45, 47, and 36 percent respectively, of the total group in the three cities. Those with pensions and private incomes, rentiers, were the next largest group: 33, 20, and 31 percent. Employment in all aspects of business amounted to only 6 percent (St. Petersburg), 17 percent (Tiflis), and 21 percent (Moscow). The free professions represented a tiny portion—four, three, and four percent—though it must be remembered that a large proportion of the doctors, lawyers, and other technical specialists probably worked for state agencies of one sort or another and are therefore counted as state servants.7 Fragmentary and unsatisfactory though this data is, it helps put into perspective the stark figure of only ten percent of male nobles in military service in 1897. By the end of the century, many of the hereditary nobility were engaged in activities beyond their traditional roles of state servant and landlord. However, the transition was gradual and far from complete, although the 20 percent engaged in business-related activity in Moscow in 1882 can be seen as a harbinger of later more dramatic trends in Moscow and throughout the empire. Pensioners and those living on income from investments were part of the traditional occupational pattern, even if their capital might now be put into securities and urban real estate rather than agricultural land. Certainly almost all pensioners were former state employees. The greatest transformation over time in the nobility's occupational pattern appears to have been a shift from military to civilian service, rather than a shift out of government altogether. 1

Korelin, Dvorianstvo, 61, 67. Korelin, Dvorianstvo, 62. ' Korelin, Dvorianstvo, 124-25.

6

244

WALTER M. PINTNER

The tremendous economic and cultural diversity of the Russian nobility is well-known, but easily forgotten when dealing with summary data. Being a hereditary nobleman could mean a multitude of things. Very few were rich. Most had little or no land and struggled to make a living. Did wealthy landed nobles maintain a tradition of military service? P. A. Zaionchkovskii reports some information for a limited group of generals and lieutenant-generals in the army as a whole, as well as for major-generals and colonels attached to the General Staff in 1903-04. Of the generals and lieutenant-generals (346 in total) some 13 percent (47 men) had hereditary property, of whom ten percent (36 men) had over 1,000 desiatin (2,700 acres). Among the General Staff major-generals and colonels (468), 79 percent were of hereditary noble origin, but only seven percent (27 men) owned land. Zaionchkovskii's data is admittedly fragmentary, including only about two-thirds of the generals and lieutenantgenerals, but it seems unlikely that more data would dramatically change the picture. D. G. Tselorungo reached similar conclusions for the beginning of the nineteenth century. In a sample of infantry officers in the 1812 period he reports that 73 percent were hereditary nobles without any land, although 20 percent of these would eventually inherit some. Thus it is fair to say that throughout the nineteenth century the bulk of the officer corps was drawn from the "service nobility."8 Even at the very top of the military hierarchy in the early twentieth century, although men of hereditary noble origin were an overwhelming majority (79 percent), landowners were few and far between. At lower rank levels it can be assumed that landownership was even less frequent. What proportion of large landowners were involved in the military? The data do not provide an answer. In 1905 there were 8,013 holdings of over 1,000 desiatin. Zaionchkovskii reports that ten percent (36 men) of his partial sample of generals and lieu-

8

Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie, 207—11. Zaionchkovskii does not clarify for his General Staff data whether all landowners were nobles. I assume they were: if some were not, the percentage of nobles with land would be lower. With respect to the generals and lieutenant-generals, hereditary property (almost certainly held by hereditary nobles), is specified; D. G. Tselorungo, "Formuliarnye spiski ofitserskogo korpusa russkoi armii epokhi Otechestvennoi voiny 1812 goda," in Issledovaniia po istochnikovedeniiu istorii SSSR do oktiabr'skogo perioda, sbormk statei, ed. A. G. Tatarkovskii (Moscow, Institut Istorii SSSR, 1990), 115-31. See also Wildman, End of the Russian Imperial Army, 23-24.

THE NOBILITY AND THE OFFICER IN THE igTH CENTURY

245

tenant-generals had that much land. If even two percent of the total number of the hereditary nobles in the officer corps, which in 1897 was 21,906 men, had over 1,000 desiatin that would imply 438 men, or five percent of the total number of such large landholdings. But all such calculations must remain purely speculative given the data currently available.9 The figures for the General Staff are particularly noteworthy because they describe an unusual elite—one truly based on merit.10 It was noted above that among the major-generals and colonels of the General Staff only seven percent of the hereditary nobles were landowners. Clearly, among the top professionals of the Imperial Russian Army, a landlord was an exception. Peter Kenez and Alan Wildman deal with the general social composition of the officer corps and its various sub-groups at length and to good purpose.11 They cite, however, no data on landholding other than that given above, and we can only assume that there would be more large landlords in the guards regiments and particularly in the cavalry where personal expenses were high. Another small but not unimportant sub-group of hereditary nobles that cannot be isolated with the available data are those with considerable wealth who had converted their rural holdings into securities or urban real estate. Korelin designates a substantial portion of the urban nobility as rentiers, but they cannot be separated in his presentation from pensioners. How many such people were really wealthy and chose to follow a military career is impossible to say. Military education for officers in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century has been discussed in some detail by several authors, and there is no need to summarize their discussion here.12 However, specialization—an aspect of military education that is particularly relevant to the question of bureaucratization—requires some note. The officer in the pre-modern era needed little or no specialized training. In fact, the training given at the famous Corps of Infantry Cadets, for example, was considered sufficient. Established in 1730, this secondary school instructed young nobles in the basic elements 9

Korelin, Dvorianstvo, 62, 86; Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie, 206-12. Kenez, "Profile," 139; Mayzel, "Formation," 297-321. 11 Kenez, "Profile," 121-58; Wildman, End of the Russian Imperial Army, 23-24. 12 Stein, "Der Offizier des russischen," 392-403; Kenez, "Profile," 123-28; Wildman, End of the Russian Imperial Army, 13-19; Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie, 294-337; A. G. Beskrovnyi, Rmskaia armiia i flat v XIX veke (Moscow: Nauka, 1973), 97-101. 10

246

WALTER M. PINTNER

of the new elite (western) culture and in the social graces. It was designed not to produce highly-trained military officers, but simply to facilitate the entrance of sons of the upper class into service at an advanced level, circumventing the original requirement of Peter's Table of Ranks that everyone start at the bottom.13 Thus the noble officer of the eighteenth and most of the nineteenth century could engage in literary pursuits, or less elevated forms of diversion, without compromising their professional careers in the least. Dmitrii Miliutin introduced substantial improvements in military education in the 1870s; and even though they were partly undone in the 1880s, the basic pattern remained unchanged until the end of the empire. There were two types of officer training institutions: the elite cadet corps (briefly called military gymnasiums after the Miliutin reforms) which were secondary schools, and the iunker schools which trained non-commissioned officers in a much more compressed curriculum. In the Miliutin era both types of schools were predominantly noble in composition, although the cadet corps certainly had more of the wealthy nobility, whereas by 1915 the iunker schools, which provided the bulk of the officer corps, were only 37 percent noble. By that time the quality of the iunker schools had greatly improved, and what had once been a most significant difference in quality of preparation had been all but eliminated.14 The cadet corps provided basic general education for adolescent boys plus general military instruction, and the iunker schools a shorter course for ambitious non-commissioned officers. More advanced training was to be found only in the "military schools," (voennye uchilischche, three for infantry officers, one for cavalry, two for artillery, and one for engineers), and at the highest level, in the four military academies: the General Staff Academy, the Engineering Academy, the Artillery Academy, and the Military-Legal Academy.13 Of these establishments, the infantry and cavalry schools and the General Staff Academy produced generalists, although in the case of the General Staff Academy, generalists who had gone through a very broad and rigorous training program. Only the artillery and engineering schools and the three specialized academies produced technical specialists for the military. Pintner, "Burden," 30-33. Kenez, "Profile," 125-27. Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie, 318—22.

THE NOBILITY AND THE OFFICER IN THE IQTH CENTURY

247

Given these choices, did the nobility tend to stick to its traditional role as non-specialized generalists, leaving the more technical fields to other groups? Is there any evidence the Russian nobility was unable to maintain its position in society because of a failure to adapt to the demands of an increasingly technological world? It is, of course, somewhat problematic to assume that training for artillery and military engineering in the late nineteenth century was representative of an acceptance of advanced technology. But it certainly was the closest thing to it that can be isolated in the available sources. The non-specialized military schools had admissions requirements similar to those of the predominantly noble cadet corps from which the majority of their students came. However, a significant number of students were also accepted "from the side"—primarily from the iunker schools—making these non-specialized military schools, in terms of social origin, about half hereditary nobles, a third sons of officers and civil officials, with the rest drawn from other backgrounds. This produced a somewhat more socially diverse (although still predominantly noble) student body than the cadet corps.16 Admission to the specialized military schools (artillery and engineering) was not restricted by class, but their social composition was not drastically different from the more traditional schools, where as late as 1904, about half were hereditary nobles and about half were sons of officers and civil servants.17 The data is not as detailed as one would wish because it is impossible to separate noble landowners from other nobles. One might certainly expect more wealthy noble landowners in the less specialized schools, particularly in the cavalry school, but there is no hard evidence at hand to show that such was the case.18 Thus the nobility as a group seems to have been holding its own in the specialized schools.

16

Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie, 314-15. Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie, 318-23. In eighteenth-century Prussia the artillery and engineers were largely commanded by bourgeois officers. During the second half of the nineteenth century general educational standards were raised and the artillery became socially quite reputable, but even in 1920 the percentage of nobles in artillery and engineers was substantially lower than in other branches (12 percent, versus 22 percent for the army overall). The late nineteenth century German navy was similarly the province of the bourgeoisie. (Karl Demeter, The German Officer Corps in Society and State, 1650-1945 (New York: Praeger, 1965), 7, 19, 46, 268.) In contrast it appears that Russian naval officers were mainly nobles, see N. A. Mashkin, Vyshaia voennaia shkola Rossiiskoi Imperil XIX—nachala XX veka (Moscow: Academia, 1997), 143-45. 17

18

248

WALTER M. PINTNER

The most elite segment of the officer corps in the last decade of the monarchy was the group known as the Genshtabistsy—graduates of the General Staff Academy who were assigned to duty on the General Staff. The Academy drew its membership from all sections of the officer corps on the basis of comprehensive competitive examinations and a rigorous academic program for those finally admitted. As Mayzel points out, the Genshtabistsy replaced the guards officers as the most prestigious element of the officer corps.19 It was not, however, an elite based on specialized technical knowledge. The aim of the General Staff Academy was to provide a broad general education at a high level: "They were trained as intellectuals to perform intellectual work, to teach, to educate and to spread ideas."20 A disproportionately large number of men from the artillery and engineers gained admission, presumably testifying to their superior academic background, but not presumably their specialized skills.21 Only 2.5 percent of the officer corps just prior to World War I, the Genshtabistsy were a striking departure from imperial Russian tradition. There had always been men of modest or even humble social background in very high positions in Russia, but traditionally they were exceptions—men whose good fortune, talent, or long service had raised them to eminence in a group clearly dominated by those from far more privileged backgrounds. The Genshtabistsy had many nobles among its members (48 percent in 1913, how many with land is unknown), but they all got their special status by the same tough academic competition, a situation that never held in the civil service. There, down to the end of the nineteenth century, graduation from special schools (the Lycee at Tsarskoe Selo and the Imperial School of Jurisprudence), which were restricted to nobles and sons of very high ranking civil officials and military officers, gave an immense advantage to anyone hoping to rise to the top in the civil service.22

19

Mayzel, "Formation," 303. Wildman, End of the Russian Imperial Army, 15-17, 21-22, presents a slightly more skeptical portrait of the General Staff Academy. 20 Mayzel, "Formation," 309. 21 Mayzel, "Formation," 311-12. Among officers assigned to the General Staff, 19 were infantry, and 23 artillery or engineers, despite the fact that the infantry was by far the largest branch. For a discussion of professionalization and the elite staff officers see David Alan Rich, The Tsar's Colonels: Professionalism, Strategy, and Subversion in Late Imperial Russia (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998), chapter 1. 22 Allen A. Sinel, "The Socialization of the Russian Bureaucratic Elite, 1811-1917:

THE NOBILITY AND THE OFFICER IN THE IQTH CENTURY

249

The final question to be considered in the present discussion is that of nationality. Imperial Russia was, of course, a multi-national empire containing a wide range of national groups, from the most culturally advanced, to the most primitive. The role of foreigners and non-Russians in the development of the modern Russian state in the post-Petrine period was important and has been much discussed, although there has been a tendency toward exaggeration.23 In the course of the empire's growth the elites of various nonRussian groups were accepted into the formal legal structure of imperial Russian society with varying degrees of cordiality. The German nobles in the Baltic Provinces and the Swedish nobility in Finland gained full acceptance and even retained special privileges in their home areas. Others, like the very numerous and nationalistic Polish nobility, the Georgians, and other Caucasian groups, were recognized as nobles with restrictions and qualifications which changed in the course of the nineteenth century. But whatever the limitations, these people were classified in the census of 1897 as hereditary nobles, with the following results: Russians 53 percent, Poles 27 percent, Georgians six percent, Turkic groups five percent, Latvian and Lithuanian four percent, Germans two percent, and others three percent. These statistics understate the proportion of the non-Russian element because they are based on the respondent's identification of their native language. Presumably some felt it was best to claim Russian, no matter what it actually was. If any of the assimilated Cossack elite, for example, still spoke Ukrainian, many chose Russian as their native language and thus were listed under the Russian category—in large part because Ukrainian was not a legally recognized language.24 The large proportion of Poles in the hereditary nobility is striking. This was the result of the recognition of all members of the numerous Polish szlachta as nobles despite the fact that most of them were, de facto, peasants. Without them, the imperial nobility would Life at the Tsarskoe Selo Lyceum and the School of Jurisprudence," Russian History, vol. 3, Part 1 (1976), 5. 23 Brenda Meehan-Waters, Autocracy and Aristocracy: The Russian Service Elite of 1730 (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1982), chapters 2 and 3, and pages 115-18; Walter M. Pintner, "The Evolution of Civil Officialdom, 1753-1855," in Russian Officialdom: The Bureaucratization of Russian Society from the Seventeenth to the Twentieth Century, eds. Walter M. Pintner and Don K. Rowney (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980), 205-09. 24 Korelin, Dvorianstvo, 44—50.

250

WALTER M. PINTNER

be overwhelmingly Russian. Equally striking is the very small proportion of Germans, given the prominent role frequently assigned to them. In the civil service, at least in the first half of the nineteenth century, Polish and German nobles were about equally represented, at about four percent and five percent respectively which means that the Poles were underrepresented in terms of their overall numbers among the nobility.25 The officer corps as a whole at the beginning of the twentieth century had quite a different national composition. According to the data compiled by Zaionchkovskii from army service lists for 1903, 80 percent of the captains and 85 percent of both the colonels and generals were Russian Orthodox. The officer corps as a whole was obviously more Russian than the hereditary nobility (Zaionchkovskii does not separate noble from non-noble officers). Even more interesting are the proportions of the various non-Russian groups in the officer corps. Among captains, Catholics (Poles) amount to 13 percent, or about half their proportion in the nobility as a whole. Lutherans (Germans), on the other hand, at four percent, are exactly double their "share." None of the other national groups reach even two percent. Among the colonels the Polish contingent falls to six percent, and the German rises to seven percent, while the other groups are under one percent. Finally, at the very top, among generals, the pattern holds and the Germans are at 10 percent and the Poles down to four percent, with others under one percent. There are some problems with the data because they are based on religion, while neither nationality nor native language was recorded in the army lists. Therefore, those who professed Orthodoxy are counted as Russians, whatever their actual national background. Possibly the very small number of Georgian officers is partly to be explained by this circumstance. The figure for Russians is therefore a maximum and for non-Russians a minimum.26 25

Pintner, "Evolution," 208. Zaionchkovskii, Samoderzhavie, 196-99. Mashkin, Vyshaia voennaia shkola, 51-54, provides similar data for the higher military schools. In Zaionchkovskii's posthumously published article, "Russkii ofitserskii korpus," in P. A. Zaionchkovskii, 1904-1983 gg.: stati, publikatsiii vospominaniia o nem, eds. L. G. Zakharova, et al., 31, he cites data for 1912 based on language data that give essentially the same picture. Professor Eric Lohr has kindly drawn my attention to a secret circular of 1888 setting out complex regulations designed to limit the proportion of non-Russians in the officer corps and the army in general. However, the quota set, 20%, exceeds the actual figures reported above. (RGIVA, f. 2000s, op. 2, d. 324, 11. 92-110.) 26

THE NOBILITY AND THE OFFICER IN THE igTH CENTURY

251

Nevertheless, it is quite clear that the Imperial Russian Army officer corps was a Russian show. The numerous Polish nobles were either kept out, or did not choose to try to get in. The Germans, so familiar from literary sources, are grossly over-represented in terms of their share of the total noble population, but they are a small minority, however conspicuous, even at the top. Two percent of the nobility, they provided 10 percent of the generals (15 percent of the full generals) in 1903; but given their long tradition of state service this is not particularly surprising. Conclusion In an important article on the mores of the tsarist officer corps, John Bushnell describes an organization that seems unable to define its position in society with confidence. Standards of personal behavior were low, the demands of the job were unsatisfying, pay was so low that officers could not support their families, bureaucratization in the sense of endless paperwork and other non-military activities prevented officers from attending to serious military training—assuming that they would have been inclined to do so in the first place. Even the well-trained men of the General Staff were given unimportant duties and ultimately failed as commanders.27 The portrayal of the officer and his society in nineteenth century literature becomes increasingly negative over the years and culminates in the devastatingly depressing, if possibly exaggerated, picture in Kuprin's TJie Duel (Poedinok),28 It is a picture that perhaps suggests a group very much still in the process of transition from playing a traditional "noble" role, which demanded little special knowledge or skill other than the "habit of command" (social graces, ability to drink, face a man in a duel, and so forth), to a true profession with its own standards of excellence that relate closely to the actual goals of the group. Our examination of the available statistical data suggests that the close relationship of the officer corps and the nobility was, as one would expect, greatly diluted by the last decades of the empire, and

27

Bushnell, "Tsarist Officer Corps," 753-80. Mark S. Simpson, The Officer in Nineteenth-Century Russian Literature (Washington: University Press of America, 1981), 126-28; Aleksander Ivanovich Kuprin, The Duel (Poedinok) (New York: 1916). 28

252

WALTER M. PINTNER

that for even the upper strata of the nobility the military career was not nearly as central as it had been in earlier periods. However, in sharp contrast to Imperial Germany, where the bourgeoisie eagerly filled positions as officers when they were permitted to enter, and accepted the ideology of the traditional officer corps, the non-noble Russians who entered either failed to do this, or did not want to try. Perhaps part of the reason is simply the basic economics of the situation. Russian officers were very poorly paid, and in general, life was unattractive for the ordinary line officer.29 At the same time, new opportunities in civil service and private enterprise had developed. The Russian state did not, and probably could not, have provided the economic support needed for a comfortable standard of living for its officers. Despite Russian pretensions to the role of a major power, and some serious efforts to keep up with the other great powers in the area of military hardware, other pressing demands, and perhaps a general shift in attitudes about the military, produced a gradual decline in the proportion of the state budget devoted to military expenses during the nineteenth century, virtually down to 1914.30 The era of the "service state" was clearly at an end.

Bushnell, "Tsarist Officer Corps," 753-55. Pintner, "Burden," 15-18, 35.

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906): SYMBOLIC DISPLAYS OF POWER OR PRACTICAL TRAINING? John W. Steinberg In his novel, From Double Eagle to Red Flag, Petr Nikolaevich Krasnov poignantly portrayed a lasting image of peacetime war games in late Imperial Russia. He defined the controversy that surrounded the raison d'etre for maneuvers in the course of a dialogue between a Guards officer of the Imperial Suite and a General Staff officer during "the principle maneuver of the year."1 Once the General Staff officer started to explain the goal of the following day's exercise, the Guards officer interrupted him: "Ah, leave the academic craftiness for other occasions. You forget that the maneuvers are in the Imperial presence."2 Upon realizing that the representative of the Imperial Suite was ordering the dismantling of the maneuver for the purposes of diverting troops into an enormous pass and review exercise, the General Staff officer exclaimed: "Your Excellency, the maneuver will lose all of its instructive value."3 Barely concerned by such matters, the Guards officer reminded the General Staff officer that soldiers must see their tsar in person and that ceremonial promotions of cadets in the tsar and tsarina's presence were irreplaceable. The Guards officer went on to point out that the tsarina, who demands a good show, would be observing, and would attend the planned feast for six hundred court dignitaries and officers. He also warned the General Staff officer that he could ruin his career if he failed to follow orders. Realizing the hopelessness of trying to conduct a maneuver for practical training purposes, the General Staff officer gave way to the Guards officer's arguments and conducted a traditional maneuver aimed more to symbolically project an image of imperial power than to pragmatically test battle concepts and train participants in the exercise.4 1

See P. N. Krasnov, From Double Eagle to Red Flag, vol. 1 (New York: Duffield and Company, 1928), 95. 2 Ibid., 96. ;i Ibid., 97. 4 Ibid., 95-97.

254

JOHN W. STEINBERG

This article will examine whether Krasnov provided an accurate or exaggerated description of war games as the Russian army practiced them at the turn of the twentieth century. Concerns about image, appearance, and pedigree, as opposed to the conduct of practical and instructive war games under the direction of officers who merited leadership positions, still persisted within the army at the beginning of the twentieth century.3 The disastrous defeat in Asia in 1905, however, revealed the glaring need for army reform. This article focuses on two war games, one on each side of the Manchurian debacle—the 1902 grand maneuver at Kursk and the 1906 war game in the environs of Krasnoe Selo—to provide a view of Russia's peacetime training apparatus in action and its connection to the operational capabilities of the imperial army before and after the Russo-Japanese War. The contrast between these two maneuvers begins with size: the grand maneuver at Kursk mobilized close to 90,000 men, while the exercise at Krasnoe Selo consisted of numbers approaching 10,000. The 1902 maneuver at Kursk represented an important example of War Minister Kuropatkin's attempt to inject a new level of professionalism into army training. But these changes did not stick; the 1906 Krasnoe Selo war games reveal the continuing influence of the tsar, his relatives, and a fervently loyal clique of officers over the conduct of army maneuvers. Although there are abundant archival, memoir, and secondary sources available on late imperial Russian war games,6 the major works on training in the late imperial army do not include analysis of war games.7 This account draws heavily upon the evaluations of 5

For further elucidation of the images and symbols of power during the reign of Nicholas II, and especially his attitude toward military service, see Richard S. Wortman, Scenarios of Power: Myth and Ceremony in the Russian Monarchy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 318-19. On the general theme, see also: John L. H. Keep, "Paul I and the Militarization of Government," Canadian-American Slavic Studies 7:1 (Spring 1973), 1-14; Keep, "The Military Style of the Romanov Rulers," War and Society 1:1 (September 1983), 61-84; Keep, "The Origins of Russian Militarism," Cahiers du monde Russe et Sovietique 25:1 (Jan-Mars 1985), 5-19. 6 The best book on maneuvers in the Russian context is still: M. A. Gareev, Obshchevoiskovye ucheniia (Moscow: Voennoe izd., 1990). Two recently published memoirs that add further light on the conduct of maneuvers are Alexandr Rediger, Istoriia moei zhizni (Moscow: "Kanon-Press-TS," 1999), 2 vols; N. A. Epanchin, JVa sluzjibe trekh imperatorov (Moscow: Izd. zhurnala Nashe Nasledie, 1996). 7 The most intelligent discussion about the training of the army is in Bruce Menning, Bayonet Before Bullets: The Imperial Russian Army, 1861-1914 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992). See also David Alan Rich, The Tsar's Colonels (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998). For the best historiographic essay on

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

255

two significant individuals—the war minister, Aleksei Nikolaevich Kuropatkin, and the French military attache, General Louis Etienne Moulin. At the time of the 1902 Kursk maneuver, Kuropatkin published little that assessed the conduct of his army. Later, however, in a set of orders issued at the beginning of the Russo-Japanese war, he revealed his rather pointed criticisms of his army.8 From his 1880 arrival in St. Petersburg, General Moulin began to send a valuable series of regular reports to Paris. His long service in Russia, not to mention his fluency in the language, beginning as assistant to the French military attache, allowed him to build close connections within the army and the royal family; in fact, his reports suggest that he had gained the trust of both Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich and Tsar Nicholas II. As a critical but sympathetic outsider with remarkable access to information, Moulin's reports provide an excellent source for the war games, which he attended.9 All modern European armies conducted war games ostensibly to train soldiers in each state's variation on the art of planning for and fighting future wars. But throughout the eighteenth and much of the nineteenth centuries, rulers also relied on the splendor and pageantry of war games of the type described by Krasnov to display and articulate the power of the old regime. The phenomenal pace of progress foisted on military establishments by the industrial revolution radically changed this equation by the beginning of the twentieth century. Now military establishments had to master new sophisticated and complex technology to maintain supremacy on future battlefields. Contrary to pre-modern pass and reviews, war games now needed to test new ideas for war planning and mobilization purposes, not to mention to test new tactical and operation theories that could serve as the basis of future military doctrine. While all European armies grappled with this problem, Russia's progressively minded military leaders were consumed with the simultaneous challenge of

Russian military history see, Bruce Menning, "A Decade Half Full: Post Cold War Studies in Russian and Soviet Military History," Kritika: Explorations in Russian and Eurasian History, 2 (Spring 2001), 337-58. 8 Sbomik' takticheskikh ukazanii dannykh nachal'nikami v voinu 1904-1905g. Sobrano po prukazaniiu general' kvartirmeistera pri glavnokomanduiushchem (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia toveerish, "Obshchestvennaia Pol'za, 1906). Hereafter cited as Sbomik' takticheskikh ukazanii. 9 Moulin's reports are on file at Archives de la Guerre, Service Historique de I'armee de la terre. Chateau de Vincennes. Vincennes. Hereafter SHAT.

256

JOHN W. STEINBERG

modernizing their armed forces while placating a vacillating tsar who, when cornered, favored preserving all vestiges of autocracy. Visionaries like Kuropatkin realized that change was needed and systematically sought to identify weaknesses within the army that could be addressed through reform. But as Moulin's reports make clear, even after a stunning military defeat such as that in 1905, and the major administrative reforms that followed, the Russian army still suffered from the weight of traditional opposition to the reform of any aspect of military training. A. JV. Kuropatkin and the Grand Maneuver at Kursk, 1902

The appointment in January 1898 of Kuropatkin to succeed Petr Semenovich Vannovski as war minister represented a profound break with the past. Rather than identifying with an imperial guard's background, Kuropatkin's career had been closely linked by education, training, and experience to the General Staff officers who embodied the professional ethos within the military establishment. His outlook was shaped by the reformist proponents of professionalization Dmitrii Alekseevich Miliutin and Nikolai Nikolaevich Obruchev.10 In Kuropatkin, the tsar had appointed a new war minister with an intellectual appreciation for the challenges that confronted Russia's armed forces on the modern battlefield.11 Kuropatkin's appointment indicated that Nicholas II, who had a habit of concentrating ministerial appointments in the hands of officials who had faithfully served his father regardless of their capabilities, understood that his army badly needed a leader with the skills to re-energize it.

10 On Miliutin see, P. A. Zaionchkovskii, Voennye reformy 1860-1870 godov v Rossii (Moscow: Izd. Moskovskogo universiteta, 1952) and F. A. Miller, Dmitrii Miliutin and the Reform Era in Russia (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1968). On Obruchev see O. R. Airapetov, ^abytaia kar'era Russkogo Mol'tke Mkolai Nikolaevich Obruchev, 1830-1904 (St. Petersburg: Izd. "Aleteiia," 1998). 11 For Kuropatkin's biography see N. M. Zatvornitskii, ed., "Parniat' o Chlenakh voennago soveta: Portrety i biograficheskie ocherki" in Stoletie voennago ministerstva, 1802-1902, ed. D. A. Skalon, vol. 3, pt. 4 (St. Petersburg: Voennoe Ministerstvo, 1907), 637-48; Glavnokomanduiushchii man'chzhurskoi armiei general'-ad'iutant' A. JV. Kuropatkin (Moscow: Tipografiia tovarishchestva I. D. Sytina, 1904). Two other important sources on Kuropatkin's life include: "Aleksei Nikolaevich Kuropatkin," Voennaia Entsiklopediia vol. K, (St. Petersburg, 1914), 410-16; Spisok general'nago shtaba (St. Petersburg: Voennaia tipografiia Imperatritsy Ekateeriny Vilikou (B zdaniia Glavhago Shtaba 1914), 5.

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

257

Kuropatkin came to the task with much energy and vision, intending to modernize the entire military establishment through the creation and development of a unified system of training. Throughout his tenure as war minister (1898 1904) however, the grip of tradition and resistance to reform were so strong that Kuropatkin was only able to attempt a reform of the army's educational and training systems. Nevertheless, Kuropatkin's tampering with time-honored war gaming customs pricked at the rawest nerve of the officers of the Imperial Suite and the Guard regiments. With the support of the venerable Mikhail Ivanovich Dragomirov, who was the senior overseer of the army's training establishment, these officers used every resource at their disposal to maintain the army's anachronistic training customs.12 Kuropatkin understood both the symbolic and practical significance of annual war games and expended vast amounts of political and financial capital to conduct the largest peacetime training exercise in the history of the Russian Empire in Kursk province in August and September 1902.13 The Kursk grand maneuver involved ten percent of the entire personnel of the army; it therefore provided Kuropatkin with a platform upon which to test his many theories and ideas about the capabilities of his army. In a sense, this maneuver also proved to be a test of the balance between traditionalists and modernizers in the army.14 The core of the exercise was a simulated mobilization and battle between troops from the Moscow and Vilna military districts against troops from the Kiev and Odessa military districts.13 The enormity of this exercise can be measured by

12 For Dragomirov's biography see Spisk'general'nago shtaba (St.Petersburg, Voennaia tipografiia Imperatritsy Ekateeriny Vilikou (B zdaniia Glavnago Shtaba), 1905), 7; M. D. Bonch-Bruevich, "Mikhail Ivanovich Dragomirov," Izvestiia imperatorskoi Mkolaevskoi voennoi akademii 25 (January 1912), 80-100. For his teachings see L. G. Beskrovnyi, Dragomirov, izbrannye trudy (Moscow: Voennoe IzdataPstvo Ministerstva Oborony Soiuza OCR 1956), and Menning, Bayonets Before Bullets, 38-39. 13 See Otchet o bol'shom manevre u kurskoi gubemii v vysochaishem' prisutstvii v 1902 godu: Moskovskaia armiia (Moskva: Tipografiia shtaba Moskovskago voennago okruga, 1903) and Otchet o bol'shom manevre v kurskom gubemii v vysochaishem prisutstvii v 1902 godu: luzhnaia armiia (Kiev: Tipografiia shtaba Kievskago voennago okruga 1903). These are massive official reports. For brief accounts see "Moskovskaia armiia na bol'shikh' manevrakh' pod Kurskom," Razvedchik 626 (1902), 925~29 and 627 (1902), 948-53; "Deistviia iuzhnoi armii na Kurskikh' manevrakh" v vysochaishem' prisutstvii v 1902 rodu," Razvedchik 637 (1903), 4-9 and 638 (1903), 30-35. 14 SHAT, 7N1476. Moulin, Sur les grandes manoeuver de Russe, 8 January 1900. 11 M. A. Gareev, Obshchevoiskivye ucheniia (Moscow: Voennoe izd., 1990), 63-65.

258

JOHN W. STEINBERG

the military assets committed to it: 163 battalions, 86 squadrons and sotny, 418 field artillery pieces, 4140 officers, 89,121 soldiers, and 21,408 horses.16 The goal of the maneuver, which began August 22 and ended September 5, 1902, was for the "Moscow Army" (also referred to as the "northern army"), under the command of Grand Duke Sergei Aleksandrovich, to act as an invading great power seeking to gain control over the important transportation and communications hub of Kursk. According to the scenario, Kursk then became the jumping off point for a general invasion of the Kiev military district. The southern army, under the command of the tsar and war minister, had to wrest control of Kursk from the invaders. In the face of pressure brought to bear by the Moscow army, the southern army was then to conduct an orderly retreat until, two days later, reinforcements meant to provide it with the superiority needed to chase the northern army from the field of action, would arrive.17 The maneuver at Kursk represented a historic moment in the practice of peacetime training exercises for the imperial army. Never before had a maneuver been arranged whereby an army switched from the offensive to the defensive and then back to the offensive in the span of a single exercise.18 In mobilizing two military districts and parts of two others to conduct a maneuver of unprecedented scale, Kuropatkin had indeed demonstrated the capabilities of the Russian army. But in the process of conducting this maneuver, the symbolic traditional features of the army clashed with Kuropatkin's practical professional purposes. The general had to contend with the tsar, grand dukes, and numerous aide de camps who had little or no appreciation for the goals and intent of the war minister's maneuvers. The presence of these luminaries also severely limited Kuropatkin's mobility since he had to be at designated locations at the end of each day to be at the side of 16 Spravki dlia deiatel'nosti posrednikov vo vremiia bol'shikh manevrov' v Kurskoi gubemii v 1902 godu. (St. Petersburg: Voennaia tipograffiia, v zdannii glavnago shtab, 1902), 36-37. 17 This brief sketch is based on a document by the Senior Adjutant of the Kiev Military District, Colonel Peters entitled, "Proekt' bol'shikh manevrov v vysochaishem prisutstvii v kurskoi gubernii v 1902 godu," which is located in TsGVIA, f. 1759, op. 3, d. 1014, 1. 242-43. 18 Moulin made a special point of this in a separate report prepared well after the maneuver that was designed to reveal how the maneuver was covered in the Russian press. See SHAT 7N1509, "Grandes manoeuvres imperiales de 1902."

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

259

the tsar or grand duke. A final inhibiting factor was that, no matter what happened, the tsar had to win the war game. Thus, in the immediate aftermath of the grand maneuver at Kursk, the war minister was unable to frankly discuss the lessons of the event. Instead, he had to defend himself from intense criticism by the imperial army's senior leadership. In fact, it was not until taking command of the army in Manchuria in 1904 that Kuropatkin distributed a most revealing document throughout the officer corps in which he publicly identified the shortcomings of the military's peacetime training establishment.19 While the report's intent was to warn his commanders that Japan was a formidable foe, Kuropatkin also revealed that as a result of his efforts to train his troops, he had learned that the imperial army suffered from a fundamental flaw in the way it processed information.20 Russian officers rarely understood their disposition on the battlefield, and when the confusion that accompanied warfare reached a high pitch, officers almost never seized the initiative, choosing instead to wait for instructions from further up the chain of command. To put it in Clausewitzian terms, Russian officers were not trained to see through the 'fog of battle.' They had neither the training nor the command structure to enable them to react to ever changing operational situations. The problem was systemic because of the way the information flowed up and down the chain of command. According to Kuropatkin, Russian scouts did a poor job of identifying the enemy's location and, when they did, it took too long for the information to disseminate through the various army staffs.21 Without such vital intelligence, the Russian army, slow and cumbersome due to its enormity, stood little chance of mobilizing and concentrating in a timely fashion. Kuropatkin claimed that his goal of upgrading peacetime training methods was to better coordinate the flow of information through the army's command structure. General Staff officers had to be the disseminators of information once intelligence about the enemy had been gathered and the time had come to issue orders to all the 19 See "Nachal'nikam' chastei Man'chzhurskoi armii do rotnago i sotennago komandira vkliuchitel'no i vsem' nachal'nikam shtabov." This document was dated 15 April 1904 and written in Liao Yang. It was published in Sbomik' takticheskikh ukazanii, 10-20. 2(1 Ibid., 11. 21 Ibid., 12.

260

JOHN W. STEINBERG

various components of the Russian army. But the first step of Kuropatkin's solution to this problem caused bitter controversy among the army's aristocratic elites because it depended on transforming the cavalry's traditionally offensive role, to charge and lead the army to victory and glory, into that of reconnaissance units. Of course, even as late as 1904—05, indeed until the collapse of the regime, the cavalry remained almost the exclusive preserve of the nobility.22 Kuropatkin expressed his views about this situation in an effort to mitigate the blow and hopefully restore some luster to the idea of cavalry service: The mounted troops should view their role as the sub-branch of the rest of the army, that is, they should be the providers of information to the rest of the army's branches. While this branch (cavalry) of the service may no longer be the offensive threat that it once was—it still performs a vital role within the force structure of the modern army because the mounted troops should above all else be the advanced guard—the eyes and ears of the army in action.23

This did little to soothe the wounded pride of the cavalry officers. After all, where was the glory in being the "eyes and ears" of the modern army? In addition to grappling with the modernization of the most outmoded branch of service, Kuropatkin realized that an even larger, more systemic problem existed in the flow of information—a structural and command problem that permeated the ranks of the imperial army. Most glaring in his view were deficiencies in the gathering of intelligence, and even more in the ways the command structure impeded the actual incorporation of intelligence into the decisionmaking process. Even if the intelligence gathering system generated the proper information, the process could still fail because orders arrived too late or were not obeyed. This multi-faceted problem crippled the imperial army in the field. For all Kuropatkin's skills, he never had the power to address and correct operational shortcomings. If cavalry officers clearly understood their role vis-a-vis the task of reconnaissance and if orders were properly drafted, they often arrived at the appropriate unit well 22 A recent publication that highlights the traditional role of the cavalry in the imperial army is: A. lu. Bondarenko, Kavalergardy: istoriia, biografii, memuary (Moscow: Voennoe izd., 1997). 23 Sbornik' takticheskikh ukazanii, 14.

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

261

after the time the commander of the unit was supposed to act.24 Nor did it matter how Kuropatkin stressed the need for the cavalry to transform its role, because it was the military service branch most dominated by traditional servitors—the nobility was not about to surrender its place of perceived prestige within the Russian military service. Their ideas of self-worth involved ornately uniformed hussars leading their armies into battles that could only conclude with honorable death or glorious victory.25 While the military lessons seemed clear in the aftermath of the maneuver, the political fallout from the war minister's actions in 1902 were not as obvious. After 1902, Kuropatkin's star did not shine as brightly at court—in his efforts to modernize the imperial army the War Minister had irrevocably damaged his standing with the tsar. One of the ironies of the waning days of the Romanov dynasty was that even when a highly-qualified person landed in the position where he was needed most, the politics of the autocracy usually compromised his ability to function. Kuropatkin's efforts to transform the cavalry's role from offensive strike force to something less, offended the sensibilities of the Imperial Suite and lost the tsar's good will. Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich and the 1906 Maneuver

When war broke out with Japan, Kuropatkin, increasingly at an impasse with the tsar and his court, desperately lobbied for his appointment as supreme commander of the operational army. Nicholas II was happy to oblige, as it gave him the opportunity to remove his very popular war minister—a man the tsar had grown to dislike—from the capital. The tragedy for Russia was that despite all of his progressive ideas, Kuropatkin proved to be a complete and utter 24 For views similar to those Kuropatkin expressed in his digest of tactical orders, see Sbornik' takticheskikh ukazanii', also A. N. Kuropatkin, The Russian Army and the Japanese War, vol. II (London:}. Murray, 1909), 2-11. 2 -' The determination of cavalry officers to prevent the fundamental transformation of their service branch was further complicated because of the link between horsemanship, chivalry, and nobility. General F. F. Palitsyn made all of these points clear along with his disdain for Kuropatkin for his modernizing activities in a conversation with the French military attache General Moulin during the Kursk maneuver. See SHAT 7N1476 "Observations sur les grandes maneuvers de Koursk en 1902," 83.

262

JOHN W. STEINBERG

failure as the commander-in-chief of the operational army. Seeking to imitate Napoleon, Kuropatkin planned to concentrate superior forces and then deliver a smashing blow that would force the enemy to flee from the battlefield. He failed to take into account that Japanese strategy was designed to prevent the Russians from having the time to concentrate its army by conducting a war of maneuver that demoralized and defeated the Russian army. The Russian military's performance resulted in political and military catastrophe for the regime, and Kuropatkin's dismal performance as commander-inchief of Russia's land forces had the additional effect of undermining other reformist General Staff officers. The Russo-Japanese War provided abundant evidence not only of the ways industrialization was transforming warfare, but also of Russia's doctrinal and operational shortcomings. The army's method of field training needed to be overhauled in order to address these issues. In the aftermath of the war, reformist General Staff officers assigned to the task of creating mobilization plans for future wars realized that they needed another large-scale war game to test the practicality of their ideas. Efforts to improve field operations moved to the center of the reformists' agenda. But the army elite's loss of prestige as a result of performance in the war combined with the still strong weight of tradition to create formidable obstacles to fundamental change in the army's method of conducting maneuvers. The future, however, offered hope: the newly reorganized Russian high command made Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich chairman of the newly formed Supreme Council of State Defense, and de facto leader of the entire military establishment.26 Since, unlike any other member of the government, the Grand Duke had the complete confidence of Nicholas II, the new War Minister General Aleksandr Fedorovich Rediger, and new General Staff Chief, General Fedor Fedorovich Palitsyn could do nothing without Nikolai Nikolaevich's approval. Moreover, one of the results of the Grand Duke's ascent was the ouster of Grand Duke Vladimir from the powerful position of commander of the guard and troops of the St. Petersburg Military District, a position he had held for the past twenty-four years. Moulin, the French military attache, reported that this uncle of the tsar had 26 On the Council see, Michael Perrins, "The Council for State Defense 1905-1909: A Study in Russian Bureaucratic Politics," Slavonic and East European Review 58 (1980), 371.

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

263

exercised his office with sluggishness, lethargy, indeed weakness. His retirement for reasons of health had eliminated an important roadblock to progress, since from his position he had orchestrated maneuvers at Krasnoe Selo, an annual event always attended by the tsar from the beginning of Alexander Ill's reign.27 In the appointment of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, Moulin believed that the imperial army had been delivered from much of its grief. While in some sense, Grand Duke Nikolai was a product of privilege and an exemplar of the barriers to professionalization, his regal pedigree had allowed him to live the life of a wild dandy. He had survived the rigors of the Nicholas Academy only as a result of a special commission that administered his exit examination, and his hot temper and zealous enthusiasm often prevented him from digesting all necessary information.28 But he did gain extensive command experience. He served with General Dragomirov in the 1878 Russo-Turkish War and then spent 10 years as a squadron and regimental commander before becoming Inspector General of the Cavalry. Moreover, Moulin noted that the Grand Duke had the good sense to surround himself with talented reform-minded professionals like Palitsyn, who understood tactics and how to practice them during maneuvers. In spite of the revolutionary turmoil that had caused chaos throughout the empire, the routine of conducting an annual exercise—albeit scaled back due to the national emergency—remained unchanged. The war ministry decided that the time had come to reassert its authority over its rebellious troops; what better way to demonstrate the military's place in the nation than to pass in review before the tsar in the environs of the imperial capital?29 But the task of military reform was still fraught with complicated problems that demanded resolution. Besides the catastrophic defeat by Japan, political reform had created controversy over who, or what bureaucratic entity, would 27

SHAT 7N1477, Maneuver at Krasnoe Selo, August, 1906, 40-41. Ibid., 45-47. Still the only biography of the grand duke is lu. N. Danilov, Velikii kniaz Nikolai Nikolaevich (Paris: Imprimerie de Navarre, 1930). A short copy of the grand duke's service record is located in Spisok geneml'nago shtaba (St. Petersburg: Voennaia tipografiia Imperatritsy Ekateeriny Vilikou (B zdaniia Glavhago Shtaba 1914), 2. 29 See John Bushnell, Mutiny amid Repression: Russian Soldiers in the Revolution of 1905-1906 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), 248-58. It is interesting to note that the revolutionary upsurge within the army declined dramatically in August 1906. 28

264

JOHN W. STEINBERG

control the defense establishment. The uncertainty and leadership vacuum was compounded by Dragomirov's death and Kuropatkin's dismissal. The question in the summer of 1906 became: would Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich provide the army with the type of leadership that it needed to reform and prepare it for future conflicts, or would the annual exercise present an army unchanged by the lessons of 1905? Using two armies operating in the area between the tsarist summer retreats of Krasnoe Selo and Gatchina, the regimental maneuvers of August 1906 were designed with two central tasks in mind. The first was to test new tactical concepts discerned from the recent experiences of the Russo-Japanese War; the second was to provide some practical training for conducting night operations. The design of this exercise called for it to last two days, with the tsar only appearing for the climactic activities and after-action reports that were to take place on the second day of operations.30 General Staff officers on the district staff were charged with the responsibility of overall coordination and leadership of the exercise and posredniki (umpires) would assess their activities as well as those of the troops in the field. The overall goal of the maneuver was "to give troops the opportunity to experience the character of contemporary war while focusing on combining service branches into an effective operational unit at the time of battle."31 Moulin revealed the impact of the revolutionary turmoil on the army in his extensive report on the exercises. His report began by stating that because such large portions of the army were committed to maintaining the peace or still remained affected by the revolution, only seven brigades participated in the early August maneuver. Yet none of the foreign attaches who attended the maneuver sensed that the Russian army was still suffering from the remnants of the revolutionary unrest. At first, the most noticeable feature of this spectacle was the recently adopted uniform of the troops—drab in color, a complete reversal of the previous pageantry that had been a symbol of Romanov power since the eighteenth century. All of the attaches commented favorably on the camouflage effects of the new uniforms, for they allowed the Russian soldiers to blend into the late 30 See Otchet o manevrakh proizvedennykh v krasnosel'skom lagernom sbor 1906g. (St. Peterburg: Tipografiia shtaba voisj gvardii I Peterburgskago voennago okruga, 1907), 2. 31 Ibid., 7.

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

265

summer foliage.32 Proof of lessons learned in Manchuria, new uniforms therefore represent the army's earliest—and one of the more successful—post-1905 military reforms. Moulin's observations of the Russian army in the aftermath of the Manchurian disaster are poignant and astute and warrant close examination on several levels, not least because the French military attache did not fear recrimination from his superiors as a result of writing a brutally honest report. In fact, in Moulin's case, just the opposite was true. After all, in the wake of Russia's worst military defeat since the Crimean debacle, and with French war plans largely dependent upon the tsar's army making significant contributions to the defeat of the Kaiser's army, the French needed to know the unvarnished truth about the status and future capabilities of the armed forces. Moulin's comments on the operational conduct of the army focus on tactical innovations brought on as a result of the war in Manchuria. For example, on the second day Grand Duke Nikolai's maneuver aimed to better integrate the use of infantry and to improve the army's ability to rapidly shift from a defensive to an offensive stance.33 Moulin concluded that the two commanders, General Menshchikov (a very senior Guards officer) and General Ivan Andreevich Romanenko (a General Staff officer), lacked resolution in their task—the gravest of sins for any commanding general. Like Kuropatkin, Moulin pointed out that it did not matter from which background an officer emerged; few Russian officers had what it took to command men successfully on the battlefield because they lacked a determined, assertive, and aggressive character, as well as basic leadership skills.34 Moulin summarized the performance of Romanenko, commander of the combined cavalry and infantry, as follows: "Never have I seen a body of troops so out of control, so ineffective, so exposed to annihilating fire—his [Romanenko's] course of action could not have obtained any kind of result except for the complete waste of lives and the demoralization of the comrades who remained spectators."30 Moulin had seen Romanenko's cavalry troops charge headlong into a deeply dug trench line constructed by a Colonel Menshchikov (no

yi

See Moulin's report on the 1906 maneuver in SHAT, Box 7N1477. " See Otchet o manevrakh proizvedennykh, 21-36, for a complete explanation of this plan and for the official report of this maneuver. 34 SHAT 7N1477, Maneuver at Krasnoe Selo, August, 1906, 23-24. *' Ibid., 28.

266

JOHN W. STEINBERG

immediate relation to the General of the same name mentioned above). In addition to the fortified line, Colonel Menshchikov had deployed sharpshooters to protect the trench line's flank. These sharpshooters remained concealed to allow the cavalry to pass into the withering fire of the machine guns until the infantry followed in their wake. What the sharpshooters saw in their sights when the infantry appeared was a spectacle for the ages. Despite the recent debacle, the Russian infantry was deployed in snake-like lines that advanced so slowly that the officers were soon too far ahead of their troops, exposing themselves to enemy fire and effectively taking themselves out of the battle. Their leaderless troops were fodder for the sharpshooters' sights long before they reached the point where they could assault the enemy with their bayonets.36 As for General Menshchikov's role in this exercise, his defensive line held strong due to the good work of his namesake colonel. The general's problem rested with his counter-attack, which was so weak and unresponsive to the situation that General Palitsyn, the newly named Chief of the General Staff, commented to Grand Duke Nikolai that continuation of the exercise was pointless. Palitsyn and the Grand Duke were particularly upset over how little General Menshchikov had done to prepare for the counter-offensive, particularly in the realm of artillery. His heavy guns were nowhere close to the prepared defensive line and therefore did not contribute to the counteroffensive action.37 To rub salt into the wounds inflicted by this dismal performance, Palitsyn charged out to Romanenko's command post and directly ordered a counter-attack using all available forces to break the defensive line. But Romanenko could not locate his reserves: so he ordered the same troops already "killed" in battle to camouflage themselves with branches and move forward into the sights of the sharpshooters. This effort at concealment fooled no one but did amuse the tsar since he considered their appearance with branches to be something out of a medieval comedy.38 Moulin described the maneuver as a succession of uncoordinated episodes that provided a vivid demonstration of how the army's shortcomings had resulted in defeat by Japan. In his opinion, the leaders of the exercise had planned the event poorly, did not know how Ibid., 23-27. Ibid., 33-34. Ibid., 31-32.

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

267

to coordinate and unify the various elements of their army, and seemed unable to understand how to use the terrain to their best advantage. The maneuver concluded in such disarray that Grand Duke Nikolai cancelled all night time exercises, which Moulin claimed was best for all involved because, if they could not direct a maneuver during the day, then the possibility of success in the dark seemed remote.39 After the cancellation, the maneuvers concluded with an after-action investigation. With his new powers Grand Duke Nikolai seized control of the meeting of the army's commanders by demanding an in-depth critique of the maneuver. Moulin was the only foreign military attache allowed to attend this meeting. On benches borrowed from a local peasant hut, a cast of luminaries watched as Grand Duke Nikolai questioned Generals Menshchikov and Romanenko along with their immediate subordinates and the posredniki: Among those present were: Tsar Nicholas II, Grand Duke Nikolai, the Grand Dukes Serge Nikolaevich (Inspector General of the Artillery) and Peter Nikolaevich (Inspector General of Engineering and Commander of the Imperial Suite), Palitsyn (who until his new appointment had been Inspector General of the Cavalry), Rediger, and General Zarubachov (newly appointed Inspector General of the Infantry).40 Grand Duke Nikolai's investigation focused on an old theme: the flow of information from the moment it was gathered by reconnaissance teams, to its transmission throughout the army. At first everyone was given an opportunity to make a report to the tsar: the army commanders, the posredniki, the inspector generals, and the chief of the general staff. General Palitsyn, in Moulin's opinion, made the most of this opportunity to present to Nicholas II his ideas about the need to reform the army's tactical doctrine. Palitsyn told the tsar that the value of maneuvers rested in the opportunity to test the validity of operational and doctrinal concepts in practical field exercises.41 After this reform pitch, Grand Duke Nikolai summed up the reports and then made certain that the tsar had no more questions. Upon completing this polite stage of the critique, he turned on his

39

Ibid., 33-34. Ibid., 54. Until his recent appointment as Chief of Staff, Palitsyn had been Inspector General of the Cavalry. No replacement had been named at the time of this maneuver. 41 Ibid., 56. 40

268

JOHN W. STEINBERG

two army commanders and made them justify the decisions they took over the course of the maneuver. Moulin claims this exercise was designed to reveal the failings, not so much of the individuals, but of the operational doctrine of the imperial army. Finally, Grand Duke Nikolai concluded the critique by returning to the very issue that Kuropatkin had identified as the major shortcoming of the imperial army: the way in which it gathered, and made use of, information. Nikolai Nikolaevich and Palitsyn both blamed General Staff officers for problems in the flow of information and stressed the need for changes in education and training to address this problem.42 While Moulin agreed with the conclusions reached by Palitsyn and the Grand Duke, he did add one important observation to his report on the August 1906 maneuver at Krasnoe Selo—an observation that Kuropatkin made in 1904. Both men recognized that Russian military leaders suffered from mediocre command skills, even among highly trained General Staff officers. Russia's top military leaders often waited for their superiors, usually a member of the royal family or someone closely connected to it, to tell them what to do.43 In Moulin's opinion, until Russia trained and empowered independent thinkers as military leaders, a problem that he claimed had existed the entire twenty-five years he had spent observing the imperial army, the capabilities of the tsar's armed forces would not measure up to its foes on the modern battlefield. The 1906 maneuver revealed that the imperial army's efforts to modernize had made some progress. One of the lessons learned in Manchuria was that the future of war had tilted toward the defensive due to technically sophisticated weaponry. General Menshchikov therefore had his troops dig trenches and placed his artillery in support of this defensive line. Manchuria also taught that concealment of artillery batteries was essential if they were to survive counterbattery fire. So the Russians dug in and camouflaged their heavy guns. Indeed they could not be seen until they discharged their weapons, which created a blue vapor trail that was easily visible in broad daylight. More important, the artillery had been placed out of effective range to support General Menshchikov's troops during their counter-offensive.44 42 43 44

Ibid., 57-58. Ibid., 58-59. SHAT, 7N1477, Maneuver at Krasnoe Selo, August 1906, 19-20.

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

269

The same type of progress appeared evident in the development of the army's communication network. The Russians learned in Manchuria that they could not afford to take the field of battle without a signal system that connected every element from the commander through the artillery and cavalry down to the smallest infantry unit. Perhaps Kuropatkin's efforts to solve the army's "information flow" difficulties had not been in vain. But, on the whole—as we have seen—the maneuver revealed many serious problems. The structure of the army and persistence of old style deference to superiors contributed to a lack of will and initiative among officers. During the maneuver Palitsyn had to charge onto the battlefield to order Romanenko to punch through Menshchikov's defensive line. Tellingly, Palitsyn physically delivered the order rather than using the communication network. Even more disconcerting, Moulin noted that Russia's signal corps did not encode the information that it sent through its network.40 Conclusion Grand Duke Nikolai and General Palitsyn used their newly created powers to inform the tsar about the army's critical need to upgrade standards as a part of the final evaluation of the 1906 Krasnoe Selo maneuver. So disgruntled were the Grand Duke and Palitsyn over what they saw that they cancelled the remainder of the maneuver. They recognized that war games of any scale needed to have instructive value for every participant, from general to infantryman. The demonstration they witnessed revealed that much work needed to be completed to enhance the standards and capabilities of the imperial army. As a result, maneuvers across the empire—be they in the Moscow, Kiev, Warsaw, St. Petersburg, or any other military district—began to evidence a serious focus after 1906 on testing and improving the operational capabilities of the imperial army.46 Creating 45

Ibid., 21-22. As incredible as it may seem, judging from the Imperial Army's conduct in August 1914, the signal corps never learned the importance of encoding information. 46 I analyze one maneuver that occurred between Helsinki and St. Petersburg in John W. Steinberg, "Russian General Staff Training and the Approach of World War I, 1898—1914," in Authority, Identity and the Social History of the Great War, eds. Marilyn Shevin-Coetzee & Frans Coetzee (Providence: Berghahn Books, 1995), 275-305.

270

JOHN W. STEINBERG

a chain of command, maintaining its unity, gathering information about the enemy, sending orders to all elements of the army, and controlling troop movements during the heat of battle—all the product of staff work and leadership skills—became the central tasks for the army. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the army's symbolic display of power, archetypically expressed in the pass-in-review before the tsar, had become a splendid anachronism. Progressively-minded officers recognized and understood that war games needed to offer the army more than just a symbolic display—they had to train soldiers and start the process of developing doctrine. These officers— whether of noble or plebeian background—sought to reform the empire's peacetime training establishment because they had ideas about how to address its shortcomings. But the idea of the power of custom and tradition portrayed in Krasnov's novel, while not completely compromising the instructive value of war games, often caused significant distractions, particularly if the tsar participated in the exercise. Implementing any reform, let alone on the scale required to have an impact on the modern battlefield, also proved challenging because the Russian army suffered from a variety of tactical and operational problems. Evaluation of the 1902 and 1906 war games plainly reveals that the Russian army's reform needs challenged it on a technological level: simply creating and maintaining effective communications based chain of command proved daunting for the Russians even when they marched on the East Prussian battlefield as the guns of August 1914 sounded. Even more difficult was the transformation of the role of the cavalry into something other than the offensive arm of the army—a concept that made sense to the professional military mind but was blasphemous to the troops of the imperial guard. Even worse, as Moulin noted, Russian commanders lacked the will to seize the initiative in the heat of battle. This in itself reveals one of the fundamental shortcomings of the imperial army; officers acted with deference to social superiors in order to protect their reputations. Changing such conduct required some major rethinking of social relationships and the basis of custom, power and tradition in Imperial Russia. While the tsar could seek to mitigate the perils of modernization through such efforts as the Hague conferences, without military parity between the other Great Powers, Russia's international position

IMPERIAL WAR GAMES (1898-1906)

271

would suffer a decline in prestige. The 1905 defeat, combined with diplomatic embarrassments, most notably the paralysis of Russia's Balkan policy in 1908-09, further alarmed Russians about their status in the world. This sentiment forced even traditionally minded officers to accept that they lived in a rapidly changing strategic and operational environment which required reform for the sake of the defense of the realm. Reform efforts in the period between 1906-1914 were genuine, and their impact certainly improved the performance of the imperial army during World War I. That General Staff officers could not deliver convincing military victories on the World War I battlefield was not for want of trying. Not even those officers who understood the dynamics of the world in which they functioned could alter the matrix of Russian social, political and military reality.

This page intentionally left blank

MILITARY AVIATION, NATIONAL IDENTITY, AND THE IMPERATIVES OF MODERNITY IN LATE IMPERIAL RUSSIA Gregory Vitarbo The airplane was emblematic of the dilemma of modernization, both for army and state, in the last years of the Russian empire. It represented both a serious challenge and a tantalizing opportunity; it sharply exposed the limitations of Russia's economic, technological, and infrastructural development while simultaneously offering a means to rapidly overcome them; it provided a means to demonstrate and assert Russia's achievements, pride, and place while also giving rise to fears of the penalties of backwardness with the stakes of modernization now risen, literally, dramatically higher. The airplane thus offered a potent symbol around which to contest visions of what modernization would and should mean for the Russian Empire and its future. While drawing upon a broader discourse regarding military power, technological modernization, and national identity, the debates surrounding aviation recast this dialogue, expanding its scope and implications. Russian social, cultural, and political distinctiveness was simultaneously perceived as uniquely favorable and particularly threatening to the successful development of the airplane. This tension would be exposed graphically by two pressing and closely related issues: how to define the proper form and scope of civilian assistance in military aviation, and whether to rely primarily upon foreign or domestic industry in the building of an air force.1 Given its symbolic power, the airplane served as a focal point for both contemporaries and historians to criticize the ability of the tsarist army and state to meet such challenges of modernization. In this regard, Soviet historiography on the Imperial air force took pains to sharply distinguish between the feeble efforts of tsarist aviation and

' These issues are explored at greater length in Gregory Vitarbo, '"The Power, Strength, and Future of Russia': Aviation Culture and the Russian Imperial Officer Corps, 1908-1914" (Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 1999).

274

GREGORY VITARBO

the impressive aeronautical achievements of the Bolshevik regime. Such work criticized above all the general economic and industrial backwardness perpetuated by the tsarist political and social order. It indicted as well an entrenched military culture of amateurism, inertia, the narrow protection of parochial interests, red tape, and biases based upon class and social background.2 A favorite theme of such criticism was the tsarist army's deference to foreign aviation technology and its failure to develop indigenous designs, inventions, and industry. This obeisance to the West was seen as a function of the army leadership's short-sightedness, narrow-mindedness, and pervasive lack of confidence in its own people and their abilities, attitudes themselves fostered by Russia's own lingering backwardness.3 As a result, the efforts of a small but energetic group of tsarist officers devoted to aviation were largely frustrated; the visionary aviation culture being cultivated by such officers could only truly flower under the Soviet regime and its commitment to modernity. While somewhat more sympathetic, the few Western works on the topic also treat tsarist aviation essentially as a brief footnote to the rich history of Soviet aeronautics. Conventional narratives generally focus upon the general features of economic backwardness that hindered the specific development of Imperial military aviation and especially a domestic aviation industry.4 Regarding politics and culture, Scott W. Palmer has argued that for the Russian press and public, the airplane served as a powerful symbol of their ability to overcome Russia's chronic "cultural stagnation and historical backwardness." Aviation thus offered Russians an example of national renewal and "a means of redefining their national identity," an identity pointedly contrasted to the obsolescent political and social order upheld by the tsarist regime.5 Again, such visions would only be fully realized 2

The best example is the exhaustive study by Petr Duz', Istoriia vozdukhoplavaniia i aviatsii v Rossii (period do 1914 g.), 2nd ed. (Moscow: Mashinostroenie, 1995). See also L. V. Ruzov and lu. N. lablochkin, Gatchina. Istoricheskii ocherk (Leningrad: Lenizdat, 1959), and Lidiia Kuz'mina, Pervye kryl'ia Rossii: Stranitsy vekovoi istorii aviapredpriiatiia (Moscow: Voennizdat, 1993). 3 Duz', Istoriia Vozdukhoplavaniia, 408-24. 4 See David R.Jones, "The Beginnings of Russian Air Power, 1907-22," in Soviet Aviation and Airpower: A Historical View, eds. Robin Higham and Jacob W. Kipp (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1977), 15-33, and Robert A. Kilmarx, A History of Soviet Air Power (New York: Praeger, 1962). 5 Scott W. Palmer, "On Wings of Courage: Public 'Air-Mindedness' and National Identity in Late Imperial Russia," Russian Review 54:2 (April, 1995), 209-26. See also Palmer, "Modernizing Russia in the Aeronautical Age: Technology, Legitimacy,

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

275

following the October revolution. Recently, however, Von Hardesty has questioned this model of tsarist failure. He suggests instead that there are actually significant continuities regarding philosophies and policies of aviation development across the 1917 divide.6 Existing literature has thus examined various aspects of the relationship between modernization, tsarist military aviation, and Russian national identity. None of the works cited above, however, has explored in depth Imperial officers' own assessments of this relationship. Far from being ignorant of the potential power of aviation, numerous officers of the aeronautical services and the army at large perceived that the airplane spoke to uniquely Russian hopes and fears. In a positive sense, aviation offered a powerfully redemptive appeal to an army which had just a few years before bitterly tasted defeat in the war with Japan, a defeat that called into question both the Russian Empire's place in the family of great powers and its claims of cultural, national, and racial superiority. The airplane appeared to offer both military and autocracy the means to overcome seemingly intractable difficulties of geography, limited financial resources, and the laggard development of railroads and the communications. Yet proponents of aviation also recognized that this inherited backwardness fundamentally threatened any vision of future aerial might. The empire's vast expanse, harsh climate, general paucity of public wealth, and relatively underdeveloped industrial base all posed serious obstacles to the successful exploitation of the airplane. Aviation enthusiasts were further aware that the rapidity of international aviation development and its cosmopolitan character placed certain limits on any uniquely "national" response to the airplane. Tsarist officers' appraisals of the challenge of aviation thus revolved around familiar juxtapositions of Russia and the West, timeless values and urgent necessities, imitation and contamination, the imperatives of progress and the legacies of backwardness, simultaneously infusing these idioms with new meanings and valuations. The immediate task was to cultivate national resources, material and human, in the service of military aviation. Like their colleagues and the Structures of Air-Mindedness, 1909-1939" (Ph.D. diss., University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 1997). 6 See Hardesty's introduction in Alexander Riaboff, Gatchina Days: Reminiscences of a Russian Pilot (Washington, D.C.: 1986), as well as his article "Early Flight in Russia," forthcoming. I thank Dr. Hardesty for being so gracious as to provide me an early draft of this article.

276

GREGORY VITARBO

throughout Europe, tsarist officers quickly recognized that in terms of its power and promise, the airplane transcended the sphere of the military itself. The success of aviation would necessarily demand the united efforts of army, state, society, and industry. In this regard, the dominant paradigm of development throughout Europe was what John Morrow calls the militarization of aviation. This involved a partnership of military authorities and civilian aviation enthusiasts— pilots, inventors, aeroclub representatives—under guidelines and policies set by the respective armies. These policies included the manipulation of training regimens, piloting qualifications, and technical specifications to favor narrowly military requirements rather than the needs of sport or civil aviation. Combined with the formidable industrial capacity and economic resources of such nations as France, Germany, and Britain, this civil-military partnership fostered the rapid exploitation of the airplane by the leading European armies.7 Russian aviation enthusiasts recognized that as the political, economic, and social conditions of the empire differed markedly from those in the West, slavish imitation of foreign models of development was undesirable, unprofitable, or simply impossible. Yet these models served as powerful and influential points of reference. Notably, while it was difficult for the empire to compete with the European powers purely on financial and industrial terms, it could perhaps compete successfully in the realm of the civil-military partnership. If the airplane promised an escape from material backwardness, its successful development would depend upon what many cited as the empire's traditional, and still greatest, resources—the skills, genius, talents, and moral and spiritual superiority of the Russian people. Despite what many have described as the smoldering hostility between the military community and the public at large in the post1905 period, optimism regarding this partnership prevailed among both the officers of the aeronautical services and their civilian collaborators. Evidence of successful civil-military cooperation abounded. Leading civilian aviation organizations such as the All-Russian Aeroclub were heavily represented by prominent bureaucrats, public officials, and senior and junior officers of the aviation arm and the regular army. Ties were also quite close with the handful of leading civil7

John H. Morrow, Jr., "Knights of the Sky: The Rise of Military Aviation," in Authority, Identity, and the Social History of the Great War, eds. Frans Coetzee and Marilyn Shevin-Coetzee (Providence: Berghahn Books, 1995), 305-24.

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

277

ian engineers, inventors, and builders—Sikorskii, Gakkel, Slesarev to name a few—who regularly consulted with military officers, utilized military facilities for their projects and experiments, and eventually sold their wares to the War Ministry.8 Russian military aviation was further aided by the energetic activity conducted at civilian institutions and laboratories throughout the empire by noted academics such as N. E. Zhukovskii, later dubbed "the father of Russian aviation" by the Soviets.9 Moreover, airplanes and aviation officers were regular features in the popular and the military press, which provided enthusiastic coverage of technical innovations and the establishment of new flight records. The period also saw the creation of numerous aviation enthusiast and technical magazines.10 Officers reciprocated such attention, granting interviews, explaining their latest exploits, and participating in exhibitions designed to educate the public about the capabilities and virtues of the airplane. Mass public aviation rituals of both celebration and mourning, so much a part of the early aviation experience throughout Europe, further lauded the efforts of the brave new cadre of military aviators while placing their example firmly within the proud history and traditions of the Russian Imperial Army.'l Technology in tune with the best national characteristics—intellectual, moral, spiritual, martial—was the dominant theme of this civil-military partnership; it was framed in an idealized definition of what it meant to be Russian, opposed to an equally archetypal conception of the West. This nationalist appropriation of technology was not unique to Russia. Indeed, Robin Higham observes that the earliest heroes of aviation were indeed most often represented as the embodiment of alleged national virtues and cultural stereotypes. The best example was the United States' Wright brothers: self-made, independent, ruggedly individualistic, and financially shrewd American pioneers on the wild frontier of aviation.12 8 See Duz', Istoriia vozdukhoplavaniia, and Aviatsiia i Vozdukhoplavanie v Rossii v 1907-1914 gg. (Sbornik Dokumentov), vols. 3-7 (Moscow, 1970-77), an invaluable resource for the study of Russian aviation in this period. 9 Duz', Istoriia vozdukhoplavaniia, 71-79. 10 These included, for example, Vozdukoplavatel', Sevastopol'skii aviatsionnyi illiustrirovannyi zhurnal, and Aero i avtomobil'naw zhizn'. " See Palmer, "On Wings of Courage," and Vitarbo, "'The Power, Strength, and Future of Russia'," chapter eight. 12 Robin Higham, Air Power: A Concise History (London: Macdonald & Co., 1972), 2.

278

GREGORY VITARBO

Mikhail Efimov embodied the very different Russian ideal of civilmilitary cooperation, patriotic altruism, and moral superiority.13 The peasant son of a former army NCO and grandson of a freed serf, Efimov had been a telegraph technician and avid sportsmen. In 1909, under the patronage of a leading Odessa banker and aeroclub enthusiast, Efimov set off to be trained as a pilot in France, before there were any opportunities to do so in Russia. He quickly established himself as a leading pilot, extricated himself from the oppressive contract which bound him to his wealthy patron's service, and pursued a successful and lucrative career as an exhibition pilot. Efimov quickly became the most popular Russian hero of the skies in this period, in part because he was one of the very first and very best, in part because unlike many he also managed to stay alive. In the eyes of his many admirers at home, his skill and bravery were second to none, while the shallow Europeans could not match his virtue and nobility of spirit. Colonel Kovan'ko, commander of the Officers' Aeronautics School, appraised Efimov thus: the magnificent Efimov is an ideal flier, a gentleman in all respects . . . It would be a shame to lose him . . . How he does not resemble those foreign racing drivers who fly only for the sake of money . . . I have had to go abroad for all kinds of holidays and competitions . . . To be perfectly honest I will say, that Russians fly no worse. They are distinguished by the enormous presence of spirit, bravery, love of their cause, and the complete absence of monetary considerations.14

Efimov's exploits demonstrated that there was seemingly no shortage of patriotic, selfless Russian subjects who would aid in the great task of maintaining the empire as a major military and cultural power. The imperial state, civil aviation organizations, and officers themselves therefore touted Russian aviation and what they considered its lofty position as proof that Russia was indeed still an influential member of the family of modern, "civilized" nations. The propagandistic pamphlet Aeronautics, published by the Imperial All-Russian Aeroclub, extolled the airplane as a unique means to not only aug13 This biographical information on Mikhail Efimov is taken from various sources: Duz', Istoriia vozdukhoplavaniia; Vsevolod Lavrenets, Letchiki rossii (Moscow: Mashinostroenie, 1992); and G. Zalutskii, Vydaiushchiesia russkie letchiki (Moscow: Voennoe Izdatel'stvo MOSS, 1953). A biography specifically devoted to Efimov is E. V. Koroleva and V. A. Rudnik, Soperniki orlov (Moscow: Voennoe Izdatel'stvo MOSS, 1981). 14 As quoted in Koroleva and Rudnik, Soperniki orlov, 69-70.

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

279

ment military might, but also to bypass the empire's problems of enormous expanse and poor transportation and communication systems. Moreover, in the unspoiled sphere of the air, the accumulated legacies of backwardness on the ground need not hinder future progress.15 Sevastopol Illustrated Aviation Journal also reflected the prevailing public mood when it proclaimed that "we can with pride announce, that at the present time we have military aviators who are not in the least inferior, in all respects, to the aviators of Western Europe. Aviation is the only sphere of activity in which we do not at all lag behind the European powers."16 In spite of such optimism, many proponents of Russian military aviation recognized that the empire's cultural, social, and political distinctiveness was a decidedly mixed blessing. Handicaps as well as advantages, seeds of division as well as sources of unity, were also framed in terms of national identity. For example, as the army fashioned aviation policy a series of issues—the service of members of subject nationalities as military aviators, the placing of aviation schools in Poland, the training of peasant soldiers as pilots—produced ambivalence or outright anxiety among numerous officers.17 A more insidious danger was the temptation to overemphasize perceived national virtues themselves, to allow them to mask harsh realities and urgent demands. In a lengthy critique of the contemporary status of Russian aeronautics that appeared in the progressive military journal Razyedchik in early 1911, the author, N. Dukhanin, stressed that despite its recent efforts Russia was significantly behind the other great powers in Europe, and indeed was only making its first tentative steps in the field of aviation.18 The empire possessed neither the necessary technical infrastructure, nor the trained cadres, nor a comprehensive plan of organization for military aeronautics. Dukhanin felt it necessary to stress this point, as "in this regard, as in many other cases, there is noticed among us a very large and always harmful tendency to delude ourselves and under this point of view make falsely self-favorable conclusions and deductions, which, however, have only for themselves the one dubious value of the 15

Imperatorskii Vserossiiskii Aeroklub, Vozdukhoplavanie (St. Petersburg, 1912). Sevastopol'skii aviatsionnyi illiustrirovannyi zhurnal nos. 42~43 (n.d., 1911), 2. 17 See again Vitarbo, '"The Power, Strength, and Future of Russia'," chapters six and seven. 18 N. Dukhanin, "O nashem voennom vozdukhoplavanii," Razvedchik 1057 (Feb. 1, 1911), 65-69. 16

280

GREGORY VITARBO

pleasant tickling sensation of pride \samoliubie\."ig What was needed instead was practical and intensive work to ensure the quickest possible development of aeronautics and allow the empire to catch its competitors. For Dukhanin, patriotic urgency allowed no place for simplistic chauvinism or what many regarded as an enduring predilection, particularly pernicious in the military sphere, to fetishize Russian culture in the ongoing debate regarding Russia's relationship to the West. For some observers, further evidence of such tendencies to overestimate Russia's alleged virtues and strengths was provided by one of the earliest official responses of the tsarist army to the birth of aviation. In 1908 the General-Inspector of Artillery, the Grand Duke Peter Nikolaevich, turned to the small group of officers at the Aeronautical Training Park (later the Officers' Aeronautics School) and ordered them to construct an airplane themselves in lieu of purchasing machines and instruction from the Wright brothers. This decision was made in response to a report from Col. Kovan'ko, commander of the Park, that the money would be better spent in this way.20 As the officers in question had never flown in heavier-than-air craft, nor ever even seen an airplane, perhaps it is not surprising that the five machines they managed to construct failed to fly. While somewhat trivial in retrospect, the incident nevertheless remained an important one in the short collective memory of Imperial aviation enthusiasts. Aleksei Poltaratskii, a somewhat regular contributor to Razvedchik on aeronautical affairs, commented at length upon the quality and rapid progress of the aircraft on display at the International Aeronautical Exhibition held in Moscow in the spring of 1911. He observed that to us, Russians, it is especially pleasing that, having quickly taken a distinguished place by the skill of our pilots (I will not even say anything about their courage), we are appearing with distinction also as designers of airplanes, although they do not represent original national inventions, in the way of the sad memory of the secret device of Tatarinov or those five airplanes which the officers of the aeronautical park immediately began to build several years ago, having preferred to 'invent' and not learn.21 19 20

Ibid., 66.

Duz', Istoriia vozdukhoplavaniia, 186. A. Poltaratskii, "Vozdukhoplavanie," Razvedchik, no. 1073 (May 24, 1911), 323-24. 21

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

281

In Poltaratskii's eyes, there were undeniable limits to existing Russian capabilities; ignoring them was folly. As he suggested, national shortcomings were revealed most starkly in the realm of industry and economy, where relative backwardness and poverty trumped both collective virtue and individual devotion. In this the airplane merely intensified a larger debate raging within tsarist government and business circles regarding the proper path of Russian industrial development; the central question was whether to depend upon foreign capital and resources or to foster domestic enterprise and production.22 How to procure and/or produce sufficient aircraft and necessary equipment thus became one of the most vexing dilemmas for the officers of the fledgling tsarist air force. This challenge was further complicated by the efforts of a valuable new colleague, or formidable competitor, in the realm of military aviation: the Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich. Immensely impressed with the possibilities of heavier-than-air flight, in 1909 the Grand Duke gathered the senior members of the Committee for Strengthening the Fleet Through Voluntary Contributions, a quasipublic institution he had founded to solicit donations for the reconstruction of the naval fleet which had been largely destroyed at Tsushima. The Grand Duke had seen the future, and it lay not on the sea but in the air. He therefore convinced his colleagues that the funds already collected, as well as future donations, should go not toward the purchase of ships but toward the acquisition of an aerial fleet.23 The Department of the Air Force was duly established as a new section of the Committee, with its own Sevastopol Aviation School. In the vision of its patrons, the school would devote itself to training as many officer-pilots as rapidly as possible for the needs of the

22 For various perspectives on this debate, see Thomas Owen, Russian Capitalism from Peter the Great to Perestroika (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995) 115-50; James L. West, "Visions of Russia's Entrepreneurial Future: Pavel Riabushinsky's Utopian Capitalism," in Merchant Moscow: Images of Russia's Vanished Bourgeoisie., eds. James L. West and lurii A. Petrov (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998), 161-70; John McKay, Pioneers for Profit: Foreign Entrepreneurship and Russian Industrialization, 1885-1913 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970); and Peter Gatrell, Government, Industry, and Rearmament in Russia, 1900-1914: The Last Argument of Tsarism (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994). 2J The Grand Duke's own relatively brief recollections of his extensive aviation activity are found in his memoirs: Aleksandr Mikhailovich, Once a Grand Duke (New York, 1932).

282

GREGORY VITARBO

army and navy, while the Department of the Air Force pledged to furnish the empire quickly with a large aerial fleet.24 Yet, while proudly and publicly committed to the tenets of military might and Imperial greatness, the Department of the Air Force clearly occupied a somewhat anomalous position vis-d-vis the official military aeronautical establishment. Within the contemporary context of mounting criticism of Grand Ducal interference in military affairs, it is therefore not surprising that Alexander Mikhailovich's efforts elicited objections. The Razvedchik critic Dukhanin, for example, specifically cited the Grand Duke's organization as a manifestation of misplaced national pride and the cause of Russia's laggard aeronautical progress.25 Indeed, while the Grand Duke and his subordinates expressed the intention and desire to cooperate in all ways with the War Ministry and the military aviation institutions, their respective priorities, methods, and plans were not always identical or harmonious. In particular, the Grand Duke argued forcefully and repeatedly that the new Russian air force must be built primarily with foreign technology. In pointed contrast to the ill-fated experiments to construct aircraft at the Aeronautical Training Park, he decided immediately to defer to the expertise and experience of foreigners, choosing both to purchase aircraft and initially train officers abroad, primarily in France, the leading aviation power and the empire's primary military ally.26 His guiding conviction was that national pride should not blind one to national need, notably the need to build an air fleet both quickly and successfully. To him it was quite clear that the Russian Empire simply did not possess the manufacturing base, the technological infrastructure, or the reservoir of technical knowledge and experience to construct airplanes on a large scale. Nor would the empire possess such a capability any time soon, at least in his opinion. Thus, it was foolish to throw great sums of money at the fledgling domestic aviation industry in an attempt to spur its development, as the handful of Russian industrialists involved in the matter advocated.27 This stance did not preclude, of course, buying 24 "Khronika," Razvedchik 1043 (Oct. 26, 1910), 644; "Vozdukhoplavanie," Sevastopol'skii aviatsionnyi illiustrirovannyi zhumal, no. 3 (December 5, 1910), 2. 25 Dukhanin, "O nashem voennom vozdukhoplavanii," 67. 26 Ruzov and lablochkin, Gatchina. Istoricheskii ocherk, 58; Jones, "The Beginnings of Russian Air Power," 17; Duz', Istoriia vozdukhoplavaniia, 329. 27 Many of these industrialists' appeals are preserved in Aviatsiia i Vozdukhoplavanie v Rossii, vols. 3-7. For more on the pre-war Russian aviation industry, see Lidiia

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

283

quality equipment domestically. Based upon his naval experience, however, the Grand Duke decided that the best immediate use of limited public funds would be foreign orders.28 In the eyes of the Grand Duke, the dictates of military might and national power had to be the only considerations. Satisfying those dictates, at least in the field of aviation, clearly meant that one must look abroad. In like fashion, appropriating technology and expertise abroad did not indicate any subservience to the West, but merely a clear recognition of prevailing realities and necessities. In support of these goals, the Grand Duke and the Committee continued to beseech the public for contributions in newspapers and journals throughout the empire, appealing to civic pride and the patriotic ideal that Russia should be great. As reported in Sevastopol Illustrated Aviation Journal., "the Committee hopes that all to whom the military power of Russia is dear will bring their kopecks and rubles to the cause of creating an air force, which in the future, in war time, stands to play an important role."29 In the 1913 booklet The Air Force: The Strength of Russia, published by the Moscow Committee for the Collection of Donations for the Air Force, the Grand Duke proudly noted that in two years the Department of the Air Force had already acquired abroad or domestically 77 aircraft.30 Yet he emphasized the urgency of building upon this initial success: it is not subject to doubt, that if we do not make every effort for the development of that which we have already begun, we will lose that place (second in the world) which we now occupy in regard to an air force, and we will fall behind our neighbors. The danger of the situation is clear, it cannot be allowed, and I again consider it my duty to appeal with a call for donations to the air force.31 A good deal of the donated funds would find their way to France. Again, however, the Grand Duke's methods did not entail obeisance to the West, merely judicious appropriation of its expertise; they signified not a treasonous denial of native Russian genius and abilities, but the most enlightened form of patriotism. Kuz'mina, Pervye kryl'ia Rossii, and Aviatsiia v Rossii: [Sbomik]. K 100-letiiu otechestvennogo samoletostroeniia (Moscow, 1983). 28 Jones, "The Beginnings of Russian Air Power," 18-19. 29 "Vozdukhoplavanie," Sevastopol'skii aviatsionryi illiustrirovannyi zjuimal no. 3 (December 5, 1910), 2. 30 Vozdushnyi flot. Sil Rossii (Moscow, 1913), 9. 31 Ibid., 9.

284

GREGORY VITARBO

Invaluable support for these policies was provided by the empire's own aviation hero, Mikhail Efimov. At the personal request of the Grand Duke, Efimov selflessly abandoned his lucrative performance career in Europe to return home in 1910 and take a post as chief instructor at the Sevastopol Aviation School. He had indeed been anxiously awaiting an opportunity to serve the cause of aviation in his own country.32 Efimov's own aviation career epitomized the value of acknowledging and utilizing the expertise of the advanced Western powers in order to ultimately best them. As such, he was of same mind as the Grand Duke in recognizing the need to rely for the most part upon foreign technology. Typical was a report of Oct. 7, 1911, to the War Minister, in which General Aleksandrov, commander of the Main Engineering Administration, explained that airplanes and related equipment constructed in Russian factories were still generally recognized as unacceptable for military use, "and the aviator Efimov especially and insistently pointed out the necessity of obtaining motors and the propellers for them from abroad."33 Further praise and support for the Grand Duke's methods was provided by the renowned former civilian aviator N. E. Popov,34 who had helped train the original cadre of aviator-instructors of the Officers' Aeronautics School. In his propagandistic brochure of 1912, he evocatively entitled a chapter "The Word of Peter the Great," quoting the Great Reformer to assert that any delay in providing for the defense of the country with this new and powerful aerial weapon would be akin to "untimely death."35 He especially praised the foresight, energy, and efforts of the Grand Duke, "who had followed in the footsteps of his great ancestor" and had recognized Russia's need for a powerful aerial fleet, as Peter had recognized the need for a naval one.36 Exhorting the public to greater donations and proposing to establish prizes for successful flights, he admitted that these prizes would be granted "to Russian pilots on planes built in Russia from Russian materials, merely with French engines, owing 32

Koroleva and Rudnik, Soperniki orlov, 80-81. Aviatsiia i vozdukhoplavanie v Rossii, vol. 3, document no. 231, 117-20; also found in Rossiiskii Gosudarstvennyi Voenno-Istoricheskii Arkhiv (RGVIA), f. 802, op. 3, d. 1346, 11. 59-62. 34 Jones, "The Beginnings of Russian Air Power," 18-19. 35 N. E. Popov, Voina i let voinov (St. Petersburg, 1912), 55. 36 Ibid., 63. 33

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

285

to the lack of our own as yet." Reiterating the flexibility of the Grand Duke's message, however, he emphasized that engines too should be built in Russia.37 An alternative model of aviation development and civil-military cooperation was provided by Colonel, later General, Alexander Kovan'ko, engineer, aeronaut, and longtime commanding officer of the Officers' Aeronautics School. Above all, General Kovan'ko was an eloquent and persistent advocate of the view that the success of any aviation program necessitated the mutual and harmonious efforts of military, state, and civilian institutions and individuals. Given the airplane's novelty, rapid progress, technological sophistication, and industrial demands, only such multi-faceted cooperation would allow civil and military aviation to reach its fullest potential. In a 1910 newspaper interview Kovan'ko expressed his certainty that Russia, having already produced excellent pilots in a short time, would turn out as well a series of talented inventors of aviation technology.38 He thus stressed the fundamental importance of developing a domestic Russian aircraft industry, in terms of materials, design, and labor. In an accompanying interview, A. I. Guchkov, chairman of the Duma's Defense Committee, duly pledged avid attention and financial support from the Duma in the great national cause of aviation.39 General Kovan'ko provided a more programmatic statement of his philosophy and vision in his pamphlet Thoughts Regarding the Planned Organization of Military Aeronautics in Russia.^ It was both an informational tract aimed at a broad audience and an attempt to influence official policy; Kovan'ko personally sent a copy, along with an explanatory cover letter, to the War Minister himself.41 Noting the "enormous significance" aeronautics had begun to acquire in affairs of state, industry, and especially the military, Kovan'ko stressed the pressing need to develop a rational, comprehensive program to utilize effectively all civilian and military personnel, resources, and institutions in this field. He thus provided a detailed organizational plan

37

Ibid., 71, 65. "Aeroplany v budyshchei voine," Binjievie vedemosti, (Sept. 14, 1910), 3. 39 The article in question is also summarized and quoted at length in Koroleva and Rudnik, Soperniki orlov. 40 Ofitserskaia Vozdukhoplavatel'naia Shkola, Soobrazheniia po povodu planomernoi organizatsii voennago voz.dukhoplava.niia v Rossii (Saint Petersburg, 1912). 41 RGVIA, f. 2000, op. 7, d. 7, 1. 49. 38

286

GREGORY VITARBO

for the broad development of military aviation and the coordination of the necessary activities of the relevant civilian and military organs. Emphasizing their common cause, Kovan'ko later joined the Grand Duke's public crusade by contributing an essay to the propagandistic brochure The Air Force: The Strength of Russia. Yet he did more than ask for donations; he instead addressed the very status and place of Russia in the world political, economic, and social order.42 He observed that the empire's enormous expanse necessitated control of its air space as well, and "for this is necessary a powerful air force."43 This was easily achieved by smaller European states, which possessed advanced technical resources as well as dense, well-equipped networks of railroads and highways. These were blessings, Kovan'ko lamented, which Russia still lacked: "our distances are huge, our roads few, and the ones we do have poor. Looking ahead to the already near future, we can say that Russia needs an air force not only as a means for battle with enemies, but especially as a means of communication."44 While European states were blessed with certain natural advantages, Kovan'ko nevertheless identified the real source of the successes attained abroad in the field of aviation: "society and commercial circles in Germany set themselves the patriotic task to create a first class, if not first in the world, military air force, "while "success in the cause of aeronautics in France is considered by every true Frenchman their sacred duty and the most patriotic affair."45 In both nations, evidence of this civil-military partnership was again provided by the large public donations for the air forces, numerous factories dealing with aeronautics and aviation production, and the widespread training of both military and civilian pilots in private aviation schools. In Kovan'ko's eyes, if the industrial and economic conditions of Western Europe were hardly applicable to the Russian context, this patriotic partnership could and should be copied and applied to the unique demands of the empire: we need, in a word, to build ships of Russian design, adapted to the distinctive features of Russian territory. Foreign ships are hardly suitable for us. Airplanes we are already building, engines we are start42 43 44 45

A. Kovan'ko, "Vozdushnyi Flot," in Vozdushnyi' flot-sil Rossii, 17-23. Ibid., 17. Ibid., 17. Ibid., 19-20.

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

287

ing to build at home, flying ships we can also build at home. It is a matter only of good desire, of trust in the Russian people and the Russian genius and an absence of the fear of suffering failures.46

Kovan'ko then proceeded to the heart of the matter: "what indeed is necessary in order for Russia to occupy one of the first places in aeronautics among other great powers?" His answers were numerous, but are worth quoting at length: I. It is necessary that the creation of a Russian military air force becomes the patriotic duty of every Russian. II. It is necessary that we create here all that is necessary for the manufacture of aero-nautical devices at home, by Russian minds, by Russian hands, and from Russian materials. III. It is necessary that we not fear failures, but persistently proceed towards the goal of creating our Russian school of aeronautics, our devices and systems, and not go in the tow of foreigners. IV. It is necessary that not only the war ministry and idle bureaucrats be interested in aeronautical affairs, but that the entire people develop an enthusiasm for aviation. V. It is necessary that private persons donate money to the creation of an air force, and that private aeronautical organizations develop widely in Russia, and in practice demonstrate everywhere the successes of the Russian air force, as Zeppelin did, flying over all of Germany, where, it seems, there is not one inhabitant or even one infant who did not see Zeppelin's airship or who doesn't know what a zeppelin is.47

Kovan'ko flatly declared that "Russia needs an air force more than anyone." He punctuated his exhortations with his own invocation of the name of the Great Reformer: by the precepts of Peter the Great, it was necessary to learn to work as a carpenter and to operate sailing ships abroad, but the fleet was to be built at home. We already know how to work as carpenters and how to operate aerial devices, and we should make everything at home. At the present time contemporary air forces, in comparison with future ones, cost as much as did the ships and fleets of Peter compared to our contemporary naval fleet of dreadnoughts.48

With this in mind, Kovan'ko concluded that "we cannot lose valuable time, we must stubbornly and insistently propagandize the 46 47 48

Ibid, 21. Ibid., 21-22. Ibid., 22-23.

288

GREGORY VITARBO

patriotic matter of the creation of a powerful Russian military and private air force. In it is the power, strength, and future of Russia".49 Here was General Kovan'ko's vision of aerial might, presented in detail for all patriotic Russians who were interested in the cause. Most striking was his refusal to regard the development of military aviation as a strictly military problem, which indeed provided the motivation and rationale for publishing his views. Based upon his personal beliefs and professional convictions, he instead emphasized the need to see the development of aviation as a grand national project, one that would require visionary planning, unshakeable determination, unceasing effort, and the active cultivation of domestic reservoirs of genius and productive capacity. General Kovan'ko's philosophy of aviation development thus centered upon the principle of national self-reliance, construed in its broadest sense. This principle, stated in no uncertain terms, sharply distinguished his proposals from the prevailing policies of the Department of the Air Force. The Grand Duke envisioned a more limited role for the public, essentially demanding from civilians only donations, and in particular was far more receptive toward the utilization of foreign resources. In contrast, for Kovan'ko, Russia necessarily had to follow its own path to a mighty aerial future, and the journey had to begin now. Setbacks would indeed occur, but surrendering to domestic backwardness and looking abroad for technology and expertise, even if only temporarily, would merely perpetuate Russian weakness. The Grand Duke and General Kovan'ko thus identified in subtly different ways the sources and nature of the empire's social, cultural, and political distinctiveness, and advocated competing programs to exploit perceived strengths and to surmount intractable obstacles. To buttress their respective appeals, both invoked the name of Peter the Great, the unquestioned archetypal figure for all participants in the great debate regarding the meaning, form, and cost of modernization in Imperial Russia. Regardless of his often questioned motivations, the efforts of the Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich in the field of aviation represented an effort to reclaim the tsarist mantle of enlightened leadership and stewardship of imperial power. Quite self-consciously, the grand duke appealed to the Petrine legacy of

49

Ibid., 23.

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

289

modernization, with the state in its self-proclaimed role as the traditional engine of progress. While the grand duke had little doubt that the emperor's "true" subjects, revolutionaries and restive nationalities aside, possessed the requisite patriotism, loyalty, and yearnings for national greatness, he also believed firmly that, just as under Peter the Great, Russia had to first look abroad for the fruits of industry and technology it did not possess. In turn, General Kovan'ko also appealed to the Petrine legacy in welcoming the foreign cultural baggage the airplane brought with it. In his eyes, it was not Western technology that needed to be appropriated, but precisely the spirit of unity and common purpose possessed by the European powers. Indeed, in his appeals to patriotic self-reliance, General Kovan'ko implied that Imperial Russia's greatest national weakness was not material, but psychological: a lack of belief in the talents, genius, and potential of its own people. He thus advocated not a defeatist retreat to chauvinistic platitudes, but a reawakening of the true Russian spirit of progress. It is worth noting, and perhaps a bit ironic for a senior tsarist officer, that Gen. Kovan'ko's diagnosis of imperial backwardness, and his unyielding advocacy of domestic efforts and national self-reliance, would later win him the praise of Soviet historians.50 These were not merely academic disputes. As leading advocates and propagandists, the Grand Duke Alexander and General Kovan'ko were influential in framing the aviation debate for officers of the air forces, senior policy-makers in the army, government officials, and the civilian public. Moreover, each of these figures sought to use his position and influence to translate philosophy into policy. Although the Department of the Air Force technically held no jurisdiction over the selection and procurement of official military aircraft types, its financial wherewithal, its Imperial patron, and its semi-autonomous status worked to ensure not only the Department's relative independence in such matters, but even predominance at times. In contrast, while General Kovan'ko too enjoyed no official jurisdiction over aircraft procurement or budgets, his command status, long experience, and his officers' work in testing new machines and designs also provided a valuable forum to disseminate his ideas and influence policies.31 See Duz', Istoriia vozdukhoplavaniia, chapter seven. For a more detailed treatment of specific policies regarding the production,

290

GREGORY VITARBO

Conclusions In part due to such divided counsels, and in part due to the financial and industrial constraints they addressed, in practice the tsarist army pursued a dual strategy of purchasing necessary equipment abroad and subsidizing the fledgling domestic aviation industry.52 Yet prewar plans and assumptions were fundamentally disrupted by the outbreak of hostilities in 1914. The subsequent demands of total war, which graphically exposed the lingering economic backwardness of the empire, eventually overwhelmed the tsarist air force. The true realization of Russian air power would indeed have to await the coming of the Bolshevik regime. The case study of aviation, however, provides compelling insights into the broader experience of the Imperial Russian Army as it sought to manage the imperatives of modernization. Tsarist military servitors had long debated how to define a uniquely "Russian" approach to warfare and the proper role of technology within it; arguments took into account not only material demands and martial virtues, but issues of political traditions, social structure, and cultural values.M Yet the terms and significance of this dialogue were being transformed within the unique context of late imperial Russia. As the pace of technological change and weapons development began to quicken following the turn of the twentieth century, the corresponding demands upon economy and industry only increased. In turn, following the tumultuous events of 1904~06 the military leadership confronted such challenges against the backdrop of a reformed political and social order which had markedly altered the relationship between army, regime, and civil society. The airplane thus became a powerful symbol in this newly public debate about the relationship between technology, military modernization, and national identity. For the proponents of tsarist military

testing, and procurement of aircraft and related technologies, see Vitarbo, "'The Power, Strength, and Future of Russia," chapters 3-6; Duz', Istoriia vozdukhoplavaniia; and Aviatsiia i Vozdukhoplavanie v Rossii, vols. 3—7. 52 Jones, "The Beginnings of Russian Air Power, 1907-22," 18-22. 53 See for example William C. Fuller, Strategy and Power in Russia, 1600-1914 (New York: Free Press, 1992); Bruce Menning, Bayonets Before Bullets: The Imperial Russian Army, 1861-1914 (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1992); and Walter Pintner, "The Burden of Defense in Imperial Russia, 1725-1914," Russian Review 43 (July 1984), 231-59.

AVIATION, IDENTITY, AND IMPERATIVES OF MODERNIZATION

291

aviation, the redemptive promise of the airplane was matched only by the potential costs of failure in this new sphere of warfare. They therefore framed both their pleas and warnings through the lens of social, cultural, and political distinctiveness, appealing to ideals of national virtue and patriotic unity as well as the stigma of backwardness. Moreover, the vocabulary of national identity was employed to articulate tangible policies and paradigms of aviation development to overcome the unique difficulties posed by the Russian environment. Such appeals to Russian distinctiveness should not then be dismissed out of hand as the cynical manipulation of Slavophile cliches, or as the recourse to cultural "magic" to remedy intractable difficulties of technological backwardness and military inferiority. The appearance of such themes in a wide variety of forums—the progressive military press, specialist aviation journals, the broad spectrum of the popular press—demonstrates that they were expected to resonate with a diverse audience of leading bureaucrats and statesmen, senior officers, and the newly assertive civilian public. For champions of aviation, this patriotic civil-military partnership represented not a search for alternative paradigms of national identity, but an opportunity to reform and revitalize inherited ones. The powerful visions of renewal, progress, and power invoked in the name of the airplane proclaimed that the imperial army, state, and people could not only meet the challenge of modernization, but could do so in a uniquely Russian manner.

This page intentionally left blank

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA": CIVIL-MILITARY RELATIONS IN THE THIRD DUMA, 1907-12 David Schimmelpenninck van der Oye la ne gorshchu o torn, chto otkazali bogi, Mne v sladkoi uchasti osparivat' nalogi. —Pushkin

Western scholars have traditionally seen the history of Russia's ancien regime as a conflict between the autocracy and society.1 According to this manichean schema, tsar and subject coexisted in perennial tension, each regarding the other with either fear or contempt. This was particularly true for the final century of Romanov rule: As society acquired political consciousness and began to demand a role in government, the autocracy jealously maintained a firm grasp on the affairs of state. The result was the development of the intelligentsia, a radicalized estate whose whole raison d'etre was to struggle for the downfall of the monarchy. Thus, from the era of the Decembrists in 1825 to the February Revolution some ninety years later, Russia's ruler and ruled were considered polar opposites, occupying no common ground whatsoever. According to the German academic Caspar Ferenczi: "Scholars have either studied political institutions on the one hand or society and the economy on the other. The result is that almost no one looks at the links between them."2 Yet in the decades that preceded the Romanovs' demise in 1917, the boundaries between the state and its subjects began to blur. In addition to the intelligentsia, other elements of educated society also began to make their presence felt in the political arena. Often much less confrontational in their attitudes, and with more modest aims, 1

This essay is dedicated to the memory of Arthur Mendel. I am grateful for the comments and advice of Paul Bushkovitch, Firuz Kazemzadeh, Alexandra Korros, Dominic Lieven, Bruce Menning, John Steinberg, Mark Steinberg, and my editors in preparing this paper. Dates are according to the Julian calendar. Money is denominated in rubles. During the early 1900's, a ruble was worth approximately half a U.S. dollar. 2 Caspar Ferenczi, AuBenpolitik und Offentlichfait in Rutland 1906-1912 (Hussum: Matthiesen Verlag, 1982), 15.

294

DAVID SGHIMMELPENNINGK VAN DER OYE

these groups nevertheless successfully encroached on the autocracy's prerogatives. For example, the creation of zemstva in the Russian countryside in 1864 transferred significant powers of local government from the Emperor's functionaries to elected officials, while the legal reforms of that year established an independent judiciary. In the more nebulous realm of public opinion, the press, though still subject to censorship, acquired political influence as well. Thus, it can plausibly be argued that by the late 1870s a bellicose media, joined by other non-official bodies, were able to goad a reluctant Tsar Alexander II into war with Ottoman Turkey.3 But the most radical step came in the wake of the 1905 Revolution, with the establishment of an elected assembly, the State Duma. Although the Duma was not a true legislature in the Montesquieuian sense, and despite considerable resistance from the court, it provided an important forum for the articulation of civil society's political desiderata. Together with a freer press and legal parliamentary parties, the Duma could potentially influence the imperial government. The German philosopher Jiirgen Habermas described educated society's mediators between the state and the people, like local selfgovernment, a legislature, and the press, as the "public sphere."4 While this phenomenon is familiar to students of West European history, until recently scholars have tended to be more skeptical of the importance of the public sphere in tsarist Russia.3 Theodore von Laue, for example, vigorously denied the possibility of any effective role for civil society before the Revolution, dismissing such gains as the Duma as a "disintegrating half-way stage rather than a hopeful beginning."6 On the other hand, in 1908 Britain's ambassador, Sir Arthur Nicholson, observed: "Since the establishment in Russia of a national Assembly and of a freer and more effective criticism o f . . . the administration, a certain body of public opinion has grown which is able 3 Dietrich Geyer, Russian Imperialism (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987), 72. However, William Fuller has also convincingly stressed the War Ministry's role in the tsar's decision to go to war against Turkey, William C. Fuller, Strategy and Power m Russia, 1600-1914 (New York: Free Press, 1992), 308-318. 4 Samuel D. Kassow, "Russia's Unrealised Civil Society," Edith Clowes et al., eds., Between Tsar and People (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 367. J For a good overview of this debate, see Arthur Mendel, "On Interpreting the Fate of Imperial Russia," Theophanis Stavrou, ed., Russia under the Last Tsar (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1969), 13-41. A more recent anthology also of interest is the above-mentioned Between Tsar and People. 6 Theodore von Laue, "The Chances for Liberal Constitutionalism," Slavic Review 24 (March 1965), 46.

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

295

to exercise a considerable influence over the acts of government."7 The military is one area of particular interest in gauging the extent to which civil society could make its wishes felt on the autocracy after 1905. While civil society concentrated on domestic reform, it also showed a keen interest in the armed forces. Educated men and women were well aware that the upheavals of 1905 had been directly brought about by the tsarist defeat in East Asia. Even for those solely interested in internal affairs, it was clear that the fiascoes at Tsushima and Port Arthur, like the Crimean War half a century earlier, were closely linked to the shortcomings of Innenpolitik. At the same time, the decade before the outbreak of the Great War saw growing tension among the European powers. Although at the time the press was relatively free to discuss Russian military affairs, the Duma was legally denied much of a role in imperial defence. According to the Fundamental Laws of 1906, which created the legislature, the Emperor retained a virtual monopoly over the army and the navy.8 Yet if the law specifically excluded the Duma from military policy, legislators could nevertheless debate such issues in the Tauride Palace (the building that housed the Duma) because the War and Navy Ministers needed legislative approval for any budgetary increases and conscription levies. At the same time, General of Infantry Aleksandr Rodiger, the War Minister during the Duma's early existence, welcomed parliamentary involvement. Below the ministerial level, reform-minded officers did not hesitate to establish informal contacts with Duma deputies to advance their projects. Finally, military renewal was one of the few areas in which the government and the leading parties could hope to find some common ground. Thus, out of the necessity of establishing a dialogue, officialdom and legislators discussed the armed forces despite strict constitutional limits.9 This essay studies civil society's involvement in Russia's military during the Third Duma, which sat from 1907 to 1912. It begins by describing the constitutional regime established in the wake of the abortive Revolution of 1905 and then examines the major debates that took place in the Third Duma about the Imperial Army and 7 Dominic Lieven, ed., British Documents on Foreign Affairs. Series A, Russia, vol. 5 (University Press of America, 1983), 196. 8 Marc Szeftel, The Russian Constitution of April 23, 1906 (Brussels: Les editions de la librairie encyclopedique, 1976), 86. 9 Ferenczi, Aussenpolitik, 13-14.

296

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINGK VAN DER OYE

navy. The armed forces were the most sensitive of all areas still ostensibly under the tsar's sole control after 1906, yet upon closer examination, as this paper will show, even in military matters the Duma exercised significant and real influence on policy-making. The End of Absolutism

At the turn of the twentieth century, Russia was Europe's last remaining absolute monarchy. During the preceding hundred years, most nations on the Continent had either fully or partially supplanted royal authority with that of elected assemblies. Yet in Russia all executive and legislative power was still vested in the Tsar. Article 1 of the Fundamental State Laws of 1832 was clear on this point: "The Emperor of Russia is an autocratic and unlimited monarch—God himself commands that his supreme power be obeyed out of conscience as well as fear."10 Much like his father, Alexander III, and his namesake Nicholas I, Nicholas firmly II believed it was his divinely appointed task to maintain the Romanov tradition of absolutism.11 While the government remained largely rooted in the 1700's, Russian society was well on its way to the twentieth century. The reforms that had led to the abolition of serfdom forty years earlier did much to hasten the decline of the traditional land-owning classes, and two decades of rapid industrialization promoted the development of civil society. According to Mikhail Karpovitch, "a democratic society was growing in Russia under an autocratic government."12 As it matured, Russian society grew increasingly anxious to make its voice heard in the affairs of state. To date the only concession in this respect had been the establishment of zemstvo local self-government in 1864. At the federal level, however, plans for sharing power with an elected legislature had never been seriously entertained by the Tsar.13 For a while, strict and unwavering repression could effectively check public ambitions. As long as the Emperor remained supremely confident of his authority, and there were no major shocks to the 10 Jacob Walkin, The Rise of Democracy in Pre-Revolutionary Russia (New York: Praeger, 1962), 27. 11 Mark D. Steinberg and Vladimir M. Khrustalev, eds., The Fall of the Romanovs (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 10-11. 12 Michael Karpovich, Impend Russia (New York: Holt, 1960), 43. 13 Even the "constitution" of Tsar Alexander IPs Minister of the Interior, Mikhail Loris-Melikhov, which provided for a national assembly to examine legislative proposals, envisioned only a consultative body.

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

297

system, he could maintain his monopoly on power. Unlike his father, however, Nicholas II lacked the ruthlessness necessary in a successful autocrat. More ominous, Russia's humiliating defeat during a brief war against Japan in 1905 glaringly revealed to many the fundamental defects in the autocracy. For the first time in Russian history, virtually all elements of society protested: The professional classes clamored for a constitution, factories and universities were disrupted by agitation, and in the countryside estates were put to the torch. When in October 1905 a general strike succeeded in shutting down most of urban Russia, Nicholas' ministers counseled reform rather than repression. On October 17, the Tsar relented and issued a manifesto promising an elected legislative assembly and basic civil rights.14 The October Manifesto only served as a statement of intent. The enabling legislation came seven months later as a revision of the Fundamental Laws of 1832.1;) Whereas the latter had recognized only one source of authority in the person of the Tsar, the new constitution16 established four. Much as in the constitutions of the United States and the French Fifth Republic, the Tsar continued to exercise executive power.17 Matters of administration, foreign affairs, the armed forces, and cabinet appointments remained within his jurisdiction. The Emperor could also initiate legislation, and his consent was required for the enactment of laws. At the same time, he could summon and dissolve the Duma at his pleasure. 14

For a partial translation of the October Manifesto, see Marc Raeff, ed., Plans for Political Reform in Imperial Russia (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1966), 144-52. 15 A full translation is in Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 81-109. "' There is considerable controversy over whether the Fundamental Laws of 1906 should be considered a constitution. As Ferenczi points out, the document was termed Osnovnye Gosudarstvennye ^akoni rather than Konstitutsiia. Ferenczi, Aussenpolitik, 24. However, the 1970 edition of the Oxford English Dictionary defines "constitution" as: "The system or body of fundamental laws according to which a nation, state, or body politic is constituted or governed . . . It is generally assumed or specifically provided that the constitution is more fundamental than any particular law, and retains the principles with which all legislation must be in harmony." Walter Bagehot recognised that constitutions need not even be clearly set out as such in his classical study of the British example. See Walter Bagehot, The English Constitution (London: Collins, 1963). The Fundamental Laws were, by definition, the "fundamental principles" of Russian government and were senior to all other legislation. Accordingly, the terms "Fundamental Laws" and "constitution" are used interchangeably throughout the text. For a discussion of this issue, see Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 25; Lothar Schultz, "Constitutional Law in Russia," Erwin Oberlander, ed., Russia Enters the Twentieth Century (New York: Schocken, 1971), 45. '' Nikolai Nikolaevich Rutych, "'Zabytaia' konstitutsia (K voprosu ob evoliutsii gosudarstvennogo stroia v Rossii), idem, Dumskaia monarkhiia (St. Petersburg: Logos, 1993), 23-24.

298

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINCK VAN DER OYE

Figure 2: The Russian Government, 1905—17.

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

299

According to Article 4 of the new Fundamental Laws: "The Emperor of All the Russias possesses supreme autocratic authority." Thus, while the Tsar retained the epithet "autocratic," his power was no longer "unlimited."18 The Fundamental Laws also recognised the Council of Ministers, whose members were appointed by the Tsar, and the State Council, an upper chamber charged with approving all legislation passed in the Duma. But the centerpiece of the new constitution was the creation of an elected assembly, or State Duma. The Duma imposed a number of important limitations on the autocracy. Its primary function was to approve all new legislation, although laws pertaining to certain areas, such as foreign affairs, the military, religion and the imperial household, were exempted from the lower chamber's consideration. Increases in ministerial budgets also required the Duma's imprimatur. Every department, including the Ministries of War and the Navy, had to submit its budget annually to the legislature. While the government sought to limit this power of the purse, the Duma's budgetary prerogatives let it involve itself in many of its affairs. Indeed, the power to veto new expenditures was often the only weapon in the legislative arsenal that could make ministers do the assembly's bidding. Sir Bernard Pares recalled that "this right [to examine the budget] was the most effective of all the powers of the Duma."19 Finally, the new Duma possessed the right of interpellation, whereby deputies could question the legality of ministers' actions.20

18 Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 171-88; Nikolai Petrovich Eroshkin, Istoriia gosudarstvennykh uchrezhdenii dorevoliutsionnoi Rossii (Moscow: Vysshaia shkola, 1983), 253-54; Nikolai Alekseevich Epanchin, Na sluzhbe trekh imperatorov (Moscow: Nashe nasledie, 1996), 332. 19 Sir Bernard Pares, My Russian Memoirs (London: Cape, 1931), 176. See also Sergei Pushkarev, Samoupravlenie i svoboda v Rossii (Frankfurt a/M: Poseev, 1985), 113. First-hand accounts of the Third Duma Budget Committee's work include Michael Alexyenko, "Five Years of Budget Work," Russian Review 1:3 (1912), 14-44 and Nikanor Vasilevich Savich, Vospominaniia (St. Petersburg: Logos, 1993), 33~37. Two more thorough studies of the lower chamber's budgetary rights are Henry Robert Gorlin, "State Politics and the Russian Budget, 1905-1912" (Ph.D. diss.: University of Michigan, 1973) and A. Martiny, Parlement, Staatshaushalt und Finanzen in Russland vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg: Der Einfluss der Duma auf die russische Finanz- und Haushalt Politik 1907-1914 (Bochum: Studienverlag, Brockmeyer, 1977). 20 Serge L. Levitsky, "Interpellation und Verfahrensfragen in der russischen Duma," Forschungen zur Osteuropdischen Geschichte 6 (1958), 170-207.

300

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINCK

VAN DER OYE

As in most constitutional monarchies, there was no precise delineation of the authority of the sovereign, his ministers, and the chambers. The constitution therefore often appeared to be contradictory about the separation of powers in the new order. Although they agreed on little else, both the Almanach de Gotha and Vladimir Lenin, the leader of the Duma's most radical party, described the new political order paradoxically as a "constitutional autocracy."21 Yet while the Duma's legal authority was unclear and subject to a number of serious limitations, its most important function was to provide a public sphere for the free discussion of issues of state. Members' speeches were not subject to censorship and were closely followed in the press, as well as being published in their entirety in the official hansard, Rossiia. In a letter to his mother, Nicholas grumbled that "all would be well if everything they said in the Duma remained within its walls. Every word spoken, however, comes out in the next day's papers, which are read by everybody."22 The Supreme Commander

The Duma's competence appeared to be clearly defined in the domain of the military. Articles 13 and 14 of the Fundamental Laws declared: Our Sovereign the Emperor declares war, concludes peace, and makes treaties with foreign states. Our sovereign the Emperor is the paramount (derzhavnyi] chief of the Russian Army and Navy. To him belongs the supreme command over all armed forces of the Russian State on land and sea. He determines the organisation of the Army and Navy. . .23

Article 96 confirmed the Tsar's sole control over questions of military administration, provided that they "do not touch upon matters of general laws and they do not call for a new expenditure from the Treasury."24 Furthermore, matters pertaining solely to defence belonged to the Emperor's "reserved legislation," and could not be discussed at the Tauride Palace. Even the Duma's right of interpellation did not extend to the War and Navy Ministries. Meanwhile,

21

Almanack de Gotha (Gotha: Justus Perthes, 1907), 1040; Eroshkin, Istoriia, 254. Edward Bing, ed., The Letters of Tsar Nicholas and Empress Marie (London: Nicholson & Watson, 1937), 188. 23 Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 86. 24 Ibid., 100. 22

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

301

the respective ministers themselves needed permission from the Tsar even to appear before the lower chamber.20 If the Fundamental Laws sought to prevent the Duma from involving itself in imperial defence, military regulations strictly prohibited armed forces personnel from taking part in politics. According to the War Ministry's Orders no. 804 and no. 626, which were issued in 1905 and 1906, respectively, neither officers nor soldiers could participate in any political organisations. Order no. 626 also forbade them from expressing opinions in the press at variance with those of the ministry.26 To be sure, such exclusion of the military from civilian politics was hardly unusual, as William Fuller observed when he compared it to restrictions on the political activities of armed forces personnel in many Western democracies.27 Nicholas was adamant about his prerogatives as supreme commander of the army and fleet.28 Officials who did not appear to be sufficiently firm in their dealings with the lower chamber risked losing the Tsar's confidence, as War Minister Rodiger discovered in 1909. Nicholas already made his sentiments about the relationship between the Duma and the military clear at a regimental feast in 1905. Asked whether the army would also have representatives in the new legislature, the Emperor replied: "The military, in the Duma? On the contrary, I may have to call upon it to disperse the Duma."29 Nevertheless, the Duma's power of the purse, "that irksome relic of the revolution,"30 enabled legislators to involve themselves in military matters since any new expenditure had to be approved by the lower chamber. Meanwhile, the Tauride Palace's consent was also needed to set the military's annual conscription levies.31 Every spring the War and Navy Ministries duly submitted their requirements for 2;)

Ibid., Russian Constitution, 327. William C. Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict in Imperial Russia, 1881-1914 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), 192, 210. 27 Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict, 193. 28 lieven, Origins, 54; Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict, 219. 29 Epanchin, Ma slu^hbe, 324. Nicholas expressed similar feelings two years later according to Deputy War Minister Aleksei Polivanov. When in early 1907 War Minster Aleksandr Rodiger told him that he was going to the Second Duma's opening session, the Tsar ordered that "at the slightest misstep, the army must give it a categorical (stern) rebuff." Aleksei Andreevich Polivanov, /<; dnevnikov i vospominanii po dolzjinosti voennogo ministra i ego pomoshchnika, vol. 1 (Moscow: Vysshii voennyi redaktsionnyi sovet, 1924), 20. 30 Geyer, Russian Imperialism, 253. 31 Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 222. Article 119 of the Fundamental Laws stipulated 26

302

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINCK VAN DER OYE

money and manpower to the assembly. Because of the military's enormous fiscal appetite in an era of heightened international tension and arms races, the proportion of its budgets subject to legislative scrutiny continued to grow. Whereas in 1907 the imperial army's new spending formed 13% of its budget, by 1912 its proportion had grown to 66%.32 Deputies were theoretically permitted only to debate new appropriations, but they also examined current expenses and administration.33 Such discussions did not remain with the Tauride Palace's walls. Budgetary debates were extensively covered by Russian newspapers and attracted the attention of the educated public.34 According to the prominent liberal deputy Pavel Miliukov: Public debates on questions of the budget, legislation, foreign politics, military and naval defence, contributed to lift the veil which until then had kept back the unqualified layman from the sanctuary of government practice. Due to the Duma, political discussion was becoming common property.35

Legislative inquiries into military abuses and incompetence further exposed the army and navy to unwelcome publicity. Among such initiatives by the Third Duma were investigations into the army's use of excessive force in the Baltic and the Caucasus and naval contracts. The lower chamber's displeasure could hardly jeopardise a minister's career, since he was entirely beholden to the Emperor. On the other hand, the former preferred to avoid having his departments' dirty linen aired in the press.36 The Duma could also insinuate itself more directly into the forbidden realm of imperial defence by making approval of new appropriations implicitly conditional on fulfillment of its wishes (pozhdaniid)?1 Since the Fundamental Laws appeared to be relatively unambiguous in its limitation of the legis-

that, should the Duma fail to pass the conscription levy, the previous year's maximum would apply. Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 104. 32 Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 315. 33 Ibid., 314. 34 Anatolii Filippovich Smirnov, Gosudarstvennaia Duma Rossiiskoi Imperii (Moscow: Kniga i Biznes, 1998), 403. 35 Thomas Riha, A European Liberal: Paul Miliukov in Russian Politics (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1969), 115. 36 Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict, 219. 37 Peter Gattrell, Government, Industry and Rearmament in Russia, 1900~1914: The Last Argument ofTsarism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 119; John David

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

303

lature's right to address military matters, such maneuvers had to be conducted with some subtlety. Nevertheless, like such other "reserved" areas as diplomacy, the army and the navy could be influenced by the budget committee's desiderata. General Rodiger clearly recognised the new order when he remarked that "the War Minister has to answer not only to the Emperor but also to the legislature."38 The minister's relationship with the latter was not necessarily always adversarial. The leading party in the Third Duma was passionate about rebuilding the imperial armed forces in the wake of defeat in East Asia. In the rivalry between the Ministries of War, the Navy, and Finance for access to scarce funds, the lower chamber could be a useful ally.39 The historian Vasilii Kliuchevskii once remarked about the Fundamental Laws that "the bill on the Duma is like an elastic bladder, which can be distended in all directions."40 As with all constitutions, the Fundamental Laws were subject to modification by interpretation and habit. The legislature began to grow accustomed to the wide-ranging discussion of the military's needs, despite any apparent transgression of the Fundamental Laws. At the same time, the Ministers of War and Navy and their officials also became used to working with the Tauride Palace. In his study of the empire on the eve of the Great War, Dominic Lieven recognized the ambiguities inherent in the new regime: When one looks at the relationship between government and society in the light not of constitutional law but of political realities then the attempt to gauge the significance of forces such as the Duma, the political parties and the press becomes more complicated, the factors more numerous and imponderable.41

Walz, "State Defense and Russian Politics under the Last Tsar" (Ph.D. diss.: Syracuse University, 1967), 72-73; Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 127. 58 Aleksandr Fedorovich Rediger, Istoriia mod zhizni: Vospominaniia voennogo ministra, vol. 2 (Moscow: Kanon-Press-Ts, 1999), 191. 39 A. I. Senin, Aleksandr Ivanovich Guchkov (Moscow: Skriptorii, 1996), 31-33; Rediger, Istoriia, vol. 2, 189; Fuller, Civil-Military, 219; Gattrell, Government, 137, 142. 40 Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 325. 41 Lieven, Origins, 53.

304

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINGK

VAN DER OYE

The Masters' Duma

When the First Duma convened in April 1906, it proved to be an assembly of the opposition. Elected on the basis of a virtually universal adult male suffrage, the lower chamber was dominated by the Constitutional Democratic Party, or Kadets. Although the Kadets considered themselves to be a liberal party in the European mode, they and most of the other deputies were unprepared to cooperate with the Emperor's ministers for moderate reform. It soon became apparent that little of practical value could be accomplished in the Duma. Barely 72 days after its opening, the assembly was dissolved by imperial order. After a new election, the Second Duma met in early 1907, but it proved to be even more polarised and confrontational than the first. Acting on the pretext of an alleged plot among some leftist deputies to assassinate him, Nicholas prorogued the Second Duma on June 3, 1907. The first two attempts at constitutional government ended in failure partly due to the inexperience of the electorate and its representatives. Unaccustomed to parliamentarism, most deputies failed to understand that legislatures work best through patient compromise. If some form of a representative assembly were to succeed in Russia, it would have to rely on a franchise with experience in practical politics. The solution devised by the prime minister, Petr Stolypin, was to gerrymander the electorate to give a dominant voice to the gentry, which had for several decades worked with the zemstvo system.42 When Russians were called to the polls a third time in October 1907, they returned a lower chamber nearly half of whose members were of gentry origin.43 The result was a more conservative legislature. Whereas Kadets and leftists had formed a majority in the First and Second Dumas, seats in the new assembly were divided into roughly equal thirds between the moderate Octobrist Party at the 42

This was the only group that had any practical experience in the working of democracy through its participation in local self-government. The historian of the Russian liberal movement, Viktor Leontovitsch, understood "that the world of the zemstvo was the only social stratum which could support the constitutional regime, since it was the only one sufficiently mature to understand the responsibilities of state power." Viktor Leontovitsch, Geschichte des Liberalismus in Rutland (Frankfurt a/M: Vittorio Klostermann), 410. 43 Baron Meyendorf, "The Working of the Russian Constitution," Russian Review 1:2 (1912), 33. At the same time, 40% of the Third Duma's members had some zemstvo experience, ibid., 33.

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

305

center, various monarchist and reactionary groups on the right, and the Kadets as well as a host of more radical entities on the left.44 While its predecessors had been nicknamed "The Duma of National Hopes" and "The Duma of Popular Anger," Russians ironically dubbed this parliament "The Masters' Duma." With 153 members in the 442-seat Third Duma, the largest faction was the Union of 17 October, or Octobrist Party.45 "More an instinct than a party," as one British diplomat characterized them,46 the Octobrists were a loose alliance with vaguely Tory leanings of gentry zemstvo veterans, the nascent middle class, and progressive bureaucrats.47 Their principal goals were to promote civil liberties and economic reform within the parliamentary system in order to achieve social stability. In addition to taking a less oppositionist stance, the Octobrists differed from the Kadets in their more hawkish leanings on nationalities policy and the military. At the helm of the Union of 17 October stood Aleksandr Guchkov, the flamboyant scion of a wealthy Muscovite family with Old Believer origins. Before taking up a political career, Guchkov had fought with the Boers in the Transvaal and against the Italians in Abyssinia, and remained an avid dueler. The radical Lev Trotskii dubbed him "a Liberal with spurs."48 Firmly committed to constitutionalism, Guchkov hoped to effect a close working relationship between the Stolypin government and the Octobrist-dominated center. Like the other parties in the Tauride Palace, the Union of 17 October was primarily in interested in domestic issues, and devoted its efforts to the "peaceful renovation" of the Russian empire after the recent upheavals.49 At the same time, the Octobrists were strongly patriotic.30 Along with renewal at home, the faction was eager to 44 Lieven, Documents, vol. 5, 159. This data is given in a useful memorandum by Bernard Pares to the Foreign Office, ibid., vol. 5, 149-70. 45 Named after the October 1905 Manifesto. 46 Lieven, Documents, vol. 5, 153. 4/ The Soviet specialist of the Duma monarchy, Aron Avrekh, described the party as "bourgeois in its outlook and development, but landowning (pomeshchinei) in its original composition." Aron lakovlevich Avrekh, "Stolipinskoi bonapartizm i voprosi voennoi politike v III dume" Voprosy istorii (1956), no. 11, 20. 48 Louis Menashe, "Alexander Guchkov," Russian Review 26:1 (1967), 42. 49 Ben-Cion Pinchuk, The Octobrists in the Third Duma, 1907-1912 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1974), 11. )0 The right-wing Duma member Vladimir Purishkevitch, alluding to Guchkov's family background in the textile industry, taunted the Octobrist leader as a "calico patriot," to which the latter shot back: "I make no bones about my calico patrio-

306

DAVID SGHIMMELPENNINCK VAN DER OYE

reestablish Russia's prestige internationally. In a speech to the Duma in 1909 Guchkov argued: We cannot forever regard the issue of foreign policy entirely from the standpoint of weakness. You know, if our toleration knows no end then the appetite of our neighbors will grow . . . We cannot be put in the same position Turkey was in.51

The desire to strengthen the empire internally was partly motivated by the fervent wish of Octobrist members not to see their nation repeat the humiliation abroad of 1905.52 Military reform was a major priority of Octobrist legislative work. The British military attache, Lieutenant-Colonel Alfred Knox, reported: "On questions of national defense the Octobrists have shown a knowledge and patriotism beyond that of any political party in the world."53 The party's benches in the Tauride Palace were liberally sprinkled with veterans of the Japanese War, and deputies hoped that their efforts in helping to rebuild the armed forces would unite parliament and government for the greater good of Russia.54 Naturally politics also played their part, since military renewal was an issue that appealed to voters' patriotic sentiments.55 Although the elections for the Third Duma had returned only 54 Kadets, they remained a force in the lower chamber. Somewhat more strident than the Octobrists, the liberals tended to regard parliament "as a platform from which to force the government to yield still more."56 On matters of domestic reform, the Kadets often found themselves siding with the Octobrists. At the same time, they generally did not share the latter's ardent militarism and were often tism . . . I am not only the son of a merchant but also the grandson of a peasant . . . In my 'calico patriotism' you will maybe hear the echo of different kind of patriotism, a black-soil muzhik type which knows the worth of a landlord's boy like yourself." Aleksandr Guchkov, K voprosu o gosudarstvennoi oborone: Rechi v Gosuderstvennoi Dume tretiago sozyoa 1980-1912 (Petrograd: Tipografiia M. A. Aleksandrova, 1915), 55. 51 William Gleason, Alexander Guchkov (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1983), 38~39. 52 Kornelii Fedorovich Shatsillo, Ot portmutskogo mira k pervoi mirovoi voine (Moscow: Rosspen, 2000), 293-94. 53 Lieven, Origins, 129. 54 Menashe, "Guchkov," 48. 55 Geoffrey Hosking, The Russian Constitutional Experiment: Government and Duma, 1907^1914 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), 74. 56 Although it pertains to the Fourth Duma, a good example of Bolshevik attitudes is in A. Badaev, The Bolsheviks in the Tsarist Duma (New York: Howard Fertig, 1973), 195-96.

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

307

suspicious of the motives of Guchkov's patriotism. These latter sentiments were shared by the drastically reduced left wing of the Third Duma, which comprised parties representing minority nationalities and various progressive and socialist factions. Like the Octobrists rightists also sought a strong national state. However, they sharply differed on the means to achieve Russia's renaissance. Whereas the moderates argued that this could only occur through popular participation in government, the latter passionately believed that only a return to strict autocratic rule could save Russia. As they saw it, constitutionalism was a cancer weakening the state, much like zhidomasonstvo. Therefore the right tended to oppose Duma involvement in the military. The Committee for State Defence

The first session of the Third Duma, which began in November 1907, was a decisive one. Given the many ambiguities inherent in the Fundamental Laws, precedents established in the parliament's first year set the tone for relations between the government and the lower chamber. The 1907/1908 session was also important in terms of the new legislature's survival. Neither the First nor the Second Duma had lasted for more than a few months. If the Third Duma could make it to the summer recess without being prorogued, it might very well fulfill its entire five-year term. RUSSIA'S 1908 STATE BUDGET SPENDING

RUBLES (millions)

%

REVENUES

RUBLES (millions)

%

579

22 21 21 15 21

Indirect Taxes Spirits Monopoly State Railways Direct Taxes Other

748

709 513 194 455

29 27 20 7 17

TOTAL

2,619

Government Transportation War & Navy Debt Service Other

571 556 398

TOTAL

2,661

557

The Duma's first major task was to debate the budget. On November 27, Finance Minister Vladimir Kokovtsov tabled his estimates for 1908. His prognosis for the economy was rosy, and he pointed to indications of a good harvest and the recent rally in Russian government

308

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINGK VAN DER OYE

bond prices on foreign bourses.3? Yet despite the optimistic tone of his budget speech, Kokovtsov was deeply concerned about the condition of the public finances. Coming on the heels of a global recession in the early 1900's, the recent debacle in the Far East and revolutionary disturbances on the home front had severely strained the treasury. Insolvency had only been averted by recourse to a major loan from abroad in 1906.38 "Under such circumstances," one historian wrote, "the Finance Minister had one aim . . . above all others: The monetary system must be restored to good health."59 Kokovtsov's response to the empire's fiscal woes was strictly to curb government spending in the hope of reducing the debt and emancipating the treasury from its creditors. His favourite response to ministerial and Duma requests for increased allocations was to cite the proverb "Don't stretch your legs more than your pants will allow" (Protiagivai nozhki po odezhki).60 As in many legislatures then and now, the bulk of the Duma's fiscal deliberations was carried out in its budget committee. Chaired by Mikhail Alekseenko, the former rector of Kharkov University and an authority on public finance, this body soon became the Third Duma's most important committee. The group's examination of the estimates did not affect the estimates themselves, but extended legislative scrutiny far beyond the budget. At the same time, deputies did not refrain from attaching pozhelaniia to their approval of credits. Bernard Pares recalled that this became a favourite tactic of the Octobrists: Guchkov's plan was to discriminate between different ministers, each of whom had to present his estimates separately and come and explain them to the Duma. Those ministers who were willing to work within the Duma found much less difficulty in getting their estimates passed. In this way the Duma in the course of time became quite a power.61

One area where Guchkov applied this approach with particular success was the military. Formally, the Fundamental Laws strictly circumscribed legislative involvement in the armed forces. Yet the army 57

Lieven, Documents, vol. 5, 64. A detailed description of the loan is given by Olga Crisp, "1906 Anglo-French Loan to Russia," Slavonic and East European Review 39 (1961), 497-511. 59 Geyer, Russian Imperialism, 255. 60 Pasvolsky and Mouton, Russian Debts, 56. 61 Pares, Russian Memoirs, 176. 18

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

309

and the navy were both in great need of much additional funding to restore their capabilities after the recent war with Japan. This provided an opening to the Duma, and Guchkov was quick to use it. Even before the Third Duma's convocation, the president of the League for the Renewal of the Fleet approached Guchkov to suggest that he establish a special committee to discuss naval affairs. A number of the lower house's members had served in the Far East, and the idea found a sympathetic hearing.62 At its fourth sitting, on November 10, the Duma set up a special committee to discuss military affairs.63 Chaired by Guchkov, the Committee for State Defence was charged with studying strategic matters, the organisation of the army and fleet, as well as setting the annual contingent of recruits. In effect, the organ was to be a subcommittee of the Budget Committee.64 Although the Octobrists were careful to declare their intention not to "touch the supreme rights" of the Tsar, the Committee for State Defence was treading on forbidden ground. Nevertheless, War Minister Rodiger welcomed the initiative. At Guchkov's request, within a month of the committee's establishment, the general invited half a dozen of its leading members to his residence to discuss their concerns. The meeting was a success and Rodiger asked his deputy, Aleksei Polivanov, to act as intermediary between the Duma's committee and the army.65 Discussions between a small delegation from the Committee for State Defence and a group of senior army officers usually took place at the apartment of one of the former's members, P. N. Krupenskii, and touched on a wide range of issues. On the understanding that sensitive questions would not be divulged to the legislature, the gatherings were privy to classified matters.66 Among the more prominent officers who participated in these meetings was Lieutenant General Vasilii Gurko, with whom Guchkov had become acquainted during Boer War when the Gurko had observed the conflict as a military

62 Aleksandr Ivanovich Guchkov, Aleksandr Ivanovich Guchkov rasskazyvaet. . . . Vospominaniia Predsedatelia Gosudartoennoi dumy i voennogo ministra Vremennogo pravitelstva (Moscow: Voprosy istorii, 1993), 51; Senin, Guchkov, 27. 63 Avrekh, "Stolipinskii bonapartizm," 23. 64 For a brief account of the committee's work by one of its members, see Alexander Zvegintsev, "The Duma and Imperial Defence," Russian Review 1:3 (1912), 44-63. 65 Rediger, Istoriia, vol. 2, 188; Polivanov, /<; dnevnikov, 34-35. 66 Rediger, Istoriia, vol. 2, 188; Fuller, Civil-Military, 202; Riha, Russian European, 100.

310

DAVID SGHIMMELPENNINGK VAN DER OYE

attache. Now heading the General Staff's project to write an official army history of the Russo-Japanese War, Gurko was in a good position to provide relatively unbiased advice to the Duma's committee.67 Both Rodiger and Guchkov assessed the achievements of Committee of State Defence favourably. According to General Rodiger, "the committee proved to be a harsh and demanding critic, but at the same time it responded generously to all of the army's requirements."68 Although Sukhomlinov effectively terminated the Committee's work, the habit of informal contact between officers and deputies did not cease. In this way, the institution marked a major milestone in the development of civil-military relations during the constitutional era. The Grand Dukes Affair

Guchkov's foray into military questions began auspiciously. One of Rodiger's motives for cooperating with the Octobrists was the prospect of winning a potential ally in his quest for additional funding. His needs were sizable. In one of his earliest meetings with Guchkov, the general calculated his department's needs over the medium term at some 2 billion rubles.69 Given the enormous sums involved, Rodiger faced enormous resistance from his colleagues. Indeed, the general was involved in a three-way tug of war for credits within the Council of Ministers. Another claimant for large-scale funding was Navy Minister Ivan Dikov. His plan for reconstructing a fleet battered at Tsushima was a shipbuilding scheme calling for close to a billion rubles.70 Clearly, the treasury would have trouble accommodating even one of these requests, let alone both. The Finance Minister firmly opposed any major spending increases for either the army or the navy.71 Kokovstov's efforts to restore the empire's battered economy and to balance the budget were completely at odds with costly rearmament. "Russia cannot be a great power with her economy in ruins," he warned.72 The most Rodiger 67

Guchkov, Guchkov rasskazyvaet, 56~57. Rediger, Istoriia, vol. 2, 188. Guchkov wrote: "From the very beginning we were on the friendliest terms with the War Ministry." Guchkov, Guchkov rasskazyvaet, 52. 69 Rediger, Istoriia, vol. 2, 188. 70 Kornelii Fedorovich Shatsillo, Russkii imperialism i razvitie flota (Moscow: Nauka, 1978), 180. 71 Shatsillo, Ot portmutskogo mira, 285-88. 72 Geyer, Russian Imperialism, 153. 68

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

31 1

could expect was an additional 30 million in the 1908 fiscal year.73 The Finance Minister was even more reluctant to increase the Navy's allocation.74 The War Minister's appeals to the Committee for State Defence for new credits fell on sympathetic ears. Guchkov quickly assured the minister that he could count on his party's support in this regard.75 While Rodiger was unable to obtain all of the additional funding he sought, one of the Committee's first acts was to recommend a pay increase for the officer corps to help rectify the army's shortfall of qualified leaders. The Duma then went on to respond to the general's request for a 300-million ruble appropriation to replenish reserve supplies over the next seven years. Mindful of their budgetary powers, the lower house's deputies only authorised the 1908 portion to ensure that it would have a say in the disposition of cash in future years.76 Throughout their deliberations, the Committee did not hesitate to attach poz.hela.niia to its votes on matters that were constitutionally restricted to the Tsar's sole jurisdiction. Another area where Guchkov and Rodiger were in agreement was the need to centralise authority for the Army in the minister's hands. At the time the Russian army was controlled by three disparate entities: The ministry itself, the General Staff and the Council for State Defence. Not to be confused with the Duma's Committee for State Defence (komissiia gosudarstuennoi oborone), the Council for State Defence (sovet gosudarstuennoi oborone] had been established shortly after the recent war as an inter-agency body to advise the Tsar on restoring his empire's armed might. Independent from the War Ministry, it was staffed by a number of Nicholas' relatives, including his uncle, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich (the younger), who served as the Council's president.77 To Guchkov, the institution was particularly irksome, since it eluded the legislature's reach. If the parliament was to have

73

Walz, "State Defense," 90; Shatsillo, Ot portmutskogo mira, 112-13. In a rare instance of cooperation between the Ministries of War and Finance, the two departments had joined forces to deny the fleet's request for a major shipbuilding program earlier in 1907, effectively rebuking the Tsar, who was an enthusiastic navalist. Senin, Guchkov, 31. 71 Guchkov, Guchkov Rasskazyvaet, 56. 76 Walz, "State Defense," 69-71. 77 Nikolai Petrovich Eroshkin et al., eds., Vysshie i tsentralnye gosudarstvennye uchrezhdeniia Rossii. 1801-1917 gg. T. 1: Vysshie gosudarstvennye uchrezhdeniia (St. Petersburg: Nauka, 1998), 204—05; Anton Antonevich Kersnovksii, Istoriia russkoi armii v chetyrekh 74

312

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINGK VAN DER OYE

an effective voice in military affairs, only the minister must be responsible for the Army. The Octobrist leader decided to act in his report as committee chairman to the Duma on May 27, 1908. After quickly approving the Army's appropriations, Guchkov turned to the Council for State Defence. Listing the grand dukes—all blood relatives of the Emperor— by name, he condemned the body as ineffective and called upon its members to resign out of patriotic duty: To put such persons at the head of responsible and important branches of the military system is something altogether abnormal... If we consider ourselves entitled and even bound to turn ourselves to the people and to the country, and to demand from them heavy sacrifices for the work of defence, we are entitled to address ourselves to those few irresponsible persons from whom we demand no more than the renunciation of certain terrestrial advantages, and of certain satisfactions of vainglory which are connected with those posts they presently hold.78

Many feared the Guchkov's brazen outburst against the imperial family would lead to the dissolution for a third time. Instead, the War Minister publicly admitted that such criticism was largely deserved.79 Although Nicholas was greatly offended by this act bordering on lese-majeste, he relieved his uncle from his duties as chairman.80 The following year the Tsar quietly disbanded the Council and resubordinated the General Staff to the War Minister. The "Grand Dukes Affair" marked a major milestone in the progress of the Third Duma. While the constitution specifically relegated military affairs to the sovereign, the legislature had made its will felt in the guise of exercising its budgetary rights. Shortly after the event, upon learning about Guchkov's speech during a visit at tomakh. T. 3: 1881-1915 gg. (Moscow: Logos, 1994), 131-33; Michael Perrins, "The Council for State Defence 1905-1908: A Study in Russian Bureaucratic Politics," Slavonic and East European Review 58 (1980), 370-98. 78 Alexander Guchkov, "Types of Parliamentary Oratory," Russian Review 2:1 (1913), 121. /9 The War Minister also feared the wrath of his august master for not coming to the defence of his relatives; at his first audience with the Tsar after Guchkov's outburst, Rodiger carried a signed letter of resignation in his porfolio, just in case. Rediger, Istoriia, vol. 2, 216. 80 Bruce Menning suggests that the tsar's dislike of his overbearing uncle may also have been a factor. Bruce W. Menning, "From Mukden to Tannenberg: The Road from Defeat to Defeat, 1905-1914," in The Military History of Tsarist Russia, ed. Frederick Kagan and Robin Higham (New York: St. Martin's, forthcoming in 2001), page 11 of chapter manuscript.

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

313

the Baltic port of Reval with Nicholas, King Edward VII reportedly told his cousin: "I congratulate you on your Duma. How well it is doing!"81 The Naval Staffs

Crisis

The Third Duma's first year was an auspicious start. But as time went on, conflicts between the new constitutional order and the old autocracy were bound to harden as the novelty of a workable parliament wore off. The question was, could the fragile constitution survive despite such strife? The Naval Staffs Crisis toward the end of the Duma's second year was an important test. The lower house had established a good working relationship with the War Minister in part due to the latter's personality. Rodiger was not overly concerned about parliamentary intrusion into his department's affairs, and he willingly entered into a dialogue with deputies at the Tauride Palace. By contrast, no such harmony attended the legislature's relationship with the Navy Minister. The Duma and the Navy had already been off to a bad start during the previous session when a request for funds to build four dreadnoughts had been voted down. Unlike the Army, the fleet's head did not bother to cultivate a good rapport with the Committee for State Defence. Although the Navy also had its share of progressive officers who readily established informal contacts with the Committee's members, the Admiralty was firmly in the hands of opponents of reform who treated the lower house with ill-disguised contempt. For its part, the Duma, and in particular the Octobrists, did not hold the "Tsushima Ministry's" command in great esteem. To the Octobrists, the disorganisation and inept leadership that had resulted in the Navy's disaster in the Pacific three years earlier were still very much in evidence in 1908.82 When the naval estimates were initially presented during the first session, Guchkov attached a pozehlanie to the vote calling for a thorough reorganisation of the Admiralty. As the Budget Committee's president Mikhail Alekseenko recalled: "Before thinking of the fleet, 81

Pares, Russian Memoirs, 182. Savich, Vospominaniia, 41-43; Avrekh, "Stolypinskii bonapartizm," 24~26; Polivanov, /£ dnevnikov, vol. 1, 38; Pierre Polejai'eff, L'experience de Stolypine (Paris: Editions Universitaires, 1989), 81; Gleason, Guchkov, 34. 82

314

DAVID SGHIMMELPENNINCK VAN DER OYE

one had to think of renewing the Ministry and its institutions."83 In the event the Navy got its money, since the State Council did approve the appropriation. The budget laws of 1906 had specified that, in case of an irreconcilable conflict between the lower and upper houses on a fiscal matter, the previous year's allocation would obtain. The last budget happened to have a slightly higher credit for the fleet than the current one, and this difference could now be applied towards the new ships.84 A much more serious conflict also had its beginnings with the naval budget of 1908. Shortly before the summer recess that year, Admiral Dikov submitted a request for a 74,100-ruble credit to institute a new Naval General Staff. He quite innocently attached his proposal for the staff's structure itself to his motion for the appropriation. This act technically violated Article 96 of the Fundamental Laws, which forbade the Tauride Palace from discussing the organisation of the armed forces. The modest credit received little attention in the Duma and was quickly passed. Upon reaching the State Council in December 1908, however, rightist enemies of the Prime Minister pointed out that the lower house's approval of the Naval General Staff's appropriation exceeded the competence of the legislative branch, and prevailed upon the upper house to reject the motion. The move was clearly a provocation designed to diminish Stolypin's authority. Many members of the right, which dominated the State Council, had never forgiven him for his accommodation with the Duma. Polivanov noted in his diary: "Everything that was said betrayed a desire to play Stolypin a dirty trick."85 The motion was resubmitted in its original form, this time with an amendment specifying that it was not to be considered a precedent. Again the Naval Staffs bill rapidly received the Duma's assent and then went on to the State Council in spring 1909. Once more the right attacked the motion. Although Stolypin could not be present to defend the government in person, Kokovtsov convinced the Upper House to pass the bill, albeit by a narrow margin.

83

Alexeyenko, "Five Years," 16. Walz, "State Defense," 82-85; Lieven, British Documents, vol. 5, 63; Geyer, Russian Imperialism, 308-10. 85 Polivanov, Iz dnevnikov, 1, 47. 84

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

315

Rightists now turned to the Tsar, whose assent was still required to pass the bill. Playing on Nicholas' fears that the Duma and Stolypin were conspiring to usurp his military prerogatives, they urged him to exercise his veto. Several scholars suggest that the Emperor may have been influenced by news of the recent overthrow of the Ottoman Sultan Abdul Hamid II by the "Young Turks."86 In any case, in April 1909 the Tsar informed Stolypin of his decision not to confirm the Naval Staffs Bill. He also commanded his Prime Minister to draw up a set of rules clarifying the Duma's competence in military affairs. Over the summer an inter-ministerial commission studied the constitutional provisions regarding the armed forces and in August 1909 the Tsar signed their report. The new rules essentially reaffirmed Article 96 of the Fundamental Laws. All legislation regarding shipbuilding, the defence of the realm, and the management of the Army and Navy remained under the sole jurisdiction of the Emperor. At the same, the rules also specified that all new appropriations for the military needed the Duma's consent.87 Although the rules frustrated the Duma's efforts to expand their power through legal precedent, they failed to shut the legislature out of military affairs. Since the approval of both chambers was still required for new credits, the Duma's power of the purse remained intact. As future sessions would show, army and navy ministers who needed additional funding continued to respect the deputies' wishes regarding matters, which were legally beyond the legislature's competence. The honeymoon was over. Yet despite the setback of the Naval Staffs Crisis, the Duma had survived another year. In his annual report for 1909, the British Ambassador wrote: "The novelty has worn off and . . . it is now accepted as a solid fact that the Duma is a permanent institution."88

86

Oldenburg, Last Tsar, vol. 3, 60; Hosking, Experiment, 94. Guchkov had not helped matters by publishing an article which described the Young Turks as "Turkey's Octobrist Party." Hosking, Experiment., 94. In the Russian military at the time, two groups of officers were nicknamed "Young Turks." The first consisted of instructors at the Nicholas Academy of the General Staff who advocated certain curricular reforms. The other were the intermediaries between the Third Duma and the military, such as General Polivanov. Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict, 201-02. 87 Mary Schaeffer Conroy, Peter Arkadevich Stolypin: Practical Politics in Late Imperial Russia (Boulder: Westview, 1976), 169. 88 Lieven, British Documents, vol. 5, 369.

316

DAVID SGHIMMELPENNINGK VAN DER OYE

Fleet Credits The Third Duma's last three years were marked by the growing polarisation of the imperial court and society. Having recovered their nerve after the 1905 Revolution, in the early 'teens the Tsar and his entourage were growing increasingly hostile to the constitutional order. But, as one historian points out, this resurgence of confrontationalism did not necessarily mean an abandonment of constitutional principles: "While Tsarism, Nicholas II style, was losing support. . . the idea of a constitutional monarchy did not suffer accordingly."89 The most important political development in the Duma itself was the demise of Stolypin. Emboldened by his reverse during the Naval Staffs Crisis, reactionaries at court and in the bureaucracy pressed on in their efforts to neutralise the reformist Prime Minister. Before their political maneuvers could accomplish Stolypin's ouster, an assassin's bullet ended his life on September 1, 1911. Stolypin's death came as a major setback to Russia's young legislature, but it was by no means a mortal blow. Nicholas appointed one of the late premier's closest allies in the cabinet, Finance Minister Kokovtsov, to replace him. Despite his growing antipathy to the Duma, Nicholas' choice of a firmly-committed constitutionalist as his new prime minister indicated a continuation of Stolypin's policies vis-a-vis the Tauride Palace. Deputies were, on the whole, favourably disposed towards the new premier.90 The Duma continued to pay attention to the military. In addition to the new budgetary rules restricting the lower house's involvement in the armed forces, the year 1909 saw another reverse when Nicholas sacked Rodiger as War Minister on the grounds of the latter's overly cooperative relations with the deputies.91 Rodiger's replacement, General of Cavalry Vladimir Sukhomlinov, was commanded by his sovereign to remain aloof from the parliament.92 Despite his wishes, Nicholas was unable to exclude the Duma from military affairs. The army's continued hunger for more rubles often forced it to approach the legislature to get its approval. Sukhomlinov

89 90 91 92

Pinchuk, Octobrists, 197. Lieven, British Documents, vol. 6, 185. Rediger, Istoriia, vol. 2, 279-84; Hosking, Experiment, 92. Polivanov, Iz. dnevnikov, vol. 1, 67.

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

317

was well aware of his need "to keep on good terms with a majority of the State Duma."93 For its part, the Duma's interest in military reform remained unabated. Imperial orders notwithstanding, deputies did not hesitate to attach pozhelaniia to their approval of allocations to the Army. Furthermore, while Sukhomlinov himself avoided the legislature, he retained as his intermediary with the Duma General Polivanov, a good friend of the Committee for State Defence.94 Thus, via Polivanov, the army's lines of communication with the lower chamber continued to function.95 In its earlier years, the Committee for State Defence had concentrated on correcting organisational weaknesses in the army. Among its achievements was Nicholas' decision to disband the Council for State Defence and to concentrate departmental authority in the hands of the War Minister. After Sukhomlinov's appointment, the Committee also cooperated, via Polivanov, on a series of sweeping organisational reforms to improve the effectiveness of Russia's defences. In spite of the new restrictions on legislative intrusion into the armed forces of 1909, Sukhomlinov had been strongly influenced by the Committee in drafting his reforms.96 Now the Committee turned its attention to supply. Logistics had rarely been a strength of the Russian Army. Both during the Crimean War and the more recent Manchurian campaign, inefficiencies and abuses in the supply of troops at the front had severely hampered operational efficiency. Yet by the 'teens the War Ministry had done little to correct this deficiency. Compared to the German armed forces, which provided one supply man for every 226 troops, Russia's military deployed only one for every 525 troops.9' Sukhomlinov partially responded to such criticism by appointing a supply officer at the divisional level. Satisfied that this would help improve logistics in the field, the Committee now concentrated on 93 W. A. Sukhomlinow, Erinnerungen (Berlin: Reimar Hobbing, 1924), 283. The Russian-language version of Sukhomlinov's memoirs is considerably abridged from the earlier, German edition. Vladimir Aleksandrovich Sukhomlinov, Vospominaniia (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatelstvo, 1926). 94 Polivanov, Iz. dnevnikov, vol. 1, 90-91. 93 Sukhomlinov fired Polivanov in May 1912, just before the Third Duma ended its term, because of the latter's intrigues against the War Minister. Fuller, CivilMilitary Conflict, 203. 9fi Zvegintsev, "Imperial Defence," 50. 97 Walz, "State Defense," 196.

318

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINCK VAN DER OYE

the Chief Artillery Directorate. According to Russian practice, this organisation was responsible not only for supplying the artillery itself, but also for distributing combat supplies to all other branches of the army. Caustically termed "the Chief Artillery Impediment," its performance during the recent war had been spectacularly inept. Dissatisfied with the lack of response to previous demands, the final year of the Third Duma's work on the Army's budget was almost entirely devoted to investigating the Chief Artillery Directorate.98 Its report, read during debates on the War Ministry's appropriations, delivered a devastating indictment on the unit's inactivity and disorganisation, and demanded immediate correction of its abuses." Sukhomlinov responded to the report by agreeing to "the urgent adoption of measures to eliminate such deficiencies."100 Ultimately, remedial action was too slow in coming, as the world war that would erupt two years later would make abundantly clear. In contrast to its relations with the Army, which had deteriorated somewhat as a result of Sukhomlinov's attitude, parliamentary liaison with the Navy improved markedly after the Duma's third year. This development was due in large part to the appointment in 1910 of a navy minister much more amenable to cooperating with the legislature. Unlike his predecessor, the new minister, Admiral Ivan Grigorovich, began actively to lobby for the Duma's support to rebuild his fleet. Adopting General Rodiger's tactics, the admiral directed his officers to work closely with the Committee for State Defence and to listen to the latter's desiderata for reforms.101 As the Duma began deliberating its fourth budget in 1911, Admiral Grigorovich announced that he had obtained the Tsar's consent for a commission to investigate his ministry's shortcomings. In his private correspondence, the admiral admitted that the inquiry was to be conducted "to give the representatives of the Duma confidence in the possibility that the credits would be used correctly for the speedy resurrection of the combat fleet."102 Although the initiative had not come in time for the Navy's budget itself, the Committee

98 99 100 101 102

Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 344. "Chronicle," Russian Review 1 (1912), 202. Walz, "State Defense," 202. Gorlin. "State Politics," 326. Gorlin, "State Politics," 327.

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

319

recommended approval of supplementary credits to build seven dreadnoughts and a number of smaller ships.103 The Third Duma's final year saw a further warming in its relations with the Admiralty. Naval officers now appeared before the Committee to seek its approval for a new half-billion ruble five-year plan further to upgrade the imperial fleet. Their actions were motivated in part to head off the War Ministry's concurrent efforts to secure a similar increase for its plan to strengthen territorial defences. Despite Guchkov's vehement objections, the Navy's lobbying was effective, and the Committee decided to recommend Admiral Grigorovich's plan.104 In one of its last acts before the adjournment of its final session, the Third Duma passed the Navy Ministry's allocation in June 1912.105 Conclusion Throughout its five-year term, the Third Duma's role in the imperial armed forces was a major source of conflict between the lower chamber and the monarchy. Motivated by a genuine desire to restore Russia's defences, legislators sought to enact reforms they believed were necessary to prevent another military catastrophe. Their achievements were considerable. In 1911 Stolypin even went so far as to praise the lower chamber's work on the budget of the armed forces for putting "a sword back into the hands of unarmed Russia."106 In addition to supporting the reconstruction of the Army and the Navy financially, the Duma also made its impact felt in other important ways. In the face of strong opposition from the Crown, and in clear violation of constitutional restrictions that tried to limit its role to that of a passive paymaster, the Duma nevertheless succeeded in using its power of the purse to promote important military reforms. One scholar wrote: Accomplishments in defence work during the [Third Duma's] fiveyear existence . . . accounted for the difference between Russia's poor 103

Zvegintsev, "Imperial Defence," 58. Pinchuk, Octobrists, 191-92; Guchkov, K voprosu, 89-105. Pertii Luntinen, French Information on the Russian War Plans 1880-1914 (Helsinki: Societas Historica Finlandiae, 1984), 159-61; Shatsillo, Ot portmutskogo mira, 295; Savich, Vospominaniia, 51. 106 Geyer, Russian Imperialism, 300. 104 105

320

DAVID SCHIMMELPENNINGK VAN DER OYE

showing against Japan in 1905 and her much better showing against a more formidable group of enemies one decade and one revolution later.107

Thus, in spite of the Tsar's efforts to retain a monopoly on his prerogatives as supreme commander the Army and the Navy, by 1907 it was no longer feasible to exclude civil society from military policy. Marc Szeftel rightly concludes: Contacts between the Government personnel and representatives of the people, which hardly existed in the beginning gradually became unavoidable . . . The traditional chasm which between the ruling bureaucracy and the critically-minded intelligentsia was thus being bridged over in the process.108

When Russia went to war again in 1914, civil society demanded and secured an even greater role in the defence of the realm. One example was the Zemgor, an alliance of local representative bodies in the countryside and the city formed in 1915 to assume responsibility for supplying the armed forces. The Duma itself also continued to extend its involvement in the war effort. In 1916, it created special conferences to deal with national defence, fuel supply, food supply and transportation, which had the power to call ministers to account for any shortcomings.109 And within a year the legislature assumed complete control of the military when the autocracy collapsed in February 1917, albeit without great success. Many contemporaries in Russia and the West saw the development of the Duma as a positive step in the empire's political maturity. Yet there was a darker side to public involvement in the empire's affairs as well. The German scholar Fritz Fischer studied the role of bourgeois-liberal nationalism involving his nation in the Great War.110 A similar process can be detected in St. Petersburg on the eve of 1914. The humiliation of Tsushima, as well as the combined threats of Austrian expansion in the Balkans and the Prussian military buildup made the Duma a strong advocate of Russian armament and of a more aggressive diplomacy. Ultimately, the sentiments of civil society, as expressed within the lower chamber, were a factor in the 107

Walz, "State Defense," 234. Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 342-45. 109 Szeftel, Russian Constitution, 223, 327. 110 Fritz Fischer, Griff nach der Weltmacht: Die Kriegszielpolitik des kaiserlichen Deutschland 1914/18 (Dusseldorf: Droste Verlag, 1961). 108

"TO BUILD A GREAT RUSSIA"

321

decision to enter hostilities in August 1914. As Geoffrey Hosking noted: "... it was the very parties most devoted to the constitutional experiment which were also the advocates of policies that helped to involve Russia in the war."11'

Hosking, Experiment, 215.

This page intentionally left blank

PART III

PATRIOTISM, NATIONALITY, RELIGION AND THE MILITARY

This page intentionally left blank

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM. THE RHETORIC OF IVAN IV'S CAMPAIGN AGAINST POLOTSK1 Sergei Bogatyrev When Tsar Ivan IV went to war against Livonia in 1558, victory in the west appeared to be easily within his grasp. Livonia was an amorphous state formation unable to resist the onslaught of the Muscovite troops. The situation, however, dramatically changed in the early 1560s when the Polish-Lithuanian state, Sweden, and Denmark partitioned Livonia and became directly involved in the ongoing conflict. Muscovite diplomacy failed to form an international coalition against Ivan IV's main rival in the Livonian war, Sigismund II of Poland. After these developments, the Livonian war became a protracted affair. Under these circumstances, the victorious campaign of Ivan IV against the town of Polotsk (December 1562~February 1563) acquired a special place in the policy and ideology of the Muscovite government. Polotsk became the furthermost point in the extension of the Muscovite state westward, which continued throughout the sixteenth century. No other military action of the Livonian war received as detailed a description in the official Muscovite chronicle as the Polotsk campaign. This work focuses on Ivan IV's campaign against Polotsk as seen from the angle of Muscovite political culture and ideology. For this purpose I make use of Donald Ostrowski's interpretation of these notions, which defines "political culture" as the totality of institutions, attitudes, concepts, and practices connected with the running of a polity. Ideology, according to Ostrowski, exists when a belief system fulfils all three of the following functions: (1) interprets social experience; (2) provides a guide for political action; and (3)

1

This article is based on papers that I delivered at the Davis Center for Russian Studies at Harvard University and at the Department of History at Yale University in the fall of 2000. I am grateful to David Goldfrank, Paul Bushkovitch, Priscilla Hunt, Charles Halperin, and the person requested by the publisher to conduct a peer review for their comments on earlier versions of this work. I alone am responsible for all opinions and interpretations in this article.

326

SERGEI BOGATYREV

creates a collective consciousness through, among other things, the formulation of a commonly agreed upon virtual past.2 Historians writing about Ivan IV's campaign against Polotsk usually concentrate on the strategic aspect of this operation. V. D. Koroliuk, A. A. Zimin, and R. G. Skrynnikov stress the key location of Polotsk on the banks of the Western Dvina as the principal fortress blocking the road from Moscow to Vilna.3 Several authors have also addressed the ideological significance of Ivan IV's victory under the walls of Polotsk. In his study of Muscovite imperial ideology, Jaroslaw Pelenski points out the importance of the rhetorical works produced during the Polotsk campaign for the formulation of the idea of Moscow as a second Kiev. Pelenski also draws attention to the role of anti-Protestant rhetoric, which became prominent in Muscovy in the early 1560s in the formulation of Muscovite imperial ideology.4 The author of the most recent study of the campaign, D. M. Volodikhin writes about the combination of strategic, economic and ideological reasons behind Ivan's attack on Polotsk in 1562. According to the author, Polotsk presented a threat to the southern flank of the tsar's army in Livonia. The city also attracted Ivan IV as a prosperous center where he could garrison a large army and from which he could govern a sizable territory. At the same time, Volodikhin points to the rise of Protestantism in Polotsk as a factor that directly affected the choice of target during the tsar's campaign in 1562.5 The author grounds his view of the religious aspect of the Polotsk campaign in two chronicles, Ivan IV's official chronicle (Lebedevskaia letopis'} and the Piskarevskii letopisets (ca. 1621-25). Though the relevance of the latter to the history of the Polotsk campaign is highly doubtful, the evidence of the Lebedevskaia letopis' on the religious ide-

2 See Donald Ostrowski, Muscovy and the Mongols: Cross-Cultural Influences on the Steppe Frontier, 1304-1589 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 1, note 1, 136-37. 3 See V. D. Koroliuk, Livonskaia voina. Iz istorii vneshnei politiki Russkogo tsentra.liz.ovannogo gosudarstva vo vtoroi polovine XVI veka (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo AN SSSR, 1954), 55; A. A. Zimin, Oprichnina (Moscow: Territoriia, 2001), 75; R. G. Skrynnikov, Tsarstvo terrora (St. Petersburg: Nauka, S.-Peterburgskoe otdelenie, 1992), 154. 4 Jaroslaw Pelenski, Russia and Kazan'. Conquest and Imperial Ideology, 143'8- 1560s (The Hague, Paris: Mouton, 1974), 116-17. 5 D. N. Aleksandrov and D. M. Volodikhin, Bor'ba za Polotsk mezhdu Litvoi i Rus'iu v XII-XVI vekakh (Moscow: Avanta, 1994), 88-91 (chapter written by D. M. Volodikhin).

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

327

ology of the campaign deserves, no doubt, serious consideration. On the basis of this chronicle, Nancy S. Kollmann scrutinizes the symbolic meaning of Ivan IV's setting off for battle in 1562. Kollmann, however, treats the chronicle only as a source on court ritual rather than an integrated literary work and overlooks its militant religious rhetoric.6 Scholars usually examine the religious rhetoric and symbolism of Ivan IV's campaigns almost exclusively on the basis of the tsar's official chronicle. The literary character of this source leads to the following question: how is the religious rhetoric of the chronicle relevant to the actual policy of the Muscovite government? Our knowledge of the ideology of Ivan IV's conquests largely comes from the famous chronicle account of his campaign against Kazan' in 1552, in particular from the rhetorical epistles of Metropolitan Makarii that are included in the chronicle. Since the diplomatic records (posol'skie knigi] on the relations with Kazan' have not survived, one can speculate whether this religious rhetoric is relevant to the policy of the tsar's government or whether it is merely a church interpretation of the military operation. The sources on the Polotsk campaign are more rewarding in this respect, for we have at our disposal corresponding diplomatic records that reflect the official governmental view of the takeover of Polotsk. In my view, the question about the role of religious rhetoric that accompanied the Polotsk campaign can be answered if we look at the relationship between the chronicle account and other sources describing the Muscovite attack on the town: the unofficial chronicles, deployment books (razriadnye knigi}, diplomatic records, and the correspondence between Ivan IV and the leaders of the Orthodox church. I will demonstrate that regardless of their different formats and social functions, all these texts reproduce the same set of quasi-theological ideas associated with the sacred model of the Muscovite state and its policy. Using these sources, we can see how the religious ideology and political mythology of the Muscovite government operated on the level of

6 Nancy Shields Kollmann, "Pilgrimage, Procession and Symbolic Space in Sixteenth-Century Russian Politics," in Medieval Russian Culture, eds. Michael S. Flier and Daniel Rowland, vol. 2 (California Slavic Studies, vol. 19, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 177-78; Eadem, By Honor Bound: State and Society in Early Modem Russia (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1999), 194-96.

328

SERGEI BOGATYREV

religious abstractions and on the level of practical implementation.7 Given the lack of legal concepts relating to the state in sixteenthcentury Russia, the Muscovite government resorted to a religious notion of the state borrowed from the works of ecclesiastical writers. The Orthodox church imposed its religious view of the state and its policy on the tsar's court through several means. Literature, which always played a practical societal role in Muscovy, provided the ecclesiastical writers with a pre-packaged model for propagating their views of the Muscovite ruler as a champion of Orthodoxy, whose mission was to protect his Orthodox kingdom from the enemies of the true faith.8 In line with a tradition going back to Archbishop Vassian Rylo of Rostov, Metropolitan Makarii and Archbishop Pimen of Novgorod and Pskov wrote long rhetorical letters to Ivan IV when he was on campaign against Kazan' and Polotsk. In their letters, the church leaders urged the tsar to follow their models of the pious Orthodox ruler and provided edifying examples from the Bible and the history of Christianity. Edward L. Keenan calls documents like Metropolitan Makarii's epistles to Ivan IV "purported" and assumes that the recipients of these documents could barely understand them. Keenan's view is based on his assumption that the political-military elite was comparatively unlettered and that "there was relatively little 'circulation' between ecclesiastical and secular elites."9 The very fact, however, that there were established literary models for church leaders' letters encouraging the tsar to proceed on military campaigns is evidence of a close relationship between these literary texts and the political and military actions taken by the members of the tsar's court. Riccardo Picchio, who sees Medieval Slavic literature as a kind of long lasting performance, notes that the selection of the components to be

' On the presentation of different aspects of Muscovite political culture in various types of sources, see Sergei Bogatyrev, The Sovereign and His Counsellors: Ritualised Consultations in Muscovite Political Culture, 1350s-1570s (Suomalaisen Tiedeakatemian toimituksia/Annales Academiae Scientiarum Fennicae, Humaniora series, vol. 307; Helsinki: Gummerus Printing, 2000), 14. Available at: . 8 On the practical societal function of early Slavic literature, see Norman W. Ingham, "Early East Slavic Literature as Sociocultural Fact," in Flier, Rowland, Medieval Russian Culture, vol. 2, 4-8. 9 Edward L. Keenan, "Response to Halperin, 'Edward Keenan and the KurbskiiGroznyi Correspondence in Hindsight'," Jahrbiicher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 46 (1998), 413, note 31, 414.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

329

'forwarded' in this literary performance was based on the response of the public. In other words, the church writers reproduced the literary models of "encouraging letters" in response to the demands of what Picchio calls the "literary market."10 That the letters of the ecclesiastical writers did find a response in Ivan IV's immediate entourage is apparent from the fact that these epistles were included in the Litsevoi letopisnyi svod, produced, as B. M. Kloss has established, at the tsar's scriptorium in his residence at Aleksandrovskaia sloboda." It is worth noting that alongside the rhetorical works of church writers, the chronicler also used numerous chancellery documents from the tsar's archives in his work.12 The character of the chronicle's subsequent editing shows that the chronicle was an important means for interpreting court politics in the interests of Ivan IV.13 Thus, whether he was a lay person or ecclesiastic, the official chronicler at the tsar's residence could equally employ religious texts produced by ecclesiastical writers and working chancellery documents for his interpretation of court politics. The synthesis of rhetorical and chancellery texts undertaken by the chronicler reveals that circulation between church and court cultures was far more extensive than Keenan believes. Religious rhetoric is also prominent in the working documents relating to the organization of the Polotsk campaign and to the corresponding diplomatic activities of the Muscovite government. Elements of religious symbolism, similar to those in the chronicle, are discernable in the deployment registers of the Polotsk campaign and especially in the diplomatic records of the talks on Polotsk conducted

10 Riccardo Picchio, "Models and Patterns in the Literary Tradition of Medieval Orthodox Slavdom," in American Contributions to the Seventh International Congress of Slavists, Warsaw, August 21-27, 1973, ed. Victor Terras, vol. 2 (The Hague, Paris: Mouton, 1973), 441. '' See B. M. Kloss, Mkonovskii svod i russkie letopisi XVI-XVII vekov (Moscow: Nauka, 1980), 232. 12 See A. A. Zimin, Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Rossii XVI stoletiia. Opyt rekonstruktsii, ed. L. V. Cherepnin (Moscow: Institut istorii SSSR AN SSSR, 1978), issue 1, 94-6; issue 2, 527; S. O. Shmidt, Rossiiskoe gosudarstvo v seredine XVI stoletiia. Tsarskii arkhiv 1 litsevye letopisi vremeni Ivana Groznogo (Moscow: Nauka, 1984), 59-60; A. A. Amosov, Litsevoi letopisnyi svod Ivana Groznogo: Kompleksnoe kodikologicheskoe issledovanie (Moscow: Editorial URSS, 1998), 309. 13 See D. N. ATshits, "Ivan Groznyi i pripiski k litsevym svodam ego vremeni," Istoricheskie zapiski 23 (1947), 251-89; S. O. Shmidt, "Kogda i pochemu redaktirovalis' litsevye letopisi vremeni Ivana Groznogo," Sovetskie arkhivy, no. 1 (1966), 31-36; no. 2 (1966), 46-51; Kloss, Mkonovskii svod, 252-65.

330

SERGEI BOGATYREV

by the court functionaries.14 It follows, then, that the Muscovite court was receptive to religious rhetoric and was capable of employing the ideas of ecclesiastical writers for the formulation and conduct of military and foreign policy. Besides written texts, there were a number of other means of communication to convey the meaning of religious rhetoric to the members of the tsar's court. The clergy developed a quasi-theocratic ideology of church and state in liturgical ritual, art, and court ceremony.13 The symbolism of visual art and rituals, widely accessible even for the illiterate, graphically expressed symmetry between the state and the Heavenly Kingdom, the tsar and Christ or the Archangel Michael, and the tsar's army and the Heavenly Host.16 Preparations for large-scale military campaigns involved numerous religious rituals that presented the tsar as God's lieutenant on earth and shepherd of his flock.17 On the basis of his study of Biblical military imagery in Muscovite political culture, Daniel Rowland concludes that religious symbolism constituted an important political force that strengthened the military might of the Muscovite state.18 Religious considerations graphically expressed in literary texts, court rituals, and ceremonies also played an important role during the preparation and conduct of the Polotsk campaign and in the corresponding diplomatic activities of the Muscovite government. 14 On the function of Christian rhetoric in Muscovite diplomacy, see Sergei Bogatyrev, "Communicating with the Confessional Other: Diplomatic Relations between the Western Europeans and the Muscovites. Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Centuries," in VI World Congress for Central and East European Studies. 29 July—3 August 2000. Abstracts (Helsinki: International Council for Central and East European Studies, Finnish Institute for Russian and East European Studies, 2000), 65. 13 Kollmann, By Honor Bound, 21. 16 On the symbolism of icon painting, see Daniel Rowland, "Biblical Military Imagery in the Political Culture of Early Modern Russia: The Blessed Host of the Heavenly Tsar," in Flier, Rowland, Medieval Russian Culture, vol. 2, 182-212; Priscilla Hunt, "Ivan IV's Personal Mythology of Kingship," Slavic Review 52: 4 (Winter, 1993), 769^809. On the symbolic meaning of architecture and rituals in Muscovy, see Michael S. Flier, "Filling in the Blanks: The Church of the Intercession and the Architectonics of Medieval Muscovite Ritual," in Kamen' Kraeug'Tn". Rhetoric of the Medieval Slavic World: Essays Presented to Edward L. Keenan on His Sixtieth Birthday by His Colleagues and Students, eds. Nancy Shields Kollmann et al. (Harvard Ukrainian Studies, vol. 19, Cambridge, MA: The Ukrainian Research Institute of Harvard University, 1995), 120-31; idem, "Breaking the Code: The Image of the Tsar in the Muscovite Palm Sunday Ritual," in Flier, Rowland, Medieval Russian Culture, vol. 2, 213-42; Kollmann, "Pilgrimage," 163-81. 17 Kollmann, "Pilgrimage," 180. 18 Rowland, "Biblical Military Imagery," 199.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

331

Muscovite Descriptions of the Polotsk Campaign

Several unofficial sixteenth-century Muscovite chronicles contain brief entries on the Polotsk campaign.19 More specific descriptions can be found in the Pskov III Chronicle and in the Obolenskii copy of the Nikonovskaia chronicle. According to the Pskov III Chronicle of 1567, Ivan IV set forth for the campaign with great forces (v velitsei sile), including a great deal of artillery and 80,900 conscripts (posokhd). The Pskov chronicle also mentions the sending of the captured Polotsk governor and the Polotsk archbishop to Moscow, the confiscation of their estates, the looting of the city by the Muscovites, and the drowning of the Jews with their families on the order of Ivan IV.20 The entry on the Polotsk campaign in the Obolenskii copy of the Mkonovskaia chronicle was made not earlier than the mid-15 70s. B. M. Kloss has suggested that the Military Chancellery (Razriadnyi prikaz) was in some way responsible for the compilation of this part of the Obolenskii copy.21 If this is so, one may thus assume that the description of the campaign in the Obolenskii copy reflects the official point of view. The entry in question, however, indicates that its author relied on rumors and the accounts of eyewitnesses in his description of the campaign. It is unlikely that someone connected with the Military Chancellery, with its extensive collection of detailed military records, would have made use of rumors when describing a recent military operation. The selection of sources testifies to the unofficial character of the description of the campaign in the Obolenskii copy. According to the Obolenskii copy, the tsar's army under Polotsk comprised 400,000 men.22 Like the Pskov III Chronicle, the Obolenskii

19 See A. A. Zimin, "Kratkie letopistsy XV-XVI w.," Istoricheskii arkhiv 5 (1950), 22; M. N. Tikhomirov, "Maloizvestnye letopisnye pamiatniki XVI v.," in idem, Russkoe letopisanie (Moscow: Nauka, 1979), 228; V. I. Koretskii, "Bezdninskii letopisets kontsa XVI v. iz sobraniia S. O. Dolgova," ^apiski Otdela rukopisei Gosudarstvennoi biblioteki imeni V. I. Lenina 38 (1977), 207 (hereafter ZOR). 20 Polnoe sobranie russkikh letopisei, vol. 5 (Moscow: lazyki russkoi kul'tury, 2000), issue 2, 243-44 (hereafter PSRL). 21 PSRL, vol. 13 (Moscow: lazyki russkoi kul'tury, 2000), 302. On the dating of this part of the Obolenskii copy and its connection with the Military Chancellery, see Kloss, Mkonovskii svod, 196-97. 22 Skrynnikov maintains that the tsar's army included 50-60,000 people (including armed slaves) plus at least the same number of auxiliary troops. According to Volodikhin, the number of Muscovite troops ranged from 130,000 to 200-300,000 people. See Skrynnikov, Tsarstvo, 155; Aleksandrov, Volodikhin, Bor'ba, 111, note 27.

332

SERGEI BOGATYREV

copy tells us about the rich booty taken by the Muscovites in the city and about the capture of the Polotsk military commanders. The Obolenskii copy also reports that some people were executed in Polotsk, but does not specify their ethnicity or faith. On the whole, sixteenth-century unofficial chronicles lack any generalizations and explanations with respect to the tsar's goals in the campaign.23 The official chronicle of Ivan IV, known as the Litsevoi letopisnyi svod and compiled in the 1570s and the early 1580s, offers the reader a totally different approach to the subject. The original part of the Litsevoi letopisnyi svod with the description of the Polotsk campaign has not survived, but it has come down to us in seventeenth-century copies known as the Lebedevskaia and Aleksandro-Nevskaia chronicles.24 Unlike the brief records in the unofficial chronicles, the description of the campaign in the official chronicle is an annalistic tale (letopisnaia povest'}., which V. V. Morozov calls the Tale on the Taking of Polotsk (Povest' o Polotskom vziatii], hereafter TTP. According to Morozov, TTP is part of the Letopisets of 1568, which is referred to in the inventory of the tsar's archive.2a A text with a rather complicated structure, TTP includes the following elements: 1. Ivan IV's decision (prigovor) on the beginning of the campaign 2. Account of the tsar's departure from Moscow 3. Military records on the preparations of Muscovite forces in various towns

23 The history of the Polotsk campaign underwent a reinterpretation in Muscovite chronicle writing in the seventeenth century. The Piskarevskii letopisets (ca. 1621-25) includes an entry on the mystical vision of Ivan IV's brother Prince Yurii Vasil'evich about the taking of Polotsk on the eve of the campaign. Volodikhin uncritically used this information in his account of the campaign. See PSRL, vol. 34 (Moscow: Nauka, 1978), 190; Aleksandrov, Volodikhin, Bor'ba, 90. The Mazurinskii letopisets (ca. 1682) reproduces the clerical interpretation of the Polotsk campaign that can be found in the Stepennaia kniga. The latter explains the motives of the campaign in terms of the hostile acts of the Polish king and the tsar's aspiration to punish the Jews, the Catholics, and the iconoclasts and to establish true Orthodoxy in the town. See PSRL, vol. 21, part 2 (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia M. A. Aleksandrova, 1913), 662; vol. 31 (Moscow: Nauka, 1968), 137-38. 24 PSRL, vol. 29 (Moscow: Nauka, 1965), 302-20; Kloss, Nikonovskii svod, 227, 230. On the dating of the Litsevoi letopisnyi svod, see Amosov, Litsevoi letopisnyi svod, 184-222. 25 V. V. Morozov, "Letopisets 1568 goda. Atributsiia i sostav," in Russkaia knizhnost' XV-XIX vv., ed. T. V. Dianova (Trudy Gosudarstvennogo ordena Lenina istoricheskogo muzeia 71, Moscow: Gosudarstvennyi ordena Lenina istoricheskii muzei, 1989), 156.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

333

4. Diplomatic records on talks with the representatives of Magister Wolfgang at Mozhaisk 5. Records on the gathering of Muscovite forces at Velikie Luki and the deployment register for the march from Velikie Luki to Polotsk 6. Disposition of the tsar's army under Polotsk 7. Letter of Pimen Chernyi, Archbishop of Novgorod and Pskov 8. Military records on the siege and taking of Polotsk 9. Records on talks on the capitulation of the city 10. Records on the prisoners of war and on the census of the city's citizens 11. Records on the tsar's entry into the city and his prayer at St. Sophia 12. Instructions to Prince Mikhail Temriukovich Cherkasskii, envoy to Moscow, with speeches to Ivan IV's sons 13. Ivan IV's notice of victory (seuncK) to Metropolitan Makarii 14. Instructions to Prince M. T. Cherkasskii 15. Instructions to Fedor Alekseevich Basmanov, envoy to Princess Efrosin'ia of Staritsa 16. Instructions to Mikhail Andreevich Beznin, envoy to NovgorTod, Pskov, and Yur'ev 17. Record on sending a cross from Ivan IV to Metropolitan Makarii 18. Military records on the operations of a Muscovite detachment on the road to Vilna 19. Records on the restoration of the Polotsk fortifications and the establishment of the Muscovite garrison in Polotsk 20. Records on sending prisoners of war to Moscow, on the releasing of Polish soldiers and mercenaries and their letter of safeconduct 21. Diplomatic records on relations with Lithuanian magnates 22. Account of the tsar's return to Moscow Morozov asserts that the Tale on the Taking of Kazan' (Povesf o Kazanskom vziatii] served as a model for TTP and points out the following common elements in these texts: description of the tsar's consultation with the metropolitan before the beginning of the campaign, the tsar's preparations for the campaign; his march to the town; epistles with blessings from church leaders; deployment registers of the regiments; description of the siege, including the tsar's inspection trip around the besieged town, his decisions on the erection of fortifications

334

SERGEI BOGATYREV

(tury), and the arrival of the artillery; ultimatum to the besieged; setting fire to the town fortifications; the tsar's prayer before the final onslaught; the solemn entry of the tsar into the town; the salutations of his entourage; the consecration of Kazan' and the restoration of Orthodoxy in Polotsk; the triumphant return of the tsar in Moscow.26 On the whole, such structural elements as the ruler's prayer before a campaign, his consultation with the metropolitan, princes and boyars, blessings and epistles sent from church leaders to the ruler on campaign, and his solemn entry to Moscow after victory are encountered not only in TTP and the Tale on the Taking of Kazan', but also in other military tales, including the Tale of the Battle with Mamai (Skazanie o Mamaevom poboishche) and the Tale of the Stand on the Ugra (Povesf o stoianii na Ugre)."27 All these topoi reflect the social practice of court and church rituals, which the ruler of Moscow and the leaders of the Orthodox church performed during campaigns with the aim of revealing the divine sanction for and assistance to Moscow's monarch. The standard methods of siege warfare employed by the Muscovites, like the active use of artillery and the erection of fortifications around besieged towns, are also responsible for the appearance of identical structural components in the tales on the taking of Kazan' and Polotsk. Thus, all these parallels do not necessarily indicate direct literary connections between these two accounts of the tsar's campaigns. Despite the structural similarities pointed out by Morozov, TTP is not a literary imitation of the Tale on the Taking of Kazan'; the most striking difference between these tales is their different literary styles. In particular, the Tale on the Taking of Kazan' features numerous dialogs between the tsar and other personages, such as the tsarina, the metropolitan, and Prince Vladimir of Staritsa. In line with so-called "literary etiquette," the speeches and prayers of the characters contain certain prescribed formulae and expressions, which, according to the literary notions of the day, correspond to particular situations. For example, in his speech to the tsarina before leaving Moscow, the tsar expresses his willingness to suffer death for the sake of the Orthodox faith, bolstering his determination with quotations from 26

Morozov, "Letopisets," 156. For the text of the Povest' o Kazanskom vziatii, see PSRL, vol. 13, 177-228. " See PSRL, vol. 11 (Moscow: lazyki russkoi kul'tury, 2000), 49-51, 56, 59, 67; PSRL, vol. 12 (Moscow: lazyki russkoi kul'tury, 2000), 200, 203-12.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

335

the Scripture. On her part, the tsarina prays to God for protection of her husband in his struggle with the infidels.28 Similar dialogs, including the same motif of suffering for the true faith, are also prominent in the Skazanie o Mamaevom poboishche.29 The author of the Tale on the Taking of Kazan' resorts to the literary device of ritualized speeches throughout his account of the campaign, starting from the initial consultation between the tsar and the boyars all the way to the tsar's return to Moscow after the conquest of Kazan'. Besides the etiquette dialogs, the Tale on the Taking of Kazan' contains numerous metaphors and comparisons, like "dobryi stradalets i nepokolebimyi v razume" (about Ivan IV), "poganii zhe [. . .] iz nor, iakozhe zmei, vylazia" as well as mystical visions and miracles, prefiguring the victory of the tsar.30 Given the literary character of his account, the author does not need to quote deployment registers at length in his work. Rather, he uses brief and separate excerpts from the records, interweaving them with passages written in an ornate and elevated style. Unlike the Tale on the Taking of Kazan', TTP almost entirely lacks speeches attributed to specific individuals and relies heavily on chancellery documents, and on deployment registers in particular. The author of TTP expresses his view of the campaign not through literary devices, but through careful manipulation of the texts of chancellery documents. In order to detect the sources of TTP and the chronicler's approach to them, we need to examine the relationship between TTP and the chancellery documents relating to the Polotsk campaign. A. Sapunov has published a detailed deployment register of the Polotsk campaign, which dates to the third quarter of the sixteenth century (hereafter "Description S").31 This is the only description that covers the period from September to November 1562, including the

28

PSRL, vol. 13, 184-86; V. V. Morozov, "Ot Nikonovskoi letopisi k Litsevomu letopisnomu svodu. Razvitie zhanra i evoliutsiia kontseptsii," Trudy Otdela drevnerusskoi literatury 44 (1990), 250 (hereafter TODRL). 29 PSRL, vol. 11, 50-52, 56; B. A. Rybakov, V. A. Kuchkin, eds., Pamiatniki Kulikovskogo tsikla (St. Petersburg: BLITs, 1998), 144, 146, 148, 155-57. 30 PSRL, vol. 13, 191, 211-12. On the miracles in the Tale on the Taking of Kazan', see also Morozov, "Ot Nikonovskoi letopisi," 256. " A. Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga Polotskogo pokhoda tsaria loanna Vasil'evicha 1563 g.," in Vitebskaia stanna 4 (Vitebsk, 1885), 27-70; K. V. Petrov, "Kniga Polotskogo pokhoda 1563 g.," in Istorik vo vremeni. Tret'i Zjminskie chteniia, ed. Yu. N. Afanas'ev (Moscow: RGGU, 2000), 244. Available at: .

336

SERGEI BOGATYREV

tsar's decision on the preparation of a large-scale campaign against Sigismund II and instructions for various groups of servitors issued before the beginning of the campaign.32 Description S also reports the number of people in every regiment of the tsar's army, provides a highly detailed itinerary of the tsar's march to Polotsk and the tsar's instructions for his boyars who became governors in Polotsk. When it comes to the account of the siege itself, Description S omits many details that can be found in other descriptions of the campaign, but contains detailed lists of captains (golovy) missing from other deployment books. Two detailed descriptions of the Polotsk campaign are included in the expanded version of the deployment books. The "expanded redaction with the oldest entries," the earliest surviving manuscript of which dates to the first quarter of the seventeenth century, starts its description of the campaign from 30 November 1562 and includes a detailed deployment register followed by an account of the siege and the talks with the besieged. This description, published in the series Razriadnaia kniga 1475-1605 gg., is hereafter referred to as "RKExp."33 A specific description of the Polotsk campaign can be found in the deployment book from the Museum collection at the Russian State Library. This description, entitled Vziat'e polotskoe Litovskie zemli, is interpolated in the manuscript of a deployment book written in the second quarter of the seventeenth century. On the basis of the fact that the description refers to Ivan IV as a living person (gosudar' nosh'), V. I. Buganov has asserted that the Vziat'e polotskoe was created before the death of Ivan IV, probably in the 1570s or the early 1580s. Though Buganov's conjecture seems probable, it is hard to draw any firm conclusions about the dating of the Vziat'e polotskoe without a thorough study of the entire manuscript. Among the specific features of this account, one can point out the heading (headings are a typical for deployment books), the text of Ivan IV's notice of victory, missing from other deployment books, the lack of information on the initial stage of the campaign before 30 January 1563, and the detailed account of the siege and of the talks on the capitulation of the town. The account of the talks is, however, shorter than that in RKExp. The Vziat'e polotskoe has been published by 32

See Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 36. " Raznadnaia kniga 1475-1605 gg., vol. 2 (Moscow: Institut istorii SSSR AN SSSR, 1981), part 1: 109-37 (hereafter RK 1475-1605}. ;

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

337

Buganov and is hereafter referred to as "Description B."34 We can also find an account of the campaign in the abridged redaction of 1636, which, according to Buganov, was compiled in the Military Chancellery around 1636 (hereafter "RKAbr").30 This description starts from 30 November 1562 and contains a deployment register and an account of the talks that are largely similar to those in RKExp. Despite its late origin, RKAbr reports some facts that are missing from Description S and RKExp. Other redactions of the deployment books contain abbreviated versions of the description of the Polotsk campaign which are not covered in this work.36 Buganov has established that Descriptions B and RKExp are derived from a common detailed account of the Polotsk campaign that was compiled during the military operation and has not survived until our times. This hypothetical description differed from Description S, since Descriptions B and RKExp include some details that are missing from S.37 A comparison of TTP and the deployment books demonstrates that the chronicle description is derived from the same common account mentioned by Buganov, which hereafter will be referred to as the "Original Description." Several facts and readings in TTP and the deployment books are important for determining the relationship between the various versions of the account of the Polotsk campaign. In particular, TTP reports the exact number of subjects captured by the Muscovites on 9 February, including the numbers of men and women, while Description S, Description B, RKExp, and RKAbr provide corrupted figures. At the same time, the total number in S is close to that in the chronicle. TTP and S also contain similar readings of some place names (see Table 1).

34

V. I. Buganov, " V&at'e polotskoe Litovskie zemli opisanie pokhoda 1563 g. v razriadnoi knige Muzeinogo sobraniia," ZOR 31 (1969), 213-24. 33 Razriadnaia kniga 1550-1636gg., vol. 1 (Moscow: Institut istorii SSSR AN SSSR, 1975), 112-21 (hereafter RK 1550-1636). 3() These redactions include the "gosudarev razriad" the version of the redaction with the oldest entries published by Pavel Svin'in, and the abridged redaction of 1605. See Razriadnaia kniga 1475-1598 gg. (Moscow: Nauka, 1966), 197-200; P. Svin'in, ed., Otechestoennye zapiski 126 (October, November, December 1830), 113-15; D. Valuev, ed., Sinbirskii sbomik 1 (Moscow: Tipografiia A. Semena, 1845), first Arabic pagination, 3-4. 3/ Buganov, "Vziat'e polotskoe" 222.

338

SERGEI BOGATYREV

Table 1: Numbers of Captured Subjects and Place Names in Sources on the Taking of Polotsk TTP

Description S

Description B

RKExp

RKAbr

3,907 men, 7,253 women, total 11,160 people, dated 9 Feb. (p. 310)

11,060 people, dated 9 Feb. (p. 52)

12,060 people, dated 8 Feb. (p. 218)

12,060 people dated 8 Feb. (p. 126)

12,000 people, no date (p. 118)

v Shoroshkove (p. 306)

na Shereshkove (p. 50)

v Sershkovo (p. 214)

v Sereshkove (p. 116)

v Sershkovo (p. 116)

na Chesviattskuiu dorogu (p. 214)

na Usviatskuiu dorogu (p. 116)

na Usviattskuiu dorogu (p. 116)

na Chersviatts- na Chersviattskoi doroge koi doroge (p. 306) (P- 50)

The similar readings in TTP and S reveal some textual connection between these two descriptions. Neither, however, was a source for the other. Description TTP contains the most specific account of the tsar's departure from Moscow, including detailed records on the tsar praying at the Kremlin cathedrals and at the church of SS Boris and Gleb on Arbat street, and on the miracle working icons and the Cross of Efrosin'ia of Polotsk that the tsar took along with him on the campaign. Description S includes an abbreviated version of this account and does not mention these objects of religious veneration.38 The records on the tsar's march to Velikie Luki and on the preparations of Muscovite forces in various towns are more specific in Description S, and TTP provides only a brief extract of these records.39 Description S contains the tsar's order on the dates of departure from Velikie Luki for various Muscovite detachments, while the actual dates of departure between 10 January and 17 January can be found in TTP.40 It follows, then, that TTP and S complement one another and obviously have a common protograph. Since the information in these two accounts seems accurate, we can assert with some confidence that this protograph was the Original Description of the campaign.

38 39 40

PSRL, vol. 29, 302-03; Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 32. PSRL, vol. 29, 304; Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 29, 30. PSRL, vol. 29, 304; Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 45.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

339

Descriptions B, RKExp, and RKAbr represent another type of account. It is convenient to start examining this type with RKExp, which provides us with some information about its sources. One of the peculiarities of RKExp is that it contains interpolated speeches of Prince Vladimir of Staritsa, Ivan IV, and Simeon Kasaevich borrowed from the Tale on the Taking of Kazan' with Kazan' being replaced by Polotsk, and the name of Shigalei (Shah Ali) by that of Simeon.41 There are also two references to other deployment registers in the lists of guards (ryndy) in RKExp: A v ynykh rozriadekh pishet: u tret'eva saadaka byl kniaz' Ivan Mezetskoi. A v ynykh rozriadekh pishet: s rogatinoiu byl kniaz' Ivan Mezetskoi.42

The first record is not encountered in either the extended or the abridged redactions of the deployment books, which shows that the compiler of RKExp had access to some other register of the Polotsk campaign (hereafter Description N). The second record on Mezetskoi can be found in Descriptions S (in the form "Meztetskoi") and RKAbr (in the correct form "Mezetskoi").43 Thus, this record is derived from the Original Description of the campaign. Given the fact that RKExp and RKAbr contain the correct reading of Mezetskoi's name and the same reading "ria Usviatskuiu dorogu" which differs from the readings in other descriptions (see Table 1), we may conclude that RKExp and RKAbr are somehow connected with each other. RKAbr is not an abbreviated copy of RKExp, since some records in RKAbr are missing from RKExp (the tsar's decision on the beginning of the campaign taken together with the metropolitan, the account of the tsar's departure from Moscow, and the mention of Novgorodian forces in the entry for 30 January).44 It follows, then, that RKAbr and RKExp had a common protograph. The Novgorodian units are also referred to in Description B, but this description contains a better reading of this passage than RKExp and RKAbr (see Table 2).

41 RK 1475-1605, 132-34; PSRL, vol. 13, 219-20. I uncritically used the speeches from RKExp in my The Sovereign and His Counsellors, 155. 42 RK 1475-1605, 112, 117-18. 43 Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 39; RK 1550-1636, 114. 44 RK 1550-1636, 112, 115.

340

SERGEI BOGATYREV

Table 2: Comparison of Three Accounts on the Units of the Tsar's Army Description B, p. 214

RKExp, p. 115

I tsar' i velikii kniaz(') I tsar' i velikii kniaz' Ivan Vasil(') evich(') vsealvan Vasil'evich' vsea Rusii dlia svoego dela Rusii prishol na zemskogo prishel v nedruga svoego, nedruga svoego v kopol'skogo i litovskogo rolevu zemliu za stan korolia zemliu, za stan k Polottsku genvaria do Polotska, genvaria v 30 den'. A s nim v 30 den', a s nim brat ego kniaz(') Volo- brat evo gosudarev dimer Ondreevich(') da kniaz' Volodimer tsar' Semion, da Ondreevich', da tsar' tsarevich' Kaibola, da Semion, da tsarevichi, boiare i voevody vse i da boiare i voevody i rat(') vsia moskovskaia i vsia rat' moskovskaia. nougorodtskaia, i tatarove vse.

RKAbr, p. 115 I prishol gosudar' v litovskuiu zemliu pod Polotesk genvaria v 30 den' so vseiu moskovskuiu rat'iu i s naugorodtskoiu siloiu.

Unlike RKExp and RKAbr, Description B gives the reading "na Chesviattskuiu dorogu" which is similar to the corresponding readings in TTP and S (see Table 1). Description B is therefore in some way closer to the Original Description than the protograph of RKExp and RKAbr. The Original Description, however, was not an immediate source for Description B, since B and RKExp give the same wrong number of captured subjects (12,060 instead of 11,160), which obviously comes from the same source, that is the protograph of B. Description B also includes some elements similar to those that could be found only in TTP, namely a record of the tsar looking at St. Sophia of Polotsk on 31 January and the tsar's notice of victory. The record of St. Sophia of Polotsk shows close textual connections between TTP and Description B (see Table 3). As for the notice of victory, it is interpolated in the beginning of Description B and makes the narrative somewhat confusing. We may thus assume that this document was absent from the protograph of Description B and was copied from the Original Description of the Polotsk campaign during the compilation of B. Buganov has asserted that the notice of victory included in Description B is Ivan IV's seunch to Metropolitan Makarii that is also reproduced in the official

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

341

Table 3: Record on St. Sophia of Polotsk in the Chronicle and Description B TTP (PSRL, vol. 29, 306)

Description B (Buganov, polotskoe" 214, 215)

A sam tsar' i velikii kniaz' prished k gorodu k Polottssku proshed Egorei sviatyi i uvide v gorode Polottsske verkh tser'kvi Sofii premudrosti bozhii i poslal v bolshoi polk ko kniaziu Volodimeru Ondreevichiu i k voevodam bolshovo polku da i vo vse polki k boiarom i voevodam stolnika svoego kniazia Ondreia Ivanovicha Strigina. A prikazal tsar' i velikii kniaz' ko kniaziu Volodimeru Ondreevichiu i k boiarom i voevodam bolshovo polku i vo vse polki boiarom i voevodam, chtoby pev molebny i prosia u boga pomoshchi znamena by rozverteli.

I genvaria v 31 den' tsar' i velikii kniaz('), prosia u boga pomochi, poshol k gorodu k Plottsku, a poslal ko kniaziu Volodimeru Ondreevichiu stol(')nika svoego kniazia Andreia Ivanovicha Strigina i v bolshoi polk ko kniaziu Ivanu Dmitreevichiu Bel(')skomu s tovaryshchi, a prikazal tsar' i velikii kniaz(') ko kniaziu Volodimeru Ondreevichiu i v bolshoi polk i vo vse polki k boiarom i voevodam, chtob, prosia u boga pomochi, shli k gorodu k Polottsku, a, vyshed, u goroda u Polottska znamena by rozverteli i peli molebny [...]. [Tsar5 i velikii kniaz',] uvidia v gorode v Polottske verkh Sofei Premudrosti bozhii i velel razvertet' znamena.

chronicle of Ivan IV (TTP).43 In his analysis of this part of Description B, Buganov for some reasons did not use the critical publication of the Lebedevskaia and Aleksandro-Nevskaia chronicles in PRSL, vol. 29, which shows that TTP includes two notices of victory with texts similar to that in B: the tsar's notice to his sons Ivan and Fedor and his notice to Metropolitan Makarii.46 Neither of these texts, however, can be considered identical to the notice in Description B, since the latter refers to the metropolitan and the tsar's children in the third person. At the same time, the chronicle also mentions the tsar's order to the clergy of various towns to pray on the occasion of the taking of Polotsk. It is obvious that Description B includes the corrupted text of the tsar's notice to the clergy, with the address "protopopom i popom, protodiiakonom i diiakonom" inserted in the middle of the dispositio (see Table 4). 4) 46

Buganov, "Vziat'e polotskoe," 222. See PSRL, vol. 29, 314-16.

342

SERGEI BOGATYREV

Table 4: The Tsar's Order to the Clergy in TTP and Description B TTP (PSRL, vol. 29, 316)

Description B (Buganov, "Vziat'e polotskoe" 214)

Pamiat' kniaziu Mikhailu Terngriukovichiu Cherkaskomu: educhi emu po gorodom k Moskve, i veleti emu po tern gorodom protopopom z bratieiu peti molebny z zvonom

I vy b protopopom i popom, protodiiakonom i diiakonom v sobornykh tserkvakh peli molebny z zvonom

As was noted above, Description B features the heading Vziat'e polotskoe Litovskie zemli, which is not typical of a deployment book; rather it resembles the headings in the official chronicle.47 The heading and the common textual elements in Description B and TTP indicate that the composer of B was apparently familiar with the chronicle tale and attempted to imitate it in his account of the Polotsk campaign. It is worth noting that the compiler of Description B demonstrates a more cautious approach to the chronicle text than the compiler of RKExp. The latter placidly utilizes the chronicle tale of the taking of Kazan' for his account of the Polotsk operation, whereas the compiler of Description B imitates the chronicle text through the use of original documents, like the tsar's order to the clergy. On the whole, the account of the Polotsk campaign in the official chronicle (TTP) is close to, though not identical to those in RKExp, Description B, and RKAbr. For example, the deployment register for the march from Velikie Luki to Polotsk included in TTP is close to that in RKExp; the account of military actions on 1 February to 5 February is generally similar in TTP and B. TTP also provides a detailed account of the talks between the tsar on the one hand, and the military commander of Polotsk and the archbishop of Polotsk on the other after the capitulation of the city on 15 February. The most interesting part of this account is Ivan's claims to Polotsk as a votchina of his ancestors. Descriptions B and RKExp include an abbreviated version of these talks without mentioning the Muscovite justifications for the taking of the city.48 The chronicle's entry on the

47 48

On the headings in the Litsevoi letopisnyi svod, see Morozov, "Letopisets," 158-59. PSRL, vol. 29, 312; Buganov, " Vziat'e polotstcoe," 220; RK 1475-1605, 131-32.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

343

establishment of the Muscovite garrison in Polotsk is very brief, while the corresponding records in RKExp and B are more detailed, and Description S provides the full text of the tsar's instructions to his military governors in Polotsk.49 The tsar's return to Moscow is described in TTP and S in great detail, although one can detect certain differences between the chronicle and the deployment book. The latter naturally concentrates on military and service appointments during the return march, while the chronicle provides more details on the celebrations of the tsar's victory, such as his dinner at Staritsa and the ceremony of his meeting with Metropolitan Makarii in Moscow.50 Thus, none of the above mentioned deployment books served as a source for TTP. Description TTP is based on the Original Description of the Polotsk campaign, and this fully corresponds with the observation of D. N. AT shits that in the sixteenth century the tsar's chroniclers used, as a rule, the original scrolls of deployment registers, and not the deployment books for their chronicles. Al'shits has also noted that the chronicler revealed his tendentiousness in the way he selected facts from the documents of the Military Chancellery.31 We can find several examples of this selective approach in TTP. In particular, Kloss has established that because of the execution of Prince Vladimir Andreevich of Staritsa in 1569, the editor of Ivan IV's official chronicle removed references to the ties of kinship between the tsar and Prince Vladimir from the chronicle.52 For these reasons, the chronicler does not mention that Prince Vladimir of Staritsa was Ivan IV's "brother" (cousin) in the deployment register for the march from Velikie Luki to Polotsk and omits the mention of Prince Vladimir's boyars and chancellery people in the great regiment, while RKExp includes all these data.53 Another intriguing difference between TTP, B, and RKExp is that the latter two report that Prince Andrei Mikhailovich Kurbskii erected 49

PSRL, vol. 29, 316; RK 1475-1605, 135-36; Buganov, "V&at'e polotskoe," 220; Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 57-62. °° PSRL, vol. 29, 319; Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 64-66. The deployment register for the return march from Polotsk can be found in RKExp. See RK 1475-1605, 136-37. 51 D. N. Al'shits, "Razriadnaia kniga Moskovskikh gosudarei XVI v. Ofitsial'naia redaktsiia," Problemy istochnikovedeniia 6 (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo AN SSSR, 1958), 151. °2 See Kloss, Mkonovskii svod, 258. 53 PSRL, vol. 29, 304-5; RK 1475-1605, 113.

344

SERGEI BOGATYREV

fortifications around the town on 5 February, while TTP omits his name and only mentions the building of fortifications on the tsar's orders.34 The reluctance of the official chronicler to mention Kurbskii was apparently a result of his flight to the lands of Sigismund II in 1564. To sum up the above observations, we may note that while both TTP and the Tale on the Taking of Kazan' share some structural similarities, they are stylistically very different. It is not the chronicle account of the Polotsk campaign, but the early seventeenth-century version of the deployment books that contains textual borrowings from the Tale on the Taking of Kazan'. The main source for the description of the Polotsk campaign in the official chronicle was the Original Description of the campaign supplemented with diplomatic records, the letter of Archbishop Pimen, the tsar's notices of victory, his instructions to envoys, and the letter of safe-conduct for the prisoners of war. The compiler of TTP retained in his account the textual structure of the chancellery accounts of the campaign, and often copied large portions of the chancellery documents, like the diplomatic records on the reception of the envoy of the Lithuanian magnates at the tsar's camp near Polotsk in February 1563.30 The relationship between the various descriptions of the Polotsk campaign can be found in Figure 1. On the basis of his observations on the structures of the chronicle tales on Kazan' and Polotsk, Morozov has concluded that their common structural elements testify to the literary purposes (literaturnye tseli] of the compiler of the chronicle account of the Polotsk campaign. Morozov asserts that such work would require rather advanced literary skills, which the chancellery people probably did not possess.b6 Morozov seems to overestimate the literary complexity of TTP, since its narrative is quite plain and does not reveal any specific literary technique. Though the compiler of TTP was probably familiar with military tales like the Tale on the Taking of Kazan', he did not

54 Buganov, "Vziat'e polotskoe," 217; RK 1475-1605, 121; PSRL, vol. 29, 310. Description S does not mention the construction activities on 5 February. D;) Sbomik Imperatorskogo Russkogo istoricheskogo obshchestva, vol. 71 (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia A. Katanskogo i K., 1892), 121-31 (hereafter Sbornik RIO); PSRL, vol. 29, 318-19. 56 Morozov, "Letopisets," 156, 160.

Figure 5. Relationship of Muscovite descriptions of the Polotsk campaign.

346

SERGEI BOGATYREV

apply the elevated style of such tales to his account. Instead of inventing etiquette dialogs or colorful metaphors, he simply selected important original documents from the chancellery archives, organized his sources in a logical order, and edited them, manipulating the information about odious figures like Prince Vladimir of Staritsa and Prince Andrei Kurbskii. Access to the chancellery archives, heavy reliance on the chancellery texts, and poor literary technique—all these facts indicate that the compiler of TTP was very close to the chancellery personnel, if not one of them. The documents relating to the Polotsk campaign testify to the close cooperation between the tsar's court and the Orthodox church at the time. Description S mentions religious rituals performed by the tsar and the clergy during the campaign and reports that the tsar ordered the service people of the metropolitan and other prelates to join his troops.37 Descriptions TTP and B include interpolated documents on the relationship between the tsar and the representatives of the Orthodox church and the common record of the tsar looking at St. Sophia of Polotsk before the beginning of the siege. The latter is part of the religious rhetoric that interprets the Polotsk campaign in terms of the tsar's struggle for the liberation of the holy churches from the enemies of the true faith. What follows is an interpretation of this rhetoric in the context of the Muscovite view of foreign policy and the war with Poland-Lithuania in the early 1560s. The Muscovite View of Western Policy in the early 1560s

After the taking of Polotsk, the Muscovite government stated that the reasons for the tsar's attack on the town were given in the letter of the boyars to the Rada of 28 November 1562.58 A comparison between this letter, written shortly before the Polotsk campaign, and Ivan IV's decision (prigovor) on the beginning of the campaign as it is recorded in TTP reveals that these documents describe the Muscovite view of western policy in the early 1560s in virtually the same terms (see Table 5).

57 58

Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 28, 32. Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 124.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

347

Table 5: Explanation of the Polotsk Campaign in the Chronicle and Diplomatic Records Ivan TV's decision on the beginning of the Polotsk campaign, November 1562 (PSRL, vol. 29, 302)

Boyars' letter to the Rada, 28 November 1562 (Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 102-115)

Tsar' i velikii kniaz' Ivan VasiP evich' vsea Rusii, sovetovav so ottsem svoim s Makariem mitropolitom vsea Rusii i z bratom svoim so kniazem Yuriem VasiPevichem i so kniazem Volodimerom Ondreevichem i so vsemi boiary, prigovoril, prizyvaia boga v pomoshch" i prechistuiu bogoroditsu i velikikh chiudotvortsov, khotia itti na nedroga svoego na Zhigimonta korolia Polskovo i velikogo kniazia Litovskogo za ego mnogie nepravdy i neispravleniia, naipache zhe goria serdtsem o sviatykh ikonakh i o sviatykhia khramekh sviashchenykh, izhe bezbozhnaia Litva poklonenie sviatykh ikon otverg"she, sviatyia ikony poshchepali i mnogaia poruganiia sviatym ikonam uchinili i tserkvi rozorili i pozhgli i krest'ianskuiu veru i zakon ostavl'she i popravshe i Liutorstvo vospriashia [. . .] A nepravdy zhe korolevy i neispravlenie v gramotakh svoikh pishet ko tsariu i velikomu kniaziu so ukoreniem neprigozhie mnogie slova i tsarskoe imia, chto emu gosudariu dal bog, obrel ot svoikh praroditelei izvechnuiu svoiu starinoiu, i koroP togo imiani spolna ne opisuet.

A gosudar' nash, kak est' istinnye pravye very khristianskie gosudar', na vsemogushchago Boga upovaia, protiv vsekh svoikh nedrugov stoit, a khristiianstvo derzhit neporochno, po predaniiu sviatye sobornye apostol'skie tserkvi, krome vsiakikh eresei [. . .] My vidim svoego blagochestivago gosudaria vo vsekh blagikh siiaiushcha, i milost' ego k narodu khristianskomu takova, ne tokmo trudom i popecheniem i promyslom persony svoeia, no gde dovedettsa za pravoslavie i krovi svoeia i glavy svoeia polozhiti ne otmeshchettsa. (p. I l l )

Gosudar' vash k nashemu gosudariu s posly svoimi i s poslanniki prikazyvaet ne poprigozhu [...], i imia ego tsar'skoe opisuiuchi ne po tomu, kak otets ego pisal k ottsu gosudaria nashego k velikomu gosudariu i k nemu, i chto Bog emu gosudariu miloserd'e svoe svyshe uchinil, praroditel'skoe ego imia pribavlenie emu daroval. (p. 106)

348

SERGEI BOGATYREV

Table 5 (cont.) Da on zhe vstupaetsia vo oboronu za iskoni vechnuiu tsarevu i velikogo kniazia votchinu Viflianskuiu zemliu, chto tsar' i velikii kniaz' gnev svoi na tekh izmennikov, Livonskikh Nemets, rasproster [. . .]

A chto gosudar' vash vo gosudaria nashego v iskoni vechnuiu votchinu v zemliu Viflianskuiu vstupaettsa, i to nepodobnoe delo i v razum ne voidet, i to esmia slykhali oto mnogikh liudei i sami gorazdo vedaem, chto ot velikogo gosudaria Yaroslava i do sego velikogo gosudaria nashego Livonskaia zemlia vsia ego tsar'skogo velichestva. (p. 107)

I Krymskomu tsariu mnogie pominki posylaet koroF i podymaet vsegda na krovoprolitie krestiian'skoe i pishet kh Krymskomu tsariu o torn, chtoby nikoli voevati Moskovskikh ukrain ne perestaval.

A ko tsariu krymskomu posylal d'iaka svoego Mikhaila Khalaburdu i vykhod tsariu daiuchi ne tokmo s svoei zemli, no i s inykh zemeP podymaiuchi na gosudaria nashego votchinu, i krymskogo tsaria sebe drugom derzhachi bolshi nashego gosudaria i s nim khotiachi zaodin stoiati na khrist'ianstvo. (p. 106)

As early as 1562, the Foreign Chancellery, thus, formulated a set of dynastic and religious motives for attacking Polotsk that were later developed in the chronicle. The problem of the title was a matter of prestige for Ivan IV as the ruler of Muscovy. The fact that Sigismund II did not acknowledge the Muscovite ruler as tsar had been a bone of contention in the diplomatic relations between PolandLithuania and Muscovy since Ivan's coronation in 1547.'9 Another vexing issue in Polish-Muscovite relations in the early 1560s was the close contacts between the Polish king and the Crimean khan aimed against the Muscovite government. In the beginning of 1562, the Muscovite court used the fact of these relations as a casus belli during negotiations with the king's envoy.60 Finally, both the chronicle and the boyars' letter express the tsar's claim to Livonia through the 39

See A. L. Khoroshkevich, "Tsarskii titul i boiarskii 'miatezh' 1553 goda," Otechestoennaia istoriia, no. 3 (1994), 23-42; Jaakko Lehtovirta, Ivan IV as Emperor. The Imperial Theme in the Establishment of Muscovite Tsardom (Turku: Painosalama Oy, 1999), 302-09. 60 See Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 63; PSRL, vol. 13, 340; I. Gralia (Hieronim Grala), Ivan Mikhailov Viskovatyi: Kar'era gosudarstvennogo deiatelia v Rossii XVI v. (Moscow: Radiks, 1994), 246.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

349

notion of votchina, which was a powerful ideological instrument for justifying military aggression and conducting foreign policy. Although the idea of votchina seems to have been the only available legal notion for Muscovite diplomats, they masterfully manipulated this concept in their argumentation. The Muscovite government resorted to the notion of votchina during the subjugation of Novgorod, Tver', and during the conquest of Kazan'. In order to justify his taking of Polotsk, Ivan IV also announced that the town was his eternal votchina and included the adjective polotskii in his title.61 Still, the Muscovite court demonstrated quite a flexible approach to the notion of votchina, since Muscovite political culture permitted the concept that a votchina of the tsar might be in someone else's possession under certain circumstances. This idea apparently derives from the practice of Muscovite rulers granting possessions to Tatar princes in exchange for their service and loyalty. This attitude allowed Ivan IV a certain degree of latitude in his policy towards Polotsk. For example, in his letter to Sigismund II of 10 September 1563, Ivan IV noted that if the king had not invaded Livonia, the tsar's votchina of Polotsk would have remained under Sigismund's rule. The Muscovite government repeated this argument during the long and complicated negotiations with the representatives of the Polish king in 1566. The flexible concept of votchina granted Muscovite diplomats so much room for maneuver that they even considered exchanging Polotsk for Livonia at some stage in the talks.62 The notion of votchina also allowed the Muscovite government to interpret the seizure of Polotsk in the context of the tsar's claim to the Kievan inheritance. The constant claim to Kiev and Polotsk as patrimonies of the Muscovite ruler became a standard feature of Muscovite foreign policy in the sixteenth century. Keenan is correct that the dynastic claims of the Muscovite rulers to other east Slavic lands, including Kiev, as their patrimony lack national connotations in our modern sense. However, these claims were hardly just a handy diplomatic formula, as Keenan argues. Dynastic concerns were major components of early-modern identity. Like the Tale of the Vladimir

61

Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 125, 127; PSRL, vol. 29, 312, 318. For the letter of 10 September 1563, see Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 172. For records of the talks in 1566, see ibid., 358, 394. The exchange of Polotsk was never discussed during the talks since the representatives of the king made it clear that they would not accept this idea. 62

350

SERGEI BOGATYREV

Princes (Skazanie o kniaz'iakh Vladimirskikh) ^ claims to the Kievan succession raised the political status of the grand prince of Moscow, and by extension, that of members of his court in the conflicts with the ruling house of Poland.63 Pelenski points out that Ivan IV's campaign against Polotsk was an important step in the formulation of the concept of Moscow as "the second Kiev."64 Numerous parallels between Ivan IV and the Kievan princes can be found in the abovementioned letter of Pimen Chernyi, Archbishop of Novgorod and Pskov, the second person in the church hierarchy after the metropolitan. In his letter, Pimen resorted to the examples of the Kievan princes in his justification of the tsar's military aggression. The archbishop wrote that the tsar's ancestors, the Kievan princes Igor, Sviatoslav, and Vladimir not only defended the Russian land (Rosiiskuiu zemliu), but also took other lands under their rule (inyia strany priimakhu pod sebe) and received tribute from the Greek tsars. This passage, like several other passages in Pimen's letter, is derived from the letter of Vassian Rylo, Archbishop of Rostov to Ivan III on the struggle with the Tatars (1480).65 Pimen thereby sought to present the Polotsk campaign as a continuation of Kievan political tradition and to evoke historical parallels between Ivan IV and the victorious princes of Kiev. The rituals performed by the tsar during the campaign also emphasized his connection with the spiritual heritage of Kiev through the use of the cult of the Kievan princes Boris and Gleb. According to TTP, when the tsar was leaving Moscow for Polotsk he visited the church of SS

63 Sbornik RIO, vol. 59 (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia F. Eleonskogo i K., 1887), 79 (1536), 155 (1542), 276 (1549), 396 (1553), 572, 575 (1559); vol. 71, 43 (1561). Edward L. Keenan, "Muscovite Perceptions of Other East Slavs before 1654—An Agenda for Historians," in Ukraine and Russia in TTieir Historical Encounter, eds. Peter J. Potichnyj et al. (Edmonton: Canadian Institute of Ukrainian Studies Press, 1992), 25, 26. The Polish side also formulated their own set of pretensions to Kiev and the whole land of Rus in 1569. Seejaroslaw Pelenski, "The Origins of the Official Muscovite Claims to the 'Kievan Inheritance'," Harvard Ukrainian Studies 1:1 (March, 1977), 50-51. 64 See Pelenski, Russia and Kazan', 116. 65 PSRL, vol. 29, 306-08. On Pimen Chernyi, see D. M. Bulanin, "Pimen," in Slovar' knizhnikov i knizhnosti Drevnei Rusi, issue 2 (Leningrad: Nauka, Leningradskoe otdelenie, 1989), part 2: 185-88 (hereafter SKK). On Vassian's letter, see I. M. Kudriavtsev, "Poslanie na Ugru Vassiana Rylo kak pamiatnik publitsistiki XV v.," TODRL 8 (1951), 183-84; la. S. Lur'e, Doe istorii Rusi XV v. Rannie i pozdnie, nezavisimye i ofitsial'nye letopisi ob obrazovanii Moskovskogo gosudarstva (St. Petersburg, Paris: Dmitrii Bulanin, Institut d'Etudes slaves, 1994), 181-83.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

351

Boris and Gleb on Arbat Street. During the siege of Polotsk, the tsar's headquarters was located at the monastery of SS Boris and Gleb near the town, and Ivan prayed to the saints for victory.66 The ideology of Orthodox kingship depicted SS Boris and Gleb as military patrons of princes, and also as their divine intercessors in battle. In icons, Boris and Gleb often lead the Orthodox host in battle with the infidels.67 The diplomatic records add more names to the list of Kievan princes who served as models for Ivan IV during his conquest of Polotsk. During the negotiations with the Polish king's envoys in 1563, Muscovite boyars defined the votchina of the Muscovite tsar through a reference to Vladimir Monomakh's son, Mstislav and his offspring, who governed Galicia, Volhynia, Podolia, and Vilna.68 Indeed, according to modern studies, the age of Monomakh and Mstislav can seem like an embodiment of the conventional "Kievocentric" vision of the land of Rus. Of particular interest is the fact that Mstislav rounded up the princes of Polotsk and exiled them to Byzantium.69 Apart from Mstislav, the Muscovite government also evoked the names of Vladimir I and Yaroslav the Wise in its claims to Kiev.70 An implicit connection between the idea of fighting for the Kievan inheritance and the taking of Polotsk is apparent in the references to the Polotsk cathedral of St. Sophia in the chronicle description of the campaign and in the deployment books. As was shown above, both the chronicle and the deployment book mention the tsar observing the upper part of St. Sophia in the town, something that demonstrates that the compilers of documents of various stylistic levels sought to emphasize the symbolic significance of the cathedral in the ideological paradigm of the campaign.71 Built by the middle of the llth century, the Polotsk church was among the three cathedrals dedicated to St. Sophia in Kievan Rus', 66

PSRL, vol. 29, 303, 308; RK 1475-1605 gg., 117. See also the map of the siege in Aleksandrov, Volodikhin^ Bor'ba, 89. 67 See Gail Lenhoff, The Martyred Princes Boris and Gleb: A Socio-Cultural Study of the Cult and the Texts (UCLA Slavic Studies, vol. 19; Columbus: Slavica Publishers, Inc., 1989), 53, 70, 71, 130 note 37; Rowland, "Biblical Military Imagery," 189, 193. 68 Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 172. 1)9 See Simon Franklin and Jonathan Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 750-1200 (London, New York: Longman, 1996), 340. 70 Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 374. 71 PSRL, vol. 29, 306; Buganov, "Vziat'e polotskoe" 215.

352

SERGEI BOGATYREV

the two others being in Kiev and Novgorod.72 The source of the St. Sophia cult in Rus' was Kiev, with its cathedral church of St. Sophia testifying that the city was a second Constantinople, and by extension, a new Jerusalem. The frescoes of the cathedral also reveal a close spiritual connection between the St. Sophia cult and the royal family by placing the royal figures in the context of liturgical mysticism.73 The association of the St. Sophia cult with Ivan IV as a champion of Orthodoxy and an heir of the Kievan princes became apparent during the Polotsk campaign thanks to the activities of Archbishop Pimen. L. E. Morozova interprets Pimen's letter as a sign of support given by the Novgorodian clergy to the policy of Ivan IV in the early 1560s.74 In my view, the letter had another ideological meaning in the context of the religious symbolism of the campaign. The main idea of this letter, written by the leading member of the clergy of St. Sophia of Novgorod, was to provide the tsar with Biblical and historical examples justifying his military actions and to inform him that Pimen had performed a liturgy in the Novgorodian St. Sophia and prayed to God for the ruler, for the royal family, and for the sovereign's Christ-loving host. To enhance the symbolic meaning of these actions, Pimen sent Ivan an icon of Divine Wisdom.75 Given the dominant role of St. Sophia of Polotsk in the descriptions of the campaign, Pimen's choice for the subject of the icon is quite significant. The archbishop evoked the spiritual connections between the sites of the St. Sophia cult in Novgorod and Polotsk through sending his letter and the icon of Divine Wisdom to the tsar waging battle for the liberation of St. Sophia of Polotsk. Pimen's symbolic gestures thus gave a new dimension to the idea of fighting for the Kievan heritage by bringing forward the cult of St. Sophia, which was common to Kiev, Polotsk, and Novgorod.

72 On St. Sophia of Polotsk, see T. Charniauskaia, G. Shmykhau, "Polatski Safiiski sabor," in Entsyklapedyia gistoiyi Belarusi, vol. 5 (Minsk: Belaruskaia entsyklapedyia imia Petrusia Brouki, 1999), 539-40. 73 See Priscilla Hunt, "The Meaning of Wisdom in St. Sophia of Kiev" (paper delivered at VI ICCEES World Congress, Tampere, Finland, July 29, 2000). 74 See L. E. Morozova, "Sochineniia novgorodskikh avtorov o 'novorn uchenii' Feodosiia Kosogo," in Tserkov', obshchestvo i gosudarstvo v feodal'noi Rossii, ed. A. I. Klibanov (Moscow: Nauka, 1990), 227. 73 PSRL, vol. 29, 308. It was apparently the "Novgorod" icon of Divine Wisdom that represented the Angel of Wisdom sitting on the seat of judgement with imperial regalia. The icon evoked the transformational energy of Divine Wisdom. See

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

353

The rituals performed by the tsar after the capitulation of Polotsk were fully in line with Pimen's view of the military operation against the town. The campaign culminated in the tsar's visit to St. Sophia on 18 February, which is described in detail in TTP and briefly mentioned in RKExp and S.76 According to the chronicle, Ivan prayed to God and the Virgin for his victory and attended the liturgy at St. Sophia. The chronicle emphasizes the symbolic role of the cathedral as a spiritual link between Ivan IV and the princes of Kievan Rus by mentioning that the tsar was particularly glad to see the miracle-working icons that were decorated by ancient Christian rulers. The ritualized activities of Archbishop Pimen focused on the cult of St. Sophia and the symbolic culmination of the campaign in the tsar's visit to St. Sophia of Polotsk corroborate Priscilla H. Hunt's ideas on the particular importance of this cult for Muscovite political culture. According to Hunt, a Wisdom (Sophia) ideology expressed a system of analogies between archetypes of Christ, the king and the state, which articulated the ruler's likeness to the divine Person of Christ in the Trinity. Wisdom iconography "identifies sacred 'power' with combat and provides a paradigm of sacred violence that could be used to justify the tsar's military aggression."77 The cult of St. Sophia evoked parallels between the tsar conquering Polotsk and Christ renewing Jerusalem through the power of the cross. A material symbol of this religious view of the campaign was the so-called Polotsk cross from the tsar's treasury, which was made on the order of Efrosin'ia of Polotsk in 1161 and became a major object of worship in Polotsk. The Muscovites obtained the cross after the conquest of Smolensk in 1514. When Ivan set off for Polotsk, he ordered a restoration of the cross and took it along with him on the campaign. This symbolic gesture implied that the Orthodox tsar renewed the city of Polotsk and its St. Sophia and cleansed it from heresy by returning Efrosin'ia's cross to its place of origin as Christ turned the Jerusalem temple into the Wisdom house through the resurrection of the cross.78 An allusion to Christ renewing Jerusalem

Hunt, "Ivan TV's Personal Mythology," 787. I am thankful to Priscilla Hunt for this reference. 7f> PSRL, vol. 29, 313; RK 1475-1605, 134; Sapunov, "Razriadnaia kniga," 57. 77 Hunt, "Ivan IV's Personal Mythology," 772, 774, 780, 781, 783, 784, 798. 78 See PSRL, vol. 29, 303; Hunt, The Meaning of Wisdom. On the cross of Efrosin'ia, see also P. T. Petriakov, ed., Polotsk. Istoricheskii ocherk, 2nd ed. (Minsk: Nauka i

354

SERGEI BOGATYREV

with the power of the cross is also apparent in the votive expansion of the Moscow Kremlin Annunciation Cathedral that followed the taking of Polotsk. In 1564—66, four chapels were added to this court church of Ivan IV, one dedicated to the Entry into Jerusalem.79 The inference was that the tsar entered Polotsk as Christ entered Jerusalem, renewing the sacredness of the city. The dedication of the chapel coincided with that of the primary entrance to the Cathedral of the Intercession on the Moat, a monument to Ivan's taking of Kazan'. The common reference to the sacred city, Jerusalem, in the ideological programs of these two campaigns enhanced the parallel between Ivan's campaigns against Kazan' and Polotsk. Sharing the same idea of fighting for the true faith, the ideological paradigms of these two campaigns evoked the cult of Dmitrii Ivanovich Donskoi, who acquired an image as a charismatic leader and a champion of Orthodoxy in Muscovite political culture. This image of Dmitrii Donskoi occupies a prominent place in the Imperial Book of Degrees (Stepennaia kniga), a literary work that glorified the Muscovite dynasty and that was created on the eve of and during the Polotsk campaign, in 1560—63. The Imperial Book of Degrees emphasizes the miracles associated with the cult of Dmitrii Donskoi and exhorts the prince to pray to Christ for his autocratic relatives (that is for Ivan IV) and for all people in his empire.80 There is obvious symmetry between the use of this cult during the Polotsk campaign and in the campaign against Kazan' in 1552. The preparations of both campaigns involved the miracle-working icon of the Virgin of the Don, which, according to the chronicle, helped Dmitrii Donskoi to defeat the infidels. Ivan IV prayed before the icon prior to his campaign against Kazan' and took it along with him when he embarked on the Polotsk campaign. After the taking of Polotsk, Kazan' was the first town after Moscow which Ivan ordered instructions to be sent to in order to celebrate the victory.81

tekhnika, 1987), 39-41 (a picture of the cross on 41). The cross was lost during the Nazi occupation of Belarus. 79 William C. Brumfield, A History of Russian Architecture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 129. 80 PSRL, vol. 21 (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia M. A. Aleksandrova, 1913), part 2, 407; Gail D. Lenhoff, "Unofficial Veneration of the Daniilovichi in Muscovite Rus'," in Culture and Identity in Muscovy, 1359-1584, eds. Ann M. Kleimola and Gail D. Lenhoff (UCLA Slavic Studies, n. s., vol. 3; Moscow: ITZ-Garant, 1997), 402-11. 81 PSRL, vol. 13, 191, 361; vol. 29, 303, 314.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

355

Following the lead of Vassian Rylo, Muscovite ecclesiastical writers praised Dmitrii Donskoi as a champion of Orthodoxy in the struggle with infidels. In his address to Ivan IV after the taking of Kazan', Metropolitan Makarii evoked the image of Dmitrii Donskoi as the praiseworthy prince who defeated the barbarians (varvary) on the Don River. In similar fashion, the description of the Polotsk campaign stresses that Grand Prince Dmitrii Ivanovich, who was the tsar's ancestor, defeated the Godless Mamai on the Don.82 In line with the paradigm of militant Orthodoxy, ecclesiastical writers and court functionaries presented the Polotsk campaign as a fight against heretics and iconoclasts, interweaving in their arguments political and religious considerations. The confessional vision of the conflict is apparent in the letter of Archbishop Pimen and in a number of epistles that the tsar and the metropolitan sent to monasteries in the early 1560s. For example, in his letter to the Holy Trinity monastery of 12 May 1562, Ivan IV asked the abbot of the monastery to pray to the Lord, the Mother of God, the great miracle-workers and all the saints to send the angels, the martyrs and all the saints to assist the tsar, his brothers, his boyars and commanders and the whole Christian Orthodox host in their struggle for their birthright (otechestvo] and for the flock of Christ's sheep against the spiritual wolves (ot myslennykh sikh volkov) in their lands.83 The images and allusions used in the tsar's letter constituted the core of the ideological program of Muscovite autocracy, which likened the Muscovite ruler and his army to the Archangel Michael and his host waging war with cosmic evil.84 In his letter to Ivan IV, Archbishop Pimen interpreted the Polotsk campaign as part of the tsar's mission to fight the Latins, "the pagan Germans" and the Lutherans in the name of the Orthodox faith of the Greek law.8;) A similar set of notions related to the war can be found in Metropolitan Afanasii's letter to Bishop Matvei of Sarai and the Don written a year and a half after the conquest of

82 PSRL, vol. 13, 226; vol. 29, 303. On the textual connections between Vassian's letter to Ivan III and Makarii's address to Ivan IV, see Pelenski, Russia and Kazan', 201-03. 83 Akty, sobrannye v bibliotekakh i arkhivakh Rossiiskoi imperil Arkheograficheskoiu ekspeditsieiu imp. Akademii nauk, vol. 1 (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia II otdeleniia Sobstvennoi e. i. v. kantseliarii, 1856), no. 260, 286, 287 (hereafter AAE). 84 On the origins and manifestations of this ideology, see Rowland, "Biblical Military Imagery," 182-212. 85 PSRL, vol. 29, 306.

356

SERGEI BOGATYREV

Polotsk, on 29 September 1564. According to the letter, "the Godless Lithuanians, the God-abhorrent Latins, and the most evil iconoclasts" came to Polotsk, "the sovereign's ancient eternal patrimony recently restored by God" (na gosudarevu novobogomdarovannuiu iskoni vechnuiu vootchinu), to ruin the town, to desecrate the holy churches of God and the honorable icons and to capture the Orthodox population of the town (pravoslaviia pleniti}.86 It is quite natural that the confessional vision of the war dominates the narrative in the correspondence between the tsar and the clergy. On the basis of his study of the ideology of the conquest of Kazan', Pelenski, however, concludes that emphasis on the religious explanation of the struggle was not restricted to ecclesiastics alone.87 The diplomatic records relating to the Polotsk campaign fully corroborate this observation. During the talks with Sigismund II's representatives soon after the taking of Polotsk, Muscovite diplomats gave an account of the Polotsk campaign that is highly reminiscent of the chronicle description of the campaign (TTP) in terms of the use of ornate religious rhetoric. Like TTP, the account in the diplomatic records presents Ivan's attack against Polotsk as a struggle for the true Christian faith, which was caused by the furious spite of Sigismund II, his ill will towards Christianity and towards the tsar, and by his numerous untruths and false written words. The account stresses that God, the Virgin, the angels, all the saints, and the holy synod of the true clerics of the Russian tsardom protected the tsar during his campaign against Polotsk. According to the diplomatic account of the campaign, the tsar waged his campaign in the name of the true Orthodox faith and in the name of the bona constitutio (blagostoianie) of the holy churches.88 It is worth noting that this topos of Muscovite literature, the theme of protecting the true faith and the holy churches, also made its way into the diplomatic records of the Foreign Chancellery (Posol'skii prikaz). This kind of cross-textual connection shows that such literary topoi were not only rhetorical devices employed by ecclesiastical writers, but also operative concepts employed by court functionaries during diplomatic negotiations. This confessional view of the Polotsk campaign in the diplomatic records resonates with the religious rhetoric of the official chronicle, 86 87 88

AAE, vol. 1, no. 267, 302. Pelenski, Russia and Kazan', 291. Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 243, 244.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

357

which mentions the tsar rejoicing at the fact that the "Godless Lutherans" had not desecrated the holy churches and icons and reports about the deacon and clergy of St. Sophia glorifying the liberation of Polotsk from the oppression of the Lutherans.89 Thus, the chronicle presents Ivan IV's triumph as a culmination of his aspiration to fight iconoclasts in Polotsk. The subject of iconoclasm in the Muscovite ideological program of the war has its origin in the spread of Protestantism in Livonia and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania in the middle of the sixteenth century. Pelenski justly connects invectives against the "Lutheran Rus," which became prominent in Muscovite rhetoric in the 1560s, with the formulation of the idea of Moscow as the second Kiev.90 Though Muscovite knowledge of Protestantism in the early 1560's was quite limited and fragmented, it was precisely the growing popularity of Protestantism among the Ruthenian nobility that led Muscovite ideologists to speak about the fall of Kiev into heresy. Muscovites learned about Protestantism shortly before the Polotsk campaign. In 1558, the magnate Ostafi Wollowicz informed Muscovite diplomats of the growing influence of Lutheranism in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and insisted on its threat to Orthodoxy.91 The continuation of the Letopisets nachala tsarstva refers to the tsar's order to send clerics to recently conquered Narva "to restore it from the Latin and Lutheran faith and confirm it in the immaculate Christian Orthodox faith" in 1558.92 Kollmann notes that in this way the city was made sacred, part of the Muscovite community.93 Finally, shortly before the Polotsk campaign, in 1561, Metropolitan Makarii received a letter from loasaf, Patriarch of Constantinople with refutations of Protestantism.94 In his letter, loasaf expressed his concern about the fact that people in "Little Russia" (v Maloi Rusii) had fallen into the evil heresy of Lutheranism, something which the patriarch called their spiritual death. loasaf's letter

89

PSRL, vol. 29, 313. Pelenski, Russia and Kazan', 116-17. 91 Sbornik RIO, vol. 59, 550. 92 PSRL, vol. 13, 296. 93 Kollmann, "Pilgrimage," 177. 94 PSRL, vol. 29, 293-96. loasaf apparently wrote this letter in November or December 1560, simultaneously with his letters to Tsar Ivan IV. On this set of documents and their dating, see B. L. Fonkich, "Grecheskie gramoty sovetskikh arkhivov," in Probkmy pakografii i kodikologii v SSSR, eds. A. D. Liublinskaia et al. (Moscow: Nauka, 1974), 247-51; Zimin, Gosudarstoennyi arkhiv, issue 2: 408. 90

358

SERGEI BOGATYREV

contains a review of the basic concepts of Luther's teaching and criticism of these concepts from the point of view of Orthodox dogma, including a long passage directed against Luther's rejection of the veneration of icons. It is important to note that loasaf's letter on Lutheranism arrived in Moscow together with his letter to Ivan IV, in which the patriarch blessed Ivan's assumption of the title of tsar. At the same time, loasaf stipulated the sole right of the patriarchs of Rome and Constantinople to crown a tsar and suggested to Ivan that he repeat the ceremony of coronation with the participation of the patriarch's exarch. The Muscovite government, however, only selected the recognition of Ivan's title from the communication with the patriarch and ignored all his reservations about the procedure.95 Thus, on the eve of the Polotsk campaign, Muscovite ruling circles simultaneously learned about the validation of Ivan's title by the Constantinople patriarch and about his concern over the rise of Protestantism west of Muscovy. The fact that loasaf's letter on Lutheranism was included in Ivan IV's official chronicle right after the patriarch's letter with the blessing of Ivan's title of tsar shows that the official ideologists connected the idea of the Orthodox tsar's power with his mission to guard the true faith from the Protestants.96 The idea of fighting the iconoclasts and heretics permitted the Muscovite government to present the tsar's attack against Polotsk as a manifestation of God's wrath. During the talks with Sigismund IPs envoy in 1563, Muscovite officials stated that the reason for the war with the Polish king was the fact that the Livonians destroyed the holy churches of God and desecrated the holy icons. The most intriguing part of the Muscovite reasoning was the idea of fighting heresy in Livonia. According to the Muscovite diplomats, Ivan IV allowed the Livonians to follow their Catholic rites, but could not tolerate the fact that they abandoned the Catholic faith and fell into Godless heresy (i.e., Lutheranism).97 In their polemic with Protestants, Muscovites could allow for a certain tolerance of Catholics in order to highlight the "sins" of the Protestants, in the first instance their rejection of the veneration of icons. For example, in his letter of 95

See W. Regel, Anakcta Byzantina-Russica (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia Imperatorskoi Akademii Nauk, 1891), 75-79; Fonkich, "Grecheskie gramoty," 247-51. 96 PSRL, vol. 29, 292-96. 97 Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 210, 220, 229.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

359

1573 to John III of Sweden, Ivan IV blamed the king for being unaware of the true faith, for destroying even the modest refuge of the Latin rite (maluiu sen' latynskago sluzheniia) and for breaking icons.98 Needless to say, this kind of mitigated attitude to Catholicism was anything but reconciliation with the Latin faith. In their cross-confessional disputes, sixteenth-century Christian authors often invoked those practices and rites of other confessions that were common to their own confession." It follows, then, that in its dealing with the Protestants, Muscovite diplomacy employed a standard rhetorical device that brought a religious dimension to the problems of foreign policy. To enhance their religious argument during the talks in 1563, the Muscovite boyars quoted Apostle Jude's words: ". . . and of some have compassion making a difference; and others save with fear, pulling them out of fire." The Muscovite side also directly likened the wrath of the tsar at Livonia to the wrath of God and thereby portrayed Ivan's attack against Livonia as an attempt to save the sinful Livonians from the eternal fire.100 A condensed expression of this ideology can be found in the above-mentioned letter of Ivan IV to John III: "<2 voisku nashemu pravitel' Bog, a ne chelovek: kak Bog dast', tak i budet."m In this frame of reference, Ivan became an instrument of God and the tsar's military actions acquired a purifying character.

98

L. A. Dmitriev, D. S. Likhachev, eds., Pamiatniki literatury Drevnei Rusi. Vtoraia polovina XVI veka (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1986), 138. 99 On this type of religious tolerance in the early modern period, see Ole Peter Grell and Bob Scribner, eds., Tolerance and Intolerance in the European Reformation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 6; Sergei Bogatyrev, "Religious Identity in Sixteenth-Century Muscovitica: Herberstein and Fletcher," in "Se rakkain kotipolku:" Erkki Kouri ja yleinen historia, eds. Kustaa Multamaki et al. (Helsingin yliopiston Historian laitoksen julkaisuja 15, Helsinki: Hakapaino Oy, 2000), 131-48. Tolerance means here the temporary recognition of something which is forbidden and remains forbidden. 100 Sbornik RIO, vol. 71, 229; Jude 1: 22-23. Keenan seems to underestimate the role of religious arguments during diplomatic negotiations. Despite his assertion that "the great majority of such discussions of religious matters is elicited by questions of marriage," the court functionaries also regularly invoked religious arguments during discussions of military conflicts, truces, and peace agreements. The religious views of members of the court were of course not always as militant as the religious rhetoric that accompanied the Polotsk campaign. However, the practical tolerance that the court occasionally demonstrated in religious matters is hardly evidence that the court elite was secular-minded. Keenan, "Muscovite Perceptions," 26. 101 Dmitriev, Likhachev, Pamiatniki literatury Drevnei Rusi. Vtoraia polovina XVI veka, 128.

360

SERGEI BOGATYREV

The view of the Polotsk campaign as a manifestation of God's wrath against the sinful also justified the presence of Tatar forces in the army of the Orthodox tsar. The Tatars in Ivan's troops, that is, from the rhetorical point of view, in the host led by the Archangel Michael, represented the demonic servants of God, an image explicit in the chronicle accounts of Tatar raids against the Rus' principalities.102 For what it is worth, the chronicle of Maciej Stryjkowski reports on the executions of the Catholic monks by the Tatars after the taking of Polotsk.103 In the context of the religious rhetoric of the Polotsk campaign, the Tatars thereby served as an extreme manifestation of God's wrath at Polotsk after it had fallen into the hands of the enemies of the Orthodox faith. For their part, those members of the Tatar elite who were baptized and joined the closest entourage of the tsar, exemplified the triumph of the Orthodox faith and are referred to in the chronicle as "novoprosveshchennye."m The extensive use of militant religious rhetoric during the diplomatic talks that followed the taking of Polotsk demonstrates that the ideas of sacred kingship and purifying violence constituted an important part of Muscovite political discourse. Taken in conjunction with the aspiration to restore the tsar's "eternal" patrimony, considerations of religious purity and violent cleansing formed a frame of reference which enabled the Muscovite government to articulate its goals in foreign policy and military actions. Conclusion Ivan IV's military operation against Polotsk required not only large human and material resources, but also an ideology that would express the goals of the campaign in a convincing and accessible language. Since the Muscovite view of the state and policy was almost

102 Ostrowski points out the tendency to place God in the role of protecting Christian Rus' rather than punishing it through the agency of the Tatars in sixteenth-century chronicle writing (Ostrowski, Muscovy, 151). Despite this tendency, the sixteenth-century Muscovite chronicles retain the topos of the Tatars as divine agents. See, for example, PSRL, vol. 10 (Moscow: lazyki russkoi kul'tury, 2000), 89, 105, 109, 110, 134. lo:!

104

See Vitebskaia starina, vol. 4, 157.

On the assimilation of Tatar princes through their conversion in Muscovy, see Michael Khodarkovsky, "Four Degrees of Separation: Constructing Non-Christian Identities in Muscovy," in Kleimola, Lenhoff, Culture and Identity in Muscovy, 257~64.

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

361

exclusively religious, the only source for such an ideology could be the rhetorical works of ecclesiastical writers, who interpreted Ivan's wars as fighting for the true faith and for his patrimony. The church authors presented the tsar's attack on Polotsk as part of his duty to protect the true faith against heretics and renegades. The rise of Protestantism in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania led to numerous parallels between the taking of Polotsk, seen as the cleansing of the town of heretics and iconoclasts, and the defeat of the infidels during the victorious Kazan' campaign of 1552. The Polotsk campaign thereby ranks with the taking of Kazan' in terms of its functions of marking Ivan IV as the Orthodox tsar and the defender of the true faith. The diplomatic and military records and the chronicle tale on the taking of Polotsk show that the religious rhetoric of ecclesiastical writers became an integrated part of the argumentation of Muscovite diplomacy and of the symbolism of court rituals. Literary works of the church writers, the rhetorical passages in the diplomatic records and in the official chronicle, and the symbolic language of art and rituals formed, to use Klaus-Dieter Seemann's expression, a conventionalized field of interaction that established and legitimized, both religiously and historically, the policy of the tsar and his court.1(b The prominent role of religious rhetoric and symbolism in the diplomatic negotiations and in the court rituals relating to the Polotsk campaign shows that the interaction between the church and the court in the field of ideology was rather extensive. The religious interpretation of the Polotsk campaign found a response in the court of Ivan IV, since all the different official texts devoted to the campaign reproduce the same rhetorical ideas, implying a sacred model of the state and king. The view that the tsar is a champion of Orthodoxy and a device of God's wrath at heretics is prominent in the Foreign Chancellery's justification of the conquest of Polotsk and in the court rituals performed by the tsar and his entourage during the campaign. The symbolic gestures undertaken by Ivan IV in close cooperation with the clergy of Novgorod reveal the tsar's association with the cult of Divine Wisdom, common to Polotsk, Novgorod, and Kiev. Through these associations, the Polotsk cam-

"b See Klaus-Dieter Seemann, "Genres and the Alterity of Old Russian Literature," Slavic and East European Journal 3 1 : 2 (1987), 235.

362

SERGEI BOGATYREV

paign acquired a deep symbolic meaning in the context of Ivan IV's struggle for the Kievan inheritance. Polotsk with its St. Sophia was an ideal symbolic target upon which the Muscovite ruling circles could focus considerations of religious purity and sacred kingship in the war with Poland-Lithuania. The modern scholar can easily detect obvious logical contradictions and faults in the religious interpretation of the Polotsk campaign put forward by the ecclesiastics and court functionaries. In his struggle to protect the true faith, the Orthodox tsar killed and imprisoned numerous Orthodox believers in Polotsk; if the icons at St. Sophia remained intact, then there was no real threat to the veneration of icons in the town; and so on. Does this inconsistency mean that the religious rhetoric was a sixteenth-century version of military propaganda aimed at concealing the geo-political, imperialist and economic concerns of the Muscovite government? Picchio justly criticizes such "translating the Middle Ages into a modern ideological language" and encourages scholars to focus on the actual language of medieval texts.106 Returning to Ostrowski's definition of ideology, it is important to stress that ideology provides a guide for political action on the basis of interpreting social experience. The Orthodox religion was an essential source of social experience for a Muscovite. Throughout their lives, Ivan IV and the members of his court cultivated close relations with the Orthodox church, donating money, land, objects of religious veneration and church books to monasteries. Ivan IV had a printing press at Aleksandrovskaia sloboda that produced Psalters and Books of Hours; prominent members of court had their own choirs performing church chants.107 Religious rites regularly practiced by the tsar and his courtiers reflected social norms, practices, and expectations prevailing in Muscovite society.108 Given

106

Picchio, "Models," 439-40. On donations, see, for example, B. A. Rybakov, ed., Vkladnaia kniga TroitseSergieva monastyna (Moscow: Nauka, 1987), 27; Kloss, Mkonovskii svod, 232. On the press at Aleksandrovskaia sloboda, see L. I. Sazonova, "Andronik Timofeev," in SKK, issue 2 (Leningrad: Nauka, Leningradskoe otdelenie, 1988), part 1: 40-42; Amosov, Litsevoi letopisnyi svod, 211-22. On the private choirs of prominent courtiers, see S. N. Bogatyrev, ed., Khozhiaistuennye kmgi Chudova monastyna 1585/86g. (Moscow: Arkheograficheskii tsentr, 1996), 78. See also Paul Bushkovitch, Religion and Society in Russia: The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 32-50. 108 See S. B. Veselovskii, "Sinodik opal'nykh tsaria Ivana Groznogo kak istoricheskii intochnik," in idem, Issledovaniia po istorii oprichniny (Moscow: IzdatePstvo AN 107

BATTLE FOR DIVINE WISDOM

363

the dominant position of religion in Muscovite society, it is quite natural that the leading members of the court resorted to religious ideas and symbols as a guide in charting and conducting foreign policy and military actions. True, their ideology was as contradictory as its main source, the Christian myth that combines "divine" and "human," "high" and "low," severity and meekness. Nevertheless, the idea of fighting for the true faith corresponded to the social experience of the members of Ivan IV's court, helped them to comprehend the diversity of the surrounding world, to maintain their confessional identity and to justify the hardships of warfare. In his penetrating analysis of early modern models of interpreting other cultures, Michael T. Ryan notes that the standard way of dealing with "the other" was to assimilate it, that is to locate the exotics within the context of a familiar web of discourse. The most effective and commonly used device for assimilating "the other" was to describe it as pagan.109 In a way, the rhetoric of the Polotsk campaign served the same purposes. The annexation of Polotsk with its complex social structures, highly-developed economy and diverse religious traditions posed numerous political and confessional problems for the Muscovite ruling circles. By using the ideas of fighting the enemies of Orthodoxy in Polotsk and restoring the patrimony of the tsar, the ecclesiastical writers and court functionaries interpreted the complex world of a foreign urban community through the values, beliefs, and traditions of Ivan IV's Muscovy.

SSSR, 1963), 325-36; Daniel E. Collins, "Early Russian Topoi of Deathbed and Testament," in Flier, Rowland, Medieval Russian Culture, vol. 2, 134-59; Flier, "Breaking the Code," 242. '«' Michael Ryan, "Assimilating New Worlds in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries," Comparative Studies in Society and History 23: 4 (1981), 525.

This page intentionally left blank

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR Janet Martin

In the last year of his life Tzar Simeon Kasayevich helped another former Tzar of Kazan Shikh-Aley, a grand-nephew of Khan Ahmad, to conquer Livonia in the name of Russia.1

The statement is of course misleading. Livonia was not permanently conquered by Simeon (Semion) Kasaevich (Kasayevich) and ShahAli (Shikh-Aley) or, for that matter, by Russia. Although Muscovy did invade Livonia in 1558, it conceded defeat a quarter century later when it concluded peace with Poland-Lithuania and Sweden, both of which had entered the war to curtail Muscovite expansion and to acquire Livonian territories for themselves. Nevertheless, by highlighting Tatars who participated on behalf of Muscovy in the Livonian War, the statement offers a perspective on the sixteenthcentury Muscovite army that contrasts sharply with the standard image of a cavalry force consisting basically of provincial servicemen led by boyar commanders with Tatars playing a relatively minor role along with Cossacks, musketeers (strel'tsy), gunners (pushkari], and peasants (pososhnye liudi] as supplementary and support units.2 This study examines the Tatars in Muscovy's armies during the Livonian War. It is based primarily on published military records related to that war. Several campaigns, particularly those of 1562~63 and 1577—81, for which detailed, quantitative data on the composition of the armies are available, are highlighted. Records of other campaigns conducted in the 1560s and 1570s provide supplementary and corroborative information. These records allow an investigation not 1

Boris Ischboldin, Essays on Tatar History (New Delhi: New Book Society of India, 1963), 93. 2 Pvichard Hellie, Enserfment and Military Change in Muscovy (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1971), 21^25; P. P. Epifanov, "Voisko i voennaia organizatsiia," in Ocherki russkoi kul'tury XVI ueka, pt. 1, ed. A. V. Artsikhovskii (Moscow: Moskovskii universitet, 1976), 338; John L. H. Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar: Army and Society in Russia 1462-1874 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), 14, 16, 57, 60-61, 75.

366

JANET MARTIN

only of highly visible members of the Tatar elite, who served as regimental commanders, but also of the thousands of Tatar warriors who supplemented the ranks of the Muscovite forces. The study will identify the Tatars who led Muscovy's armies, determine how many Tatar warriors were involved in some of Muscovy's military campaigns, consider the nature of their contributions to the war effort, and assess the significance of their participation in the Livonian War. Tatar Commanders

One of the striking features of the army assembled by Tsar Ivan IV to launch the Livonian War was the prominence of Tatars, specifically members of the Chingisid dynasty, in command positions. At the head of the invasion force was Tsar Shah-Ali (Shigalei, Shikh-Aley), mentioned in the quoted statement. While he, accompanied by two boyars and field commanders (voevody), led the main (bol'shoi] regiment of the army, two other Tatar tsarevichi, Tokhtamysh and Kaibula, were placed at the heads of the vanguard (peredovoi] and right-wing regiments, respectively.3 Over the next decade they as well as Tsar Simeon Kasaevich and the tsarevichi Bekbulat and Ibak repeatedly commanded regiments engaged in Livonia, against Lithuania, and on Muscovy's southern frontier. Another tsar, Aleksandr, also briefly participated in the war. Tsar Shah-Ali was the senior and the preeminent member of this group of Tatars. He was a grandson of Bakhtiiar, the brother of the famous Khan of the Great Horde, Ahmad, and thus a Chingisid, a member of the ruling Tatar dynasty. He held positions commensurate with his status from c. 1516, when, succeeding his father SheikhAliyar, he became Khan of Kasimov. He intermittently ruled Kasimov (c. 1516-19, 1535-51, c. 1553-66); it was while he was Khan of Kasimov that he led the Muscovite army into Livonia. He also served as Khan of Kazan' (1519-21, 1546, 1551-52). His recorded service in Muscovy's armies began in 1524 and continued until his death in 1566.4 3 Polnoe sobranie russkikh letopisei (hereafter PSRL), vol. 13 (Moscow: Nauka, 1965; reprint, Moscow: lazyki Russkoi Kul'tury, 2000), 287; Razriadnaia kniga 1475-1598 (Moscow: Nauka, 1966), 170 (hereafter RK); Razriadnaia kniga 1475-1605 gg., 3 vols. in 9 pts. (Moscow: Institut istoriia AN SSSR, 1977-89), vol. 2:1, 17 (hereafter RK 1475-1605); A. M. Orlov, Meshchera, Meshcheriaki, Mishare (Kazan': Tatarskoe knizhnoe izdatel'stvo, 1992), 57. 4 RK, 69, 72, 77, 79, 91, 113-14, 117, 120, 122-23, 128, 137, 170, 196, 208-9;

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

367

Kaibula, also known as Abdulla Ak-kubekov, arrived in Moscow from Astrakhan' in May 1552. As a great grandson of Ahmad, the late khan of the Great Horde (d. 1481), he was related to Tsar ShahAli, his father's, Ak-kubek's, second cousin. Ivan IV, who claimed friendly relations with Ak-kubek, welcomed Kaibula, granted him the principality of lur'ev with its incomes for his maintenance, and also gave him permission to marry Shah-Ali's niece.5 By 1553, Kaibula was already participating in Muscovite military ventures. In July of that year, he was summoned from lur'ev to defend Muscovy's southern frontier from an anticipated attack by the Crimean Khanate. He served in the right-wing regiment of the invasion force into Livonia in 1558, and continued to participate in Muscovite campaigns until 1567.6 Tokhtamysh (Takhtamysh), identified as a Crimean tsarevich, also held a prominent post in the invasion force of 1558.7 His brother Bekbulat joined him in Muscovite service several years later. Grandsons of Khan Ahmad, they were cousins of Tsar Shah-Ali and of Akkubek.8 Tokhtamysh had arrived in Muscovy in December 1556. Prior to that he had spent a lengthy time in the Crimean Khanate, and was thus occasionally referred to as a Crimean tsarevich. In 1556, however, having become embroiled in political struggles in the Crimean Khanate, he fled and sought refuge with the Nogai prince Ismail. Tsar Ivan IV almost immediately invited him to come to Moscow, promising him lands for his maintenance. With Ismail's approval Tokhtamysh accepted the invitation, which had been reiterated by Shah-Ali. Within a few months of his arrival he was guarding

PSRL, vol. 13, 401; Russkaia istoncheskaia biblioteka (hereafter RIB), vol. 22 (St. Petersburg: Arkheograficheskaia komissiia, 1908), cols. 54-60; V. V. Vel'iaminovZernov, Izsledovanie o Kasimovskikh Tsariakh i Tsarevichakh, 4 vols. (St. Petersburg, 1863-87), vol. 1, 222-24, 279-82, 308, 399, 419-21, 446-49, 455, 461, 464, 468, 470; Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Zimin, "Ivan Grozny! i Simeon Bekbulatovich v 1575 g.," Uchenye zapiski Kazanskogo gosudarstoennogo pedagogicheskogo institute, vyp. 80: Iz istorii Tatarii, sb. 4 (Kazan', 1970), 149. 5 PSRL, vol. 13, 476; Vel'iaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 1, 393-96, 486; Ischboldin, Essays, 93-94, 97. " PSRL, vol. 13, 233-34, 256-58; Veriaminov-Zernov, Izsledovame, vol. 1, 391-92, 411-16, 419-21, 464, 470; RK, 150, 155, 162, 170, 171, 196, 200, 203, 204-5, 209, 220, 223, 226; RK 1475-1605, vol. 1:3, 493 and vol. 2:1, 8, 17-18, 105, 110, 114, 120, 137, 143, 147-48, 158, 164, 191, 193, 199, 200, 205, 207, 218. 7 RK, 170; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 18; PSRL, vol. 13, 287; Veriaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 1, 419. 8 Vel'iaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 2, 7, 11; Ischboldin, Essays, 107.

368

JANET MARTIN

Muscovy's southern frontier against an anticipated Crimean Tatar attack, and in 1558, he was appointed to the vanguard regiment in the army that invaded Livonia. Five years later he and his brother led the vanguard regiment to Polotsk. Tokhtamysh did not return from that campaign.9 Bekbulat came to Muscovy several years after his brother Tokhtamysh. He too had dwelled among the Nogai under Ismail's protection. But when Ivan IV extended an invitation early in 1558 for him to come to Moscow, Ismail responded that Bekbulat was too ill to travel. The records of his appointments to regimental command in the Muscovite armies, where he frequently served with his brother, indicate that had arrived by 1562. He died by 1566.10 Simeon Kasaevich was the other tsar named in the quotation. Contrary to its implication, however, Tsar Simeon Kasaevich rarely participated in the same military campaigns as Shah-Ali and spent a major portion of his military career on behalf of Muscovy defending its southern frontier from the Crimean Tatars. Simeon Kasaevich too was a Chingisid, the son of an Astrakhan' khan Kasim (Kasai, d. 1532) and grandson of Khan Seyit Ahmad.11 While dwelling among the Nogai, he was invited to become the khan of Kazan' by a political faction opposed to Muscovite domination. Arriving in the spring of 1552, he occupied the throne vacated by Shah-Ali in March, and became Kazan's last independent ruler.12 When Muscovy conquered the khanate a few months later, Ediger Mahmet, as he was then known, was captured and transported to Moscow, where on February 26, 1553, he converted to Orthodoxy and was baptized Simeon.

9 Vel'iaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 1, 419-28, 449-50, 456 and vol. 2, 7, 10-11; George Vernadsky, The Tsardom of Moscow 1547-1682, part 1 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1969), 93; PSRL, vol. 13, 277; RK, 165, 170, 175, 180, 196—98; Prodolzhenie Drevnei Rossiiskoi Vivliofiki (hereafter PDRV), vol. 9 (St. Petersburg, 1793; reprint, The Hague, 1970), 226, 229-30, 232-33, 236-37. 10 PDRV, vol. 10 (St. Petersburg 1795; reprint, The Hague, 1970), 24, 30; Vel'iaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 1, 456, 459, 460, 533 and vol. 2, 4-7; RK 196-98, 200; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 110, 113, 137; Zimin, "Ivan Groznyi i Simeon Bekbulatovich," 149. 11 Jaroslaw Pelenski, Russia and Kazan. Conquest and Imperial Ideology (1438-1560s) (The Hague and Paris: Mouton, 1974), 262; Ischboldin, Essays, 88, 92-93; Vel'iaminovZernov, I&kdovanie, vol. 1, 286, 367-8, 369; Stepan Borisovich Veselovskii, "Poslednie udely v severo-vostochnoi Rusi," Istoricheskie zapiski 22 (1947), 124. 12 PSRL, vol. 13, 174, 179.

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

369

From that time he served in Muscovy's armies until his death in August 1565.13 Much less is known about the background of Tsarevich Ibak. He arrived in Muscovy at the end of 1558, and began his Muscovite military career in January 1560, when he was assigned to the main regiment of an army assembled at Pskov for another Livonian campaign. He continued to serve in Muscovy's campaigns, often with Tsarevich Kaibula, until 1567.14 Tsar Aleksandr also participated in an early campaign of the Livonian War. Originally known as UtemishGirey, he was the son of Safa-Girey, a member of the dynasty of the Crimean Khanate, who ruled as khan of Kazan' from 1524 to 1532 and again from 1535 to 1549. Utemish-Girey, although a baby when his father died, succeeded him to the throne of Kazan'. Expelled and taken into Muscovite custody in 1551, he was christened Aleksandr on January 8, 1553, and subsequently raised at the court of Ivan IV. During the winter of 1562^63, he accompanied Tsar Ivan IV on the campaign to Polotsk. He died on June 11, 1566.15 The Tatar tsars Shah-Ali and Simeon Kasaevich and tsarevichi Kaibula, Tokhtamysh, Bekbulat, and Ibak appeared repeatedly in positions of regimental command during the first decade of the Livonian War. After Shah-Ali, Kaibula and Tokhtamysh invaded Livonia in 1558, Tokhtamysh continued in 1559 to penetrate more deeply into the region.16 Later that year, however, in response to warnings of a Crimean attack, he and Tsar Simeon Kasaevich held a position at Serpukhov.17 Tsarevich Ibak joined the ongoing conquest of Livonian towns and fortresses in 1560.18 This group thus served in the Livonian theater of the war and also in the defense of Muscovy's southern frontier against the Crimean Tatars. In 1563, they also became involved in campaigns against Lithuania.

13 PSRL, vol. 13, 229-30, 398; RK, 140, 150, 156, 162, 180-81, 196-97, 209, 211, 220. 14 RK, 184; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 62; PDRV, vol. 10, 45; Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Zimin, Oprichnina Ivana Groznogo (Moscow: Mysl', 1964), 363. 15 PSRL, vol. 13, 229,402; RK, 120, 197; Vel'iaminov-Zernov, I&ledovanie, vol. 1, 265-68, 335-36, 348-49; Ischboldin, Essays, 85, 87; Pelenski, Russia and Kazan, 42-44; Vernadsky, Tsardom, 59; Zimin, "Ivan Groznyi i Simeon Bekbulatovich," 149. 16 RK, 175; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 38-39. 17 RK, 180; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 50. 18 RK, 184; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 62.

370

JANET MARTIN

By 1562, the war had expanded from a localized venture in Livonia into a conflict involving Lithuania and Sweden as well as Muscovy. After the initial Muscovite campaigns into Livonia (1558-59), which resulted in the capture of Narva and lur'ev (Dorpat) and in the advance of Muscovite armies across Livonia to the vicinity of Riga, Sweden responded by extending its rule and protection over Reval (Tallinn) and large sectors of northern Livonia or Estonia (by 1561). It then concluded a truce with Muscovy. King Sigismund Augustus of Lithuania meanwhile negotiated the dissolution of the Order of Livonian Knights and placed the Order's territorial possessions in Livonia under his protection. Muscovy and Lithuania went to war. In March 1562 Tsar Shah-Ali and the tsarevichi Tokhtamysh, Bekbulat, and Ibak were among the commanders assembled at Smolensk. As the army departed for its offensive against Lithuania, Ibak with two boyars and field commanders led the main regiment; in like fashion Tokhtamysh was at the head of the vanguard regiment, and Bekbulat, the rearguard regiment. Tsar Simeon Kasaevich and Tsarevich Kaibula were stationed at Velikie Luki.19 At the end of 1562, all the Tatar tsars and tsarevichi, excepting only Shah-Ali but including Tsar Aleksandr, set off on one of the major campaigns of the war. As they crossed into Lithuanian territory, Tsar Simeon Kasaevich led the right-wing regiment, Tokhtamysh and Bekbulat the vanguard regiment. Kaibula was at the head of the left-wing regiment, Ibak the rearguard. The young Tsar Aleksandr was attached to the main regiment. The army reached its target, Polotsk, at the end of January 1563. In mid-February the city surrendered to Tsar Ivan IV.20 Tsarevich Tokhtamysh was not listed among the regimental commanders returning to Moscow after the conquest of Polotsk; it is presumed he died in 1563. Although Bekbulat returned to Moscow, he received no further military assignments after the Polotsk campaign.21 Tsar Simeon Kasaevich, joined by Tsar Shah-Ali, however, returned to the Lithuanian frontier. In September 1564, Shah-Ali, as head of the army at Viaz'ma, received intelligence that a Lithuanian army was approaching Velikie Luki and rushed his forces to that

19

RK, 196-97; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 101-05. PSRL, vol. 13, 349-63; RK, 197-98; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 110, 113-16, 120, 125, 128, 129, 131-34; Vitebskaia starina, 4 (1884), 27. 21 RK, 200; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 137; Vitebskaia starina, 64. 20

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

371

location. Tsar Simeon Kasaevich proceeded from Velikie Luki to capture Ozerishche in Lithuania. In 1565, the year of his death, Simeon Kasaevich was still engaged on the Lithuanian frontier, serving with the tsarevichi Kaibula and Ibak. Tsar Shah-Ali's service ended the following year.22 The tsarevichi Kaibula and Ibak also continued to fight on the Lithuania front from 1563 through the summer of 1565. In September 1565, however, they were transferred to Kolomna, where they received orders to take new positions against an approaching Crimean Tatar army. Ibak was too ill to carry out his assignment. Nevertheless, in 1567, both he and Kaibula were sent to Velikie Luki. It was the last recorded military assignment for both of them.23 Twenty years after it began the Livonian War, although punctuated by truces and diplomatic negotiations, was still going on. After Muscovy conquered Polotsk, the main action of the conflict continued between Poland-Lithuania and Sweden, which fought against each other from 1563 to 1570. Muscovy resumed its aggressive activities in the early 1570s. While maintaining a truce with PolandLithuania, it opened hostilities with Sweden, then launched a series of campaigns in Livonia, first against Swedish possessions (1573-75), then with even greater fanfare against the Polish-Lithuanian sphere as well (1577-78). Despite the success of these campaigns, Muscovy failed to capture Reval and Riga. By 1578, Poland-Lithuania was beginning to recover some Livonian towns, and by 1579 had forced Muscovy into a defensive position.24 By that time the Tatar leaders featured during the first ten years of the war had died or, at least, disappeared from the records. Their descendants, however, replaced them. Simeon Bekbulatovich, under

22

RK, 208-09, 220; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 156, 157, 158, 164-65, 165-68, 191-93; Vitebskaia starina, 72. 23 RK, 204-05, 208-09, 220, 223, 226-27; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 143-44, 147-48, 158-59, 164-65, 191-93, 199-200, 205-07, 218-19; Vitebskaia starina, 70-71. 24 RK 1475-1605, vol. 3:1, 23, 25, 29, 44; G. V. Forsten, Baltuskn vopros v XVI i XVII stoletiiakh (1544-1648). Vol. 1: Bor'ba iz. za Livonii. ^apiski istoriko-filologicheskago fakul'teta imperatorskago S.-Peterburgskago universiteta, part 33, vol. 1 (St. Petersburg, 1893), 645—48, 652-55, 666; V. Novodvorskii, Bor'ba za Livoniiu mezhdu Moskvoiu i Rech'iu Pospolitoiu (1570-1582) (St. Petersburg: I. N. Skorokhodov, 1904), 42-64; G. V. Vernadskii (George Vernadsky), "Ivan Grozny! i Simeon Bekbulatovich," in To Honor Roman Jakobson. Essays on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday, vol. 3 (The Hague and Paris: Mouton, 1967), 2147; Ruslan Grigor'evich Skrynnikov, Rossiia posle oprichniny (Leningrad: Leningradskii universitet, 1975), 40, 42-44.

372

JANET MARTIN

the title Grand Prince of Tver', led the main regiment in 1577.25 Simeon was the son of Bekbulat and nephew of Tokhtamysh. By 1570, Sain-Bulat (his Tatar name) had become the Khan of Kasimov, and in that capacity he had begun to assist Ivan IV militarily. During the winter of 1571—72, he was attached to the rearguard regiment of an army assembled at Novgorod for an offensive against the Swedes. He then led an advance expedition from Novgorod to Vyborg. The full offensive, however, was cancelled when the Muscovites and Swedes arranged a truce.26 The following winter (1572—73) he led an army into Livonia. After capturing Paida (Weissenstein), located in central Estonia, he proceeded with a portion of the army further westward, seizing several more fortresses but achieving no more major victories.27 By the middle of the summer of 1573, Tsar Sain-Bulat had given up his khanate to become Christian. He continued his military activities, leading the main regiment in the June 1575 offensive into Livonia and capturing Pernau.28 In the autumn of that year Ivan IV, stepping off his throne, conferred the title Grand Prince of All Rus' on Simeon.29 He held that position for a year, and when Ivan IV formally returned to his throne, Simeon Bekbulatovich, as Grand Prince of Tver', resumed his military role. He not only led the expedition in 1577, but commanded the offensive the next year as well.30 When Muscovy was forced to defend itself from the attacks of King Stefan Batory of Poland-Lithuania on Polotsk (1579), Velikie Luki (1580), and Pskov (1581), Simeon Bekbulatovich held a position at Pskov (fall 1579), and commanded the main regiment stationed at Rzhev and Volok (summer 1581).31 He died in 1616.32 Kaibula's sons were also active during the last stages of the Livonian War. Kaibula had five known sons. Perhaps the best known was 25

RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 444. RK, 242; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 292-94; "Razriadnaia kniga (7067)," Sinbirsku sbomik, vol. 8 (Moscow: A. Semen, 1845). 31-2; Mikhail Nikolaevich Tikhomirov, "Maloizvestnye letopisnye pamiatniki," Istoricheskii arkhiv 1 (1951), 225. 27 RK, 248-49; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 318-20, 324-25, 327; Tikhomirov, "Maloizvestnye letopisnye pamiatniki," 226. 28 RK, 258; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 379-81. 29 RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 391; "Piskarevskii letopisets" in Materialy po istorii SSSR, vol. 2 (Moscow: AN SSSR, 1955), 81-82; Skrynnikov, Rossiia posle opnchniny, 22-24. 30 RK, 293; RK 1475-1605, vol. 3:1, 58; Sinbirsku sbomik, 59. 31 RK 1475-1605, vol. 3:1, 94, 199-200; Sinbirsku sbomik, 77. 32 Veliaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 2, chap. 10; Ischboldin, Essays, chap. 9; Vernadskii, "Ivan Groznyi i Simeon Bekubulatovich," 2133-51; Zimin, "Ivan Groznyi i Simeon Bekbulatovich," 141-63. 26

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

373

Mikhail Kaibulovich (Murtaza-Ali), who adopted Christianity (c. 1570) and achieved prominence at Ivan's court. During the early 1570s, he regularly accompanied Tsar Ivan IV to Novgorod and in 1573 to Livonia on the Paida campaign. In 1575, joining Tsar Simeon Bekbulatovich, he led the right-wing regiment on the campaign against Pernau. He was also involved in diplomatic activities. He died c. 1575—77, and was not, therefore, involved in the final campaigns of the war.33 Another of Kaibula's sons, Sain-Bulat, was first mentioned in military records only in 1585, and thus did not take part in the Livonian War.34 The other three sons of Kaibula were actively engaged in the last phases of the war. Budalei began his military career in the aborted campaign of 1571-72, in which he was assigned to the rearguard regiment. The next year he was sent to lamgorod, and led his "dvor" on campaign. In 1573, he was with his brother Mikhail Kaibulovich and also Sain-Bulat Bekbulatovich in the main regiment of the army that captured Paida. In 1577, Budalei accompanied Ivan IV in the main regiment, and he participated in the 1579 campaign against Livonia. He continued to serve until January 1583, when he died at the age of twenty-five.35 In 1577, Budalei's brother Mustafalei was also assigned to the main regiment. The brothers served together again in 1579. Mustafalei, who had become khan of Kasimov by 1583, continued to serve in Muscovite campaigns well into the 1580s; he is thought to have died between 1590 and 1600.36 In 1579, another of Kaibula's sons, Arslan-Ali, joined his brothers on campaign. After the Livonian War he was known as a "service tsarevich" at the Muscovite court and took part in military campaigns through the end of the century.37

33 RK, 241, 243-44, 248, 258; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:2, 285, 302, 305, 319, 379; Sbornik Imperatorskago Rossiiskago Istoricheskago Obshchestva, vol. 129: Pamiatniki diplomaticheskikh snoshenii Moskovskago gosudarstva s shvedskim gosudarstvom (St. Petersburg, 1910), 219, 221, 224-25, 228. 34 Raznadnaia kniga 1559-1605 gg. (Moscow: AN SSSR, 1974), 214 (hereafter RK 1559-1605); Sinbirskii sbornik, 91; Vel'iaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 2, 85-86. 35 RK, 248, 293; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:2, 305, 321, vol. 2:3, 448, 452, 464, 471, 478, vol. 3:1, 61-62; RK 1559-1605, 81; Vel'iaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 1, 517 and vol. 2, 18, 27, 38, 41, 80-81, 85. 36 Vel'iaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 2, chapter 11; RK, 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 448, 452, 464, 471, 478; RK, 293, 363-64. 37 RK, 293, 363, 365, 379, 413, 419, 435, 458-59, 465, 520, 530; Vel'iaminovZernov, I&ledovanie, vol. 2, 80-81, 85, 89-92, 103, 105, 106.

374

JANET MARTIN

Although the individuals discussed above do not comprise all the Tatars who commanded units in the Muscovite tsar's armies during the Livonian War, they illustrate that throughout the war members of the Tatar ruling elite, Muslims and converts to Christianity alike, were among the leaders of the armies of the Muscovite tsar. The most prominent, although not all, of these Tatars were tsars and tsarevichi descended from the Astrakhan' branch of the Chingisid dynasty. During the first decade of the war they held some of the most visible and central positions of command. In the last decade Tsar Simeon Bekbulatovich continued to serve in their tradition, while his cousins, Kaibula's sons, filled prominent, if not necessarily commanding, positions in major and crucial campaigns of the war. Tatars Warriors

In addition to Tatar commanders thousands of non-Russian soldiers served in Muscovy's armies. Although this category included diverse ethnic groups, such as Mordva (Mordvinians), Cheremis, and Cherkasy, Tatars formed significant portions of the non-Russian components of the Muscovite armies. Quantitative data for the Polotsk campaign, the earliest campaign for which details of the army's composition are known, indicate that the Muscovite army consisted of 31,546 men. Non-Russian warriors comprised almost 20% of the army (6222 men).38 The records for the 1577 campaign indicate that the main body of the army consisted of 15,189 Muscovite soldiers. This figure included a variety of units, including soldiers from the sovereign's court and towns, musketeers from both the sovereign's court and from the "land" (zemskie strel'tsy), Cossacks, and the core of the army, the provincial deti boiarskie. They were supplemented by 4227 nonRussians. In this campaign non-Russians made up almost 22% of the fighting force.39 Approximately 25% (6061 of 27,969 or 23,641 men) of the army conducting the campaign in 1579 were non-Russians.40

38

Skrynnikov, Rossiia posle oprichniny, 46; Vitebskaia starina, 34—37. RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 463-64, 466, 471-74, 478-82; Skrynnikov, Rossiia posle oprichniny, 46; Dianne L. Smith, "Muscovite Logistics, 1462-1598," The Slavonic and East European Review 71:1 (1993), 38-39. 40 RK 1475-1605, vol. 3:1, 61-62; Drevniaia Rossiiskaia Vivliofika, ed. Nikolai Novikov, vol. 14 (Moscow, 1790; reprint, The Hague and Paris: Mouton, 1970), 351; Skrynnikov, Rossiia posle oprichniny, 46; Orlov, Meshchera, 58. 39

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

375

During the spring and summer of 1581, when Stefan Batory of Poland-Lithuania attacked Pskov, Ivan IV ordered an army to be positioned at Rzhev, located on the upper Volga near the MuscoviteLithuanian border and protecting the route to central Muscovy. The army was divided into the standard five regiments. Its main regiment consisted of 1625 troops; 69% (1125) of them were, specifically, Tatars. The right-wing regiment consisted of 1519 troops; 80% (1210) were Tatars. Tatars made up the vast majority of the other three regiments as well. They constituted 79% of the vanguard regiment (1187/1500), 80% of the rearguard regiment (928/1153), and 83% of the left-wing regiment (705/851). Over three-quarters (77%) of the entire army (5155/6648) were Tatars. A revision of the composition of the army reduced the proportion of Tatars slightly. In that configuration Tatars comprised 72% (5171 of a total 7145 soldiers) of the army.41 Tatars were not, however, in all Muscovite armies. The force deployed in 1572 to prevent the Crimean khan Devlet Girey from crossing Muscovy's southern frontier and repeating the devastating attack he had inflicted on Moscow the year before did not include any Tatar units.42 The Tatars who fought in Muscovy's Livonian campaigns were a diverse group. They came from within and beyond Muscovy and included Christians as well as Muslims. The mid-Volga region contributed troops for the Livonian campaigns from the beginning of the war.43 It also contributed among the largest numbers of Tatar warriors. In 1563, that region had supplied 940 troops who served under Tokhtamysh and Bekbulat at Polotsk.44 They constituted 15% of the non-Russians in the Polotsk army and 3% of the entire army (940/31,546). In 1577, Tatars from Kazan' were ordered to proceed to Novgorod via Torzhok. Of the 4227 non-Russian troops who took part in that campaign, 2000 came from Kazan', Sviiazhsk, Cheboksary, and Kokshaisk.45 The army stationed at Rzhev in 1581 included 290 Tatars from Cheboksary and Kokshaisk, and another 820 from Kazan'

41

Viktor Ivanovich Buganov, "Dokumenty o Livonskoi voine," Arkheograficheskii ezhegodnik za 1960 god (Moscow: Akademiia Nauk SSSR, 1962), 268-71. 42 RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 310-15; Viktor Ivanovich Buganov, "Dokumenty o srazhenii pri Molodiakh v 1572 g.," Istoricheskii arkhiv, no. 4 (1959), 174-81; Skrynnikov, Rossiia posh oprichniny, 46; Orlov, Meshchera, 53. 43 PSRL, vol. 13, 287; RK, 170-71; Orlov, Meshchera, 54-55, 56-67. 44 Vitebskaia starina, 36. 45 RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 448, 464.

376

JANET MARTIN

and Sviiazhsk. The 1110 mid-Volga Tatars, together with another 100 who were associated with Budalei and his brother Mustafalei, formed the full Tatar component of the right-wing regiment and accounted for over 20% of all the Tatars in the Rzhev army.46 Although their numbers were not recorded, mid-Volga Tatars served in other offensive and defensive capacities throughout the war. Tatars from Kazan' and Sviiazhsk, for example, were in the army sent to Velikie Luki in 1567 to guard the frontier against an anticipated attack by the Crimean Khanate.47 As the tsar planned his 1571—72 campaign against the Swedes, he sent his officers to Kazan' to recruit Kazan' Tatars, Cheremis, and Mordva for the offensive.48 Tatar warriors from the Khanate of Kasimov (Gorodets) were also engaged in the Livonian War from the initial campaign in 1558.49 In 1563 the Khanate contributed 572 troops, who served in the main regiment. In 1577, Kasimov (Meshchera) Tatars were, like the Kazan' Tatars, ordered to Novgorod via Torzhok, albeit by a different road. Kasimov provided 350 princes and troops to that army. The main regiment of the army at Rzhev (1581) included 388 Tatars from Kasimov. Gorodets Tatars in unspecified numbers were involved in other campaigns as well. They accompanied Tsar Shah-Ali to Smolensk and then into Lithuania in 1562, and were also at Velikie Luki in 1567.50 Retainers of the Tatar tsars and tsarevichi also participated in the Muscovite armies. In addition to the 572 Tatars from the Khanate of Kasimov who took part in the Polotsk campaign, 688 Tatars from the court of Tsar Shah-Ali, who did not personally participate in the campaign, were also assigned to the main regiment.51 Later in the war, e.g., in 1573, 1577, 1579, and 1581, Budalei and Mustafalei appeared for service with Tatars from their courts as well.32 The Muscovite armies also contained Nogai Tatars. Two hundred forty-four Nogai were attached to the vanguard regiment, led by

46

Buganov, "Dokumenty o Livonskoi voine," 268. RK, 223, 227. 48 RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 291; RK 1559-1605, 81. 49 PSRL, vol. 13, 287. 30 Vitibskaw starina, 34; RK, 198, 227; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 101; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 448, 464, 478; Buganov, "Dokumenty o Livonskoi voine," 268. 51 Vitebskaia starina, 34. 52 RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 297, vol. 2:3, 471, 478, vol. 3:1, 61; Buganov, "Dokumenty o Livonskoi voine," 268; Vel'iaminov-Zernov, Izsledovanie, vol. 2, 80. 47

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

377

Tokhtamysh and Bekbulat, that attacked Polotsk. In September 1563, Nogai were assigned to the army gathered to continue the war against Lithuania. The following month 495 Nogai came to Muscovy and offered to serve in Muscovite armies wherever the tsar could use them.53 In November 1564, Nogai princes with c. 1200-1500 warriors came to Muscovy to fight its wars. The following year 1957 Nogai warriors, along with 5547 horses, arrived to fight against Lithuania. Another contingent arrived in January 1566, but it was sent back because Muscovy and Lithuania had concluded a truce. The Nogai who presented themselves in July 1567, however, were sent to Velikie Luki to join the force guarding the frontier.54 Nogai from Romanov, a town located on the Volga River upstream from laroslavl', which was given to Nogai mirzas or princes after 1566, were also among the units in Muscovy's regiments.30 Two hundred fifty Nogai from Romanov were involved in the 1577 campaign. Unspecified numbers of Romanov Nogai as well as "Nogai Tatars" participated in the 1579 campaign, and 207 Romanov Nogai were assigned to the vanguard regiment at Rzhev in 1581.36 Another category of Tatars who fought in the Livonian War was the novokreshcheny or baptized Tatars. Having become Christians, some novokreshcheny were given landed estates in Muscovite and Livonian regions and treated like Muscovite servicemen or pomeshchiki. They were, nevertheless, grouped with Muslim Tatars in the military registers. Thirty novokreshcheny from Novgorod served under Tokhtamysh and Bekbulat during the 1563 Polotsk campaign, while another group was among the 150 Tatars in Ibak's regiment.07 In 1577, seventy novokreshcheny, identified as pomeshchiki from lur'ev, 70 novokreshcheny from the Novgorod lands, and 50 "novokreshcheny Tatars" from Muscovite towns were among the 2227 non-Russians in the army. A redistribution of troops among the regiments listed another 42 Tatar novokreshcheny, who had been given landed estates in Rugodiv (Narva),

53

PDRV, vol. 11 (St. Petersburg, 1801; reprint, The Hague: Mouton, 1970), 2; Vitebskaw starma, 27, 28, 36; RK, 197-98; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 149. 54 RIB, vol. 3 (St. Petersburg: Arkheograficheskaia komissiia, 1876), 245-46, 270, 272, 293; PDRV, vol. 11, 94-95, 169; RK, 227. " Veselovskii, "Poslednie udely," 123-24; Zirnin, Oprichnina Ivana Groznogo, 363. 56 RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 448, 464, 472, 478 and vol. 3:1, 61-62; DRV, vol. 14, 351; Buganov, "Dokumenty o Livonskoi voine," 269. 57 Vitebskaia starma, 28, 35-37.

378

JANET MARTIN

as well.58 An unspecified number of novokreshcheny from the same regions were also among the 6061 non-Russians who took part in the 1579 campaign.59 These examples illustrate that non-Russians constituted significant components of the Muscovite armies engaged in major military campaigns during the Livonian War. Among the non-Russians were thousands of Tatars. Although the relative portion of Tatars in the Muscovite armies varied broadly, they contributed substantial numbers of troops, constituting as much as 75% of the army positioned at Rzhev in 1581. The Tatars in these armies were drawn from different regions. Some came from within Muscovy. The mid-Volga region, conquered only a few years before the Livonian War began and unpacified throughout its duration, supplied a major portion of the Tatar soldiers in the tsar's armies. Thousands of Nogai also took part in Muscovy's armies. A relatively small number of them, based at Romanov after 1566, were drawn from a region within Muscovy. But most of the Nogai came from beyond Muscovy; as allies of the Muscovite tsar, they placed themselves under his command and were appointed to units as directed by his order. Novokreshcheny, who had received pomest'ia in the Novgorod lands, Muscovite districts, and Livonia, also served, but in smaller numbers. The Khanate of Kasimov, a semi-autonomous dependency of Muscovy, also contributed Tatar warriors to the Muscovite armies. The Tatars' Military Functions and Value

The Livonian War was not the first arena in which Tatars fought on behalf of Muscovy. As early as 1446, when Kasim and lakub fled from their brother Mahmudek in Kazan' and offered their assistance to Grand Prince Vasilii II, Tatars had participated in Muscovite military campaigns. After Vasilii II established the Khanate of Kasimov (c. 1452) on the Oka River, which formed Muscovy's southern frontier, Kasim and his successors supplied troops for campaigns against Lithuania, but primarily helped the Muscovite rulers defend the frontier against their common Tatar foes.60 Tatar tsarevichi, accorded

58 59 60

RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 464, 466, 471, 481. RK 1475-1605, vol. 3:1, 61-62; DRV, vol. 14, 351. Vel'iaminov-Zernov, hskdovanie, vol. 1, 13-28, 33-34, 217, 245, 292-95; George

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

379

the principalities of Kashira, Serpukhov, lur'ev, Zvenigorod, and Surozhik, performed parallel functions.61 The regularity of these functions formed the basis of George Vernadsky's explanation for the initial participation of Tatars in the Livonian War. He considered their presence to be related to the original objective of the army mobilized in 1558: the subordination of the Crimean Khanate, the last independent Tatar khanate immediately neighboring Muscovy. Its leaders were, accordingly, ShahAli, Tokhtamysh, and Kaibula. Due to a sudden change in Muscovite foreign policy the assembled army advanced westward against Livonia rather than southward.62 Vernadsky's explanation was based at least in part on his assumption that the Tatars, skilled in steppe warfare in which warriors were mounted on horseback and armed with cold weapons, would have been effective against their Crimean cousins. But their expertise would have been less appropriate for conducting an offensive against the fortified outposts and towns of Livonia. Such military objectives required soldiers using firearms and artillery. An army led by Tatars must, therefore, have been intended for use against other Tatars. Dianne Smith articulated the same view when she described "two separate armies" in Muscovy: "one predominantly cavalry with infantry and artillery support to fight Tatars in the south, and a second force predominantly infantry and artillery with cavalry support to fight in the west and north."63 But Sir Jerome Horsey, an English merchant and diplomat who resided in Muscovy between 1573 and 1591, understood the use of the armies differently. He noted that Ivan IV did maintain two types of armies, one consisting primarily of Tatars and the second mainly "of his own natural subjects." According to his description, however, Ivan employed the Tatar army "against the king and princes of Poland and Sweden . . . for the country of Livonia," and the other

Vernadsky, The Mongols and Russia (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953), 331; John L. I. Fennell, Ivan the Great of Moscow (London: Macmillan and Co., 1963), 14; Janet Martin, "Muscovite Frontier Policy: The Case of the Khanate of Kasimov," Russian History 19:1-4 (1992), 169-70, 174. 61 Veselovskii, "Poslednie udely," 123-24; Martin, "Muscovite Frontier Policy," 170-72; Michael Khodarkovsky, "Taming the 'Wild Steppe': Muscovy's Southern Frontier, 1480-1600," Russian History 26:3 (1999), 248, 253, 257-58. 62 Vernadsky, Tsardom, 94. 63 Smith, "Muscovite Logistics," 65.

380

JANET MARTIN

army "against his great enemy the Krym Tatar."64 Richard Hellie, furthermore, explained that Muscovy's cavalry units, although designed and equipped to fight Tatars in steppe warfare, also protected musketeers during sieges; the two types of units operated together. Although he was referring to Muscovite cavalrymen, the Tatar cavalry, especially those with experience in the mid-Volga region where they would have become familiar with fortifications, siege warfare, and artillery, may have been better suited to campaigns in Livonia than Vernadsky supposed.65 Vernadsky's explanation for the composition of the Muscovite army at the outset of the 1558 campaign is not, therefore, entirely convincing, nor does it adequately account for the persistent use of Tatars in subsequent campaigns of the war. It, furthermore, obscures rather than reveals the functions Tatars performed and the value they added to the Muscovite military forces. Certainly, as the careers of the tsars and tsarevichi outlined above illustrate, Tatars continued to defend Muscovy's southern frontier. But that activity was not the Tatars' only nor, arguably, their primary function during the Livonian War. In contrast to their absence in the army guarding the southern frontier early in 1572, Tatar commanders and warriors, as Horsey emphasized, repeatedly fought in the Livonian theater and in campaigns against Poland-Lithuania and Sweden. One asset provided by Tatar troops was the terror they inspired among their opponents. Duke Johann Albrecht of Mecklenberg, trying to motivate support for a defense of Livonia in 1560, depicted the Tatars in the Muscovite army as cannibals who devoured Livonian children.66 Although they may not have eaten their prisoners, they gained reputations for taking large numbers of them. Horsey reported that during the initial campaign of the Livonian War "four thousand Tatars carr[ied] away eight thousand captives" from Dorpat.67 The fear not only of being captured, but of being personally subjugated to a Tatar or of being resold at the Turko-Tatar slave markets was exploited by the Muscovites to encourage Livonian garrisons 64 Jerome Horsey, "Travels," in Rude and Barbarous Kingdom, eds. Lloyd E. Berry and Robert O. Crummey (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1968), 286—87. 63 Hellie, Enserfment, 162-63; Epifanov, "Voisko i voennaia organizatsiia," 355. On the Crimean Tatars' lack of familiarity with firearms, Horsey, "Travels," 289. 66 Walther Kirchner, The Rise of the Baltic Question (Newark, Delaware: University of Delaware Press, 1954), 44; Keep, Soldiers, 78. 67 Horsey, "Travels," 266.

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

381

to surrender. As the Muscovite army swept through Livonia in 1577, Ivan IV threatened those garrisons that refused to comply with his demands for immediate submission with slavery. He named the Tatars specifically and first among those to whom stubborn defenders were to be offered for sale.68 The frightening psychological impact generated by the Tatars may account for the practice of sending them into enemy territory in advance of the full Muscovite armies. At the outset of the 1558 campaign, for example, Tsar Shah-Ali, while proceeding from Pskov, sent a unit ahead of the main body of his army into Livonia. Led by three Muscovite field commanders, the unit consisted of Nogai Tatars, Kazan' Tatars, and novokreshcheny as well as some deti boiarskie, Cherkasy, musketeers, and Cossacks. Shah-Ali reported to Ivan IV that this force had burned the urban settlements (posady) outside five fortified outposts, killed many people, and captured "many, innumerable" prisoners.69 Five years later, 60 Nogai and 30 Astrakhan' Tatars were among 1880 members of the scout (ertoul] brigade organized for the campaign against Polotsk.70 In 1571, the Novgorod chronicle laconically noted that on March 14, Tatars arrived, bringing many prisoners, female and male, from the Swedish lands, then left Novgorod by the Dubetska Road on Wednesday.71 Their expedition preceded the campaign that was planned, but aborted in favor of a truce, for the following winter against Sweden.72 On the eve of the 1577 campaign Ivan IV sent a reconnaissance unit of Tatars to gather intelligence on the size, strength, and deployment of the enemy's forces. The Tatars encountered a Polish commander, identified as Matvei Dembenskii, whose efforts to stop the Tatar horsemen ended in failure. When the Tatars subsequently reported to Ivan that they had destroyed the army in Livonia, the main Muscovite army advanced from Pskov.73 One of the ways Tatars were deployed was in advance units that encountered and, perhaps, thoroughly terrified the enemy before the regular regiments arrived. But Tatars were also attached to regular

68

RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 532, 541. PSRL, vol. 13, 289. '° Vitebskaia starina, 38. '' Novgorodskiia letopisi (St. Petersburg: Arkheograficheskaia kommissiia, 1879), 102. n RK, 241-42. ' 3 Novodvorskii, Bor'ba, 48-49; Forsten, Baltiiskii vopros, 661.

69

382

JANET MARTIN

regiments, and the fact that some were captured74 attests to their active engagement in combat. Their value as soldiers in combat is evident from their conduct in the battle with Dembenskii. Other evidence indirectly leads to the same conclusion suggested by this episode. Although Horsey indicated that Ivan IV distrusted his recently subjugated Tatars and, therefore, "place [d] them in garrisons in ... his last conquered towns and castles in Livonia and Sweden," military records of the assignments of units to garrison duty at the forts captured during the 1577 campaign do not support his assertion. They reveal the units consisted of deti boiarskie and musketeers. The absence of Tatars in those units reinforces the view that the Tatars' military value lay in their roles in offensive combat.73 The functions of the Tatar tsars and tsarevichi and the reasons Ivan IV attached them to his personal entourage or assigned them to be regimental commanders are more elusive. A. A. Zimin considered them to have had the confidence of the tsar, particularly after he had established the oprichnina. Zimin concluded that Ivan IV trusted the Tatars more than his boyars and, thus, appointed them as co-commanders with them.76 Indeed, Tatar regimental commanders regularly served together with Muscovite field commanders. Tsar Shah-Ali, leading the invasion force into Livonia in 1558, shared his position at the head of the main regiment with two Muscovite boyars. The tsarevichi Tokhtamysh in the vanguard regiment and Kaibula in the right-wing regiment similarly served with the Ivan's boyars and okol'nichie. This arrangement was the pattern followed throughout the war.77 Muslim Tatar commanders were also regularly accompanied by other officers, known as pristavy. The term was used in civil affairs to refer to court bailiffs and to town criers as well as for messengers who announced the mustering of provincial military servicemen and their assignments to grades of service. It was used in a diplomatic context to refer to escorts or attendants who accompanied, cared for, and also spied on visiting foreign ambassadors. In domestic affairs a pristavnitsa referred to a woman responsible for the care

74

Novodvorskii, Bor'ba, 62; Forsten, Baltiiskii vopros, 665. Horsey, "Travels," 270; RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:3, 482-559; RK 1475-1605, vol. 3:1, 5-21. 76 Zimin, Oprichnina Ivana Groznogo, 155. 77 E.g., RK, 170-71, 198. 75

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

383

of a child.78 In this military situation the function of the pristav could have been anything from a liaison officer to a guard. From this evidence the specific responsibilities of the Tatar officers and the level of trust they enjoyed relative to Muscovite regimental commanders are not evident. During the siege of Polotsk, however, it appears that the Tatar commanders were considered the senior, functional leaders of their regiments. An order, dated January 31, 1563, to relocate the vanguard regiment to a position beyond the city and across the Dvina River was addressed, for example, to the tsarevich Tokhtamysh; the other addressees, the boyars and field commanders, were unnamed. Four days later Tsarevich Kaibula and similarly unnamed field commanders received orders to position the left-wing regiment at the monastery of Sts. Boris and Gleb. The implication of these orders is that, in contrast to the evidently honorary position of youthful Tsar Aleksandr in Ivan's immediate entourage at the beginning of the Polotsk campaign, the Tatar tsarevichi were not just nominally regimental commanders, but were functioning officers fully engaged in hostilities. The fact that Tokhtamysh evidently lost his life during the 1563 engagement reinforces this conclusion.79 Additional confirmation may be derived from the military maneuvers that took place the next year, when the tsars Shah-Ali and Simeon Kasaevich were stationed on the Lithuanian frontier. In September, upon receiving intelligence that a Lithuanian force was approaching Velikie Luki, Shah-Ali on his own authority led his army in that direction and sent messengers to the boyars and field commanders with orders for their movements. In October, Tsar Simeon Kasaevich, although acting on orders of Ivan IV, led an expedition from Velikie Luki across the Lithuanian border. On November 12, he and the boyars and field commanders accompanying him informed the tsar that they had captured Ozerishche. Although somewhat different in character, both cases reflect the

78 Keep, Soldiers, 32; Marshall T. Poe, "A People Bom to Slavery." Russia in Early Modern European Ethnography, 1476-1748 (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2000), 44-45, 48; Gail Lenhoff, "The Cult of Saint Nikola the Stylite in PereslavP and among the Muscovite Elite," in Fonctions sociales et politiques du culte des saints dans ks societes de rite grec et latin au Moyen Age et a I'epoque modeme, eds. Marek Derwich and Michel Dmitriev (Wroclaw, 1999), 341. 79 RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 110, 116, 120, 137.

384

JANET MARTIN

responsibility and active involvement of the Tatar commanders on the fields of battle.80 The appointment of Tatar tsars and tsarevichi to highly visible command positions may have served other Muscovite purposes as well. Repeated eruptions of resistance to Muscovite rule in the midVolga region during the years of the Livonian War81 undoubtedly contributed to the lack of confidence in the Tatars from that area observed by Horsey. The recruitment of non-elite Tatar forces and their deployment on the western fronts have thus been attributed to an effort to reduce the Volga Tatars' ability to rebel.82 By drawing members of the former ruling dynasty into his service and placing them on the western front, Ivan IV, furthermore, neutralized them as potential political challengers. They not only were unavailable to serve as figureheads for the active opponents of Muscovite rule, but by personifying Chingisid subordination to the Muscovite sovereign, they contributed to the legitimization of Muscovite rule over the Volga khanates. A final major value provided by the Tatars to Muscovy's military forces became evident toward the end of the war. It lay in the fact that Tatars continued to take part in both offensive and defensive military campaigns at a time when the supply of regular military servicemen had diminished. Most of the military servicemen in Muscovy's armies were dvoriane and deti boiarskie who depended upon their landed estates for the incomes they required to supply themselves with arms and equipment. By the 1570s, the economy of Muscovy was in crisis, and the landed estates of the servicemen were failing. The economic crisis was marked by massive peasant flight from the agricultural estates and the reversion of cultivated fields to fallow. The masters of these estates, pomeshchiki who were also the military servicemen, were unable to present themselves fully equipped for service even as they were also needed on their estates to manage them personally.83

80

RK 1475-1605, vol. 2:1, 164, 167-68. PSRL, vol. 13, 523; V. D. Koroliuk, Lwonskaia voina (Moscow: AN SSSR, 1954), 81-82; Henry R. Huttenbach, "Muscovy's Conquest of Muslim Kazan and Astrakhan, 1552-56," in Russian Colonial Expansion to 1917, ed. Michael Rywkin (London: Mansell Publishing Limited, 1988), 62; Orlov, Meshchera, 47; Novodvorskii, Bor'ba, 20. 82 Huttenbach, "Muscovy's Conquest," 66; Vel'iaminov-Zernov, I&ledovanie, vol. 1, 431-45. 83 B. N. Floria, "Voina mezhdu Rossiei i Rech'iu Pospolitoi na zakliuchitel'nom 81

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

385

Land-holding servicemen responded to the crisis in different ways. Some abandoned their estates and disappeared. The land register (pistsovaia kniga] of 1582 for Vodskaia piatina, the region north and west of Novgorod, provides examples. In one case it is recorded that a pomeshchik had abandoned his estate four years before the register was compiled; his son had left the estate secretly. Similar comments explained the absence of their neighbors.84 Other servicemen, on active duty in Livonia, responded by deserting their military posts.81 The tendency of pomeshchiki to flee from their estates and servicemen from their military posts had military implications that are reflected in twin orders issued to Mikhail, son of Ivan Vnukov, and to Prince VasiPii Ivanovich Rostovskii, who were charged in December 1578 with assembling the provincial servicemen of Vodskaia piatina and sending them to Pskov for campaign duty. Anticipating that a significant portion of them would not present themselves for service, the order gave instructions for conducting a thorough search for fugitives, including those who had fled from Livonia. Vnukov and Rostovskii were to interrogate the absentees' children and slaves to discover their whereabouts. When the netchiki had been recovered, they were to be detained, beaten, and then sent under heavy guard to Pskov to join the campaign. Vnukov and Rostovskii were threatened with disgrace and death should they fail to comply with the orders.86 The failure of servicemen to appear for their assigned duties had evidently become a widespread problem; it was a recurrent

etape Livonskoi Voiny i vnutrenniaia politika pravitel'stva Ivana IV," in Voprosy istoriogrqfii i istochnikovedeniia Slaviano-Germanskikh otnoshenii (Moscow: Nauka, 1973), 178-79; E. I. Kolycheva, Agrarnyi stroi Rossii XVI veka (Moscow: Nauka, 1987), 178-83; A. L. Shapiro, Agmrnaia istoriia severo-zapada Rossii XVI veka (Leningrad: Nauka, 1974), 290-99; Keep, Soldiers, 58. 84 Rossiisskii gosudarstvennyi arkhiv drevmkh aktov (RGADA), f. 1209, no. 958, 11. 4849 ob. to Viktor Ivanovich Buganov, "Pcrepiska gorodovogo prikaza s voevodami Livonskikh gorodov v 1577-1578 godakh," Arkheogrqficheskii e^hegodnik za 1964 god (Moscow: Nauka, 1965), 294; "Stolbtsy del moskovskikh prikazov (Gorodovogo, Pomestnogo, Razriadnogo) po upravleniiu Livonskimi gorodami 1577-1579 gg.," ed. N. F. Demidova in Pamiatniki Istorii Vostochnoi Evropy. Istochniki XV XVII vv., vol. 3: Dokumenty Livonskoi voiny (podlinnoe deloproizvodstvo prikazov i voevod) 1571-1580 gg. (Moscow, Warsaw: Arkheograficheskii tsentr and Centrum Historii Europy, 1998), 57-58. On earlier, politically motivated desertions, Vernadsky, Tsardom, 107. 86 RK 1475-1605, vol. 3:1, 47-49; Buganov, "Dokumenty o Livonskoi Voine," 266-67; Floria, "Voina," 179.

386

JANET MARTIN

theme in correspondence with Prince V. D. Khilkov, a field commander defending Velikie Luki during the summer of 1580.87 Against this background the value of Tatar soldiers in the Muscovite army increased. Their importance is highlighted in an order, dated August 25, 1580, sent by officials of the razriadnyi prikaz in the name of Ivan IV to Prince Khilkov. In it the officials referred to an earlier report sent by Khilkov, in which he had requested additional troops to bring his undermanned regiment (the main regiment), consisting of deti boiarskie, to adequate strength. They replied that they had sent contingents of novokreshcheny and Tatars from Novgorod (s piatiri) to him. But another commander, Prince Mikhailo Nozdrovatai (Nozdrevatyi), had attached the Tatars to his regiment, the vanguard regiment. The officials instructed Khilkov to transfer them to his main regiment and informed him that they had advised Nozdrovatai that henceforth he must not revise the assignments on his own authority. The order went on to indicate that Nozdrovatai had under his command more Meshcheriane (Kasimov Tatars) than had been assigned to his regiment. The officials instructed Khilkov to transfer those Tatars to Pskov.88 The orders to Vnukov, Rostovskii, and Khilkov reflect several developments. By 1580, regular Muscovite troops were in short supply, prompting field commanders to pressure central officials to send them more troops. While those officials were ordering recruiters to scour the land to locate deserters among Muscovite provincial servicemen, they were also attempting to reinforce undersized regiments with Tatars. The demand for them was so great that field commanders, ignoring centrally determined allocations, tried to attach arriving Tatar units to their own regiments. Tatar troops, who had been ferocious supplements to the Muscovite servicemen early in the war, had by its conclusion become essential to the maintenance of regiments at effective fighting strength.

87 "Dokumenty pokhodnogo arkhiva voevody kn. Vasiliia Dmitrievicha Khilkova 1580 g.," ed. B. N. Floria, in Dokumenty Livonskoi voiny, 205, 207-08. 88 "Dokumenty pokhodnogo arkhiva," 222-23.

TATARS IN THE MUSCOVITE ARMY DURING THE LIVONIAN WAR

387

Tatars performed significant functions in the Muscovite armies throughout the Livonian War. During the war's early phases members of the Chingisid dynasty, who had pledged their allegiance to Tsar Ivan IV, repeatedly led Muscovite regiments on campaign. By the end of the war their descendents, although not always in command positions, continued to participate in highly visible military roles. In addition, thousands of Tatar troops, drawn from the mid-Volga and the Nogai, from the Khanate of Kasimov, from the courts of its khan and of other Chingisid tsarevichi, and from Christian Tatars who had become land-holding servicemen, served as scouts and in regular regiments. The value of the Tatars to the Muscovite military effort was multifold. But if the presence of Tatar commanders in the Muscovite invasion force into Livonia in 1558 had been, as George Vernadsky suggested, almost accidental and the Tatars' initial function had been to shock and terrify, by the end of the war Tatar officers and soldiers, while having failed "to conquer Livonia in the name of Russia," had nevertheless become vitally important. By filling the ranks of the Muscovite regiments, they compensated for the depletion of the corps of Muscovite servicemen, enabling Muscovy to defend itself from Polish-Lithuanian and Swedish invasions, to negotiate a conclusion to the war, and, perhaps thereby, to preserve its integrity as a state.

This page intentionally left blank

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION TO RUSSIAN ORTHODOXY OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES DURING THE MID-SEVENTEENTH CENTURY W. M. Reger IV Religious conversion and the sacrament of baptism have been fundamental features of Christianity since New Testament times. For the Russians, conversion to the Orthodox faith through mass baptism under the leadership of Prince Vladimir has become a legendary motif woven into the fabric of Russian political and cultural life. At its broadest level, the baptism of Rus' was "a complex and multifaceted process; a lengthy and frequently punctuated event extending not over decades but over centuries."1 One dimension of that multifaceted process was the significance of baptism, not only as a gate into the spiritual life of the church, but also as a way for aliens to cross into the Russian polity and to partake in political and economic communion with the Russians. As Russia expanded its sphere of influence in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, we observe a growing incidence of newly baptized non-Russians, primarily among the non-Christian peoples to the south and east, but also, interestingly, among Europeans who entered Russian military service. The sacrament of baptism facilitated the assimilation of foreigners into Russian society since at least the late 14th century when the princes of Russia began to extend control over neighboring pagans through missionary activity.2 The conversion of European military officers, soldiers, merchants, and medical men, to Russian Orthodoxy was an important feature, both of Europe's cultural diffusion eastward, and of Russia's seventeenth-century emergence as a regional power. Officers and soldiers, however, were unique among the Europeans serving in Russia. Their frequent appearance in the day-to-day documentation of regimental 1 Georges Florovsky, Ways of Russian Theology, trans. Robert Nichols, Chapter One. Accessed at www.myriobiblos.gr/texts/english/florovsky on June 20, 2001. 2 Janet Martin, Medieval Russia, 980-1584 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 226-27; John Fennell, A History of the Russian Church to 1448 (London: Longman Group Ltd., 1995), 98-99.

390

W. M. REGER IV

life and affairs, once they were examined for technical expertise with weaponry and assigned a rank and a regiment, suggests that they mingled more freely with Russians.3 By examining the extent and nature of the conversion experience, we can better understand the nature of the transmission of military knowledge, or expertise, from Europe to Russia, and we can gain insight into military reform in Muscovy. A nascent community of Orthodox foreign officers and soldiers formed within Russia's military society as part of this reform effort. The frequency of the rebaptism of foreign officers and soldiers can probably not be determined precisely; in part, the documentation is inadequate. Not only do we not know exactly how many officers comprise a complete dataset, we also cannot determine from written evidence exactly who was baptized and who was not. Much more research needs to be done in order to ferret out every foreign officer and soldier who served in seventeenth-century Russia and establish a complete database; this article serves as an initial effort in that direction. To begin with, the number of new-formation regiments within the Russian army increased throughout the middle decades of the century in correspondence with Russia's military efforts against Poland-Lithuania until, toward the end of the period under consideration in this article, the army included 75 new-formation regiments—55 infantry and 20 cavalry—commanded by an estimated 2,360 foreign officers.4 Because the number of new-formation regiments was far less than 75 prior to 1654, we may assume that the total number of foreign officers probably rarely exceeded 3,000-4,000 or so in any given year throughout the period of this study. The proportion of officers baptized into the Orthodox tradition compared to all known foreign officers is small, as illustrated in Table 1. For this study, information about converted foreign officers is drawn from documents collected in the Military Chancellery and the Foreign Mercenaries Chancellery. These documents vary in the quality and quantity of information they contain; some offer information about the administrative process of baptism and conversion, while others simply identify an individual as a convert. The documents,

3 Patrick Gordon, Passages from the Diary of General Patrick Gordon of Auchkuchries (Da Capo Press: New York, 1968), 51-\32; see also a wide variety of archival sources mentioned in this article. 4 Richard Hellie, Enserfment and Military Change in Muscovy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971), 269.

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES 391

unfortunately, also reveal very little about the lives and experiences of converts, among whose ranks were included some of the most important officers in the Russian service under Alexei Mikhailovich and his son Peter I. Altogether this body of documentation identifies nearly 170 foreign officers and men converted to Orthodoxy between the years 1640 and 1670; many more officers may well have converted but were not identified in the documents used for this study as novokreschchennye or "newly baptized." Table 1. Size of the Database. Estimated total of foreign officers in Russia, 1640-1670

4-7,000

Number of officers in database Number of officers in database with known military rank

1359 1049

Number of officers in database known to have converted Number of converted officers with known military rank

169 117

The practice of converting foreigners had diplomatic, economic, and political significance for both Russians and foreign converts alike. It created a community of foreign military personnel with a more defined loyalty to the Tsar. Foreign soldiers who converted to Orthodoxy, however, did not integrate into Russian society with equal ease; their national origins, circumstances, rank and ability all impacted the process. The new converts formed a nucleus of an officer corps that had the added value of being both western in experience but Orthodox in faith. The Russian state certainly encouraged conversion through the provision of compensation and rewards—considerable in some cases—including cash, goods, land, and promotions. The premise of this paper is that the conversion of foreign military personnel was part of a peculiarly Russian manifestation of a general effort among the nations of the European periphery to retain experienced foreign officers and troops during periods of extended international conflict.5

5 Andre Corvisier, Armies and Societies in Europe, 1494-1789 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979), 104-05, 165; Frank Tallett, War and Society in Early-Modem Europe, 1495-1715 (London: Routledge, 1992), 88-89; see also Mary Elizabeth Ailes, "From British Mercenaries to Swedish Nobles: The Immigration of British Soldiers to Sweden during the seventeenth Century" (Ph.D. diss., University of Minnesota, 1997).

392

W. M. REGER IV

The nationality of fewer than half of the total number of converted foreigners (n = 169) can be ascertained from descriptive statements in the documents, though such evidence may not be at all a reliable indicator of origin. For example, an individual identified as German (nemets) could as easily have come from one of the Imperial German states as from Livonia; he could, in fact, have been of any foreign origin at all, since nemets was a generic descriptor. In addition, the Russian transliteration and transcription of names sometimes makes it difficult to judge nationality with any accuracy; without corroboration from other sources, we would never suspect the national origins of Minka Andreev or Kuzma Isupov, for example, besides the fact that the records identify them as foreigners. Even seemingly clear statements of origin do not necessarily refer to an officer's nationality, but rather indicate the sovereign whom the officer served most recently in a long and peripatetic military career.6 Having acknowledged these limitations, it may be useful, nonetheless, to define precisely whom we have in mind when we refer to novokreschchennye European mercenary officers and soldiers. Those who converted fall into at least three working categories of origin: 1.) those from the "near abroad;"7 2.) those from "Western Europe;" and 3.) nemchiny. The region referred to in modern usage as "near abroad" includes for this essay those countries immediately contiguous to Russia: Poland-Lithuania (including Livonia and Belorussia) and Sweden. The term "Western Europe" in this essay includes the German States (Holy Roman Empire), Denmark, France, the Netherlands, Italy, Spain, and the British Isles. Nemchin was a somewhat pejorative Russian term used in the document sources of the period that referred to the children and descendants of foreigners, both Orthodox and non-Orthodox. The use of this term to distinguish such people may not have reflected any functional purpose for the state, except to continue to separate foreigners and their descendants categorically from native Russians, in spite of the formers' adherence to Orthodoxy and acquisition of Russian as a mother tongue.

(> See, for example, Rossiiskii Gosudarstvennyi Arkhiv Drevnykh Aktov (RGADA), fond 210, Moskovskii Stol, delo 862 1. 69. (Unless otherwise indicated, all archival citations in this paper are to this repository and fond.} 1 The seventeenth century phrase was nemetskie okrestnye gosudarstva. Moskovskii Stol d. 867 1. 206.

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

393

Many converts from the near abroad were former prisoners of war or had been in Russian service for a significant period of time.8 Prisoners of war converted to Orthodoxy because baptism secured their release from prison (temnitsa, polori). Giles Fletcher, an English observer writing in the sixteenth century, remarked, "Of Livonians that are captives there are many that take on them this second Russe baptism to get more liberty, and somewhat besides towards their living, which the emperor ordinarily useth to give them."9 Though it secured their release from prison, baptism also reduced to almost nothing their chances of returning to their homeland. Swedish prisoners of war who accepted the "Greek baptism" remained in Russia and were not repatriated after the Peace of Kardis (1661), if it was determined that they accepted their baptism voluntarily. Sorting out the willing converts from those who converted against their will, however, became a prominent sticking point in Russo-Swedish relations in subsequent years.10 In addition to the Swedes, we have evidence of many other Polish, Lithuanian, and Belorussian prisoners of war who were baptized and released from prison to enter Russian military service." Some rebaptized officers from this region were not prisoners of war, but had fought in the armies of Western Europe during the Thirty Years War, and entered Muscovy's service.12 The converts with discernable Western European origins frequently came from families or clans that had already become established in the Baltic region. Denmark, Sweden, and Poland-Lithuania, for example, 8

S. M. Soloviev, Istoriia Rossii s drevneishikh vremen, 15 vols., (Moscow: SotsekgizMysl', 1959-66), kn. 6, tt. 11-12, 528; Polnoe sobrame zakonov, 45 vols. (St. Petersburg, 1830) [PSZ], vol. 6:3, 819; Margarete Woltner, "Zur Frage der Untertanenschaft von Westeuropaern in Russland bis zur Zeit Peters des Grossen Einschliesslich," Jahrbucher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 3 (1938), 57; Claes Peterson, Peter the Great's Administrative and Judicial Reforms, serien I, Rattshistoriskt Bibliotek, 79 Bandet (Stockholm, 1979), 131. 9 N. E. Mamonov, ed., Materialy dlia istorii meditsiny v Rossii, 4 vols., (St. Petersburg, 1881-85), vols. 3-4, 724; Lloyd E. Berry & Robert O. Crummey, eds., Rude and Barbarous Kingdom, Russia in the Accounts of Sixteenth Century English Voyagers (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1968), 224. 10 Klaus Zernack, Studien z.u den schwedischen-russischen Beziehungen in der 2. Halfte des 17. Jahrhunderts (Osteuropastudien der Hochschulen des Landes Hessen, Reihe I (Giessen, 1958)), 44. 1 ' Akty moskovskago gosudarstva, i^dannye Imperatorskoiu akademieiu nauk, ed. N. A. Popov, 3 vols., (St. Petersburg, 1890-1901) (AMG) vol. 3, 105, 557; Rossiiskaia istoncheskaia biblioteka, 39 vols., (St. Petersburg-Leningrad, 1872-1927), vol. 10, 567f; Moskovskii Stol d. 875 11. 323-469. 12 Moskovskii Stol d. 875 11. 159-61.

394

W. M. REGER IV

actively recruited foreign mercenaries, especially from Germany and the British Isles, creating international family traditions of military service that subsequently expanded into Muscovy with the arrival of the Leslies, Von Balkens, Carmichaels, Hundertmarks, Cunninghams, and Hamiltons, to name a few. Two notable exceptions to this trend include first, royalist exiles from the British Isles following the death of Charles I, such as William Drummond and Thomas Dalyell, who eventually returned to England after the Restoration. Some exiles did not return to England; William Bruce (Brius), for example, remained to found a dynasty of Russian Bruces.13 Second, itinerant professional officers arrived directly from service in western European armies to join Muscovy's armies; among these we may count Patrick Gordon, Nicholas Baumann, Caspar Gander, and Adam Gell von Seitz. While there is certainly overlap between those who came to Russia from the Baltic and those who came from western Europe, the important thing to bear in mind about the mercenary officers in this category is that they were in active contact with the armies, and in particular, the command structures, of the west when they arrived in Russia. This contact, which, in many cases, continued via correspondence and occasional assignments abroad, throughout decades of Russian service, distinguished these individuals from those in the other working categories of converted officers. Those who arrived in Russia directly from western Europe, however, seemed less likely to convert to Orthodoxy, in part because of their prejudices against Orthodox faith and culture. A wide sampling of comments by westerners with extensive experience in Russia makes this prejudice is obvious. Giles Fletcher declared that no Englishman would "so much [forget] God, his faith and country, as that .he would be content to be baptized Russe for any respect of fear, preferment, or other means whatsoever."14 Dr. Samuel Collins, a physician at the court of Alexei Mikhailovich, observed that 200 or so English, Scots, and Dutch foreigners had converted to Orthodoxy, 13 Mary Elizabeth Ailes, "From British Mercenaries to Swedish Nobles: The Immigration of British Soldiers to Sweden during the Seventeenth Century" (Ph.D. diss., University of Minnesota, 1997), 42ff.; Nicholaes Witsen, Moscovische Reyse, 1664~65: Joumaal en aentekeningen, 3 vols., ed. T. J. G. Locher and P. De Buck, (Martinus Nijhoff, 'S-Gravenhage, 1967), vol. 3, 403-09; see also Russkii biograficheskii slovar'(Imp. Russkoe Istoncheskoe Obshchestvo, St. Petersburg-Petrograd, 1896-1918), s.v. "Gamalton," "Brius," "Fonbalken." 14 Berry and Crummey, Rude and Barbarous Kingdom, 224.

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

395

adding ominously that '"hardly one has died a natural death.'"15 Nicholas Witsen, a young man traveling in Russia with the Dutch ambassador Boreel in 1664, described mercenary officers who converted to Orthodoxy, but who held deep regrets about that decision.16 On his deathbed the Scottish colonel and diplomat, Paul Menzies adjured his friend, countryman, and co-religionist, Patrick Gordon, to be sure that his three sons would "'be educated in the Roman Catholick Religion pronouncing a curse upon those who should offer to divert any of them or bespeake them to embrace any other opinion.'"17 (The change of one son's name from Magnus to Maxim suggests that he converted despite the deathbed wish of his father.) A German observer of the time commented darkly on the military uselessness of the European converts and their offspring, muttering that "'these miserable fledgelings are like dust in the eyes of the better officers, who find them obnoxious.'"18 These comments and assumptions about European converts to Orthodoxy, though anecdotal, reflect strong social pressure among Europeans in Russia against embracing the Russian faith, and may provide a partial explanation for why fewer western Europeans converted to Orthodoxy. Finally, the "fledgelings" who aroused such ill regard were the nemchiny. These individuals were the sons, grandsons, and great grandsons of the officers of the first two categories. Though they came from foreign military families, they were closer to the Russians in faith and language, and had been integrated into Russia's military social structure, so that they were called up for inspection (smotr) with traditional forces from towns such as Vologda and Beloozero, when Russia prepared for war in 1654.19 The term appears to have had a derisive quality when used by contemporaries, and refers not only to foreigners of long-standing habitation, but to any foreigner of a "lesser" quality. The Belorussian Colonel Konstantin Poklonskii referred both to Colonel Herman Von Staden and to the Lithuanian 10 Marshall T. Poe, ed., Samuel Collins, The Present State of Russia In a Letter to a Friend at London; Written by an Eminent Person residing at the Great Czars Court at Mosco for the space of nine years. London, 1671. Accessed at www.russianhistory.org on July 29, 2000; A. Francis Steuart, Scottish Influences m Russian History (Glasgow, 1913), 18. 16 Witsen, Moscovische Reyse, 111:410-11. '' Quoted in Paul Dukes, "Paul Menzies and His Mission from Muscovy to Rome, 1672-1674," The Innes Review vol. 35:2 (Autumn, 1984), 94. 18 Quoted in S. F. Platonov, Moscow and the West, trans. Joseph L. Wieczynski, (Academic International, 1972), 120. 19 Moskovskii Stol d. 906 1. 221.

396

W. M. REGER IV

troops of Janusz Radziwill with the term nemchin.'20 It was also used by Colonel Franz Crawford when referring to an English sergeant in his regiment who had only been in-country for three months, suggesting that he intended the term to denote a foreigner of low standing, rather than an assimilated descendant of a foreigner.21 Though their more transient countrymen may have derided them, the nemchiny continued to offer military service to Russia well into the reign of Peter I.22 With these basic categories of converted foreign officers in mind, we may turn now to consider the doctrinal context of their conversion, and the process through which they became Orthodox. Russian Orthodox reluctance to acknowledge the validity of baptism of Latin Christians negatively impacted the probability of Europeans entering the Orthodox church. The Russians did not recognize the 1484 Constantinople synod, which declared Latin baptism to be valid for the Eastern Church as well. Influenced by nationalist and antiforeign sentiments among church leaders, a 1620 church council reiterated the Russian Orthodox position that Catholics and Protestants should be subject to rebaptism. The 1667 synod at Moscow further reinforced this by declaring that all those who had been baptized by western churches were heretics who required rebaptism.23 On this issue, the Russian church stood apart from the rest of the Orthodox world, which accepted converts from other Christian faiths without requiring rebaptism, employing instead the laying on of hands (Handauflegung). In 1756, the Patriarch of Constantinople declared "heretical" baptism invalid and that converts from these groups must be rebaptized.24 The Christian controversy over rebaptism is rooted in antiquity; as early as the third century the church spoke against rebaptizing heretics. Rebaptism, nonetheless, was practiced throughout Christian history for several reasons: to re-induct those who strayed from the 20

Moskovskii Stol d. 332 1. 687. Moskovskii Stol d. 862 1. 159. 22 M. D. Rabinovich, Polki petrovskoi armn, 1698-1725 (Moscow, 1977), 13-14, 18, 23-25, 27. 23 Paul Bushkovitch, Religion and Society in Russia, The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 52^53, 203 n. 41, 222 n. 15; Friedrich Heiler, Urkirche und Ostkirche (Munich, 1937), 246; Timothy Ware, The Orthodox Church (New York: Penguin Books, 1983), 284. 24 Andreas Wittig, "Zur Auseinandersetzung um die (Wieder-) Taufe," Ostkirchliche Studim, Band 34, Heft 1 (1985), 29. 21

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

397

fold; to redo baptisms performed sub conditione, meaning by someone without authority; to rebaptize a community when its ruler converted to a new faith, as in the case of the Ruthenians, for example, when Wladislaw Jagiello converted to Catholicism in the fourteenth century; and to consolidate the power of a church institution within a region of diverse faith communities, such as western Russia.25 The main point of debate between the Orthodox church and other Christian faiths centered on differences in the meaning and performance of the ritual. For Roman Catholics baptism was the induction of an individual into a spiritual life; it conveyed a state of "habitual grace." Regardless what sins were committed in life, any repetition of the sacrament of baptism was unnecessary and possibly even detrimental, once baptism's spiritual "seal" proclaimed the baptized person to be a member of the church. Furthermore, Catholicism allowed almost anyone to perform the ritual act of baptism, as long as it was done with the accepted form and intent of the Church.26 Lutherans and Calvinists, by comparison, also considered baptism necessary in order to enter the community of the body of Christ. The theology of Luther, especially, made baptism the gate to the community of faith, as the "boundary of the church" and as an "unrepeatable entrance into Christian life," followed by a "constant battle against sin."27 Because the act of baptism was necessary for obtaining forgiveness of sins, rather than grace, the Protestants were more selective about the minister of the ordinance, stipulating that the person who performed the ritual should be a minister of the particular congregation or, at very least, a Christian.28 Eastern Orthodox baptism was fairly similar to Catholic and Protestant practices in many ways: it was considered both to be the gate to fellowship in the church and the heavenly Kingdom of God, and to transform the convert into a new being, free of carnality.

23

Edmund Przekop, "Die 'Rebaptizatio Ruthenorum' auf dem Gebiet Polens vor der Union von Brest (1596)," Ostkmhliche Studien, Band 29, Heft 4 (1980), 273-75; Catholic Encyclopedia, s.v. "Baptism." Accessed at www.newadvent.org/cathen/ on May 18, 2001. 25 Wilhelm Niesel, The Gospel and the Churches, A Comparison of Catholicism, Orthodoxy, and Protestantism (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1962), 71-72. 27 Jonathan D. Trigg, Baptism in the Theology of Martin Luther (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), 164, 198. 28 Niesel, The Gospel and the Churches, 266-68.

398

W. M. REGER IV

The individual's faith was essential to bring about the full effect of the sacrament. The ritual could be performed by a priest or bishop, or by a lay person in emergencies if the ritual was later repeated by a proper authority. The validity of baptisms performed by nonOrthodox Christians, however, was never entirely accepted in Russia.29 The common thread among these various confessions is the insistence that baptism was an entryway into a spiritual community, which had a direct bearing on the experiences of seventeenthcentury military officers. If Catholic or Protestant officers considered subsequent baptismal rituals not to negate the meaning and validity of their initial baptism, it follows that they would perhaps enter into the second baptism with less concern for their spiritual well-being. On the other hand, if their original faith condemned rebaptism into another church, that might certainly have deterred some from converting to Orthodoxy. Certainly for the Catholic officers the historical background surrounding the original schism between east and west, and Russian antagonism against Catholic Poland-Lithuania, impacted their decision to convert. Once the decision to convert has been taken, the process of conversion could be initiated by a supplicant's petition for rebaptism or by state order, if conversion was not willing. Upon acceptance of the petition, the state designated a monastery where the ordinance would be performed, as well as someone to sponsor the convert, frequently a clerk or other chancellery official.30 These arrangements were coordinated through the chancellery responsible for the petitioning foreigner. European officers and soldiers made application through the Military Chancellery, which had general responsibility for most aspects of a soldier's life, or the Foreign Mercenaries Chancellery, and the baptism was administered through the Patriarch's Court or the Monastery Chancellery.31 One question inspired by doctrinal context and by foreign petitions for rebaptism is whether they were sincere religious conversions or something else. The American psychologist William James described religious conversion as having three dimensions (intellec29

Niesel, The Gospel and the Churches, 145-46. AMG, vol. 3, 557; Vasilii Storozhev, Podarki tsaria Alekseia polkovniku Lesli dlia kreshcheniia i za podnachal'tsvo (1652 g.) (Moscow, 1895), 1; Moskovskii Stol d. 907 11. 91-92; Moskovskii Stol d. 867 11. 703-06; 862 11. 7-10, 16, 48-53; AMG, vol. 3, 105, 557. 31 Sevskii Stol d. 156 op. Ill 11. 127-28; Novembergskii, Matenaly, 66-67. 30

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

399

tual, affective, emotional) representing a human need for truth, morality, and identification with a religious community.32 We may perhaps add a fourth dimension: the need to assimilate into an alien political and economic community, which was satisfied in other armies by other means, such as landholding or ennoblement, without the added dimension of religious conversion. Anglican, Presbyterian, and Catholic mercenary officers from the British Isles, for example, served in the Swedish army and navy, but failed to convert to Lutheranism, even though it meant severe limitations on the marriage prospects of those who remained as immigrants. The fact that 75 percent of these officers and their family members were ennobled and received lands for their services to the crown suggests that assimilation could and did occur independently of religious conversion.33 The motivation to convert likely involved both spiritual and service dimensions, depending on individual circumstances. Conversion was both a politically expedient act and a ritual of entrance into the Orthodox state. Religion in Muscovy, like the rest of seventeenthcentury Europe, was the "cement of society,"34 and so service and loyalty to the adoptive monarch, and personal advantage, could not fail to have been uppermost in the minds of these converts. Many doubtless had religious feelings and experiences, but the documents do not reveal these. Erhard Dliakler, a soldier in the Swedish army of Magnus de la Gardie, for example, converted to Orthodoxy following his capture by the Russians during the 1658 battle at Vdov. His captors discovered that he had medical training; apparently he voluntarily assisted with the Russian wounded following the battle. Perhaps the Russians approached him about conversion, or perhaps he saw professional opportunities in that option that appealed to him. Dliakler told his captors he would "gladly serve the Sovereign, in that service in which he is trained, and wishes to be baptized in the Orthodox Christian faith." Connecting religious membership with the ability to practice his medical profession, he went on to become an active regimental surgeon throughout the Thirteen Years War, under his baptismal name, Frol.30 32

William James, "Conversion," in The Varieties of Religious Experience (New York: MacMillan, 1961), 160-62, 187. : " Ailes, "From British Mercenaries to Swedish Nobles," 60-61, 102-03. 54 George Clark, The Seventeenth Century, 2nd ed. (New York: Galaxy Books, 1967), xvi. 11 N. Novembergskii, Materialy po istorii meditsiny v Rossii (St. Peterburg, 1905), 31,

400

W. M. REGER IV

Another petition made in 1664 by Ivan Ivanovsyn Kadam, a Dutchman, further illustrates this combination of motives. In his petition requesting to be sent to Chudov Monastery for baptism, Kadam stated that he "recognized [uznal] the true, Orthodox and Christian faith, and wanting to serve you, Great Sovereign, in faith and truth, wished to be baptized." His signed petition was acted upon in the Apothecary Chancellery whose officials notified the Monastery Chancellery. The order initiating his baptism states that Kadam was sent to the monastery for instruction and to be baptized.36 The language in this petition associates recognition of faith with service to the tsar, suggesting that entrance into the community of faith brought with it entrance into the civil and economic communities as well. What was ostensibly a statement of faith was also a statement of commitment to serve the State, with all the associated obligations, exemptions, and privileges attached to such service. The two spheres of loyalty, civil and spiritual, were joined in the petitions of the prospective converts, which asked the Tsar to do "as God reveals to thee" (kak bog tebe i^vestit'}. Following baptism, the converted mercenaries probably remained for a time in a monastery to receive instruction in Orthodox doctrines and practices. They dressed in Russian clothing and underwent a series of ceremonies, including ritual baths. On the eighth day of this training, the new convert was taught, as Fletcher derisively put it, "how to behave himself in the presence of their idols by ducking down, knocking of the head, crossing himself, and such like gestures which are the greatest part of the Russe religion."37 One Swedish prisoner of war, known only by his Russian name, Kuzma Isupov, served as a gunner at the fortified Solovetskii Monastery after his baptism, but preferred to serve the Tsar as an interpreter, and thus petitioned to leave the monastery.38 The foreign convert was generally allowed to leave only when he had demonstrated a commitment to Orthodoxy.39 After baptism the converted foreigners found that their relations with the foreign community in Russia had changed: many experi37, 52, 166; Mamonov, Materialy dlia istoni meditsmy Rossii, vol. 2, 354, 378, 381, 383, vols. 3-4, 844, 1048; AMG, vol. 3, 594. •% Novembergskii, Materialy, 66-67. 3/ Berry and Crummey, Rude and Barbarous Kingdom, 224. 38 Moskovskii Stol d. 867 11. 371. 39 Martha Luby Lahana, "Novaia Nemetskaia Sloboda: Seventeenth Century

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

401

enced a degree of hostility, but whether they were entirely ostracized or whether they formed a sub-community of their own is not entirely clear.40 They did not appear to use their new status to petition collectively for privileges or redress, as did other distinct groups within the Russian army. They did not petition as a separate body for specific favors; instead, they were included with non-Orthodox foreigners in collective petitions made by other groups. For example, Arist Von Mengden, who commanded a regiment of dragoons, received in early 1658 two petitions regarding his officers' monthly pay. The officers of his regiment and the auxiliary Cossacks each petitioned separately. The Orthodox foreigners did not petition as a distinct group within the regiment, even though we know that they were fairly numerous and that Von Mengden, a Livonian German, himself was Orthodox.41 In their petition to the state regarding pay they identified themselves as officers of the regiment, but not as baptized officers. Becoming Orthodox did not appear to set them apart within the regiment in their minds or in the eyes of the state, but only appeared to be significant in their individual relationship with the state.42 The absence of petitions made collectively by novokreshchennye European mercenary officers is an important indication that Orthodox baptism did not result in a community of converted foreigners who interacted with the state to obtain privileges and favors. Recent research on the language of petitions in Early Modern Russia suggests that petitioners identified themselves with specific categories and relationships that revolved around qualities such as foreignness, family, patronage, friendship, rank, region, locality, and communities (masters' households, urban communes, villages, and regiments). Religion in Orthodox Russia was not a characteristic category by which petitioners identified themselves to the Tsar probably simply because it was a ubiquitous quality.43 For those military men who sought to enter Russian society through conversion,

Moscow's Foreign Suburb," (Ph.D. Diss., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 1983), 283. 40 Dmitrii Tsvetaev, General Nikolai Bauman i ego delo (Moscow, 1884), 5-7. 41 Moskovskii Stol d. 870 11. 212-13. 42 Moskovskii Stol d. 875 11. 113-14, 142; 907 11. 94, 101, 108; 867 11. 194-95, 298. 43 Nancy Shields Kollmann, "Society and Social Identity," in Religion and Culture in Early Modem Russia and Ukraine, ed. Samuel H. Baron and Nancy Shields Kollmann (Dekalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press, 1997), 36-38.

402

W. M. REGER IV

however, it was a key point to claim favor by referring to their baptism in petitions (za kreshchenie). The known references to conversion in petitions for the Tsar's favor are found in individual, rather than collective petitions, suggesting that identifying oneself to the administration as an individual converted foreigner had potential advantage. Rebaptized foreigners did not exhibit any sense of community with other converts in their official relations to the state.44 Nevertheless, converted foreign officers seemed to form limited associations within the new-formation regiments. Orthodox colonels collected around themselves small groups of other converted foreign officers and soldiers. Foreign Orthodox petitioners for promotion often asked to be transferred to a regiment commanded by a fellow Orthodox foreigner. These groups formed both on the initiative of petitioning individuals and on the order of the state which assigned officers to particular regiments, but they were relatively miniscule.45 Also, as is clear from Figure 1, the newly baptized officers tended to be more prevalent at the company level of command or, in other words, in those ranks that commanded at the company level: sergeants, ensigns, lieutenants, and captains. Officers in these ranks tended to remain in place rather than seek promotion or transfer; out of 26 sergeants and ensigns (praporshchiki), six rose to the rank of colonel or higher, while 20 remained at company rank. Relative permanence within the new-formation regiments and companies may well have fostered the formation of interpersonal ties and loyalties that would only have been strengthened by conversion to Orthodoxy. Another way of looking at this question is to examine, to the extent possible given the incomplete nature of the database, the mobility of personnel from regiment to regiment, and to determine whether Orthodox foreign officers collected around themselves cohorts of converted officers. Using the larger database for this study (n = 1359; see Table 1 above), it is possible to identify clearly a number of officers and men (n = 474/1359) who served in the regiments of eight sample converted officers (Leslie, Gibson, De Gron, lunger, Von Mengdon, T. Crawford, Rosform, and Von Wezen) in the 1640s1660s. Of this group only 12% were clearly identified as Orthodox converts (n = 59/474), and these were scattered somewhat unevenly

44 45

Moskovskii Stol d. 862 11. 167, 198-99; d. 907 1. 101; d. 875 1. 113. Moskovskii Stol d. 867 11. 371, 703-09, 790; d. 870 1. 451; d. 862 1. 25.

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

403

among these eight regiments. For only 8% of these converted foreigners (n = 5/59) is there documentation that they moved from one Orthodox foreign commander to another; their movement tended to be more limited, changing regiments roughly once in 20 years. NonOrthodox personnel who transferred among the eight sample regiments (n = 19/474), on the other hand, changed regiments as many as four or five times within a 20 year period. The fact that converted foreigners changed position so infrequently relative to nonconverted personnel might suggest that they found their fellow converts more amenable as commanding officers, while non-converted foreigners perhaps had difficulty serving under converts.

Figure 1. Distribution of Converted Officers Among the Various Ranks in the New-Formation Regiments

Although little is known about the interpersonal relationships among these officers, we do have anecdotal evidence of negative relations between converted and non-converted foreign officers. Unlike other networks of relationship underlying the military command structure of the seventeenth century army, religious affiliation could become a divisive rather than a unifying factor. Evert Versterman arrived in Russia in the company of Alexander Leslie and remained a part of his household for several years, until he abandoned the old colonel following his baptism.46 Similarly, Jonas Anderson, a cornet from Moskovskii Stol d. 867 11. 162.

404

W. M. REGER IV

Saxony, newly arrived in Russia, asked to be removed from Von Mengden's regiment, because he had no "family, kin or friends" in the regiment, and to be placed with Caspar Gander (lander), the Swedish officer in whose company Anderson had arrived in Moscow. Anderson, furthermore, asked specifically that a Russian cornet be put in his place in the Von Mengden regiment, a request which could only make sense if Anderson thought the position ought to be filled by an Orthodox officer.47 These petitions hint at the existence of barriers between Orthodox and non-Orthodox officers. The mixed pattern of loyalty among converted Europeans is further demonstrated by their attitude toward the receipt of a new Orthodox name at the time of their baptism. Converts to Orthodoxy took upon themselves the name of an Orthodox saint on the day of their baptism '"as a symbol of [their] entry into the unity of the Church.'"48 The tradition of the Orthodox name day was a part of the culture of worship, but the new name served to identify them as subjects of the Tsar, and to erase in official documentation their identity as foreign nationals. No fewer than 45% of individuals in the database possessed documented baptismal names, and at least another 50% had names that could very well have been Orthodox in origin. The remaining officers bore non-Orthodox names such as Karl-Johan, Lorenz-Hendrik, William (rendered variously as Vilim or Ulian), Dzhon (sic), Berent, or Boldvin, which were not Orthodox baptismal names. The appearance of the baptismal name in official documentation was most frequent among the lowest ranking officers, such as drummers, trumpeters, corporals and sergeants, among the dragoons at Tula in the 1640s, and among Lithuanian and Polish prisoners of war who submitted to baptism. By comparison, only 39% (n = 18/46) of converted officers ranking captain or above had recorded baptismal names; only five of fifteen known converted colonels possessed baptismal names which were used with any regularity: Jean de Gron (Anton De Granovskii), Indrik Blankenhagen (Vasilii Blankenhagen), Alexander Leslie (Avram Leslie), Khrisotofor Vormzer (Fedor Vormzer), and the Danish colonel Johan Von Hundertmark (Khristofor Gundertmark). Other colonels, such as Matvei Etkin, Alexander Gibson, and Lavrentii Skrymzer, may well have been given their recorded 47 48

Moskovskii Stol d. 867 11. 16. Ware, The Orthodox Church, 261.

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

405

names at baptism, but no notation was made of it and we cannot be certain.49 High-ranking converts did not always identify themselves by their baptismal names in official documentation, and some did not appear to use their baptismal names at all. William Bruce was identified by his baptismal name in only one known document, in which he was mentioned as a mediator in a suit for payment of debt. Neither of his sons used Mikhail in their patronymics; they were known as Vilimovichi, and neither did Bruce refer to his sons by their baptismal names, though they were born in Russia.50 The Scottish mercenary Alexander Leslie, on the other hand, was referred to officially as Avram throughout the final decade of his life, especially in documents referring to his regiment, the regiment of Avram Leslie. Another indication that converted Europeans formed a distinct community can be found in the fact that their conversion to Orthodoxy was definitely a family affair. Around 35% of the known converts between 1641 and 1666 were baptized together with other members of their families, and the tendency to convert with family members cut across lines of nationality. One obvious advantage of converting with other family members was the increased baptismal reward received by wives and children. The Russians rewarded the act of baptism itself with cash and goods, the amount of which decreased gradually over the course of the seventeenth century. The amount of the reward was specifically set according to amounts paid to earlier converts.31 Because the amount of the reward was set by the Military Chancellery, it could be considered a measure of the convert's military value to the state. The general tendency was that those with higher military rank or illustrious service records at the time of their conversion received greater rewards. When Alexander Leslie converted, he did so with his second wife, his adult son John, and his 3-year old daughter, and collectively received 23,000 rubles in 49 Moskovskii Stol d. 867 11. 197-200; d. 862 11. 167-69, 191-99, 201-06; d. 870 11. 61, 294, 309, 394, 416, 451. 50 RSB, s.v. "Brius"; M. M. Bogoslovskii, Petr I (Moscow-Leningrad: OGIZ, 1940), vol. 1, 225, 232, 398; Dmitry G. Fedosov, "The First Russian Bruces," in The Scottish Soldier Abroad, 1247-1967, ed. Grant G. Simpson (Edinburgh: John Donald Publishers, Ltd., 1992), 56. Gundertmark's son, Tikhon, however, did use his father's baptismal name as his patronymic. See Rabinovich, Polki petrovskoi armii, vol. 14, 13; vol. 28, 94. 51 Moskovskii Stol d. 906 11. 5-6,,48; d. 862 11. 9-10; Mamonov, Materialy dlia istorii meditsiny, vols. 3-4, 744.

406

W. M. REGER IV

cash and goods, not including the yearly salaries granted to father and son. Also service lands were sometimes granted to fathers and sons together, to support their military service.52 Conversion played havoc with family life if there was any resistance to conversion on the part of the officers' wives. Peter Bold petitioned in 1666 to be permitted to remarry his former wife in the Orthodox Church. They had lived separately since his own baptism because marriage between an Orthodox and a non-Orthodox was not recognized.53 His petition is evidence that baptism created marital discord, for which he sought a resolution through the conversion of his wife. Eventual remarriage with a newly baptized wife was not a feasible solution for all the mercenary converts because not all wives followed their husbands into the waters of baptism. One of the most poignant stories of the adverse impact of conversion on the mercenary officers' family life was that of William Johnston and his wife Barbara. She petitioned in 1654 for permission to leave Russia and return to her home in Scotland, describing herself as a "poor, bitter widow," because she had been forced to separate from her husband William at the time of his baptism.54 Colonel Johnston, who began service in the Tula dragoons as early as 1641, finally received a 200 ruble advance on his provisions salary in 1658 to send his wife Barbara home. While Johnston's example suggests that conversion could destroy marriage relations, the simultaneous baptism of fathers and sons served to bring converts into the Orthodox faith, together with an already existing, supportive community. More important than the incidental gift awarded for baptism was the assignment of, or increase in, the "provisions money" and service lands which supported the foreign in his military service. The term "provisions money" or "provisions salary" is a translation of the phrase kormovoe zhalovanie. A more literal translation might be "feeding grant." It came from the state primarily in the form of cash or goods, and was the primary means of support for many foreigners in Russian service. It was calculated on either a monthly (mesechnoe) or yearly (godovoe) basis, but was often paid in lump sums 52 Lahana, "Nemetskaia Sloboda," 70-71; Storozhev, Podarki tsaria, 6; J. W. Barnhill and Paul Dukes, "North-east Scots in Muscovy in the Seventeenth Century," Northern Scotland 1:1 (1972), 53; Moskovskii Stol d. 906 11. 4-43. 53 Novgorodskii Stol d. 198 11. 96-108, 137-39; Woltner, "Zur Frage," 55-56. 54 Moskovskii Stol d. 870 11. 386-87ob; d. 875 11. 369-72; d. 867 1. 241.

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

407

representing two or six month periods; daily payments were not unknown, though not common among converted foreigners after 1654. When the lowest and highest amounts of provisions money received by converted officers are compared with the lowest and highest amounts received by unconverted officers, it becomes apparent that, for nearly all ranks, converted officers began at a higher pay rate but did not appear to rise as high as their non-Orthodox fellow officers (see Table 2). One explanation for this is that converted officers had access to other forms of income such as land and baptismal rewards, whereas non-Orthodox officers were compensated primarily only with provisions money payments. Landholding among Orthodox foreign officers was more prevalent among those who were already in service before 1652 when the state confiscated many foreign-held estates. As a measure of the degree to which foreigners assimilated into Russian society, landholding has been considered a fundamental aspect of the process of conversion of European officers to Orthodoxy. It has been argued that the state sought the conversion of Europeans in order to provide them with lands in service tenure without further irritating the middle service class gentry who saw the mercenary officers as competitors within Russia's military hierarchy.55 In other words, the pressure to convert mercenary officers could almost be seen as an effort to integrate foreigners into the more traditional military society, as well as to economize by supporting them through lands rather than through cash payments which were more difficult to arrange. Table 2. Range of Monthly Provisions Salary (Zhalovanie Mesechnyi Korm, ZMK) of Baptized and Unbaptized Officers, 1640-1670 Baptized Officers (n = 169)

Other Officers (n = 995)

Rank

Rank

£MK (rubles/mth)

General Colonel Lt. Colonel Major Captain Rotmistr Lieutenant Cornet Sergeant

30-50 10-45 8-18 8-16 5-11 5-13 3-8 2-6 2-5

^MK (rubles/mth)

General Colonel Lt. Colonel Major Captain Rotmistr Lieutenant Cornet Sergeant

100 15-40 9-18 11-15 4-7 7-14 5-8 6-7 1.5-2.5

Richard Hellie, Enserjment and Military Change in Muscovy, 56.

408

W. M. REGER IV

This argument must be considered cautiously, however, because the assimilation of foreign elements by means of landholding was limited in early modern Russia. Even the Tatars who converted in the sixteenth century had not completely assimilated into the land economy by the mid-seventeenth century, after a "century of mingling with Russians as neighbors and comrades-in-arms."56 The data suggests that landholding was, in fact, limited and cannot be considered a significant avenue of assimilation. Nearly half of those converted foreign officers for whom we have record of landholding in the midseventeenth century (n = 22) served with the dragoons headquartered at Tula. The total land controlled by 13 companies of Tula dragoons in 1651 amounted to slightly less than 237,000 cheti or 57,800 acres, multiplied according to the three-field system, resulting in an average of 264 cheti per field per officer/dragoon. The dragoon companies of Vasilii Von Wezen and Arist Von Mengden controlled a combined total of 28,500 acres multiplied by three fields, which provided 122 officers and men with about 233 acres per man per field.37 Considering that the yearly income from holdings totaling 400 acres could not have exceeded 30 rubles a year in the first half of the seventeenth century, landholding benefited these officers little more than kormovoe zhalovanie.58 In seventeenth-century Russia, land was distributed to servitors in return for their military service, though the state did not consistently revoke the service gentry's proprietorship for failure to provide military service. The state bestowed lands upon European officers at its own discretion, with the expectation that their military service would be supported from these lands. Land was infrequently inherited or purchased by the European converts, but even in these instances the

56

Janet Martin, "The Novokshcheny of Novgorod: Assimilation in the Sixteenth Century," Central Asian Survey 9:2 (1990), 13-38. I would like to thank Professor Martin for bringing her article to my attention. 57 Moskovskii Stol d. 875 11. 245-456. The Russians divided land into three fields, and when a land allotment was made in cheti (one chef — 4.1 acres), it was assumed that this would be in three fields. Thus, an allotment of 100 cheti actually represented 300 cheti divided into three locations. See R. E. F. Smith, The Enserfment of the Russian Peasantry (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968), 87. 58 Jerome Blum, Lord and Peasant in Russia, From the Ninth to the Nineteenth Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971), 201; Carol Belkin Stevens, Soldiers on the Steppe, Army Reform and Social Change in Early Modem Russia (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1995), 104.

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES

409

state granted permission for such transactions only upon petition. European mercenary officers held land in return for their military service since at least the early years of the seventeenth century, but their legal right to hold land was codified in the Ulozhenie or Law Code of 1649. An escheatable land pool was maintained by the state more or less for the exclusive use of foreign servitors and much of the administrative business related to foreign landholding passed through the Service Land and the Foreign Mercenaries Chancelleries.59 In the eyes of the state, therefore, the converted foreign mercenaries formed a community with tangible dimensions characterized by access to service lands. Land was not automatically bestowed upon European converts. More officer converts were granted zhalovanie, or provisions money, than were given lands between 1641 and 1666. Most land was granted as part of the baptismal reward; if the new convert already held lands in service tenure, he was granted additional acreage.60 Land did not pass automatically from father to son in every case, but reverted back to the control of the State through the appropriate chancellery upon death or failure to provide military service, to be reassigned to other foreign servitors at the discretion of the state.61 Nevertheless, land could be held collectively within families. The dragoon colonel Arist Von Mengden and his three sons held several villages in the district of Kostroma, amounting to more than 12,000 acres in three fields, and his sons were expected to serve in the army on the income from their father's lands.62 Also, in at least two cases in which father and son officers converted at the same time, only the father was granted land, while the son was given a provisions salary.63 In principle, land could be confiscated for any reason and at any time at the will of the state, which would certainly have given the state some leverage if and when it sought to encourage European officers to convert to Orthodoxy. One of the best known incidences

39

Geraldine Phipps, "Britons in Seventeenth Century Russia: A Study in the Origins of Modernization," (Ph.D. Diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1971), 312; Nikolai E. Nosov and Raisa B. Miuller, eds., ^akonodatel'nye akty russkogo gosudarstva vtoroi poloviny XVI pervoi poloviny XVII veka. Teksty (Leningrad: Nauka, 1986), 69, 198. 60 Moskovskii Stol d. 906 1. 79; d. 875 1. 405. 61 Moskovskii Stol d. 867 1. 340. 62 Moskovskii Stol d. 870 11. 1-2; d. 862 11. 24-26. 63 Moskovskii Stol d. 906 11. 48-52; d. 862 1. 52.

410

W. M. REGER IV

of this took place in 1652 when the Tsar confiscated the lands of seven officers located in the Arzamasskii District. The reason given for this action was not failure to provide service, but official concern for the spiritual well being of the peasants on those estates. The officer landholders were accused of oppressing the peasants by preventing their practice of the Orthodox faith. Reference to the officers in question as "unbaptized Germans" strengthens the xenophobic and religious tone of the document, and suggests an officially recognized division between baptized and unbaptized foreigners. Furthermore, the instructions to the Tsar's agents who conducted the confiscation suggest it was a temporary measure, in force until such time that the seven officers converted. The goods and appurtenances of the confiscated estates were to be well-stored and entrusted into the care of the village elders, sworn-men and the leading peasants until further decrees were received from Moscow.64 It is not known whether any of these seven men succumbed to the state's pressure to convert, but at least one man, Jacob Niemborg, died some time after these events and his wife was listed in 1658 as the widow of an unbaptized officer, indicating that he did not convert.65 The Von Mengden family suffered similar pressure in 1654. Their estates were confiscated, and one son, Fedor Aristovich, was assigned a provisions salary of 7 rubles a month, to replace the 47 peasant households he and his brothers formerly controlled. He requested a promotion to the rank of captain with a higher salary for himself, in order to be able to continue his service. His petition for a promotion was granted, but it was probably not coincidental that this was precisely the time when Von Mengden and his sons converted to Orthodoxy.66 Converting foreign troops to Orthodoxy was one dimension of Russia's reception of military ideas from Europe. Although many converts were lower ranking individuals, a significant number of the officers for whom we know rank were captains or higher (n = 507117), and constituted a core of military leadership that would certainly extend beyond the war that initially brought them to Russia, when Russia traditionally dismissed most of its mercenaries. Their military 64 65 66

PSZ, vol. 1, 103. Moskovskii Stol d. 870 1. 457. Moskovskii Stol d. 862 11. 24-26, 199.

BAPTIZING MARS: THE CONVERSION OF EUROPEAN MERCENARIES 411 importance as recent arrivals derived from their experience with western armies, and from their ability to instill in the Russian army some of the expertise and technical knowledge that was current in the armies of Europe. To accomplish this objective, however, a sergeant and a colonel were comparatively valuable for building a newformation regiment; low rank did not necessarily suggest military worthlessness. The sons and grandsons of converts, however, would not have served in Europe's armies, so their value to the state had little to do with professional experience abroad. It can be argued, however, that the value of these individuals arose from their family connections and heritage; no doubt some spoke the languages of Europe, corresponded with relations abroad, and certainly grew up and fought in the same regiments with fathers, uncles, and brothers who had served abroad. Assimilation into the Russian military culture over generations would eventually erase this advantage, but by that future point, the Russian army would have undergone Peter's reforms anyway, and the relative isolation that made the European mercenary officers a worthwhile import would have for the most part disappeared. The nascent community of converted European mercenaries faded into the fabric of eighteenth-century Russian society, producing many prominent Russian literati, bureaucrats, and military officers. The conversion of foreign soldiers can also be seen as one manifestation of a broader desire on the part of peripheral European states to attract and retain foreign military personnel from the center. While Muscovy appears to have been the only Early Modern European state to convert itinerant soldiers and thus retain their military services for life, other nations sought to do likewise, though in other ways. Sweden encouraged skilled military officers from the British Isles to remain in its service through ennoblement. Lutheran Sweden prohibited the practice of other religions perhaps even more strenuously than did Muscovy, but yet allowed the ennoblement of mercenary officers adhering to other confessions, as compensation for their military service. Swedish ennoblement of foreign officers corresponded with Muscovite conversion because it also served to assimilate foreign officers into the elite military service community, as well as the community of landholders, and to enter the pool of marriageable indigenous women. In both Muscovy and Sweden we find the position of the indigenous nobility threatened in part by the

412

W. M. REGER IV

incorporation of foreign officers.67 Conversion, however, broadened the marriage pool for foreign officers in Muscovy who could not hope to marry Orthodox women before conversion (or remain married to their non-Orthodox wives after conversion), while ennoblement limited marriage options for foreign officers in Sweden precisely because they were not encouraged to convert to Lutheranism, and because, having become nobles, could no longer consider non-noble women as potential marriage partners. Swedish ennoblement and Muscovite conversion both introduced foreign soldiers into the lesser nobility as citizens of the nations they served. The Swedes were obviously much more selective than the Russians about whom they chose to assimilate through ennoblement; the military needs of the state determined the central issue. The Russian conversion of foreign officers, the rank and file, prisoners of war, and so on, however, had a broader sweep. The employment and assimilation of foreign military experts and leaders was common in other Early Modern armies on the periphery of Europe. Norway employed French Huguenot officers to train and command its tiny army. Denmark used Scottish mercenaries. The Ottoman Empire absorbed technology and organization from the West obliquely through the services of European renegades of the more desperate sort, who were obliged for their sins to remain expatriated from Europe. Whether these converted to Islam or not was secondary to the fact that their inability to return to Europe was not necessarily a state policy of the Ottoman Empire.68 The Muscovite retention of foreign military expertise based on a mixture of coercion and conversion was therefore a unique response to a common European military problem.

67 Ailes, "From British Mercenaries to Swedish Nobles," 71-72; I. V. Galaktionov, Izistoriia Russko-pol'skogo sblizheniia v 50~60 kh godakh XVII veka (Saratov, 1960), 20. 68 Leon Jesperson, "The Machtstaat in Seventeenth-Century Denmark," Scandinavian History 10 (1985), 252~76; John Guilmartin, Gunpowder and Galleys. Changing Technology and Mediterranean Warfare at Sea in the Sixteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), 112, 256, n. 3; John F. Guilmartin, Jr., "Ideology and Conflict: The Wars of the Ottoman Empire, 1453-1606," Journal of Interdisciplinary History 18 (1988), 745.

"THE GUARDIANS OF FAITH" JEWISH TRADITIONAL SOCIETIES IN THE RUSSIAN ARMY: THE CASE OF THE 35TH BRIANSK REGIMENT1 Yohanan Petrovsky-Shtern This paper will explore the encounter between Russian Jews and the Russian army, focusing on the historical fate, activities, and policies of the group of non-baptized Jewish Russian Army soldiers who named themselves "The Guardians of Faith" Society.2 The society was established during the reign of Nicholas I, and operated through the end of the nineteenth century. During the society's half century of existence (1843 circa 1893), its members tended to adhere to their Jewish identity while serving full term in the Russian Army. Relying on the newly discovered Hebrew manuscript of the pinkas (minutebook), written and kept by the society, as well as on Russian military and governmental documents, this paper will revise the commonly accepted lachrymose (Salo Baron) outlook on the fate of the Jew in the Russian army. It will recontextualize the relations of the Russian army and the national minorities, in our case, the Jews. It will deemphasize the issue of apparently incipient Russian army antisemitism and will reconsider the impact of the Jewish-military encounter in a broader historical perspective. But first one would like to turn to the society itself. Jewish Soldiers and their Statutes

Paradoxically, the society Shomrei Emunah ("The Guardians of Faith") was created in an attempt to reconcile traditional Jewish customs and ways with the rigid military regulations and army routine. The 1 I would like to express my gratitude to Eric Lohr and to an anonymous reviewer, whose valuable remarks and suggestions helped me considerably to improve this paper. 2 The Hebrew manuscript of the Pinkas shel hevrah shomrei emunah shel brianski polk (the Minute Book of the Guardians of Faith Society of the Briansk Regiment) has only recently come to light. Currently, the manuscript is at the Russian State Museum of Ethnography in St. Petersburg, S. Ansky collection, f. 2, op. 5, d. 52

414

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

society pursued the enormous task of helping Jewish recruits "consistently perform every commandment," that is, each one of 613 mitsvot of Judaic tradition.3 The society required the brethren to respect each other and maintain peace and order among the soldiers. Its meticulous by-laws repeated in brief the major regulations of daily Jewish practice, ranging from the commandment of tefillin to the absolute prohibition against eating non-kosher food.4 The society strongly regulated relations between Jewish soldiers and army commanders, forbidding the betrayal of a fellow Jew to the officers. In case of a lost or broken weapon (a quite frequent incident in the army), members had to collect donations from society members and from Jews of nearby communities to prevent their brethren from being punished. In case of arrest and imprisonment, all measures had to be taken to ransom the arrested.5 The society's members were obligated to visit their brethren in military hospitals when they became sick. They had to arrange also for a decent Jewish burial, with days of mourning and prayer, in case a society member died.6 The society echoed the operational patterns of voluntary societies (havurot) in the nineteenth-century Pale of Settlement. Elections were held annually during Passover. Three elected officers, chosen by lot, appointed two wardens, who in turn appointed the guardian of the regulations and the guardian of the treasury. The functions of the guardian of the treasury included raising funds on a weekly basis from Jews of the local Jewish communities, an activity which implied the existence of a bond between Jews in the army and the local communities in the Pale. Members donated five kopeks weekly to support the communal treasury. It was not an insignificant amount of money: one could buy with it a full weekly portion of tea and makhorka (blended tobacco), two favorite soldiers' delicacies.7 The wardens kept track of the conduct of society members. They convened (hereafter—Pinkos Shomrei Emunah). I am indebted to the custodian of the collection, Liudmila Borisovna Uritskaia, for inviting me to identify this manuscript and use it for my research. 3 Pinkos Shomrei Emunah, 11. 4—5. 4 Pinkas Shomrei Emunah, 1. 4. 5 Pinkas Shomrei Emunah, 1. 6. 6 Pinkas Shomrei Emunah, 1. 7. 7 On the issue of the Jewish soldier's money, see chapter "An Unreliable Soldier: Jewish Soldiers, Military Reform and Army Statistics," in Yohanan Petrovsky-Shtern, "Jews in the Russian Army: through the Military towards Modernity (1827—1914)," (Ph.D. diss., Brandeis University, 2001), 119-88, esp. 157-162.

"GUARDIANS

OF THE FAITH"

415

the society to discuss what to do about transgressors or those in need. They scrutinized deviations of Jewish soldiers from the Laws of Torah and just as zealously monitored violations of laws the tsar imposed on the lower ranks. The warden also had to fulfil the role of shtadlan (to intercede with authorities on behalf of Jewish soldiers): If it happens that according to the lot one of the members of our society has to stand sentinel and do his job on Shabbat or a festival, the wardens should go to the officer and beseech him to release that person so that he could rest on Shabbat or the festival. If there is any opportunity, we should implore his officer to release him.8

Three aspects of the society's activities should be stressed. First, the society of the Guardians of Faith represented itself as a surrogate Jewish community. This self-perception is reflected in the usage of the word kahalenu and kahal, "our community" or "congregation," instead of havurenu, "our society" (by-law No. 10). Second, the society was established to provide composite services; no other traditional institution in the Pale provided such a full combination of services.9 The responsibilities of the Guardians of Faith comprised a variety of functions that were simultaneously characteristic of a plethora of traditional societies in any given locality. The Guardians of Faith were engaged simultaneously in pidion shevu'im (rescue of prisoners), bikur holim (visiting the sick), hevrah kaddishah (burial society), gemilut hasadim (free-loan philanthropy) activities, in addition to operating as a regular prayer society once their Torah scroll was completed.10 Thirdly, the laws of the society upheld all 613 commandments (taryag mitsvot), not simply one of them like reading Psalms or taking care of the sick.11 To fully assess the astonishing phenomenon of the Guardians of Faith society—as well as other voluntary groups of self-organized Jews in the army—it is important to consider the Guardians of Faith against a backdrop of Jewish and Russian military scholarship. 8

Pinkos Shomrei Emunah, 1. 7 (by-law No. 11). In this sense, the "Shomrei Emunah" society can be compared with other fusion societies (havurot murkavot) that appeared in Poland in the late eighteenth century. See Moshe Kramer, "Le-heker ha-melakhah ve-hevrot ba'alei-melakhah etsel yehudei Polin," Zjon 2 (1937), 323-24. 10 Cf. the traditional functions of the voluntary Jewish societies given in Salo W. Baron, The Jewish Community, 3 vols. (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1942), vol. 1, 348-74. 11 The by-laws of the society were inscribed in the minute-book in 1843; they 9

416

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

The Lachrymose Legend Challenged Except, perhaps, for the pogroms, no other issue in nineteenthcentury Russian Jewish history has aroused as much bitterness as the conscription of the Jews, above all of Jewish children (called "the cantonists"). The experience of Jews in the Russian Army has usually been depicted in terms of suffering, starvation, humiliation, and forced baptism. By and large, Jewish historians have presented conscription as a diabolical device of Nicholas I, a noted antisemite, which he cynically constructed in order to put an end to what he himself called "one of the most harmful religions."12 Simon Dubnov, ignoring the Russian socio-cultural context, argued that military service was martyrdom for the Jews.13 Following Dubnov, Louis Greenberg developed still further the "lachrymose" outlook on this problem. In his view, military service was maliciously applied for the sole purpose of baptizing the Jews.14 Those who resisted and managed secretly to practice Judaism "were committed to prisons and monasteries and subjected to 'corrective' torments, which many of them endured for years without recanting their original faith. "1;i Paradoxically, Salo Baron, who opposed the lachrymose trend in Jewish historiography, himself also adopted this point of view; it is probably under his influence that whoever subsequently dealt with this issue has felt the need to describe the drafted Jews as 'Jewish victims of the rekrutchina" (conscription).16 According to the generally remained unchanged up to 1893. No additional issues were included in it. For fifty years the activities of the Guardians of Faith were regulated by the same by-laws, enforced by elected wardens. With the exception of one case, no serious conflicts within the society are recorded in the minutes. This case was of a soldier who either got baptized or otherwise offended the society's members by acting "nonJewishly." His name was not blotted out—rather, it was cut off from the pinkas' paper. He was literally banished from the ranks of 'Jewish military men, Guardians of Faith." From this perspective the society was a restricted pre-modern self-organized group, a sort of guild, and not a liberal social entity. 12 L. O. Levanda, ed., Polnyi khronologicheskii sbornik zakonov i polozhenii kasaiushchikhsia evreev, ot ulozheniia Tsaria Alekseia Mikhailovicha do nastoiashchego vremeni, 1649^1873 g. (St. Petersburg: Tip. K. V. Trubnikova, 1874), 261-62. 13 Simon Dubnow, History of the Jews in Russia and Poland. From the earliest times until the present day, 3 vols. (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1916), vol. 2, 21, 28-29. 14 Louis Greenberg, The Jews in Russia, 2 vols. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1944), vol. 1, 51. 15 Ibid., 51-52. 16 Salo W. Baron, The Russian Jews under Tsar and Soviets (New York: MacMillan, 1962), 35-38.

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

417

established view, then, a Jew under Nicholas I—whether a twelveyear-old cantonist or an adult—had little alternative in the army other than becoming a Christian convert. If this was the accepted history, it is easy to comprehend how the military issue manifested itself in Russian Jewish cultural memory. In one of his short stories, Osip Rabinovich (1818—69) depicts a soldier who wept over his fate and whose life and family were brutally destroyed by the army.17 Grigorii Bogrov's (1825-85) Jewish solider is a most pitiful Jesuslike martyr.18 For a Jew in Ben-Ami's (Mordechai Rabinovich, 1854-1932) narrative, it was enough to think about army to die of horrible fear.19 In addition, Yiddish writers from the Russian Empire expressed serious doubts about the compatibility of the Jew with the army.20 Recent research has offered a more balanced approach. Of course, it was Isaac Levitats who cautiously expressed some doubt about the received position already half-a-century ago, noting that "the motive behind the law on Jews may not have been entirely conversionist."21 But the first to argue convincingly against this lachrymose outlook was Michael Stanislawski. He advanced the idea that Nicholas I did not intend to baptize the Jews through conscription; rather, he intended to integrate them into the general culture by "standardizing them through the military."22 Stanislawski also argued that it was Nicholas I's desire for a complete centralization of the army in general and conscription in particular that shaped the fate of ethnic minorities in the army, including Jews, rather than Nicholas's personal chauvinistic bias.23 In addition, the 1827 Law on Conscription 17

Osip Rabinovich, "Shtrafnoi," in his Sochineniia (St. Petersburg: Landau, 1880), vol. 1, 3-74. 18 Grigorii Bogrov, ^apiski evreia, 3 vols. (Odessa: Knigoizdatel'stvo Shermana, 1912-13), vol. 1, 67-70; vol. 2, 15-137; vol. 3, 146-238. 19 Ben-Ami, "Ben-Yukhid. ByP iz vremen lovchikov," Voskhod 1 (1884), 151-61; 2 (1884), 131-56. 20 For the most recent in-depth analysis of the Yiddish, Russian and Hebrew language reflections on the Jewish-military encounter in the Russian empire, see Olga Litvak, "Literary Response to Conscription: Individuality and Authority in the Russian-Jewish Enlightenment" (Ph.D., diss., Columbia University, 1999). 21 Isaac Levitats, The Jewish Community in Russia, 1772-1844 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1943), 59, note 49. 22 Michael Stanislawski, Tsar Nicholas I and the Jews (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1983), 15. 23 On the brilliance of centralization and rationalization of Nicholas I, see Frederick Kagan, The Military Reforms of Nicholas I. The Origins of the Modem Russian Army (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1999), 48-60.

418

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

was never a specifically anti-Jewish enterprise; various representatives of the alien ethnic groups, called inovertsy (literally: "of a foreign belief"; non-Christian national minorities of Russia, mostly of pagan origin), were drafted under the same conditions and were submitted to the same kind of humiliation.24 In regard to the recruitment of Jewish children, the reign of Nicholas I saw the extension of compulsory education in cantonist battalions to include all children born to a soldier's family (mostly illegitimate children of the soldier's wife born while the soldier was posted elsewhere), as well as children born to vagrants, children of army officers, children of impoverished noble families (though only with the consent of the parents), street children and homeless orphans of the Polish Kingdom.25 Also, the Jewish cantonists were not the only conscripts expected to be turned into followers of the Russian Orthodox church; during Nicholas Fs reign, Lutherans, Catholics, and Muslims were likewise urged to convert to Russian Orthodoxy.26 Therefore John Klier's cautious criticism of the established views of the Jewish historians on the issue of conversions in the army deserves full support.27 The proper understanding of the Jewish-Russian encounter requires, above all, the Russian social and military history context rather than exclusively the Jewish communal one. This encounter must be analyzed in a larger historical perspective, starting from the 1820s when the Jewish Committee argued against the idea of conscription of Jews, and followed through the eve of World War I, when Jewish and Russian liberal public opinion opposed the exclusion of Jews from the army. It has to be seen as a complex socio-cultural process,

24 John Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar. Army and Society in Russia, 1462-1874 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), 334. 23 Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar, 202-04; Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter, "Soldiers' Children" 1719-1856. "A Study of Social Engineering in Imperial Russia," Forschungen zur Osteuropaischen Geschichte 30 (1982), 61-136. In regard to the issue in question, see especially 82~83, 125; V. Shchepetil'nikov, Glavnyi Shtab in Stoletie voennogo ministerstva, IV, ch. II, kn. 1, otd. 2 (St. Petersburg: Glavnyi Shtab, 1902), 5-10, 65, 75, 111-14, 166-67; Voennaia Entsiklopediia (St. Petersburg, 1912), vol. 11, 355-56. 26 Regarding missionary activity among Muslims, Catholics and members of Uniate Church, see A. Zhelobovskii, Upravlenie tserkvami i pravoslavnym dukhovenstvom voennogo ministerstva in Stoletie voennogo ministerstva, XIII, kn. 2 (St. Petersburg: Glavnyi Shtab, 1911), 13, 38, 54, 123. 27 John Klier, "State Policies and the Conversion of Jews in Imperial Russia" in Of Religion and Empire: Missions, Conversion, and Tolerance in Tsarist Russia, eds. Robert P. Geraci and Michael Khodarkovsky (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2001).

"GUARDIANS

OF THE FAITH"

419

not limited by exclusively military, political, or social developments. Obviously, such a study should not confine itself to the epoch of Nicholas I, and the Jewish-military interaction of these times should not be presented merely as the issue of Jewish children soldiers, the cantonists.28 In broader terms, the extension of the draft to diverse strata of the population in Europe, as well as the introduction of compulsory military service, brought an end to the exclusion of society at large from the body politic. Military service became one of the key instruments of the transformation of a "society of subjects" into a "society of citizens." It was the army that served as an intensive school for the creation and training of a new man, in this case the "citizen-soldier," to use the language of Jean-Paul Bertaud. The Jewish experience in European armies was clearly also one of the major instruments of the transformation of Jews on their way to modernity. In Western Europe, the imposition of military duty coincided with, or followed, the emancipation of the Jews. Austria let Jews into the army in 1789, France in 1792, and Prussia in 1813.29 The changes military duty brought for the Jews were always twofold. On the one hand, whether in France or in Poland, military service had a major impact on society's perception of Jews. On the other hand, it drastically transformed the Jews' understanding of their society and influenced the genesis of Jewry as a modern political nation. Despite the fact that Russia remained a society of faithful subjects (and not of citizens) throughout the nineteenth century, the experience of the Jews in the Russian military was part and parcel of that process, although it is also clear that the peculiarities of service for Jews in the Russian army reflected the unique features of Russian-Jewish history. The revision of the interaction between Russian Jews and the army draws heavily on the new research of the relations between Russian society and the military. The latter are indispensable for contextualizing the issue of the Jews in the army. Reading John Keep's classic analysis of major trends in Russian military history and their 28 This view of conscription during the rule of Nicholas I as predominantly affecting Jewish children is taken for granted even in the most recent scholarship. See, e.g., Olga Litvak, "The Literary Response to Conscription," 12-15. 2() For more detail on Jews in European armies, see Yehuda Slutsky and Mordechai Kaplan, eds., Haialim yehudim be-tsivot eropa [Ha-lohem ha-yehudi be-tsivot ha-olam] (TelAviv: Ma'arakhot, 1967).

420

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

social implications, one would have to agree that Jewish issues were not among the hottest in the pre-reform Russian army.30 The discussion of the Jewish soldiers and cantonists in the Nicholaevan army acquired proper dimensions—much more modest than those imposed in the traditional Jewish historiography—due to Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter's pioneer research on the pre-reform Russian lower ranks and the cantonists.31 David Alan Rich's study of the paradoxical personalities, who headed the Russian Main Staff in the second half of the nineteenth century and who were responsible for the military reforms in the 1860s and 1870s, provides an important background for the research of an ambiguous and inconsistent policy towards Jews in the army under Alexander II.32 Hans-Dietrich Beyrau pointed out the significant and now somewhat forgotten causes of the "new military antisemitism" at the beginning of Alexander Ill's reign.33 On the other hand, William Fuller's convincing argument that after 1905 pragmatic thinking was more pivotal for Russian military decision making than the state ideology seriously challenged the almost unanimous conception of the Russian military as an antisemitic institution.34 In addition, Menning's in-depth study of the poor planning and disastrous decisions of the commanders in the Russo-Japanese War clearly demonstrates that neither revolutionized reserve soldiers nor Jewish doctors and lower ranks were guilty of one of the most terrible military defeats in Russian history.35 Indeed, like their Russian brethren, Jewish soldiers were objects of both military pragmatism and chauvinistic hatred. Similar to the Russian lower ranks, Jews were cannon fodder for the army. They shared with Russian soldiers the burden of historical responsibility, 30 John L. Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar. Army and Society in Russia, 1562-1874 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985). 31 Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter, "Soldiers' Children" 1719-1856. "A Study of Social Engineering in Imperial Russia," Forschungen zur Osteuropaischen Geschichte 30 (1982), 61-136; idem, From Serf to Russian Soldier (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990). 32 See David Alan Rich, The Tsar's Colonels: Professionalism, Strategy and Subversion in Late Imperial Russia (Cambridge: Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998). 33 Dietrich Beyrau, Militdr und Gesellschaft in Vorrevolutiondren Russland (Koln, Wien: Bohlau, 1984). 34 William Jr. Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict in Imperial Russia. 1881-1914 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985). 33 Bruce W. Menning, Bayonets Before Bullets. The Imperial Russian Army, 1861-1914 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992).

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

421

and equally suffered from the inconsistencies of military strategy. Parenthetically, by virtue of conscription, Russian Jews became an inherent part of Russian history long before the Russian revolutionary movement politicized a significant number of Jews at the very end of the nineteenth century. However, despite its historical necessity and irreversibility, the encounter between Russian Jews and the Russian army was far from being smooth. "Rites of Creed"

The fate of some one and a half to two million Jews who served in the Russian army between 1827 and 1914 is a significant chapter in the history of East European and Russian Jewry that still remains to be written. Since the Russian-Jewish community was much less acculturated to the vernacular culture than Central and Western European Jews and feared any changes in its socio-cultural status quo, Jews in Russia resented the attempts of Alexander I and Nicholas II to include them in the draft pool. They insisted on retaining the practice that came into use by 1827 of paying ransom money to the treasury for every recruit. Once the idea of including Jews into the draft pool was made public in the late 1810s and early 1820s, dozens of denunciations found their way into the Russian administration reporting Jewish communities that indulged in acts of fasting, penitence and blowing of the shofar (ram's horn) in an attempt to force the Almighty to cancel the coming tsar's imposition of military service on the Jews. However, neither the theurgical practices of the communities nor much more worldly efforts of Jewish constables to bribe state officials could prevent the introduction of military service for the Jews, which Nicholas I finally issued on 23 August 1827.36 Starting from that date and throughout the nineteenth century— both before and after 1874 military reform—Jews enjoyed equal rights with the Russian orthodox population regarding military

3B Gosudarstvennyi Arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii (hereafter—GARF), f. 109, First expedition, op. 3, d. 2314, 11. 3-10 ("A Note on Measures, to which Jews resort in order to dodge the conscription," 1827); GARF, f. 109, First expedition, d. 330, 11. 4~6 ("A report of P. F. Zheltukhin, Kiev military governor-general to A. Kh. Benkendorf, 25 September 1827"); GARF, f. 109, First expedition, d. 196, 11. 3-3ob., 5-6, 8-9, 10-12 ob., 14-21, 27-28 ("On Berdichev Rabbi Aizik, who raised funds for the Jewish deputies in St. Petersburg," 1828).

422

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

service, except for upward mobility in the army and draft liabilities beyond it. In fact, a greater proportion of Jewish men were conscripted into the army than the imperial average for all groups. However, among hundreds of thousands Jews who served in lower ranks, there were apparently seven Jewish officers. By and large, they were promoted due to the excellence of their family ties and never pursued an army career, whereas there was only one Jew, formerly a cantonist, who was promoted to captain, but he obtained the rank only after he retired.37 Pivotal to the era of Great Reforms, the 1874 military reform established equal rights for all estates (sosloviia) regarding military service. However, the amendments to the new Statutes on military service, one of the most liberal documents in nineteenth century Russia designed by War Minister Dmitrii Alekseevich Miliutin (1861-81), curtailed Jewish equality before military duty. Later, under War Minister Petr Semenovich Vannovskii (1881 98), the military issued dozens of circulars radically limiting Jewish soldiers' privileges. After the Russian 1905 revolution, the military allowed itself to become involved in the widely discussed issue of the exclusion of Jews—a dangerous and unnecessary burden—from the army. However, because of the tremendous efforts of liberal democrats and Jewish deputies in the Duma the decision to exclude Jews was not adopted. Apparently the proposal of the Russian right-wing to exclude the Jews from the military coincided with the skyrocketing antisemitism in the War Ministry but contradicted the opinion of pragmatic-minded bureaucrats in charge of decision making.38 Despite the commonly accepted view on the Jewish response to conscription, it is clear that the Russian Jewish community was not passively contemplating its brethren being drafted and forcibly assimilated. Once it became established that the introduction of the 1827 statute on conscription was irreversible, groups of influential Jews, communal elders and nouveau riches exerted enormous and constant pressure through purely legal channels on government officials, ministers and the tsar himself. They demanded that the conscripted Jews 3/ D. Raskin, "Evrei v sostave rossiiskogo ofitserskogo korpusa v XlX-nachale XX veka," in Evrei v Rossii. Istoriia i kultura. Sbornik nauchnykh trudov, ed. D. El'iashevich (St. Petersburg: Peterburgskii evreiskii universitet, 1998), 170-74. 38 For the general context of military professionalism and its conflicting relations with the state ideology and practices, see Rich, The Tsar's Colonels, 151-91; Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict.

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

423

should fully enjoy religious rights, they should not work on the holidays and Shabbat, while the military should allow rabbis to provide services to the drafted Jews, and communities to supply them with unleavened bread and kosher wine for Passover.39 As military statistics demonstrate, even in the years of the most aggressive missionary campaign in the army, the percentage of baptized Jewish soldiers did not exceed one percent.40 The percentage of baptized Jews was far lower in regiments where Jews were drafted as adults, rather than as children. Thus, it was due to both the effective pressure of the Jewish communities and to the grass-roots situation within the troops that the Russian military bureaucracy found itself obliged to issue ex post facto a number of regulations allowing Jews to perform their acts of creed. Legally, making a soldier out of a Jew turned out to be no less complicated a task than transforming Jews into "useful subjects" of the Empire. Both cases required considerable legal effort, knowledge of Jewish habits and ways, as well as means to implement the newly issued regulations. Although their actions were not always consistent, the military authorities were at pains to create a niche for their awkward new subject, the Jewish private. The presence of thousands of Jews in the army was reflected in a vast number of regulations and by-laws, cancelled or re-issued throughout the century. Despite later military reforms, the Nicholaevan legislative pattern of Jewish service had a long-lasting impact on the military regulations regarding Jews that outlasted Nicholas Fs reign. However, one should not overestimate the social effectiveness of Russian military laws, which quite often were not compatible with army realities. In many cases, they were not seen as binding by the military command, or the military bureaucracy did not view them as immediately applicable. While

39 GARF, 1 expedition, d. 330 (On the reaction of Russian Jews to the introduction of the 1827 Statutes on Conscription and on the efforts of the Jewish communities to alleviate the conditions of the Jewish cantonists in Smolensk, Vitebsk, Riga, 1827^28). Especially see here the 18 May 1828 petition of the parents of the Jewish children from Vilna to Emperor Nicholas I, 11. 42-43, the protocol of the meeting of the Jewish Committee with the proposals to allow Jewish recruits to perform their rites of creed in the army, 11. 36~38ob., as well as various notes to Benkendorf and notes by Benkendorf to military commanders and state officials demanding that Jews be allowed to perform their rites of creed, 11. 4-6, 11, 12, 16, 17, 19-27. 4(1 Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi voenno-istoricheskii arkhiv (hereafter—RGVIA), f. 405, op. 5, d. 7370, 11. 108-09.

424

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

many of the regulations remained on paper, the implementation of others brought unexpected and contradictory results. A profound gap between military legislation and daily military routine, which began in the Nicholaevan era, marked the whole period of Jewish service in the Russian army. But the 1827 Law on Conscription did not originally imply an attack on the Jewish religion; Jews drafted into the army were granted some basic religious rights. Stanislawski has correctly observed that "according to the standard military rules, Jews were to enjoy absolute religious freedom while serving in the army."41 The fourteenth article of the statute included five by-laws that covered what today would be called "freedom of conscience" for Jewish conscripts. However, for the reasons explained above, it was only in June 1829 that the Inspector's Department of the Ministry of War issued a circular regulating the service of Jews during their traditional holidays.42 That circular expressed the view of the authorities toward the subtleties of the Jewish Law to local military commanders. It was, in fact, the regime's first—and remarkable—attempt to comprehend Jewish religious (halakhic] practices from a military perspective. The circular allowed Jews to abstain from any type of work on Saturday and the Day of Atonement, which formed holidays of the first type. The second type comprised Jewish rosh ha-shanah (New Year), sukkot (Booths), simkhat torah (the end of the Pentateuch reading cycle), pesakh (Passover), and shavuot (Pentecost).43 Thus, Jews were granted the legal right to practice Judaism whenever free of military obligations, while officers were advised that no one could either impede them from performing their religious obligations or admonish them.44 The law on holidays was reinforced and slightly changed on 4 January 1847. In addition, the Inspection Department of the Ministry of War issued a special calendar of Jewish holidays for years to come to be distributed to the regimental and corps command.4' New limitations were introduced for the Jews, perpetuating the contradiction between the rights of the Jews and the rules they had to obey. On the one hand, Jewish lower ranks could exercise their right 41

Stanislawski, Tsar Nicholas I, 21. This amendment may have been prepared by Novosil'tsev, who was far more tolerant of Jews than Nicholas I. See Gessen, Istoriia, vol. 2, 34, note 35. 43 Polnoe sobranie zakonov Rossiiskoi imperil (hereafter—PSZ) II, vol. 4, 2949. 44 PSZ II, vol. 2, 1330, chapter XIV, article 91. 45 PSZ II, vol. 22, 20771. 42

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

425

to perform their religious rituals; on the other, they could be punished in case their observance caused a breach of military discipline. This contradiction inherent in the 1827 statute created much scope for arbitrariness and misinterpretation. The same regulation that granted privileges and rights also cancelled them.46 The way the War Ministry addressed the issue of Jewish military chaplains, on which the communities insisted with particular ardor, was also inconsistent and contradictory. The 1827 statute allowed Jewish soldiers in areas of Jewish settlement to attend synagogues and enjoy the services of a rabbi. In cases where there were no rabbis or synagogues, the officers could allow their Jewish soldiers to gather for prayer in a designated place, especially on festivals when their creed required collective prayer. If in a given location the Jews numbered more than three hundred soldiers, and if their service and behavior was considered satisfactory, they could obtain a rabbi on state salary with the approval of the military command.47 The law also acknowledged the spiritual needs of sick, wounded, dying and dead military Jews and allowed rabbis to attend to those in need. In December 1848 after the suppression of the Hungarian uprising by Russian troops, the Minsk chief rabbi was given one hundred rubles to cover the spiritual needs (dukhovnye treby) of the wounded military Jews who were transferred to local military hospitals. The same regulations reflected the sensibility of the military authorities with regard to Jewish burial rites.48 On 5 December 1856, the War Ministry decided to pay mullahs and rabbis expenses for administering the oath of loyalty and other religious services for Muslims and Jews serving in the army.49 In May 1859 the Minister of War ordered that spiritual, i.e., communal (not crown, state-paid) rabbis be paid for taking spiritual care of sick and dying Jews in military hospitals.'0 It took the War Ministry some twelve years to enforce and implement this decision. After a lengthy discussion of the basis on which the clergy of non-Orthodox confessions were to be reimbursed, in 1871 the War Ministry finally decided to pay rabbis and imams 28.57 rubles annually for every hospital they visited. Simultaneously, Russian Orthodox priests were paid 36 rubles annually PSZ PSZ PSZ PSZ PSZ

II, II, II, II, II,

vol. vol. vol. vol. vol.

22, 20771. 2, 1330 (articles 91 through 95). 22, 21824. 30, 29904. 34, 34474.

426

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

plus 7.20 for additional expenditures, such as religious artifacts.51 In 1872 the War Ministry again pointed out that soldiers of nonOrthodox confessions had died in military hospitals without "observance of spiritual rites" and that this should not be tolerated any more.52 The law on appointing rabbis as military chaplains was never put into practice before it was withdrawn on 24 October 1853. On that day, Nicholas wrote on the report of the Inspection Department that there should be "no state-paid rabbis in the army."33 However, Nicholas I himself strongly supported the religious freedom of adult Jewish soldiers. When in March and May 1844 he received complaints from the Revel (Tallinn) military authorities about cases in which Jewish lower ranks had spent time with the local community with the permission of their immediate superiors, Nicholas replied with an order: "Nobody should prevent Jewish ranks from fulfilling their rights of creed."54 And he later recommended that soldiers keep going to synagogue (pust} khodiat v sinagogu bez izmenenia).35 Soldiers' Synagogues Since rabbis were not appointed to state-sponsored positions as army chaplains, soldiers had to assume the leadership by themselves. Instead of rabbis, they acted as quasi-rabbis during the taking of the oath by new recruits and assumed leadership of small Jewish communities that could not afford a rabbi. This was the case of Abram Katsman, a private of the maritime workers' half-company in Revel, who was elected by the local community to be its spiritual leader in the mid-1840s and who performed the functions of a warden in the local soldiers' prayer house.56 Assuming a quasi-communal leadership and the responsibility for their drafted brethren, the Jewish soldiers also started to intercede with military authorities and petition them to allow permanent houses of prayer. This was not a problem

51 52 53

RGVIA, f. 400, op. 2, d. 1118, 11. 206-06ob. RGVIA, f. 400, op. 2, d. 2061, 11. 2-2ob., 5, 9. RGVIA, f. 1, op. 1, otd. 2, st. 2, d. 25376, 1. 55; f. 400, op. 5, d. 16488, 11.

1-4. 54

55 56

RGVIA, f. 405, op. 5, d. 8158, 1. Sob. RGVIA, f. 405, op. 5, d. 8158, 1. Sob. RGVIA, f. 400, op. 5, d. 2768, 11. 1-4.

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

427

within the Pale of Jewish Settlement, but could raise serious obstacles beyond it. Yet, as a result of the soldiers' actions from the mid1830s through the 1890s, both within the Pale and in a number of internal Russian provinces, in places where soldiers were billeted there emerged soldiers' prayer houses (soldatskie molel'ni]. Thus, for example, after a collective request of the soldiers quartered in Kiev, a soldiers' synagogue was sanctioned and established in the Jewish part of Kiev, on laroslavskaia Street, Ploskii district, between two other synagogues, namely, Po'alei Tsedek (artisans) and Gornostaipol (hassidic).37 Likewise, the local military command granted permission to establish soldiers' prayer houses in Sebastopol,58 Revel,09 Chardzhui,60 Tomsk,61 Tiflis,62 and Irkutsk. Ironically, unlike other state institutions, the army did most to dismantle the residential segregation of the Pale.63 For example, when in 1829 Jews were expelled from Sebastopol (in the part of the Crimea inside the Pale), Jewish soldiers garrisoned in the town maintained the synagogue and cemetery. Between 1829 and 1844, the synagogue operated under the auspices of the Jewish lower ranks of the Land Forces and Naval Departments (Sukhoputnyi i morskoi departament). Most of them perished during the Crimean War campaign, and the synagogue was destroyed shortly thereafter. But in 1859 some 75 retired soldiers and a group of merchants who were granted permission to resettle in the town petitioned the authorities to establish a new prayer house.64 Since outside the Pale the communities 3/ For the discussion of the history of the Kiev soldiers' synagogue, see "Khodataistvo soldat-evreev o razreshenii im ustroit' otdel'no molePniu," Kievlianin 210 (1883); for the unpublished information on this issue I am grateful to Dr. Mikhail Kalnitskii (Kiev). 58 Rassvet 46 (1861), 748-49. RGVIA, f. 400, op. 5, d. 2768, 1. 4. RGVIA, f. 400, op. 15, d. 1711, 1. 3.

Otchet dukhovnogo pravleniia tomskoi evreiskoi voenno-molituennoi shkoly (Tomsk, 1886).

"Tiflisskaia voennaia sinagoga," Hakarmel 34 (1862) (supplement). Recently emerged Russian-Jewish local histories, based on considerable archival evidence, strongly support this hypothesis. They claim that reserve lower ranks were among the first to settle and to establish considerable Jewish comunities outside the Pale. See, e.g., A. Kalmina, L. Kuras, Evreiskaia obshchina v ^apadnom ^abaikal'e (Ulan-Ude: Buriatskii nauchnyi tsentr SO RAN, 1999), 29, 43, 50; I. I. Kagan, Ocherk istorii evreev QrenburzJn'ia v XIX-nachale XX veka (Orenburg: Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Orenburgskoi oblasti, 1996), 26-29; B. Pudalov, "Iz istorii evreiskoi obshchiny N. Novgoroda, v XIX~nach. XX," in Evrei Nizjinego Novgoroda, ed. by Z. Kh. libinzon (N. Novgorod: Dekom, 1993), 6-25, especially see data on 7-9, 20-24. 64 Rassvet 46 (1861), 748-49.

428

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

were allowed to establish only one synagogue, the Irkutsk Jewish nouveau riches issued a request to the St. Petersburg authorities to open a fancy synagogue instead of the prayer house for the Jewish lower ranks. But the soldiers, who also issued a petition, won, and it was finally a Jewish military synagogue around which there evolved the future Irkutsk Jewish community.65 The history of the soldiers' synagogue in St. Petersburg, situated far beyond the Pale, illuminates an unusual aspect of the relationship between Jewish soldiers and the military authorities. The Department of Military Settlements considered the issue of the synagogue in 1856, when the Engineers' Department received the barracks of the former sappers' training battalion. The latter sent a complaint to the Department of Military Settlements explaining that they could not occupy the premises since a wing of the building was used for the prayer house of the Jewish lower ranks. It turned out that in 1837 Major-General Krol had sanctioned the soldiers' prayer house and ordered to allocate premises for it. For twenty years, the Jewish lower ranks were able to enjoy the right of performing their "rights of creed." The Engineers' Department compiled a list of the lower ranks who had visited the synagogue in 1856 (see Table 1): Table 29. The attendance at the St. Petersburg Soldiers' Synagogue in 1856 Name of the Army Units

Number of Jewish lower ranks

Department of Military Settlements Four Military Workers companies St. Petersburg Artisans Unit 2nd Department of Her Majesty Railroad Workers Police Unit Petropavlovskaia Fortress and Engineers Palace Auditoriat Office and St. Petersburg Battalion of Military Cantonists Guard Troops and other units Total

12 53 100 8 50 40 90 30 60 443

Source: RGVIA, f. 405, op. 7, d. 1176, 1. 8.

( " A. Garashchenko, "Kratkaia istoriia kamennogo zdaniia sinagogi v Irkutske," in Sibirskii evreiskii sbornik (Irkutsk: Arkom, 1992), 47-50.

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

429

The transfer of the building from one Department of the War Ministry to another did not imply the end of the Jewish prayer house. On the contrary, since most Jews belonged to the Guards, it was decided to find some room for them in the barracks. There was no appropriate room in the city barracks, and the building of the former workshop for officers' artifacts (fabrika qfitserskoi odezhdy) was also not suitable. The Department of Military Settlements suggested renting a private apartment. As a result, a spacious apartment was found in the house of a certain Gutkov. The Department signed an agreement to pay the landlord 300 rubles rent annually and urged the landlord to take care of the stovepipes and toilet. The Department inspector, who monitored the attendance at the new prayer house, noted that some 370 men frequented it regularly.66 Clearly, in this case, the military administration assumed financial responsibility for implementing its own regulations. Self-Governing Societies At this point a cautious generalization would hardly be inappropriate: unlike traditional Jewish self-governing societies in the Pale of Settlement in charge of a particular communal function, Jewish selfgoverning societies in the army claimed to embody the given Jewish community as a whole. As we will see, disregarding their legal title, these army groups and societies assumed all the responsibilities of the traditional societies (educational, philanthropic, prayer) that operated in a shtetl, Jewish town or townlet, substituting for them.67 In the army context, Jewish self-governing societies presented a phenomenon similar to voluntary brotherhoods of the regimental Russian Orthodox churches,68 although with a much wider sphere of responsibility. The drafted Jews, especially those who came from the Polish Kingdom and Lithuania, demonstrated a strong tendency to selforganization. Thus, for instance, Jewish soldiers from the Saxon regiment established the Psalms society (Hevrah [Magidei] Tehillini), active

66

RGVIA, f. 405, op. 6, d. 4545, 11. 12ob., 15, 18-19, 22, 25. For the traditional functions of the voluntary Jewish societies, see Salo W. Baron, The Jewish Community, 3 vols. (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1942), vol. 1, 348-74. 68 See A. A. Zhelobovskii, Upravlenie tserkvami i pravoslavnym dukhovenstuom voennogo vedomstva, in Stoletie voennogo ministerstva (St. Petersburg: Glavnyi shtab, 1902-12), vol. 13, bk. 2, 53-54. fa/

430

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

in north-western districts of the empire between 1864 and 1867.69 It represented a typical Jewish prayer quorum with only one significant difference, also characteristic of the Guardians of Faith: it was intended to be mobile. Besides its direct purpose—to recite collectively the full book of Psalms—the society required from its members to attend daily prayers, to be morally obliged to other members, as well as to conduct elections, collect donations, impose fines, and be particularly stringent with collecting money for the purchase of the Torah scroll. Similarly to the Guardians of Faith, the Psalms society sought to assume a variety of functions as if providing for the Jewish soldiers the full integrity of communal life no more available.70 According to Jewish law, it was enough to have a prayer quorum of ten adult Jews and a Torah scroll in order to form a prayer society, in effect a mobile synagogue. To be sure, the soldiers' synagogues emerged from organized self-governing soldiers' prayer groups. This was the case of a group of 300 Jewish soldiers from the Viatka infantry regiment. On the eve of the Russo-Turkish War (1877-78), the Jewish community of Biisk allowed Jewish soldiers to borrow their synagogal Torah scroll, and the commander of the regiment sanctioned the soldiers to take the scroll with them to the Balkans.71 In another case, the Jewish soldiers of an unknown regiment billeted in Belostok established a prayer quorum in a local synagogue that was later transformed into a prayer society named "The Route of the Righteous" (Mesilat yesharim}. In 1871, the society established its own pinkas72—"Minutes of the Route of Righteous of the soldiers from Biatystok." According to the minutes, the goals of the society were: to strengthen the Jewish faith, avoid quarrels, visit the sick, bury the dead, and collect donations.73

69

Michael Stanislawski, Psalms for the Tsar. A Minute-Book of a Psalms-Society in the Russian Army (New York: Yeshiva University, 1988). 70 Stanislawski, Psalms, 47. 71 Hamelits 17 (1878), 336. 72 The phenomenon of pinkasim and their function as the statutes of Jewish societies is described in Avrum Rekhtman, Yiddishe Etnografie un Folklor (Buenos-Aires: 1958), 195-241; my analysis of the history of the Hevrah Shomrei Emunah through its pinkos takes into account the warning of Israel Halpern to use these kinds of sources with caution. See Israel Halpern, Yehudim ve-yahadut be-mizrakh eropa. Mekhkarim betoldotehem (Yerushalaim: Magness Press, 1968), 313-32. 73 Abraham Herschberg, Pmkes Byalistok: grunt-maieryaln tsu der geshiktate fun di Yidn in Byalistok biz. nakh der Ershter Velt-Milhome, 2 vols. (Nyu-York: Aroysgegebn fun der Gezelshaft far geshikhte fun Byalistok, 5709-5710, 1949-1950), vol. 2, 139.

"GUARDIANS

OF THE FAITH"

431

Despite the scarcity of the primary sources it is possible to assume that the structure and functions of most of the voluntary societies and synagogal groups in the army were more or less alike. However, among such Jewish voluntary societies, the history of "The Guardians of Faith" was unique and particularly instructive. The society, whose statutes have been analyzed earlier, was established in 1843 in Belostok, during the first draft of Polish Jews, and apparently disbanded itself in 1893 in Kremenchug, Ukraine, in the midst of the first wave of the organized movement of the Jewish proletariat. Rabbi EliakumGetsel Meir Podrabinek (d. 1850) was the first person to sign the minutes of "The Guardians of Faith" in 1843.74 A prominent rabbinical leader and an active supporter of local communal institutions, he became a member of the Eternal Lamp Holy society in 1832 and the head of the rabbinical court in Belostok around 1837. Podrabinek was active in the Book-restorers society of the Old prayer house, in the local Society of Tailors, and he served as a state-sponsored local censor of Jewish books.75 It comes as no surprise that in 1843, when Jews were brought from throughout the Polish Kingdom to the conscription center in Belostok, Rabbi Eliakum-Getsel immediately arranged for kosher food, blessed and cheered the Jewish military men, and encouraged them to serve the tsar and not abandon the creed of their forefathers. This support helped the Jewish soldiers to obtain assistance from others.76 Later on, wherever the Briansk regiment arrived, its Jewish lower ranks visited local rabbis. First, they needed to make Shabbat arrangements for themselves. Second, they wanted to obtain a rabbinical letter for their minutes, a recommendation for other rabbis and communities they would contact in future. During the first twenty years of the society's existence, the Briansk regiment was constantly on the move, but the Jewish soldiers never failed to request the help and endorsement of their activities from local rabbinical or community leaders. From 1843 and 1859 at least nineteen rabbis from Poland, Galicia, Ukraine, Bessarabia, and Bukovina recorded their pleas (a combination of testimony to the religious observance of Jewish

/4

75

Pinkas Shomrei Emunah, 1. 4.

Herschberg, Hakes Byalistok, vol. 1, 91, 93, 154, 165. "' Seven years after the establishment of the society, Jews from the Briansk regiment still retained contacts with R. Eliakum-Getsel; they accordingly reflected his death in the minutes, when he drowned in a river. Pinkas Shomrei Emunah, 1. 54.

432

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

soldiers and petition to other communal leaders to further support them), addressed—to use the modern parlance—"to whom it may concern."77 The last plea was recorded in 1882 by Israel Yakov Yabets, rabbi of Kremenchug (the regiment's headquarters remained in this town into the early twentieth century). Thus, for instance, in 1853 Meir Hacohen Rappoport, rabbi of Korets, signed the following plea: The people whose names appear in this notebook gathered in holy society and opened their hearts to righteousness. In order to strengthen the pillars of the world—study of Torah, sendee to God and good deeds—they established for themselves fixed by-laws and decided to serve and fulfill the will of our Creator. They accordingly decided to perform the will and orders of our tsar—let his glory be esteemed. They asked me, the undersigned, to sign their book and testify to the righteousness of their acts. How wonderful it is to meet their petition! Let us assist them and support them in every matter, in any place they are going or settle, lest they should eat forbidden food. Let their redemption be overwhelming! Let them merit Zion and Jerusalem renewed!78

After 1882 the Briansk regiment settled in Kremenchug, and once they received the support of the local rabbi, no further rabbinical inscriptions were made. It is difficult to assess the level of interaction of society members and other soldiers of the regiment. The pinkas of the Guardians of Faith society contains no data about the age, military professionalization, denomination or position, current occupation or previous background of "The Guardians of Faith."79 According to the available data, the society comprised some twenty-eight active members in 1843, forty-nine in 1883, and forty-four in 1893, while the Briansk regiment had 42 Jews in 1885, 69 in 1886, 13 in 1887, and 32 in 1889.80 This suggests that the overwhelming majority of Jewish soldiers of the Briansk regiment were members of the society. There existed a certain hierarchy and prestige within the society, reflected in the result of the elections. The moment the Briansk regiment settled down in its newly built quarters in Kremenchug,—and right

11 /8

Pinkas Shomrei Emunah, 11. 8, 14—17. Pinkas Shomrei Emunah, 1. 14ob.

' 9 In contrast to the Guardians of Faith society, the Saxon regiment Psalms society minutes meticulously recorded the military professionalization of its members. See Stanislawski, Psalms, 31—34. 80

RGVIA, f. 400, op. 5, d. 1023, 1. 33.

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

433

after the new Statute on comprehensive military duty was issued— the society demonstrated an astonishing internal activity and mobility. Elections were regularly held throughout a quarter of a century. With the exception of the first 1843 elections, no other elections were held during first twenty years of its existence. The soldiers drafted in Poland in 1843 and elected as the society's wardens captured the leading positions and did not cede them unless discharged from the regiment. The same happened during the 1876 draft: the newcomers retained their positions during all six years of their active service. A sort of democratization in the society started right after 1881, the elections being held almost annually and leadership fully rotating. Interestingly enough, there arose in the society a small yet influential Landsmannschaft of Jews from Tulchin: being from the same locality, they secured leading positions in the society, promoting themselves for two first gabaim and three first borerim (wardens and officers).81 During last ten years of the society, Dov Baer ben Liber from Berdichev, a society "staff" scribe not unfamiliar with the laws of Jewish scribal art,82 acted as shomer ha-pinkas (the keeper of the minutes) and was personally responsible for the continuity of the society.83 One of the most striking aspects in the fifty-year life of the society was its ability to operate under circumstances in which the membership rotated completely at least eight times. In 1843, half the society consisted of Jews from the Pale and half from Congress Poland, with the gabai (warden) from Grodno. It claimed as members two people from the Warsaw province, two from the Vilna province, and two from the Minsk province, as well as one Jewish soldier from each of the following districts: Kiev, Dnepropetrovsk, Pzemysl, Pinsk, Zhitomir, and Grodno. In 1862, on the eve of the Polish uprising, Jews from Poland largely dominated the society: there were five from Warsaw, two from Radom, one from each of 81 To a certain degree, the Guardians of Faith Society should be seen as a version of Landsmannschaftn (zemliachestvd) formed by groups of soldiers of common origin. As in the case of Christians, common origin implied above all, geography. Cf. John Bushnell, Mutiny and Repression. Russian soldiers in the Revolution of 1905~1906 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), 18-19. 82 The inscriptions in the later part of the pinkos indicate that its scribe apparently was safer STA"M, an ordained scribe in charge of writing Jewish traditional texts on parchment (STA"M stands for sifrei torah, tefillin and mezuzot, Judaic ritual artifacts). 83 While compiling lists of he society members, the scribe put his name last. See Pinkas Shomrei Emunah, 11. 35, 47.

434

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

the following provinces: Augustow, Vitebsk, Lodz, Lublin, and Kiev. However, in 1883 the number of Polish Jews declined. The society had almost ten Jews from Warsaw and the Warsaw province (including towns like Amshinow [Mszczonow], Sochaczow, and Jadow), two from Radomysl, and one each from Bialystok, Lublin, and Lodz. The Pale was almost entirely represented by towns and townlets of the Kiev, Volyn, and Podolia provinces. About thirty society members were from Berdichev, Chernobyl, Cherkasy, Malin, Pliskov, Pogrebishche, Priluki, Smela, and Zhinkov, with a very insignificant number of members from northern districts like Pinsk. In 1893 the number of Polish Jews became almost unnoticeable—not more than two members—whereas the Jews from the Pale were represented entirely by those from the Volyn, Podolia, and Kiev provinces. During fifty years of its history, "The Guardians of Faith" society was inseparably linked with the history of the Briansk regiment.84 The 35th Briansk Infantry regiment was founded in 1809, participated in the campaign against Napoleon and settled in Poltava, Ukraine at the end of the Napoleonic wars. By 1857 the regiment was listed as the Briansk Jageur regiment (egerskii polk); between 1857 and 1864 it was referred to as Briansk Infantry (pekhotnyi polk), and after that it was mentioned as the 35th regiment. In the late 1860s, barracks were built for the regiment in Kremenchug, which became the town of the regiment headquarters up to World War I. From its origins and through World War I, the regiment fought in every Russian military campaign. Following the Crimean War it was named after Count Aide-de-camp General Gorchakov, whose clear thinking and caution enabled him to save many troops and avoid a greater disaster during the retreat near Sebastopol. In 1861, by the Emperor's special order, the title "Count Gorchakov Regiment" was ascribed to the Briansk regiment. Apparently Jewish-military interaction in the army was responsible for the emerging Russian-Jewish patriotism, let alone for the

84 A comprehensive bibliography of the regimental histories by Lyons mentions four works on the 35th Briansk regiment, of which one is an unpublished manuscript. Another one covers the history of the regiment obliquely and only to 1816. M. Lyons, The Russian Imperal Army. A Bibliography of Regimenal Histories and Related Works (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1968), 86-87; A. Kersnovskii, Istoriia Russkoi Armii, vol. 1, Ot Narvy do Parizha (Moscow, 1992), 206; Vasilkovskii, Grigorovich, Pamiatka o stoletnei sluzhbe 35—go pekhotnogo Brianskogo General-Adiutanta Kniazia Gorchakova polka (Kremenchug: n.p., 1909).

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

435

political conservatism of the Jews in the military. In the Briansk regiment it hardly could be otherwise. By its one-hundredth anniversary in 1909, the regiment had become known as one of the most courageous among infantry troops of the Russian Army. Despite resentful attitude to the army, the Russian military did, in fact, promote the most staunch patriotism of the Jewish soldiers of the Briansk regiment, who were proud indeed of their regimental history and insignias. After the 1830 Polish insurrection, the regiment was awarded special military distinctions "For the pacification of Poland."83 As a result of the Hungarian campaign, the first in which Jewish soldiers from "The Guardians of Faith" participated, the regiment was awarded silver trumpets with the inscription "For the suppression of Hungary in 1849."86 In the beginning of the 1850s the regiment was reinforced by new percussion rifles demonstrated at a parade ground near Warsaw and tested at a shooting show near Gomel. Two emperors—the Austrian and the Russian—were present at the parade and were satisfied by the level of military preparation of the troops. For the excellence of the demonstration, all the regimental chasseurs were awarded one ruble each. During the Crimean War, the regiment defended the western borders of the Empire but was soon swiftly transferred to Sebastopol where it took part in the fiercest battles of the war. The losses of the regiment were terrible: during the defense of Sebastopol the regiment lost 3,287 men. After the war, there were only 1,460 men able to fight. For the heroic defense of Sebastopol, all the privates were awarded two rubles each, and 122 soldiers received various distinctions.87 After the Crimean War the regiment was quartered in the Poltava and Kharkov provinces until the beginning of the 1870s, when it settled in its new headquarters in Kremenchug. In 1863 the Briansk regiment took part in the suppression of the Polish uprising88 and in 1877—78 participated in the liberation of Bulgaria from the Turks,89 playing the key role in battles on the St. Nicholas and the Shipka

85 On the pacification of Poland by Russian troops, see Kagan, The Military Reforms of Nicholas /, 211-12. 86 V. Zvegintsev, Russkaia Armia (Paris, 1914; 1959), 65. 87 Vasilkovskii, Pamiatka o stoletnei sluzhbe, 54—55. 88 See Roy Leslie, Reform and Insurrection in Russian Poland. 1856~1865 (London: Athlone Press, 1962), 232-51; Stefan Kieniewicz, Powstanie Styczniowe (Warsaw: Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1972). 89 For the socio-political context of the Russo-Turkish War, see John Klier, Imperial

436

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

Mountains.90 Several divisions participating in the Balkan campaign had a considerable number of Jews. The Thirty-fifth division was comprised of two-thirds Russian and one-third Jewish soldiers. In the Sixteenth and the Thirtieth divisions, drafted in the Mogilev and Minsk provinces, which had a significant Jewish population, Jews made up one fourth of the ranks.91 Russian memoirists and journalists repeatedly mention the Jewish part in the victory of the War for the Liberation of the Slavs.92 Jewish soldiers Abram Kliakh, Samuil Brem, Naum Kolomiets, Moshka Umanskii, Isaak Rodzevich and Moisei Masiuk,—were among the participants in the famous storming of Plevna and capture of Gali Osman Pasha, the head of the Turkish Army.93 On Shipka Mountain the Briansk regiment lost almost 500 men killed and wounded.94 There is hardly a Russian military memoir that does not mention that it was the Briansk regiment that saved this battle, despite the terrible battle circumstances.95 When in 1909 the regiment celebrated its 100th anniversary, it was awarded the Banner of St. George, with an inscription "For Sebastopol in 1854-55 and for Shipka in 1877." Ten years after the last entry in the society's minutes, the regiment took part in the Russo-Japanese War.96 124 Jewish soldiers

Russia Jewish Question, 1855—1881 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 392-95; Bruce Meaning, Bayonets before Bullets. The Imperial Russian army, 1861-1914 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992), 51—86. 90 Cf. Batsevich, Ruppenheit, Ocherk voennykh deistvii, v kotorykh uchastvoval 35—yi pekhotnyi polk v kampanii 1877-1888 gg. (Kharkov, 1886). 91 S. E. Korngold, "Russkiie evrei na voine 1877/78," Russkii evrei 1 (1879), 227. Among the orders of the regimental commander there is a curious data: in the midst of the Balkan campaign, three soldiers were transferred to the Briansk regiment from the Eletsk and Sevsk infantries—all of them Jews: Abraham Dubrovskii, Adolf Veiner, and Itska Fuks. See RGVIA, Voenno-uchenyi arkhiv, d. 7964, 1. 84. An anonymous officer of the Podol infantry recollected how a Jewish soldier of the Briansk, Podol or Zhitomir regiment entertained Russian privates after cleaning piles of snow from the trenches on the St. Nicholas Mountain near Shipka. See his "Piat' mesiatsev na Shipke v 1877 godu. Iz vospominanii ofitsera Podol'skogo pekhotnogo polka," Voennyi sbornik 6 (1883), 325. 92 S. E. Korngold, "Russkiie evrei na voine 1877/78," Russkii evrei 1 (1879), 227-30; 11 (1879), 384-87; A. E. Kaufman, "Evrei v russko-turetskoi voine 1878-1879 gg." Evreiskaia starina 1 (1915), 56-72; 2 (1915), 176-82; S. Pozner, "Armiia v Rossii," Evreiskaia entsiklopediia (St. Petersburg: Brokgauz-Efron, 1906), 164. 93 Kaufman, "Evrei v russko-turetskoi voine," Evreiskaia starina 2 (1915), 176-82. 94 Vasilkovskii, Pamiatka o stoletnei sluzhbe, 69-70. 91 F. Isaichikov, "Brianskii polk na Shipke," Brianskii Kraeved 5 (1973), 175. 96 The best English-language account of this war is given in Menning, Bayonets before Bullets, 152-99.

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

437

from the Briansk regiment were killed or wounded during this campaign.97 The only available data on the activities of the regiment after the war briefly mentions the participation of the regiment in suppressing the revolutionary movement in the Poltava province during the Russian Revolution of 1905-07. The 100th anniversary of the regiment coincided with the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Poltava won by Peter the Great over Swedish troops. The Briansk regiment, quartered in the vicinity of the town of Kremenchug, protected Nicholas II during the festivities in Poltava. The localities, mentioned in the minutes of "The Guardians of Faith" society, testify to the fact that after the creation of the society the Jewish soldiers never missed a single campaign of the Russian military, yet they were too busy during the Balkan campaign to care for the rabbinical supervision of their activities. Table 30. Localities Visited by the Jewish Soldiers' Voluntary Society of the Briansk 35th Infantry Regiment. Dates

Localities

1843 1845 1845 1846 1846 1846

Bialystok Srock (32 km SE of Lodz) Tiktin (Tykoczin, 26 km W of Byalystok) Ostrow (of Przemysl, Bialystok or Lublin) Nowy Dvor (either Romania or Poland) either Ilintsy (Biliniec; 50 WNW of Czernowitz, Bukovina) or Linits (56 km E of Vinnitsa) Olkusz (32 km WNW Kracow) Kozelets (69 NNE of Kiev) Korets (62 E of Rovno) Kremenets (69 km SSW of Rovno) Kishinev (Bessarabia) Hotin (45 km NE of Czernowitz) Lukow (82 km NNW of Lublin) Kolevets (Kolowerta or Kolivets, Rovno district) Nezhin (94 km WSW of Konotop) Kremenchug (133 WNW of Dnepropetrovsk)

1850 1852 1853 1854 1855 1857 1859 1859 1859 1882

Source: Pinkas Shomrei Emuna, 11. 2, 3, 8, 14-17, 46.

97

M. S. Usov, Evrei v armii (St. Petersburg: Razum, 1911), 112-14.

438

YOHANAN PETROVSKY-SHTERN

Thus, the most striking feature of the society, which managed to survive despite external historical calamities, inner anti-Jewish restrictions, and a complete and repeated rotation of membership, was its coherence and longevity. The Guardians of Faith, whose spiritual message is difficult to overestimate, demonstrated both the resilience of the army Jews and their remarkable ability to adapt themselves to a military environment. Conclusions The history of Jews in the Russian Army is inseparably connected to the history of the Russian military and cannot be viewed predominantly through an ethnocentric prism. As elsewhere in Europe, modernization in Russia included modernization of its army, expansion of the draft pool and modification of patterns of military service; in addition, this modernization drew in the Jews previously alienated from a state body politic. However, like nowhere else in Europe, in the Russian Empire the extension of military service for Jews became the first and perhaps the most effective measure to create, at least de facto, a modern Jew, a Russian of Mosaic faith. Unlike any other attempt to transform the Jews in Russia—economic, taxonomic, social, or cultural—military service was relatively unchanging in implementing the rapprochement (sblizhenie] between Jews and Russian society, albeit not without some contradictions inherent in the state policy towards Jews. Army service equated Jews with the rest of the population in regard to military duty, triggering the emergence of hundreds of thousands of Russian-speaking Jews at ease with Russian legal and cultural traditions. The immediate, profound, and far-reaching impact of the military on Russian Jews was tantamount to the impact of the Jewish soldiers on Russian society. They compelled the state bureaucracy to conduct an unparalleled study of Judaism, legally articulate its respect towards traditional Jews, closely monitor their service in the army, and finally resist the attempts at banishing Jews from the military offered by the right-wing Duma members after the 1905 Russian Revolution. On the eve of the war, Jewish soldiers became the backbone of a fierce polemic between Russian right-wingers and liberals on the Jewish question in Russia. And they shaped a long-lasting trend of Russian literature to discuss the Jewish question through

"GUARDIANS OF THE FAITH"

439

the prism of the experience of the Jew in the Russian army. The position of Jewish soldiers was more complex and ambiguous than both traditional and recent Jewish historiography would lead us to believe. Along with the frequently noted anti-Jewish statements of Russian high-rank military officials, there was a clear understanding among them of a pragmatic necessity to accommodate traditional Jews in the army. This pragmatism allowed the emergence and operation in the army of Jewish soldiers' prayer groups, prayer houses, and traditional voluntary societies, which eventually transformed into new congregations. These congregations started to break down the restrictions on Jewish settlement in Russia thus promoting the creation of dozens of Jewish communities outside the Pale of Jewish Settlement. Middle-rank army officers, imbued with military pragmatism, made use of the religious and communal bonds of the Jews to enforce army discipline and establish better relations with Jews as a national minority group in the army. The moment the War Ministry began to launch a chauvinistic agenda and to persecute any manifestations of tolerant, if not sympathetic attitudes towards Jews—this tendency became conspicuous under War Minister Vannovskii and immediately thereafter—the military found itself despoiled of the spirit of pragmatism and ultimately slipped down to the most outrageous anti-Jewish atrocities in the beginning of the First World War.98

98

See Eric Lohr, "The Russian Army and the Jews: Mass Deportation, Hostages and Violence during World War I," The Russian Review 60 (July 2001), 404-19.

This page intentionally left blank

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES: OPPOSITION TO MILITARY SERVICE AMONG RELIGIOUS SECTARIANS, 1770s TO 1874* Nicholas B. Breyfogle —I am not going to give you my oath, nor am I going to serve you. —Why not? —Because I am a Christian. I do not wish to kill my brethren nor force them to commit violence. —Why not? —Because, according to the word of our God and Lord Jesus Christ, I consider all the people living on earth as children of one Father, and therefore, my brothers.1

In her study of Russian soldiers in the first half of the nineteenth century, Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter notes: "Of all the obligations imposed on the poll-tax population, none was more terrible or feared than military service."2 While certainly the case for Orthodox peasants in pre-reform Russia, the burden of recruitment was felt even

* Earlier versions of this article were presented at the National Convention of the American Association for the Advancement of Slavic Studies in St. Louis, November 1999 and the Conference, "The Military and Society in Russia, 1450-1917" at the Davis Center for Russian Studies, September 2000. I would like to thank the participants of those conferences, especially Josh Sanborn, Eric Lohr, and Mark von Hagen, as well as Eve Levin for their extremely useful suggestions and critiques. The research and writing of this article were supported by grants from the Fulbright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Research Abroad Program, the National Endowment for the Humanities, an independent federal agency, the National Council for Eurasian and East European Research (NCEEER) under authority of a Title VIII grant from the U. S. Department of State, the International Research & Exchanges Board, with funds provided by the US Department of State (Title VIII program), the Kennan Institute for Advanced Russian Studies, the Mershon Center, the Ohio State University College of Humanities, and the University of Pennsylvania. None of these people and organizations is responsible for the views expressed within this text. 1 The Book of Life of Doukhobors, ed. V. D. Bonch-Bruevich, trans. V. O. Buyniak (Saskatoon and Blaine Lake: Doukhobor Societies of Saskatchewan, 1978), 279. * Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter, From Serf to Russian Soldier (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 3.

442

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

more keenly by those Russians whose religious faith forbade participation in the armed forces or the performance of violence, such as the Dukhobors and Molokans.3 Unlike the anti-militarist Mennonite communities settled in southern Ukraine that Catherine the Great freed from the obligation of military service, Dukhobors and Molokans were required to provide army recruits despite their pacifist predisposition.4 Tension—at times open conflict—was the result between these adherents of non-violence and the tsarist state that demanded they send their sons as soldiers. By exploring their "conscientious objection," this paper strives to provide a window onto the meaning and impact of tsarist military structures (with their imperative of violence) in the lives of these Russian peasants. At the same time, by investigating the response of state officials to the sectarians' refusal of service, the paper sheds light on the way tsarist authorities conceived of the role of military institutions in the Russian empire. Perhaps the most enduring image of the relations between sectarians and military service in tsarist Russia comes from the Dukhobors' 3

These two Christian communities were usually included in the collective label "sectarians" [sektanty] by Russian authorities. Dukhobors and Molokans appeared for the first time in the documentary record in the early- to mid-eighteenth century, although they clearly existed well before these initial official mentions. While the religious beliefs and practices of these two spiritual communities were distinct in many fundamental and vital respects, they shared certain commonalties in addition to pacifism: complete and intense opposition to the Orthodox Church, refutation of the need for priests and hierarchies (or any other mediators in a relationship with God), belief in "spiritual" baptism rather than water baptism, and abjuration of all externalities such as icons, incense, and churches. Unfortunately, there are no reliable statistics on the number of Molokans and Dukhobors in tsarist Russia. For a concise introduction to these religious communities, see S. A. Inikova, "Russkie sekty," in Russkie, eds. V. A. Aleksandrov, I. V. Vlasova, and N. S. Polishchuk (Moscow: Nauka, 1999), 722-40. On the problem of counting the numbers of religious dissenters, see Aleksandr Etkind, Khlyst: sekty, literatura i revoliutsiia (Moscow: Novoe literaturnoe obozrenie, 1998), 32-39; and Irina Korovushkina Paert, '"Two or Twenty Million?' Official Statistics of Old Believers and Sectarians in Imperial Russia," unpublished paper presented at the Annual Conference of the British Association for Slavonic and East European Studies, Cambridge University, April 8, 2001. 4 Mennonites came to Russia specifically to escape military service and even obtained an exemption from the 1874 imposition of universal military conscription. Peter Brock, Freedom from Violence: Sectarian Nonresistance from the Middle Ages to the Great War (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991), 153—63; and Lawrence Klippenstein, "Otkaz ot voennoi sluzhby po motivam sovesti v mennonitskikh obshchinakh tsarskoi Rossii," in Dolgii put' Rossiiskogo patsifizma, ed. T. A. Pavlova (Moscow: Institut vseobshchei istorii RAN, 1997), 150-71. For a more general exploration of the intersections between pacifism and religious life in Russia, see the essays in Pavlova, ed., Dolgii put'.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

443

pacifist "rebellion" of 1895—the first large-scale anti-military demonstration and mass refusal of service to take place after the military reforms of 1874.3 This powerful, full-bore manifestation of conscientious objection on the part of the Dukhobors (and later Molokans)— and with it, the state's heavy-handed reply—remains justifiably a prevailing trope in the historiography of pre-revolutionary Russian peasant religious pacifism and a point of pride for Dukhobors and Molokans to this day.6 However, for all of the drama of this seismic expression of non-compliance with violence, it belongs properly to the post-reform period, when tsarist military officials strove to create an army of citizen soldiers through the introduction of universal conscription.7 In contrast, a less spectacular but more multi-faceted story characterizes the pre-1874 history of the relationship between Russian military policies and these ostensibly pacifist communities. This more subtle and varied narrative unveils a wide spectrum of desires, meanings, and outcomes at the nexus of sectarian non-violence and state-sponsored violence. For Molokans and Dukhobors, the dilemma of military service ceaselessly challenged their communities, gnawing away at the foundations of their religious faith. Ever-present recruitment demands forced them to strive for that fine balance between the exigencies of earthly officials, with their power to persecute, and the laws of God as they interpreted them. It was a process of compromise that both unified and divided their communities, absorbed much time and energy, and defined their relations with state power more broadly.

1 On the Dukhobor movement and arms burning, see my "Rethinking the Origins of the Doukhobor Arms Burning, 1886-1893," in The Doukhobor Centenary in Canada: A Multi-Disciplinary Perspective on their Unity and Diversity, eds. Andrew Donskov, John Woodsworth, and Chad Gaffield (Ottawa: Slavic Research Group: 2000), 55-82; Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii [GARF] f. 102, 3 d-vo, op. 1895, d. 1053, ch. 1; OtdeP Rukopisei, Rossiiskaia Gosudarstvennaia Biblioteka [ORRGB] f. 369, k. 42, d. 2, 1950; ORRGB f. 369, k. 44, d. 1, 1950; and George Woodcock and Ivan Avakumovic, The Doukhobors (London: Faber and Faber, 1968), 84-106. 6 On the Molokans' opposition to military service at this time, see Gosudarstvennyi rnuzei istorii religii [hereafter GMIR] f. 2, op. 8, d. 356, n.d.; Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi istoricheskii arkhiv [RGIA] f. 1284, op. 222-1900, d. 69; and GARF f. 102, 5 d-vo, op. 1901, d. 509, 1901-1902. ' See Joshua A. Sanborn, "Drafting the Nation: Military Conscription and the Formation of a Modern Polity in Tsarist and Soviet Russia, 1905-1925" (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1998) and his contribution to this volume, "Military Reform, Moral Reform, and the End of the Old Regime."

444

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

For military and civilian officials, the sectarians posed a twopronged problem. As pariah religious dissenters, they aggravated the "dilemma of difference" that tsarist officials confronted as they tried to forge a functioning army from their multi-ethnic, multi-confessional subject pool without disrupting the delicate accommodations that kept the empire from coming apart.8 At the same time, as opponents to military service, Dukhobors and Molokans represented even greater obstacles to the efficient running of the army. The dual problems that pacifist Dukhobors and Molokans caused the armed forces expose important characteristics of the tsarist military before the Great Reforms. Conflict and competition existed between the imperatives of conscription, on one hand, and the goals of efficient military performance on the other. Drafting non-violent sectarians was designed to fill the army with sufficient bodies, ensure equal distribution of the burden of conscription, and punish sectarians for their non-conformism (conscription policy towards Molokans and Dukhobors included little if any assimilative intent). However, these goals clashed with the needs of the military for quality—and certainly not pacifist—recruits to ensure a strong and efficiently functioning army.9 In the case of these religious dissenters, the exigencies of conscription overshadowed the requirements of military strength, to the detriment of the latter. Sources of Opposition to Military Service

Not surprisingly, opposition to military service among Dukhobors and Molokans resulted from many of the same concerns that led Orthodox Russian peasants to despise conscription: "lifetime" service, economic hardships for the family of the recruit, and the brutality of life in service, to name but a few.10 However, these non-conformist Christians also resisted conscription into the armed forces based on their distinctive religious beliefs and practices. The font of opposition to violence differed between Dukhobors and Molokans (and also 8 Although he uses the phrase somewhat differently, I take "dilemma of difference" from Sanborn, "Drafting the Nation," 188-218. 9 Wirtschafter notes how these conflicting imperatives can also be seen in the case of conscription policy and height requirements. See From Serf, 9-20. 10 Wirtschafter, From Serf, and John S. Curtiss, The Russian Army Under Nicholas I, 1825-1855 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1965), 233-72, passim.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

445

within their communities), evolved over time, and was dependent on geographic location. Nonetheless, the sectarians' resistance to soldiering shared three common roots: Biblical injunctions against killing and violence; the sectarians' relationship to government power; and their treatment in the army. At the foundation of Dukhobor and Molokan anti-militarism lay the Old Testament commandment "You shall not kill" and the New Testament imperatives "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" and "To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also."11 Dukhobor theology in particular underscored the importance of these commandments. Svetlana Inikova, a scholar of Dukhobor culture, writes that according to Dukhobor beliefs, "since God is embodied in the memory, intellect and will of every human being, whose body is perceived as the temple of God, an attempt to take a human life is considered tantamount to an attempt on God Himself. Murder and complicity therein were considered to be the gravest of sins."12 As one Dukhobor related: "Wars, accompanied with oppression and murder of others [who are] equal and similar in all among themselves, is a sin against faith."13 However, like many Christian communities across time and space, Russian sectarians did not always find the Bible's intent entirely clear on the question of military service, leaving some of them uncertain how to act. Traveling in Russia in 1819, the Quaker Stephen Grellet met Molokans who were confused over how to synthesize their Christian duty to serve the state with the Christian imperative not to do harm. Grellet quotes one Molokan as saying:

" V. R. Marchenko, "O molokanakh i dukhobortsakh," Russkaia starina 86 (1896), 316; Orest Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, ikh istoriia i verouchenie (Kiev: Universtitetskaia tipografiia, 1882), 117-18; Bonch-Bruevich, ed., Book of Life, 279; GMIR f. 2, op. 8, d. 356, n.d.; Stephen Grellet, Memoirs of the Life and Gospel Labors of Stephen Grellet, in one volume (Philadelphia: n.p., n.d.), 450-51; Iu., "Dukhovnye khristiane: ocherk," Vestnik Evropy, 15, no. 6 (1880), 26; and Ananii Ivanov Stollov, "Svedenie o molokanakh Tavricheskoi gubernii," Otechestoennye zapiski no. 6 (June 1870), 301-03. Biblical references are from Exodus 20:13, Mathew 22:39, and Luke 6:29, the Revised Standard Version. 12 Quoted in S. A. Inikova, "War in the Teaching and Life of Russian Doukhobors," in Spirit-Wrestlers' Voices, ed. Koozma Tarasoff (Ottawa: Legas, 1998), 307. 13 S. A. Inikova, "Istoriia patsifistskogo dvizheniia v sekte dukhoborov (XVII-XX w.)," in Pavlova ed., Dolgii put', 123. See also N. S. Tikhonravov, "Zapiska o razgovore s dvumia dukhobortsami, akhimandrita Evgeniia, v posledstvii mitropolita kievskago," Chteniia v imperatorskom obshchestve istorii i drevnostei Rossiskikh pri Moskovskom universitete, kn. 4 (Oct.-Dec. 1874), part V, smes', 145; and M. N-n, "Dukhobory v Dukhobor'e," Obzor, no. 159 (June 17, 1878), 3.

446

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

War is a subject that we have not yet been able fully to understand, so as to reconcile Scripture with Scripture; we are commanded to obey our rulers, magistrates, &c., for conscience' sake [sic]; and again we are enjoined to love our enemies, not to avenge ourselves, to render good for evil; therefore we cannot see fully how we can refuse obedience to the laws that require our young people to join the army; but in all matters respecting ourselves, we endeavor to act faithfully as the Gospel requires; . . . for if anybody smites us on the one cheek, we turn to him the other . . , 14

As a result of the Scriptures' ambiguous message, the sectarians' opposition to state-sponsored murder was also intricately linked to how they theologically perceived their relationship with the Russian government. In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Dukhobors and Molokans identified themselves as true Christians who stood outside the arbitrary and temporary laws of human rulers. From this perspective, they felt obliged to obey, fight for, or swear an oath of allegiance to an earthly ruler only when his/her laws accorded with the higher law found in the commandments of God.15 Early Molokan teachings, for instance, asserted that earthly powers applied only to "sons of the earth" and since Molokans were of God's world not of this one—a reference to John 17:14: "they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world"—worldly powers were of no consequence to them.16 A similar sense of self was found among the Dukhobors. In response to the question posed in a psalm "why do you not obey the government?," Dukhobors responded "I am a Christian, have known truth and profess the law of my Lord, Jesus Christ, and I cannot do that [obey the government], not because I do not want to, but because He who sent me into this life and gave me indubitable law as guidance for this life does not want it. . ,"17 In contrast to the Molokans, Dukhobor theology asserted 14

Grellet, Memoirs, 450. For discussions of the debates over how to interpret the Bible on questions of violence and military service, see Brock, Freedom Jrom Violence, 81-96, passim; and Joseph Culliton, ed. Non-violence—Central to Christian Spirituality: Perspectives From Scripture to the Present (New York and Toronto: Edwin Mellen Press, 1982), esp. 11-62. 15 M. P. Poludenskii, ed., "Vypiska o dukhobortsakh, sdelannaia I. V. Lopukhinym, pri pervom ego donesenii gosudariu o nikh iz Khar'kova, ot 12-go noiabria, 1801 goda," Chteniia v imperatorskom obshchestoe istorii i drevnostei Rossiskikh pri Moskovskom universitete, kn. 4 (Oct~Dec 1864), part V, smes', 47-48; and Inikova, "Istoriia," 123-24. 16 A. I. Masalkin, "K istorii zakavkazskikh sektantov: I Molokane," Kavkaz. no. 306 (Nov. 18, 1893), 2; and Stollov, "Svedenie," 301. 17 ^hivotnaia Kniga Dukhobortsev, Materialy k istorii i izucheniiu russkogo sektantstva

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

447

that the spirit of Christ passed from generation to generation embodied in their leader. That their chief was the incarnation of the Son of God gave even further impetus to the Dukhobor community not to show obedience to the tsar or Russian state.18 Certain groups among the Molokans went on to argue that they should actively evade wars and military service. "And since it is impossible openly to go against the government and not fulfill its demands, Spiritual Christians [Molokans] should hide from the state in imitation of the first Christians, and their coreligionists are required to take and hide them."19 Indeed, some Molokans and Dukhobors went even further, welcoming deserters or runaway serfs into their villages, a practice that not unexpectedly angered tsarist authorities. As one commentator wrote, for the Molokans "war is the pursuit that most contradicts the will of God: the army should not exist, and, as a result, whoever deserts the army, that person should not be punished. He is doing good to escape sin."20 However, not all Molokans were in agreement over how to act towards earthly power. The Don branch of the Molokan faith [Molokane Donskogo tolka] consistently "fulfilled all the demands of the state" throughout the nineteenth century. Citing texts from the Scriptures, such as Romans 13:1^5, they believed that Christians should obey earthly authorities just as they would God. More importantly, the Don denomination actively criticized the anti-state stance of other Molokans, thereby opening a fissure within the religious community. Not only did the Don Molokans engage their anti-conscription brethren in extensive debates, but they also enlisted the support of local authorities to help convince their coreligionists of the error of their ways. The officials responded, too slowly in the opinion of the Don Molokans, with a series of regulations that made parents responsible for conscripts that ran away and again ordered the Molokans not to house deserters.21

i raskola, vol. 2, ed. V. D. Bonch-Bruevich (St. Petersburg: 1909), 99, psalm 60. 18 Woodcock and Avakumovic, Doukhobors, 17-34; and Gary Dean Fry, "The Doukhobors, 1801-1855: The Origins of a Successful Dissident Sect" (Ph.D. diss., The American University, 1976), 348-50. 19 Stollov, "Svedenie," 301. 20 N. Kostomarov, "Vospominaniia o Molokanakh," Otechestuennye zapiski, no. 3 (March 1869), 77; and Peter J. Braun Russian Mennonite Archive (Toronto), file 758, 1. 1. 21 Stollov, "Svedenie," 302-03, 308-09; and Iu., "Dukhovnye khristiane," 25.

448

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

For certain other sectarians, the question of whether or not they would perform military service for the Russian state rested on a contractual notion of the relations between sovereign and subjects. They would give their support to state power if and only if that state protected and respected their rights as subjects, particularly in terms of religious freedom. As Gregory Bruess has documented in the case of Dukhobors who appeared among Cossacks in New Russia in the 1770s and 1780s: And if the empress allowed them to worship freely, they would swear to fight her enemies and defend her laws, her citizens, their right to worship, their families, and their homes. But if the empress denied them the right to worship as they pleased and constrained their movement, they would refuse to acknowledge the empress and her laws and refuse to take up arms against her enemies.22

Finally, in addition to the Biblical exegesis against killing and their perceived relationship with the Russian state, Molokans opposed conscription because the daily routines of army life contradicted their religious beliefs and practices. As they stated in one petition to the tsar requesting exemption from service: In each of our souls, we now consider oaths and military service to be against our religious law, both of which entail the destruction of our faith. Our young soldiers, when they die in service, are deprived the confession of their faith and burial according to their rites, and they are required to eat pork and desecrate the purity of their religion.23

In this way, the cultural and social dissonance that Molokans experienced in the military was not entirely dissimilar to that of other non-Orthodox recruits, such as those Jews who came into the army under Nicholas I.24

22 Gregory L. Bruess, Religion, Identity and Empire: A Greek Archbishop in the Russia of Catherine the Great (Boulder and New York: East European Monographs, 1997), 165. 23 GMIR f. 2, op. 8, d. 356, n.d., 1. 2. Molokans often followed Old Testament dietary restrictions. On the substantial presence and influence of the Orthodox Church in army life, see Curtiss, Russian Army, 262-63. 24 Despite certain parallels, however, I should underscore that Jewish recruits suffered in these and other ways to a much greater degree than the Molokans. Michael Stanislawski, Tsar Nicholas I and the Jews: The Transformation of Jewish Society in Russia, 1825—1855 (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1983), 13-34; and Curtiss, Russian Army, 235.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

449

The Parameters of Acceptable Violence

Despite religious foundations demanding that they not extinguish life, and their generally non-violent behavior, Molokans and Dukhobors routinely made distinctions among different kinds of violence and killing. During the early part of the nineteenth century, certain Dukhobor communities believed in the acceptability of killing in selfdefense, but would not countenance killing as the aggressor. As one observer related in 1801: "They take as their duty to defend themselves against enemies but reject any offensive action, even if ordered by superiors."25 Similarly, in conversations with Alexander I, Dukhobors told him "that the Mosaic law permits the defense of oneself, but nowhere does it say anything about the Fatherland."26 The acceptance of violence, however undesirable, in cases of (perceived) self-defense was widespread among the Molokans and Dukhobors who migrated to the South Caucasus after 1830.27 Violence and antagonism in great part characterized the relations between the sectarian colonists and their new neighbors (primarily Armenians and Azerbaijanis, but also Ottoman Turks, Persians, and Georgians). Molokans recount how they would "shoot [Muslims] like hares" in cases of vandalism or when a Russian had been injured or murdered. Similarly, Dukhobors "found it necessary to protect their property and thus, little by little, [they] began to acquire their own weapons. On that soil, bloody dramas were performed and even murders occurred on both sides."28 Thus, sectarians were willing to turn to violence (here, even outside of a military context) when they felt themselves threatened. In fact, while the Molokans and Dukhobors

2) Poludenskii, "Vypiska o dukhobortsakh," 48. The translation is taken from Inikova, "War," 308. In a similar statement, Dukhobor representatives informed state officials that in the case of war "they should only defend themselves . . . from an enemy, but not attack him nor kill him." Quoted in Inikova, "Istoriia," 123. 26 Marchenko, "O molokanakh," 316. For a similar statement, see Inikova, "War," 308. 27 On this mass resettlement of Dukhobors and Molokans to the South Caucasus in the 1830s and 1840s, see Nicholas B. Breyfogle, "Heretics and Colonizers: Religious Dissent and Russian Colonization of Transcaucasia, 1830-1890" (Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1998). 28 For a full discussion of the violence between sectarian settlers and indigenous South Caucasians, see Breyfogle, "Heretics and Colonizers," 230-49. For the Molokan quotation, see GMIR f. 14, op. 3, d. 1962, 1902, 1. 13-14. For the Dukhobor quotation, sec Petr Malov, Dukhobortsy, ikh istoriia, zhizn' i bor'ba, kn. 1 (Thrums, B. C.: 1948), 25-26.

450

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

portray themselves as the victims in these passages, their opponents often describe the sectarians as the aggressors. Dukhobors and Molokans differentiated between "self" and "other" in thinking about killing and armed service. They were willing to permit other people to sin by killing if it allowed their coreligionists to avoid such errors. On one hand, they paid alternates from other religious faiths to take their place as recruits. On the other hand, like Orthodox Russian villagers, Dukhobors and Molokans utilized military recruitment as a social control mechanism to rid themselves of undesirables and those who elicited the wrath of the community.29 For instance, reports indicate that Dukhobors settled in the Melitopl' region of Tavriia province selected, first and foremost—and often outside of the usual order for recruitment—drunks, those who were lazy, and those who threatened to leave the Dukhobor community via conversion to Orthodoxy.30 Moreover, in a petition of 1825 requesting the right to give money in place of actual recruits, Dukhobors nonetheless specifically requested that they retain the right to be able to send recruits when they wanted—"to give as recruits those who are lackadaisical. . . and those who are objectionable to the commune."31 Conscription and its Discontents In the context of the Molokans' and Dukhobors' religious points of opposition to military service, conscription became a highly charged point of contention between sectarians and state officials. Throughout the nineteenth century, tsarist policy strove doggedly, with only a very few exceptions, to ensure that even non-conformist conscientious objectors would fulfill the same military obligations as any subject of the realm—not infrequently meeting refusals to serve with beatings, arrests, exile, or incarceration in mental infirmaries.32 In 29 On this process among Orthodox villagers, see Steven L. Hoch, Serfdom and Social Control in Russia: Petrovskoe, a Village in Tambov (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), 152~55. On such practices among Jews in Russia, see Stanislawski, Tsar Nicholas I, 28~29. 30 Marchenko, "O molokanakh," 317; Fry, "The Doukhobors," 119; Polnoe sobranie postanovlenii i rasporiazhenii po vedomstou pravoslavnago ispovedaniia Rossiiskoi imperil, Tsarstvovanie gosudaria imperatora Nikolaia I, Series 5, Tom I, 1825-35 (Petrograd: Tip. I-oi Petr. Trudovoi Arteli, 1915) [hereafter PSPRPI], 600. 31 Inikova, "Istoriia," 125. 32 RGIA f. 1268, op. 1, d. 433, 1843-48, 1. 67ob; RGIA f. 383, op. 4, d. 3212, 1841-43, 11. 59-60; and Breyfogle, "Heretics and Colonizers," chap. 1.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

451

response, Dukhobors and Molokans strove to take advantage of various options for avoiding conscription, both legal and illegal. Nevertheless, almost all of those drafted did in fact enter the armed forces. On one level, tsarist efforts to enforce sectarian recruitment mirrored the general conscription tendencies of the pre-reform period: to distribute the demands and sacrifices of military service equally among the subject population (a particular concern of Nicholas I) and to ensure sufficient manpower for an army with chronic shortages of soldiers. "But," Wirtschafter reminds us, "in the ethnically and socially diverse Russian empire, the application of uniform procedures proved elusive." Indeed, the military's unsystematic, case-bycase recruitment system liberally granted exemptions from conscription based on geography, ethnicity, social status, economic circumstances, and physical condition of the recruit. In the mid-nineteenth-century, even after Nicholas I had substantially expanded the burden of the draft to formerly exempt categories of people, a full twenty percent of subjects in European Russia remained immune from the demands of military recruitment.33 Despite the state's willingness to grant exemptions to so many other groups, sectarians were almost never the beneficiaries of immunity from conscription. In addition to the general tsarist tendency to equalize the burden of service, there were four other reasons that the state endeavored to draft Molokans and Dukhobors. First, from the second half of the eighteenth century onwards, tsarist agents used forcible conscription as a form of punishment for the sectarians' socalled "crimes against faith."34 State officials also hoped that the

" Wirtschafter, From Serf, 9-20, 24—25, quotation is from 25; Curtiss, Russian Army, 233-34; Stanislawski, Tsar Nicholas /, 13-14; and Roger P. Bartlett, Human Capital: The Settlement of Foreigners in Russia 1762-1804 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 240. 54 These "crimes" involved only those adherents of sectarian faiths designated "especially pernicious," and forced enlistment was not the only punishment meted out to religious dissidents. The actual terms of what was considered punishable changed over the years. In earlier cases, sectarians could be punished simply for holding non-Orthodox religious beliefs. Later, others were castigated for their actions: "spreading their heresy and attracting others to it, as well as temptations, unruly behavior, and insolence towards the Orthodox Church and its Clergy." Polnoe sobranie zakonov second series [hereafter PSZ (2)] t. 5, otd. 2, no. 4010, 169-70; PSZ (2) t. 7, no. 5120, 49-50; RGIA f. 1268, op. 1, d. 433, 1843-48, 11. 56-57; Sobranie postanovlenii po chasti raskola, sostoiavshikhsia po vedomstou Sv. Sinoda, kn. II (St. Petersburg: Tip. Ministerstva vnutrennykh del, 1860) [hereafter SPChR (I860)], 296; Breyfogle, "Heretics and Colonizers," chap. 1; and Curtiss, Russian Army, 234.

452

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

threat of banishment into unwanted military service would act as deterrent to those who contemplated joining a sectarian faith, or who preached their faith to Orthodox Russians.30 Second, officials were concerned that relieving non-conformists of military service would tempt Orthodox Russians to convert to dissident faiths.36 Third, Russian authorities strove to guarantee recruitment because they saw a logic to sacrificing unwanted sectarian subjects to military service if it meant that more Orthodox Russians could then avoid the ordeal. In 1826, for example, the Chair of the Department of Laws of the State Council, argued: "Is it not more useful to the government to occupy the border, which demands strict defense, with a group of people who by their spirit and rules are dangerous to the general good . . .? The loss of evil-doers [such as the Dukhobors] who are intransigent and unable to leave their anarchic heresy should not be considered a loss for the state."37 Finally, sectarians also ended up in the Russian military in greater proportions than their numbers dictated because both nobles and village elders in mixed sectarianOrthodox communes predatorily selected religious dissidents to fulfill their recruit obligations in larger numbers (and out of turn) in a conscious effort to expel such people from their communities.38 The state's drive to ensure service is witnessed in the compromises that Russian officials were willing to make with sectarian draftees over the swearing of oaths. Part and parcel of the sectarians' antistate and anti-military orientation was the refusal to take the required oath of fealty to the Russian tsar upon conscription into the army.39 This refusal reflected their religious beliefs about the tsar's insignificance relative to God. It was also a conscious effort to avoid the possibil-

35 SPChR (1860), 65, 296; Sobranie postanovlenii' po chasti raskola (St. Petersburg: Tip. Ministerstva vnutrennykh del, 1875) [hereafter SPChR (1875)], 36-37, 86-87, 433-34; PSZ (2) t. 7, no. 5120, 50; PSZ (2) t. 5, otd. 2, no. 4010, 169-70; Poludenskii, "Vypiska o dukhobortsakh," 46-47; Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 117; and Inikova, "Istoriia," 125. 36 RGIA f. 1284, op. 195-1825, d. 61, 11. 1-lob; and SPChR (1875), 202-03. 37 RGIA f. 1284, op. 195-1825, d. 61, 1. 21ob. 38 Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 115, 117; Fry, "The Doukhobors," 243-44. For a broader discussion of the oppressions suffered by the sectarians, see Breyfogle, "Heretics and Colonizers," 93-97. 39 V. D. Bonch-Bruevich, ed. Razskaz dukhobortsa Vasi Pozdniakova, Materialy k istorii i izucheniiu russkogo sektantstva, vol. 3 (Christchurch, Hants, England: A. Tchertkoff, 1901), 14; and Opis del arkhwa Gosudarstvennogo Soveta, vol. 1 (St. Petersburg: Gosudarstvennaia tipografiia, 1908), 262 and 282.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

453

ity of military service; by refusing to swear the oath the sectarians hoped they would somehow avoid actual conscription into the army. But the authorities refused to allow this tactic to succeed. In 1806 the emperor declared that those who refused the oath were to be conscripted anyway and dispatched directly to their regiments without requiring the regular swearing of loyalty. Once in their place of service, officials could then begin to convince the "heretics" of the importance of pledging their allegiance.40 The policy not to force sectarians to swear the oath, yet not to free them from military service, was upheld in a variety of cases throughout the first half of the nineteenth century.41 Moreover, legislators made clear that even though the sectarians were being freed from the oath requirement, if they committed crimes while in service, they would be punished as if they had taken the oath and assented to everything that the oath signified and entailed.42 The urge to ensure that sectarians fulfilled their recruit obligations even overshadowed the state's simultaneous desire that they convert to Orthodoxy. In the early 1830s, the Tavriia governor put forward the idea that those sectarians who converted to Orthodoxy should be granted a personal life exemption from military service (as was given to "inovertsy of the Muslim and pagan faiths"). Using this carrot, the governor hoped to entice the sectarians to Orthodoxy, a stated goal of tsarist policy.43 However, few Russian officials above the governor agreed with him. They felt that sectarians must be required to fulfill their mandated recruit obligations. "Otherwise, the Dukhobors will begin to convert to Orthodoxy simply and directly to escape military service, and fulfilling Christian rites only outwardly,

40

SPChR (1875), 33~34. SPChR (1875), 50-51, 57; Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 117-18. The Department of Laws of the State Council briefly toyed with the idea of allowing the Dukhobors to pledge their allegiance "according to their customs" rather than have them swear the standard oath. However, this idea was quickly dismissed during a general meeting of the State Council who decided "not to require [the Dukhobors] to take an oath of any sort or form." Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 118; and Polnoe sobranie zakonov first series [hereafter PSZ (1)] t. 37, no. 28,086, 1167. 42 PSZ (1) t. 37, no. 28,086, 1167. 45 Tsarist officials used a variety of allurements to tempt Dukhobors and Molokans to join the Orthodox Church, including large tax breaks and immediate relief from any criminal charges that might be pending. On the question of conversion generally, see Breyfogle, "Heretics and Colonizers," chap. 5. 41

454

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

they will preserve in their souls a steadfast attachment to their heresy."44 Despite the state's determination to enforce conscription, however, the sectarians took advantage of both legal and illegal options to avoid military service. During the early nineteenth century, the tsarist administration granted (but soon thereafter revoked) certain legal means to dodge military obligations. Few of these legal escapes resulted from state authorities essaying to find some sort of compromise with the sects over military requirements. Rather, they tended to be accidental outcomes of other laws and processes that intersected briefly and unintentionally with the question of Molokan and Dukhobor conscription. The first legal option to evade recruitment appeared only for Dukhobors: to pay money in place of actual conscripts. In 1813, the government extended to three Dukhobor villages in Tavriia province the right to pay cash amounts ranging from 360 to 1,000 rubles per recruit in place of sending bodies into the army. They were granted this exemption, as were a number of other communities that lived in Tavriia, based on an 1801 law that permitted any villages located in a 100-verst "frontier zone" along the border that ran between the Black and Baltic Seas to substitute money for draftees.45 Emboldened by their brethren's benefits, the remaining Dukhobor villages in Tavriia (which were not located in the required 100-verst zone) petitioned in 1822 to receive the same rights to cash payments. In response, the Ministry of the Interior (MVD) abruptly shut the Dukhobors' window of opportunity. The MVD decided that Tavriia's geographic location did not qualify it under the 1801 law, and the ministry not only refused the Dukhobors' request but, in 1825, also formally terminated the right of the original three villages to their money option.46 In 1830, a second legal option was presented to the sectarians to avoid military service: migration to Transcaucasia. At this time, the Russian government was designating this newly acquired region as 44 45

PSPRPI, 599-601.

PSZ (1) t. 26, no. 20,019; and PSZ (1) t. 40, no. 30,320. Notably, in 1805 following their migration to New Russia, Dukhobors had already tried petitioning to receive permission to substitute money for recruits based on the "frontier" law but were denied—a fact that reflects the state's determination at that time to ensure service. SPChR (1875), 33; Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 116; and Inikova, "Istoriia," 125. 4(1 SPChR (1875), 176-81.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

455

a zone of segregation for "most dangerous" sectarians in order to reduce their contact with Orthodox Russians.47 In contrast to the central provinces, inhabitants of Transcaucasia were not subject to military conscription until 1887.48 Hearsay abounded, especially among Molokans, that application for resettlement to this southern border region guaranteed freedom from army duty—a fact that impelled many Molokans in the heartland to choose to relocate to the Transcaucasus.49 Echoing one such rumor, a Molokan woman explained that she and others had moved to Transcaucasia, "as a result of an appeal by Prince M. S. Vorontsov who promised a 50-year reprieve from military service."30 However, despite these expectations for immediate liberation from enlistment, the laws regarding resettlement were designed specifically to enforce the fulfillment of such duties by not allowing anyone to migrate that was in the first two ranks for callup.3l As a result of this (and other) restrictions on moving to Transcaucasia, many sectarians simply fled there illegally. For example, Efim Trefilovich Klyshnikov, a Molokan peasant from Tambov (and later Baptist leader) set off clandestinely to Transcaucasia in 1840 in order to escape military service, which he considered against his religious principles.32 Indeed, even before Transcaucasia became an option, running away from the military had a long history among the Dukhobors and Molokans.53

47 On this process of isolating the "heretics," see Breyfbgle, "Heretics and Colonizers," chap. 1. 48 RGIA f. 932, op. 1, d. 318, 1889, 1. lOob. 49 RGIA f. 379, op. 1, d. 1151, 1831-34, 11. 12-12ob, 37ob. M N. M. Leont'ev, "Dukhovnye khristiane sela Ivanovki, Geokchaiskago u. Bakin. g. (Svedeniia dlia nastol'nago kalendaria dukhovnykh khristian," Dukhovnyi khristianin 4, no. 1 (January 1909), 18. M. S. Vorontsov was the Caucasian viceroy from 1844 to 1854. This erroneous notion of the fifty-year reprieve from military service has remained in the Molokan community to this day. See John K. Berekoff, Molokans in America (Los Angeles: Stockton-Doty Trade Press, Inc, 1969), 16. 51 RGIA f. 1284, op. 200-1843, d. 15, 1. 4. 32 GMIR f. Kl, op. 8, d. 470, 1. 1. On clandestine migration more broadly, see Breyfogle, "Heretics and Colonizers," 110-19; I. V. Dolzhenko, "Russkie begletsy v Zakavkaz'e (k istorii formirovaniia russkoi diaspory v 1830-1850-e gody)" Etnograficheskoe obozrenie, no. 1 (1995), 53-66; and David Moon, Russian Peasants and Tsarist Legislation on the Eve of Reform: Interaction between Peasants and Officialdom, 1825^1855 (London: The Macmillan Press, 1992), 23-61. 35 Early in the reign of Alexander I, for instance, 40 Dukhobors returned from abroad under amnesty after having earlier fled to foreign lands to escape military service. (Inikova, "Istoriia," 124-25, 126.)

456

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

A third legal option for escaping service temporarily came into being in 1834 when tsarist law gave the Dukhobors in Tavriia province the right to register Muslims as taxable members of their communities and then hire them as substitute recruits for their brethren.04 This path to freedom from military service was expensive, costing as much as 2,600 rubles per recruit and only a small number of Dukhobors actually took advantage of this opportunity. In each case, the Dukhobor families involved were unable to compile the entire sum and found themselves required to borrow money from the community's capital fund.55 Despite the fact that so few Dukhobors took advantage of this escape hatch, state officials stopped to rethink their policy when Molokans petitioned the government in 1837 for the same right to hire Muslims as substitutes (in their case for 3,000 rubles per recruit). Upon review, the emperor concluded that because peasants considered military selection to be the "most onerous obligation," the practice of granting rich Molokans the opportunity to evade recruitment provided them with "a highly important advantage over the Orthodox population" and would likely lead to the enticement of Orthodox Russians to convert to Molokanism. The Molokans' request was turned down, and the Dukhobors' right to hire Crimean Tatars as recruits was also extended to the Orthodox Russian population in Tavriia. The tsar reasoned that the Dukhobors, as "especially pernicious" sectarians, "are not worthy of the advantages and privileges granted them in comparison with Orthodox people when it comes to the dispatch of recruits."56 In 1839, state officials slammed this door shut when a new law decreed that neither Molokans nor Dukhobors were permitted to utilize Muslims as surrogate recruits, and they could only hire substitutes from among their coreligionists.37

54

PSZ (2) t. 9, no. 7535, article 38, 152; Inikova, "War," 312; and Sak'art'velos saistorio c'entraluri saxelmcip'o ark'ivi [Central Historical Archive of the Republic of Georgia] f. 240, op. 2, d. 233, 1853-61, 11. 1-lob and 42-43. 55 Inikova, "Istoriia," 126. 56 SPChR (1875), 202-03; and Fry, "The Doukhobors," 245. The prohibition of Molokans hiring recruits was upheld again in 1838 and 1839. See SPChR (1875), 229-30 and 266. 57 SPChR (1860), 348; SPChR (1875), 266; and PSZ (2) t. 14, no. 12,854, 829-30. In 1843, Dukhobors and Molokans were also strictly forbidden from hiring alternate recruits from among the Orthodox population. PSZ (2) t. 18, otd. 2, no. 17446; and RGIA f. 1268, op. 1, d. 433, 1843-48, 1. 25. Sectarians regained some rights to purchase substitute recruits from outside their sect in 1863, see SPChR (1875), 599.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

457

In addition to these three loopholes, Russia's legal structure pertaining to military conscription and religious affiliation also offered sectarians the opportunity to switch religious affiliation in order to avoid military service. The fact that these "converts" were willing to abandon their religious faith and community in order to avoid conscription reflects the extremes to which sectarians went, at times, to evade a military fate. In one case in New Russia in 1838, when a son was drafted, the Molokan family attempted to buy an alternate recruit for him from among the Tatars. However, based on the laws of 1837, state authorities stopped this from happening and the boy was taken into service. Soon thereafter, the family converted to Orthodoxy and immediately petitioned (and were permitted) to have their son returned since, as Orthodox Russians, they could hire a Tatar to take his place.D8 Other factors also encouraged sectarians to switch to Orthodoxy as a way out of military service. In the early 1830s, some Dukhobors in New Russia who were next in line for recruitment, "wishing to escape this duty, converted to the Orthodox Christian faith." Conversion permitted these potential draftees immediately to re-register themselves from the Dukhobor commune, where they were in jeopardy of conscription, to an Orthodox community. There, although not freed forever from the possibility of recruitment, they were at least put into a different line for the draft and were no longer in immediate jeopardy. Significantly, the conversion of Dukhobors or Molokans out of their faith often left those who remained behind in the community in an ever more difficult position since there were now fewer of them to fulfill the same recruit demands. As a result, the Dukhobors in this case asked state officials to make those who converted actually fulfill their military obligations in their old village. Not unexpectedly, the converts opposed this possibility, and the state agreed to register them to the Orthodox community immediately after conversion without requiring the fulfillment of military obligations in their original commune.39

SPChR (1875), 247-48. PSPRPI, 599-600.

458

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

Negotiating the Experience of Military Service

Despite these various opportunities to avoid conscription into the military, by far the majority of drafted Molokans and Dukhobors did in fact report to their assignments, both willingly and unwillingly. Of course, entrance into military service posed serious dilemmas both for the draftees and for the Russian military apparatus. How should an opponent of violence act once conscripted into service? How could military authorities utilize people who opposed military service and who often showed little respect for state power? Once enlisted, Molokans and Dukhobors chose from a spectrum of ways to comport themselves. Most sectarian draftees obediently fulfilled the terms of their service without incident. Until the very end of the nineteenth century, there are no indications of large-scale refusals of military service among either Dukhobors or Molokans. Indeed, contemporary observers noted how, despite their religious prohibitions, these non-conformists fulfilled their military obligations without disruption.60 They fought in some of Russia's most important wars and many even received medals for their bravery and distinguished contributions.61 Throughout the nineteenth century, in petitions asking for rights or economic aid for their religious communities, both Molokans and Dukhobors regularly bolstered their case by mentioning their contributions to Russia's war efforts.62 In addition, aspects of militarism began to penetrate Dukhobor culture. Among the songs sung at communal events and holidays were "traditional Russian songs glorifying the valor and heroism of past military campaigns—about Alexander I, the struggle against Napoleon, Prince Vorontsov's Caucasus campaign."63 60 RGIA f. 1284, op. 195-1825, d. 61, 1. 2; Fry, "The Doukhobors," 119; and Svetlana Inikova, "Spiritual Origins and the Beginnings of Doukhobor History," in Donskov et al., eds., Doukhobor Centenary, 11. 61 ORRGB f. 369, k. 42, d. 2, 1950, 11. 396-97; Joseph Elkinton, The Doukhobors: Their History in Russia, Their Migration to Canada (Philadelphia: Ferris & Leach, 1903), 58-61; Inikova, "Istoriia," 124; and A. I. Klibanov, History of Religious Sectarianism in Russia (1860s~1917), trans. Ethel Dunn (New York: Pergamon Press, 1982), 204-05. 62 GMIR f. 2, op. 8, d. 196, 1913, 11. 1-lob; GARF f. 579, op. 1, d. 2580, 1913, 11. 3-3ob; Klibanov, History, 204-05; and Inikova, "Istoriia," 124. 63 Svetlana Inikova asserts that these war songs likely entered into Dukhobor culture through those brethren who returned from a life of service in the military. However, she is quick to add that, while these songs played important cultural roles, it appears that the Dukhobors never created any such songs themselves. Inikova, "War," 310.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

459

Certain authors see this absence of a "mass refusal" as a tactical compromise with the state's imperative to serve in the army. Realizing from the repeated experience of "punishments and brutal treatment" for non-compliance with military demands that too staunch a pacifist stance would bring the full wrath of the state against their communities, they preferred to compromise their religious tenets rather than have their faith crushed forever by state authority.64 As one Molokan petition described: The government demands oaths and military service from us that contradict our religious beliefs. The members of our community long ago recognized this opposition, but until now did not voice our opinions because we feared the penalty, which the government imposes for such refusals.65

Many sectarians, like the Dukhobor Ivan Mahortov "served in arms under silent protest, having a conviction that all war is wrong and I never aimed directly at the enemy."66 Another Dukhobor, named Vereshchagin, was drafted into service despite his virulent objections. On the day that he was due to leave, the Dukhobor leader Illarion Vasil'evich Kalmykov came to him, saying: "Vereshchagin, I give you to be a soldier, so that you serve God and the sovereign. Serve, but when you fight, do not have malice and do not think to take away the life of a person." Vereshchagin relates how he tried to follow the orders of his leader. When engaged in the battle of Sevastopol' during the Crimean War, he consciously shot over the heads of the enemy troops until his superior officer forced him to fire directly into, and kill, the opposition.67 Indeed, it became a widespread trope among Dukhobors that their brethren performed military duties without actually shooting at their adversaries. This narrative of reluctant service—with its prescribed,

64 Inikova, "Istoriia," 125; Stollov, "Svedenie," 308-09; Iu., "Dukhovnye khristiane," 25; and Fry, "The Doukhobors," 122-23. 65 GMIR f. 2, op. 8, d. 356, n.d., 1. 2; and RGIA f. 1284, op. 222-1900, d. 69. 66 Elkinton, Doukhobors, 61. 67 ORRGB f. 369, k. 42, d. 2, 1950, 11. 396-97. On Dukhobors going to serve but refusing to kill, see also ORRGB f. 369, k. 42, d. 2, 1950, 1. 18. Ivan Mahortov, on relating his own experiences fighting in the Crimean war indicates that Vereshchagin was likely not the only soldier shooting to miss, and that it was not only Dukhobors. He describes how troops from both sides in the war shouted to each other across the lines to "fire aside" in the hope of limiting the battle's carnage. Elkinton, Doukhobors, 60.

460

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

ideal behavior—worked to assuage the Dukhobors' conscience, allowing their beliefs and service requirements to coexist without mutual contradiction. Moreover, the sense of being dissenters from statesponsored violence provided a cornerstone of sectarian community self-definition.68 In addition to serving (with or without "silent protest"), certain sectarian soldiers took more drastic actions—usually isolated, individual incidents—to demonstrate their refusal to fight or kill. Desertion was a frequent option to voice objection to the armed forces. Furthermore, beginning with the Russo-Turkish war of 1787—92 and repeating in 1829, small numbers of those Dukhobors in active combat refused to fire at the enemy and threw their weapons to the ground (actions for which they were severely beaten).69 Others, not actually engaged in battle, declared their opposition to state power and refused to continue serving in the military. Such was the case in 1809 in the Kiev garrison where three Dukhobor privates would not receive ammunition for their weapons, and expressed their desire "not to carry out military service."70 The conscription of sectarians into the armed forces, and the refusal of some of them to participate in violence, confronted military and civilian authorities with a predicament that produced a number of ironic, counter-productive results. Tsarist policies added to the military forces those people who were least desirous of serving and who opposed fighting and killing. They also made possible

68

See, for example, Mikhail S. Androsov, "Rasskaz o nashikh predkakh," in Baptisty, Beguny, Dukhobortsy, L. Tolstoi o skopchestve, Pavlovtsy, Pomortsy, Staroobriadtsy, Skoptsy, Shtundisty, Materialy k istorii i izucheniiu russkogo sektantstva, vol. 1, ed. V. D. Bonch-Bruevich (St. Petersburg: Tip. B. M. Vol'fa, 1908), 154-57; and Koozma Tarasoff, "Kanadskie Dukhobory kak mirotvortsy," in Pavlova, ed., Dolgii Put', 137-49. 69 Incidents that record a refusal to fight mention almost exclusively the Dukhobors, and make little mention of the Molokans. Poludenskii, "Vypiska o dukhobortsakh," 48; Marchenko, "O molokanakh," 316; Inikova, "Istoriia," 125; M. I. TuganBaranovskii, Velichaishaia v mire kommunisticheskaia organizatsiia (obshchina dukhobor) (Kharkov: Izdanie Vserossiiskogo Tsentral'nogo Soiuza PotrebitePnykh Obshchestv, 1919), 1; Peter Brock, Pacifism in Europe to 1914 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972), 444; and Bruno Coppieters and Alexei Zverev, "V. D. Bonch-Bruevich and the Doukhobors: on the Conscientious Objection Policies of the Bolsheviks," Canadian Ethnic Studies/Etudes Ethniques au Canada 27, no. 3 (1995), 77. 70 Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 117; SPChR (1860), 81-82; and PSZ (1) t. 30, no. 23,856. See also an 1807 case, Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 116-17; SPChR (1860), 54-58; and the story of S. Kapustin in Androsov, "Rasskaz," 154-57.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

461

the spread of sectarian faiths to exactly the people the state most wanted to avoid "infecting"—soldiers. Moreover, the decisions to send sectarians into armed service as a punishment for their religious "crimes" often had the attached condition that they should be sent into the far reaches of the empire to serve.71 There, it was hoped they would have the least possible contact with the Russian population in general. As a result, this punishment policy spread the sectarian faiths around the empire to locations where there had been no adherents beforehand. It also sent persons considered undependable pariahs to borderland regions that were at times militarily unstable and in need of reliable protectors.72 In the face of these problems, official responses varied along three axes in the nineteenth century. They differed according to the actions of the sectarians and how overt the opposition to serve became. They diverged over time, as treatment of pacifist dissenters appears to have become less harsh (although this was by no means a linear, uniform shift in policy). Finally, they varied according to the personal inclinations of the particular officials confronted with the problem. State authorities were not entirely oblivious to the fact that their conscription policies had the potential to seed greater parts of the country with non-conformist faiths, and they strove to avoid the spread of sectarianism. Dukhobors and Molokans who were drafted into the military as punishment therefore suffered under a variety of restrictions that Orthodox Russians did not have to face, including limitations on mobility, a prohibition against any temporary leaves, and a denial of the right of retirement.73 Moreover, sectarians banished to Transcaucasia were initially prohibited from living in urban areas where greater numbers of Orthodox Russians could be found.74 When Dukhobors and Molokans actively opposed service, the state responded with swift and brutal reprisals, ranging from capital punishment to exile with hard labor. During the reign of Catherine the Great, sectarian soldiers who refused to discharge their weapons

'' Sectarians served in such regions as New Russia, the North Caucasus and Georgia, Siberia, and Finland and Olonets provinces. 72 Poludenskii, "Vypiska o dukhobortsakh," 47; SPChR (1875), 33-34, 50-51, 57, 80-81, 229-30, 433-34; Inikova, "Istoriia," 125; and SPChR (1860), 53-54. 73 PSZ (2) t. 5, otd. 2, no. 4010, 169-70; PSZ (2) t. 7, no. 5120, 49-50; and SPChR (1860), 296. 74 RGIA f. 379, op. 1, d. 1043, 1830-37, 11. 73-73ob.

462

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

during wartime were routinely shot for insubordination.75 This practice began to change somewhat during the reign of Alexander I, who, while no stranger to capital measures, began to explore alternative punishments. In 1807, two Dukhobor Cossacks who refused to continue serving as soldiers, were initially sentenced to death by the military-judicial commission. However, their punishment was incrementally reduced as their case passed through different levels of the bureaucracy. One army general suggested that they should receive fifty blows with a whip, be thrown out of the army, and then sent to Siberia permanently for hard labor. In the end, the Emperor asserted that the best option was to send them in shackles for imprisonment in the Solovetskii monastery. He argued that any public corporal punishment would only serve to strengthen them and their coreligionists in their "errors," and to fill them with a sense of martyrdom.76 In other cases, state representatives chose hard labor in Siberia (combined with admonitions and expulsion from the army) as their response to sectarian anti-military outbursts.77 By 1824, however, in the place of capital punishment, corporal punishment, or exile for hard labor by administrative order, state officials began to utilize the court systems to punish those sectarians for overt pacifism.78 Tsarist officials treated those who actively refused to fulfill their military duties differently from sectarians within the ranks of the armed forces who conducted themselves properly within the military structure. The majority of military officials perceived the sectarian presence in their ranks as a threat; they reacted with fear that the dissenters would disrupt military discipline both through their pacifist ideas and also by attracting other recruits to their faith. Thus, when Dukhobors and Molokans were found in army units, military leaders undertook to control their potential threat in three primary ways: (1) banishment of the offenders to fulfill their service in other units in the country's borderlands, (2) exile to frontier regions (after expulsion from the military), and (3) conversion to Orthodoxy. Sectarians often moved from one unit to another (or into civilian life) as each commander tried to make them someone else's problem. 73

Marchenko, "O molokanakh," 316; and Inikova, "Istoriia," 125. SPChR (1860), 54-58; and Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 117. For a discussion of Alexander's more tolerant policies towards sectarians, see Breyfogle, "Heretics and Colonizers," chap. 1. 77 SPChR (1860), 81-82; and PSZ (1) 30, no. 23,856. 78 Novitskii, Dukhobortsy, 117. 76

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

463

The military leaders of the Don Cossacks proved to be the most vocal in their fear that having sectarians in their ranks would affect battle-readiness and morale among the troops. In an 1807 case in which officials uncovered 92 Dukhobors among the Don Cossacks, the response was to rid the stanitsa of the offending non-conformists, although with significant distinctions based on age. The government sent all Dukhobors who were over 15 years old to "the northern parts of Finland and Olonets provinces," to be settled as far from Orthodox dwellers as possible. They were required to sign documents promising not to make any efforts to "corrupt" others into their faith. The local police were charged with maintaining strict surveillance, and the offending dissenters were denied passports, even for temporary trips from their place of exile. The Dukhobor children (under 15) were separated from their parents; the males were sent to the garrison school and the females into convents.79 Similarly, in 1824, Ataman Lieutenant-General Ilovaiskii reported that 57 Dukhobors had appeared in two Don Cossack stanitsy. According to standard practice at that time, Don officials were to strip the "offender" of his rank and duties, and send him to the Dukhobor colony in the MelitopP region. However, Ilovaiskii argued that "this measure, so beneficial in regards to civilian Dukhobors, can bring about the opposite result among Cossacks who are obligated to military service."80 Indeed, he reported that there were cases of conversion to the Dukhobor faith as a means to escape military service. Resettlement to Dukhobor communities in Tavriia province not only provided for them all of the advantages of a quiet and bountiful existence, but also relieved them of all "cares, labors and dangers" attached to life as a Don Cossack. Ilovaiskii was further concerned that the possibility of this easier option would prove sufficient to motivate others to convert in order to leave behind the perils and travails of Cossack life. To avoid this problem, he proposed that those Don Cossacks who adhered to the Dukhobor faith should not be sent to Tavriia province, but resettled on the Caucasian Line. There they would not be able to escape military service and would "be required . . . continually to serve with weapons in hand against the mountain predators [khishchniki] [and] the Dukhobor heresy

SPChR (1860), 53-54. RGIA f. 1284, op. 195-1825, d. 61, 11. 1-lob.

464

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

on the Don will not only weaken but will be completely destroyed."81 Although Ilovaiskii's proposal (with some significant modifications) was put into effect in 1830, the incorporation of Dukhobors and Molokans into the military in the Caucasus proved no easy task. In 1850, in an effort to get around these problems, the emperor proposed two variants: either send the Molokans to the distant Finland Line Battalions, or separate them and send them individually to different battalions, where they would be under strict surveillance and no longer referred to as "Molokans."82 In addition to these tendencies to excise sectarians from the armed forces, religious and military officials also took isolated, uncoordinated efforts to convert serving non-conformists to Orthodoxy. Such was the case in the South Caucasus in the mid-1850s when 11 soldiers in the towns of Shusha and Lenkoran were uncovered belonging to the Obshchie branch of the Molokans. In response to their perceived threat to military readiness, Orthodox priests began "admonitions" of these sectarians in the hope of bringing them into the fold of the official Church.83 Significantly, there do not appear to have been any conscious or programmatic endeavors on the part of officialdom to use the military as a tool for religious assimilation of the sectarians—a stark contrast to the simultaneous treatment of Jewish recruits and also to the post-1874 goals of ethnic and cultural integration.84 For all of the striving of military and civilian authorities to be rid of the sectarian soldiers, there were also occasional efforts to find a compromise place for them within Russia's military fabric. For instance, in January of 1832, the Ministry of War proposed a policy according to which restricted categories of sectarians—only those who had been conscripted into the military through regular channels, who had not been convicted of trying to spread their faith among the other soldiers or of behaving rudely towards the Church and its clergy, and who had fulfilled all of the obligations of service

81

RGIA f. 1284, op. 195-1825, d. 61, 11. 1-lob; PSZ (2), t. 1, 1826, no. 126, 188; and GMIR f. 2, op. 7, d. 594, 1. 3. For later efforts to rid the Don Cossacks of Molokans, see RGIA f. 1268, op. 1, d. 433, 1843-48, 11. 40-44. 82 SPChR (1875), 433-34. 83 RGIA f. 797, op. 24, otd. Ill, st. I, d. 96, 1854-58, 11. Sob, 7-7ob, 18-1 Sob. 84 Stanislawski, Tsar Nicholas I, 13-34; and Sanborn, "Drafting the Nation," 188-356.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

465

in the army—were to be left unmolested in their positions without any special restrictions (such as the longstanding deprivation of the right to leaves or to retirement), and allowed the "quiet profession of their sect."85 Moreover, certain military officials were sensitive to the position of sectarians in the military and attempted to use them in ways that would be acceptable and beneficial to both state and non-conformist. Beginning as early as the opening decades of the nineteenth century, Molokans and Dukhobors were at times allotted non-combat roles such as supply workers, medical staff, and transportation personnel.86 Grellet quotes the Molokans describing how "the Lord is very good also to our young men; for, though several of them have been taken to the army, not one of them has actually borne arms; for, our principles being known, they have very soon been placed in offices of trust, such as attending to the provisions of the army, or something of the sort."87 Molokans and Dukhobors were sufficiently comfortable with the notion of providing non-combatant support to the army that during the Crimean and 1877-78 Russo-Turkish Wars they supplied invaluable support to the Russian military effort—in this case as civilians—through medical services, provisioning, billeting troops, and most importantly transporting weapons, personnel, and foodstuffs.88 Of course, the sectarians' willingness to fulfill noncombatant roles begs the question—unfortunately unanswered in my sources—why tsarist authorities did not make use of this compromise more systematically.89

85

PSZ (2) t. 7, no. 5120, 49-50. John Curtiss finds a similar benign treatment of certain religious non-conformists among the Line Cossacks of the North Caucasus, who "received grudging toleration if they were not actively hostile to the official church and if they performed their military duties. . . . As they proved to be 'the best, bravest, and most trustworthy regiments,' they were let alone." Curtiss, Russian Amy, 263. 86 Iu., "Dukhovnye khristiane," 26. 87 Grellet, Memoirs, 450-51. 88 See my "Caught in the Crossfire? Russian Sectarians in the Caucasian Theater of War, 1853~56 and 1877-78" Kritika: Explorations in Russian and Eurasian History 2, no. 4 (Fall, 2001), 713-750. 89 The failure (or reluctance) to systematize this compromise is particularly notable given the tsarist state's post-reform willingness to grant Mennonites the option of alternative service in the Forest Service. See Brock, Freedom from Violence, 153-63 and Klippenstein, "Otkaz ot voennoi sluzhby," 150-71.

466

NICHOLAS B. BREYFOGLE

Conclusions Objection to military service among Dukhobors and Molokans functioned in multiple ways and with a variety of (often unexpected or unwanted) outcomes in the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries. The divergence between Dukhobor and Molokan religious beliefs, on one hand, and the obligations of conscription and military service, on the other, represented a nagging, uninterrupted problem for all involved. Nevertheless, prior to 1874, conscientious objection did not pose a significant or spectacular challenge to the Russian military machine. The conscription requirement neither pushed the sectarians to act out en masse, nor did it undermine the stability of their religious communities by causing too great a crisis of conscience. After the military reforms however, as Josh Sanborn has shown, the situation of Russian conscientious objectors changed drastically, leading eventually to the Dukhobors' anti-military movement, among others.90 The desire to evade the armed forces permeated the social and cultural interactions of Dukhobor and Molokan communities and confronted them with an unrelenting moral dilemma. In the end, however, the sectarians generally accommodated themselves to the recruit demands of the Russian state, sacrificing the articles of their faith and serving despite their reluctance and efforts to evade enlistment. Indeed, confronted with a state that refused to relieve them from recruit obligations—despite a flexible policy that provided exemptions to myriad other groups—the sectarians, like Orthodox peasants, had little choice but to comply. However, unlike their Orthodox neighbors, Dukhobors and Molokans found themselves in a more precarious situation because state officials distrusted them for their religious ideologies. Tsarist agents expected them to be troublemakers who would deny earthly powers and oppose the military interests of the state. To preclude these latter possibilities, Russian authorities acted aggressively to ensure that the non-conformists fulfilled their "onerous" duty. While conscription represented a great tragedy for Molokans and Dukhobors, it also served as an identity marker within the Russian

90

Sanborn, "Drafting the Nation," 472^505, passim; and Peter Brock, Freedom from War (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991), 205-20.

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES

467

empire. Their opposition to service, and the constant struggle to find accord between their beliefs and state requirements, became a living, pervasive demonstration of their separateness from other Russians and the Russian state. For a minority, recruitment also provided an opportunity to stand firm against violence and transform their beliefs into actions. From the state's point of view, the sects represented an irritant that could not be ignored. Despite their relatively small numbers, and the fact that the majority served faithfully, Molokans and Dukhobors posed a complex conceptual problem that tsarist officials spent a great deal of time and energy trying to resolve. The issue of sectarian recruitment caused a jarring confrontation between different state imperatives in the Russian empire. On one hand, there was the imperative to be rid of these religious dissidents and to forge an Orthodox Russian state. On the other hand, there was the need to build a strong and efficient military force for the protection of the empire. In the early nineteenth century religious concerns overrode questions of military efficiency. The state drafted sectarians into the army in disproportionate numbers because it wanted to avoid even the slightest appearance of providing beneficial treatment to the religious dissenters. Officials feared that any variation in treatment that might benefit the non-conformists would be taken as an invitation to the Orthodox population to switch affiliation to one of the "heresies" considered such a threat to the state. Yet, the presence of the sectarians in the service caused its own problems. The military apparatus was forced to make compromises in order to integrate into their armed forces soldiers who opposed fighting. There were some efforts to find positions that would allow them to contribute without countering their religious tenets. However, most military leaders reacted viscerally with fear that the presence of sectarians in their ranks would prove unsettling to the army's efficiency and morale. Military leaders strove immediately to rid themselves of the offenders, often passing the "problem" from one unit to another further away on the frontier. By forcing sectarians into the military, and then acting with disdain at their presence, tsarist officials showed themselves willing to allow the armed forces to suffer in their effort to ensure that non-conformist faiths did not proliferate in the empire.

This page intentionally left blank

THE RESPONSE OF THE POPULATION OF MOSCOW TO THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF 1812 Alexander M. Martin The wars with Napoleon disrupted Alexander Fs efforts at domestic reform, a fact that is often blamed on the dynamics of Russian elite politics. However, the calamitous experience of Moscow in 1812 suggests that, similar to many of their contemporaries in Spain, the Papal States, and elsewhere along the periphery of the zone of Napoleonic domination, the trauma of the French invasion may have strengthened many Russians' attachment to the old regime, and the tsar's thinking may have been in harmony with the sentiments of many humble people whose only contact with the "age of the democratic revolution" had involved foreign soldiers who had destroyed their homes, vandalized their churches, and unleashed social chaos. The dominant cliche in the Russian historical literature, popularized most famously in Tolstoi's War and Peace, posits that a barbaric Grande Armee was met by the stolid resistance of a Russian nation that stood united in its patriotic determination to defend the Fatherland.1 As in the case of nationalist myth-making with regard to anti-Napoleonic resistance in Spain (after 1808) and Germany (in 1813), however, this may be an instance of the educated classes projecting their own values and assumptions onto a population that felt little attraction to modern nationalism of any sort, whether of the conservative variety advocated by spokesmen for the regime or the liberal sort endorsed by the future Decembrists. This impression emerges from a reading of eyewitness accounts of the occupation of Moscow by Russians who belonged to what might loosely be termed the city's "middle class"—the roughly 40,000 minor officials, merchants, and members of the clergy, and their dependents, who were literate enough to write accounts of their tribulations, and who had sufficient property or privileges to give them a stake in the social order, but were little affected by the elite culture 1 See, for example. Nikolai A. Troitskii, 1812: Velikii god Rossii (Moscow: Mysl', 1988), 308.

470

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

of boarding schools, literary journals and aristocratic salons. Beneath this middle class, Moscow's mostly destitute and illiterate "lower class" of about 230,000 included a small proportion of meshchane (townspeople), artisans, and raznochintsy ("people of various ranks"), and a vast population—60 percent of the city's total—of house serfs and peasants who, in most cases, were young village men who migrated to Moscow on a temporary basis and retained the appearance, behavior and attitudes of villagers.2 To an even greater degree than those of the middle class, the voices of this lower class are muffled by the passage of time; however, we are given an oblique glimpse of their world through records of police investigations conducted immediately after the occupation. The present essay is based on a (necessarily impressionistic) reading of such sources from Moscow's middle and lower classes. Neither the sources nor my conclusions make any claim to completeness, let alone statistical representativeness, but they do form a crack in the opaque screen that separates us from the world of common Muscovites in 1812. The experience of Vasilii Popov was typical of much of Moscow's middle class in 1812. When he retired from the tsar's civil service— perhaps owing to the loss of his eyesight—he had reached the rank of tituliarnyi sovetnik, equivalent to an army captain, just one grade shy of the rank that automatically conferred hereditary nobility. He lived in Moscow, alone and in genteel squalor, renting a room from a meshchanin (townsman) and employing a peasant widow as his maid. Despite his rank and his status as a personal noble, his blindness and poverty left him at the mercy of the humble folk in whose midst he lived, and of the state that upheld the privileges—however precarious—of people like himself. On September 2, 1812, his fragile universe collapsed. Throughout that summer, Napoleon's Grande Armee had been advancing eastward. However, Popov had not been unduly concerned, for, as he would recall bitterly in a letter to Moscow's governor-general,

2 See, for example: Engelbert Wichelhausen, %jige z.u einem Gemahlde von Moskwa, in Hinsicht auf Klima, Cultur, Sitten, Lebensart, Gebrduche, vorzuglich aber statistische, physische und medicinische Verhdltnisse (Berlin: Bei Johann Daniel Sander, 1803), 6, 45, 53; Robert Lyall, The Character of the Russians and a Detailed History of Moscow (London and Edinburgh: T. Caddell, W. Blackwood, 1823), 34. The population statistics are cited in Petr I. Shchukin, ed., Bumagi, otnosiashchiiasia do Otechestvennoi voiny 1812 goda, 10 vols. (Moscow: Tovarishchestvo tipografii A. I. Mamontova, 1897-1908), vol. 4, 225-28.

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

471

Count Fedor VasiPevich Rostopchin, "it had pleased Your Excellency to assure the inhabitants of Moscow that they need not be afraid, that the French would not be permitted to enter" the city. On September 2, however, Napoleon's armies occupied Moscow. As soon as the French arrived, Popov's maid stole his money, and his landlady, most of his other valuables. When the neighborhood was in flames and he begged to be guided out of the inferno, his landlord took him to a park and abandoned him there to be robbed by enemy soldiers. He pleaded with passers-by to help him, but instead three young men took away most of his threadbare clothes and the icons he was clutching, beat him mercilessly, and left him in a nearby village where he wandered helplessly, begging in vain for the peasants to take him in. Finally, he spent the night alone outside a villager's door. The next morning, a kind old woman invited him in, but marauding enemy soldiers later savagely beat him when they found that he had nothing worth stealing. Eventually, a peasant led him back into Moscow, where he at last found refuge in an almshouse. Once the invaders had finally withdrawn, he pleaded with the authorities to apprehend his tormentors and recover both his pitiful worldly possessions and the precious documents that proved his membership, however humble and tenuous, in the empire's ruling class. After the nightmare of the invasion, Popov wanted nothing so much as to have his old regime back.3 The luckless Popov, whose surname suggests that he probably descended from a family of priests, was a typical representative of Moscow's middle class, and several aspects of his misadventures especially deserve our attention. Of course, early modern urban society throughout the Atlantic world was prone to outbursts of violent civil strife. What made the situation in Moscow distinctive, however, was the fragility of the urban community itself: since the city was largely composed of rural migrants and bereft of the civic, cultural, and corporate institutions and traditions that counteracted centrifugal forces in cities in Europe and the Americas, the threat of popular upheaval was less than the danger of social fragmentation. Thus unlike, say, the residents of Berlin or Madrid, for example, Muscovites neither accepted the Napoleonic occupation nor rebelled against it, but simply fled, leaving in their wake abandoned neighborhoods and social 3

"Proshenie tituliarnago sovetnika Vasiliia Popova grafu F. V. Rastopchinu, 10 noiabria 1812 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 1, 121-22.

472

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

chaos. Popov's experience vividly illustrates this point. People ruthlessly took advantage of his vulnerability, and he was excluded from the solidarity that different social strata reserved for their own members—hence the peasants' indifference to his fate. What he witnessed was anarchy, not incipient revolution, and none of his assailants openly expressed social or ideological hatred, not even the enemy soldiers. His own attitude is also telling. Although bitter toward the governor-general and toward his fellow humans in general, Popov's petition to the government did not speak the language of Orthodox, nationalistic, anti-revolutionary monarchism that pervaded the government's own propaganda. Instead, he wrote in personal and moral terms, depicting himself simply as the innocent victim of the malice of others. Popov's case was actually quite typical, for most Muscovites' view of the war was rooted in premodern, ethno-religious conceptions that received support from official (especially ecclesiastical) propaganda but were far removed from the secular ideologies of upper-class conservatives or progressives; it is significant, in this context, that the Orthodox clergy exerted a far more profound cultural influence on the common people than did the Europeanized, secular culture of the elite. For example, N. I. T—ov, a priest's son who grew up in Moscow in the 1820s, learned from his elders that "the French attacked Moscow with [troops recruited from] 20 foreign nations, burned down and looted all of Moscow, and ransacked and defiled God's churches, but God took pity on us and helped the Russians defeat the enemy and expel him from Moscow."4 The reference to "20 nations," first introduced in an imperial proclamation on Christmas Day 1812 and subsequently repeated in church every Christmas in prayers of thanks "for Russia's deliverance from the invasion by the Gauls and the 20 nations," appears frequently in autobiographical writings about the war and bears witness to the impact of religious propaganda on the population.5 The Grande Armee's multinational composition and frightful behavior, the horrifying destruc4

N. I. T—ov, "O 1812 gode (Vospominaniia iz razskazov sovremennikov i ochevidtsev), in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 4, 332. 5 Aleksandr S. Shishkov, ^apiski, mneniia i perepiska, eds. N. Kiselev and lu. Samarin, 2 vols. (Berlin: B. Behr, 1870), vol. 1, 474; Andrei Zorin, Kormia dvuglavogo orla . . .: Literatura i gosudarstvennaia ideologiia v Rossii v poslednei treti XVIII—peruoi treti XIX veka (Moscow: Novoe Literaturnoe Obozrenie, 2001), 266, 318. See also the recollections of G. P. Meshetich and M. M. Petrov, in 1812 god. Vospominaniia voinov russkoi armii (Moscow: MysP, 1991), 53, 174.

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

473

tion of the city, and the desecration of Orthodox shrines—these themes, which are repeated again and again in contemporary accounts, reflect a cultural sensibility whose roots lay more in the insular, xenophobic world of Orthodox medieval Rus' than in the cosmopolitan Enlightenment culture of the early nineteenth century elite. Before the French arrived, Muscovites were uncertain of what to expect. Rostopchin had for months assured the population that the French were at once diabolical and militarily weak, and that the Russian army would never allow them to reach Moscow. At the same time, he meted out brutal and deliberately public punishment to anyone suspected of pro-French sympathies.6 The response of the population was mixed. Many were unconvinced by his public optimism and began to depart en masse for safer areas.7 Others, however, trusted his assurances, perhaps because in any case they were unable to leave the city. A subsequent police investigation found that about 6,200 civilians (2.3 percent of the prewar population) had remained in the city. In prewar Moscow, social groups who were typically migrants from the countryside (peasants, house serfs, nobles) had outnumbered the distinctly urban strata (clergy, merchants, meshchanstvo, guild artisans, people of "other ranks," foreigners) two to one, but those proportions were now reversed: the "urban" elements, 20 percent of the population before the war, were 60 percent during the occupation, while the "rural" strata dropped from 67 percent to a mere 33.8 Though drawn disproportionately from the city's commercial, ecclesiastical, and foreign communities, the

6 The text of Rostopchin's propaganda leaflets can be found in A. S. Suvorin, ed., Rostopchinskiia afishi (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia A. S. Suvorina, 1889), and P. A. Kartavov, ed., Letuchie listki 1812 goda: Rostopchinskiia afishi (St. Petersburg: n. publ., 1904). On the abusive treatment of foreigners, see Anton Wilhelm Nordhof, Die Geschichte der ^erstorung Moskaus im Jahre 1812, eds. Glaus Scharf and Jiirgen Kessel, Deutsche Geschichtsquellen des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts 61 (Munich: Harald Boldt Verlag im R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 2000), 134; Zorin, Kormia, 232-37. ' "Zapiska moskovskogo zhitelia, zhivushchego v Zapasnom dvortse, o proisshestviiakh v avguste do noiabria 1812-go goda," in 1812 god v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov, eds. A. G. Tartakovskii et al. (Moscow: Nauka, 1995), 51; Ivan A. Adler, "Pokhozhdenie moei zhizni so 2-go sentiabria po 28-e dekabria 1812 goda," in 1812 god v vospominaniiakh, 62; T—ov, 333; "Kopiia s vypiski iz pis'ma chinovnika moskovskago pochtamta, Andreia Karfachevskago, 6 noiabria 1812 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 5, 165. The panic also spread to other towns, whose inhabitants likewise fled when they heard that the French were approaching. See, for example, the case of Kolomna, mentioned in A. Lebedev, "Iz razskazov rodnykh o 1812 gode (Izvlechenie iz semeinykh zapisok)," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 3, 258. 8 Nordhof, Geschichte, 166, n. 218.

474

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

individuals who lived through the occupation were otherwise a fairly random, socially diverse collection of people who were broadly typical of the prewar population. They included officials and priests, monks, and nuns, who remained at their posts; the old and the disabled; those who were too poor to leave or who had nowhere to go; servants who were under orders to guard their masters' property; merchants and artisans determined to protect their shops; and others who, for one reason or another, had not left when there was still time, including 22,500 wounded Russian soldiers (of whom up to 15,000 perished when the city burned).9 In their desperation as the enemy drew nearer, people were willing to believe anything, and rumors were rife that allied troops were on their way to save the city.10 In fact, many seem to have mistaken the Napoleonic army for a British relief force, and the young merchant's son Egor Kharuzin later recalled that people had been so indoctrinated by Rostopchin's "mendacious propaganda" that the possibility "that Moscow might be surrendered without a bloody battle ... never occurred to anyone."11 The accounts of refugees from the war zone, which Rostopchin's propaganda eagerly publicized, had led Muscovites to expect nothing good from the enemy.12 The accuracy of those warnings was soon borne out by the bitter experience of harassment, verbal and physical abuse, robbery, and even murder of Muscovite civilians by enemy soldiers. Almost the only imaginable outrage of which the Napoleonic troops were not generally accused was rape, perhaps because the soldiers expected—and 9

Troitskii, 1812, 190. Adler, "Pokhozhdenie," 62; "Moskva v 1812 godu. Iz Zapisok Adama Glushkovskogo," Krasnyi Arkhw 4 (1937), 151; "Dvenadtsatyi god v Zapiskakh Anny Il'inishny Zolotukhinoi," Russkaia Starina 64 (October—December 1889), 266-67; "Vospominaniia A. G. Khomutovoi o Moskve v 1812 godu," Russkii Arkhiv, v. 3 (1891), 323; T. Tolycheva, ed., "Razskazy ochevidtsev o dvenadtsatom gode: Razskaz Leontiia Petrovicha Lepeshkina," Moskovskiia Vedomosti, no. 7, January 8, 1880; Lebedev, "Iz razskazov," 260. 11 Egor A. Kharuzin, "Melkie epizody iz vidennogo i slyshannogo rnnoiu i iz moikh detskikh vospominanii, perezhitykh mnoiu v godinu dvenadtsatogo goda, pri zaniatii frantsuzami Moskvy," in 1812 god v vospominaniiakh, 164; "Zapiska G. N. Kol'chugina," Russkii Arkhiv, vol. 3, no. 9 (1879), 46; Karolina Pavlova, "Moi vospominaniia," ibid., vol. 4, no. 10 (1875), 225; "1812-i god. Iz semeinykh vospominanii A. F. Kologrivovoi (urozhdennoi Vel'iaminovoi-Zernovoi)," ibid., vol. 2, no. 7 (1886), 341; "1812-i god. Sozhzhenie Moskvy. Pokazaniia ochevidtsa. (Protoiereia Kazanskago na Krasnoi ploshchadi sobora)," ibid., vol. 3, no. 12 (1909), 460. 12 The refugee accounts are mentioned in "Tysiacha vosem'sot dvenadtsatyi god v Zapiskakh grafa F. V. Rostopchina," Russkaia Starina 64 (December 1889), 688. 10

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

475

at times found—opportunities for nonviolent fraternization with Russian women trapped in a situation of widespread hunger, homelessness and violence.13. For a sense of how "middle-class" Muscovites felt their lives had been shattered by the Grande Armee, consider the recollections of the carpenter Ivan Antonovich Adler. Although of German extraction, he had lived in Russia for at least 30 years, evidently wrote his reminiscences in Russian, and seems to have been fully assimilated into Russian society and culture. Decades of hard work had made him a man of some substance: by 1812, he employed 47 workers and owned a prosperous household; he was also a family man and had two small surviving children. For him, the very first week of the occupation destroyed the accomplishments of a lifetime. Within hours of their arrival, French troops ransacked his home and forced him to provide food and drink for their noisy revelries, while his own Russian servants were in a drunken stupor from alcohol from looted shops. In the next days, soldiers periodically looted his house. A hungry, filthy, German-speaking hussar from Alsace, whom Adler had at first welcomed as a countryman, threatened to kill him unless he were given food, drink, and even the boots Adler was wearing. By now, Adler's devastated house reminded him of Sodom and Gomorrah, and he was deeply worried for his gravely ill wife, small children, and hungry servants. Then "about 200" enemy soldiers occupied his house and threw him and his family out. He left his sick wife in the street with an apprentice and went in search of food, but was robbed of the food by Italian soldiers and returned to find the apprentice gone and his wife robbed of her warm clothes. They then joined hordes of other refugees at a monastery, where his wife died. Her dying wish was to be buried near their other children, but Adler had only 84 kopecks, no coffin, no priest, and no safe way of transporting her body to the cemetery. He approached French soldiers who were using empty caskets as troughs for their horses, but they only sneered at his wish to bury "his old woman" in a coffin—why, were they themselves not being interred by the thousands without them? He walked away with an empty casket, but a soldier chased after him and smashed it, so he returned to his children and servants with the 13 Nordhof, Geschichte, 187, 202-04; T. Tolycheva, ed., "Razskazy ochevidtsev o dvenadtsatom gode: Razskaz Avdot'i Ivanovny Kromanovskoi, byvshei krepostnoi Marfy lakovlevnoi Krotkovoi," in Moskovskiia Vedomosti, no. 7, January 8, 1880.

476

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

pieces and put them back together. He then at last found someone—a French colonel—who had a heart and was willing to help. The coffin was placed on a cart drawn by a French cavalry horse, and a surreal cortege set out across the charred remains of the city: eight mourners, all "without boots and clothed in rags," escorted by a Napoleonic dragoon in full battle dress. At a checkpoint, soldiers insisted on inspecting the contents of the coffin; when Adler, exhausted and bitter beyond words, refused to cooperate, they opened it themselves, and he was allowed to proceed with the funeral. At this point, on September 8 or 9, his account abruptly ends; he evidently lacked the strength to write the rest of his tale of woe.14 What strikes the reader in Adler's account is the depth of his bitterness at the world. Like other writers of his humble social background, he had been raised not to delve too deeply into his own emotions. Nevertheless, little imagination is required to see how he felt. He never discussed "ideological" issues; instead, Pushkin's famous dictum—"God spare us a Russian revolt, senseless and merciless"113— captures the uncomprehending horror of Adler and other "middleclass" Muscovites at the heartless cruelty that the war unleashed among both the foreign soldiers and the Russians themselves. Without explicitly articulating it, many saw a kind of symmetry between the Napoleonic army and their own society, because order and elementary decency were menaced in both by the "senseless and merciless" anarchism of the rabble. That indeed is how the rank and file of Napoleon's army appeared to Russians—an armed and uniformed rabble, greedy, hungry, filthy, drunk, violent, uncouth. This, naturally, formed a stark contrast with Russians' traditional image of France as a land of aristocratic elegance. As the government official Sokol'skii contemptuously remarked, "if you are wondering whether [the French] were neat and dapper—I saw some who hadn't washed their ugly mugs since they left Paris."16 Yet Muscovites did not generally identify the French nation as such as the source of their misery. Instead, they remarked on the 14

Adler, "Pokhozhdenie," 61-68. Aleksandr S. Pushkin, Kapitanskaia Dochka, in A. S. Pushkin, Sochineniia v trekh tomakh (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1985-86), vol. 3, 308. 16 "Pis'mo moskvicha, ochevidtsa sobytii 1812 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 1, 2. See also "Otryvok iz chernovago pis'ma neizvestnago litsa," in ibid., vol. 3, 261, and "Kopiia s pis'ma iz Moskvy, Fedora Zakharovicha Zakharova Petru Semenovichu Poludenskomu, 16 oktiabria 1812," in ibid., vol. 5, 164. !o

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

477

bewildering multitude of peoples represented in the Grande Armee\ rather than inspire nationalist sentiments, this reinforced the sense of the invasion as a vast calamity akin to a biblical plague. When Adler's wife lay dying and his property had been looted, his Russian servants at last awoke from their drunken stupor; they began at once to search for more alcohol, but he bitterly advised them that "the Pole and the Frenchman, the Bavarian and the Saxon, the Italian and the Spaniard have already drunk it all to your health."17 As another contemporary observed, "our enemies [were] composed of ten or more nations and languages," a fact that was "extraordinary."18 Russians carefully distinguished between these different nationalities. Among Russians and foreign residents alike, the non-French troops (particularly the Poles, followed by the Germans), acquired a reputation for exceptional brutality, whereas the French themselves were usually seen as more humane and better behaved.19 Some Russians, however, perhaps influenced by their government's propaganda against French imperialism, noted that the allied troops seemed to suffer abuse from the French; one wrote that "the Poles looted more [than the other troops], for, it is said, they served without pay or supplies and obtained food for themselves only by looting."20 Another commented on the general indiscipline of the French troops, then added: But what their allies—the Germans, Italians, and Poles—suffer from them defies description. . . . Their poor allies dragged themselves about in fear of their sabres and whips and would look over their shoulders in terror. The Germans and Poles received neither fodder, bread, meat, nor wine, and the more affluent among the Italians had to pay the emperor one taler a day.21

17

Adler, "Pokhozhdenie," 66. "Zapiski moskovskogo zhitelia," 53. 19 T—ov writes that this was the consensus opinion among Muscovites when he was growing up in the 1820s. (Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 4, 339-40.) See also "Razskaz sovremennika 1812 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 9, 80; "Tetrad' sviashchennika moskovskago Uspenskago sobora I. S. Bozhanova," in ibid., vol. 4, 59-60; Nordhof, Geschichte, 169, 190-92; T. Tolycheva, ed., "Razskaz o dvenadtsatom gode bogadel'nika Nabilkinskago zavedeniia Pavla Fedorovicha Gerasimova," Moskovskiia Vedomosti, no. 186, July 7, 1882; "1812-i god. Sozhzhenie Moskvy," 459; '"la sluzhil gorodu, a ne vragu': Pis'mo professora Kh. Stel'tsera rektoru Moskovskogo universiteta I. A. Geimu. 1812 god," Istoncheskii arkhtv, no. 3 (1997), 48-49. 20 "Otryvok iz chernovago pis'ma," 262. See also Glushkovskii, "Moskva," 158. 21 "Pis'mo moskvicha," 2. 18

478

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

Muscovites generally assumed that the troops' behavior reflected a lack of discipline, not the official policy of the French high command. In fact, as Sokol'skii put it, "the coarseness of the lower ranks passed description; there was no sense of subordination, no hint of respect for superiors." The merchant Nikolai Fedorovich Kotov also found that "the tone in their army is such that the common soldier is almost disrespectful to his general, and outsiders they curse virtually to their faces."22 The Napoleonic officers, on the other hand, bore at least some resemblance to the cultivated Frenchmen whom educated Russians had so admired. As one anonymous contemporary observed, "in those places where the [French] commanders were living, the inhabitants did not suffer as much." The Foundlings Home and the Zapasnyi Palace were two massive stone structures in the largely wooden city where many Muscovites found shelter from the fire and violence; Russian officials in charge of these complexes recalled that French officers had ensured their safety and helped them find desperately needed food. Adler could not have buried his wife if that French colonel had not provided a military escort for the funeral. Other Muscovites had similar experiences.23 Muscovites patterned their relations with the enemy after their own society, whose strata were linked to each other by an intricate web of dependencies. Thus, merchants who left Moscow would entrust their property to the care of their social inferiors from the meshchanstvo, and members of the urban sosloviia would hire serfs as workers. The authority of tsar and nobility was only the pinnacle of a vast system of patron-client relationships which, while not always friendly or harmonious, were understood to be the natural order of things. The habits formed by this tradition conditioned Muscovites' attitudes toward the Grande Armee: they kept their distance but acknowledged the authority of its commanders so long as they enforced order. 22 Ibid., 2; Nikolai F. Kotov, "Iz 'Zapisok o voennykh deistviiakh 1812-go goda,'" in 1812 god v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov, 44; Nordhof, Geschichte, 173. 23 "Kopiia s dela o dvorovom cheloveke Sezemove, 1814 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi. 1812 goda," 79-82;' "Kopiia s dela o o ? vol. 4,j 252;j "Razskaz sovremennika o ' i^ moskovskom kuptse I. G. Pozniakove, 1814 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 4, 7-8; "Pis'mo moskvicha," 5; "Otryvok iz chernovago pis'ma," 262; Kh. Kh. Khristiani, "Zapiska," in 1812 god v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov, 48-49; "Zapiski moskovskogo zhitelia," 53; Adler, "Pokhozhdenie," 68; Kharuzin, "Melkie epizody," 169; Glushkovskii, "Moskva," 157; "Puteshestvie v Moskvu vo vremia prebyvaniia v onoi frantsuzov," Russkii Arkhiv, vol. 2, no. 7 (1908), 411.

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

479

Russians sometimes shrewdly took advantage of the French commanders' efforts to enforce discipline. True to the stereotype of the clever serf who outsmarts his dimwitted master, for example, one enterprising butcher from Pereslavl' came to Moscow with three empty horse-drawn carts, knowing full well that they would be seized by soldiers. He proceeded to report to a French general that he had come with flour for Napoleon's hungry troops, but that the flour had been stolen by the soldiers. The general ordered that he be given back his horses and carts, as well as six rubles for his nonexistent flour plus another three rubles for the profit he would have made from the sale, and he was even given a military escort to help him collect and transport three cartloads of stolen property that he claimed were his own. Then he returned safely home.24 Russia's social hierarchy derived its legitimacy from the monarchy and the church, and government propaganda accordingly vituperated against Napoleon as a godless usurper. However, Muscovites' views seem to have been far more nuanced. Napoleon plays only a peripheral role in their accounts, and when they do talk about him, their hostility is mixed with curiosity and awe. Kotov noted with surprise that Napoleon had been seen "riding amidst his splendid suite, wearing [only] a gray frock-coat and a small three-cornered hat [and looking] like a merchant." Otherwise, what he had heard about the French emperor was impressive—that he slept only four hours a night, and that "he alone received dispatches from everywhere, sent orders everywhere, to both kings and generals, and that nobody but he alone" was fully informed of the Grande Armee's overall situation.25 Not only in his power, but also in his public demeanor he resembled the kind of autocrat to whom Muscovites were accustomed. For example, ten-year-old Egor Kharuzin watched the grandiose spectacle of Napoleon entering Moscow, surrounded by lavishly uniformed cavalrymen and cheered by his troops. The Russian onlookers were forced to cheer as well, while officers of Napoleon's suite tossed silver coins into the crowd; after the parade had passed, however, the anarchic underside of the French army reasserted itself as soldiers systematically robbed the people of these coins and all other valuables. Kharuzin also reported that Napoleon, out of cupidity,

Kotov, "Iz 'Zapisok,'" 41-42. Ibid., 43-44.

480

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

had ordered the looting of religious treasures from the Kremlin, thus acting much like his troops in their sacrilegious greed.26 In general, the anti-Napoleonic themes of Russian propaganda, especially the claim that his monarchical status was illegitimate, find little echo in these sources. The hostile vocabulary of official and upper-class writings is absent from these accounts, which refer to him simply by his monarchical name "Napoleon" or even as "Emperor Napoleon." Overall, the Napoleonic army seemed to replicate the familiar order of Russia's own "old regime": an autocratic ruler, a nobility that sought to maintain "order," and popular masses that inclined toward anarchic violence. While the matter of Napoleon's legitimacy as a monarch apparently made little impression on Muscovites, religion—the other bastion of the old regime—figures prominently in contemporary accounts. The Grande Armee's attitude toward religion profoundly alienated the Muscovite population. Although a few Russians commented on efforts by French commanders to protect Orthodox shrines,27 these are rare dissonant voices amidst an indignant chorus of complaints about the troops' treatment of churches, convents, and monasteries.28 The Russian government and clergy had long warned the population about the godless French, and in Russia—as in other European countries invaded by France after 1792—anti-French propaganda relied heavily on religious themes. It was so effective that Muscovites talked about fighting against the basurman^ the "infidel," a term that evoked past wars against "unclean" Tatars and Ottomans and may have had particular resonance among a population to whom the Muslim East, as much if not more than Europe, remained the "other" whose presence shaped their own identity.30 Thus, Timofei Nikolaevich Granovskii heard about a poor midwife in Orel who took five prisoners of war into her home. After exhausting her savings, she went begging for alms to feed the men. When, at last, "her" prisoners were removed by the authorities to another location, "this simple hearted 26

Kharuzin, "Melkie epizody," 165-66, 169. "Tetrad' sviashchennika," 57-58, 63; T—ov, "O 1812 gode," 342. Yitzhak Tarasulo, "The Napoleonic Invasion of 1812 and the Political and Social Crisis in Russia" (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 1983), 73-76. 29 Adler, "Pokhozhdenie," 62. 30 See, for example, the chapter "The Tatars of Kasimov" in Dmitrii I. Rostislavov, Provincial Russia in the Age of Enlightenment: The Memoir of a Priest's Son, trans, and ed. Alexander M. Martin (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2002). 27

28

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

481

woman smashed all the crockery from which they had eaten and drunk at her home, because she believed these people—whom she had cared for so attentively and aided so selflessly—to be unclean heathens."31 Muscovites' religious feelings and conservative sense of propriety were easily offended. For example, one woman who saw French cavalrymen passing through the Kremlin's Spasskii Gate without removing their hats was, as a relative later recalled, "petrified at this act of heathenism, the likes of which she had never seen or heard of before."32 But, even allowing for delicate sensibilities and the effect of anti-Napoleonic propaganda, one can imagine the impression created by reports that soldiers of the Grande Armee intentionally smashed church furniture, dressed themselves and even their horses in priestly vestments, desecrated icons by stealing their precious ornaments, defecated on church floors and covered the mess with sacred icons, caroused and got drunk and stabled their horses in churches, and even fornicated on church altars.33 Such incidents, described by nobles, clerics, and merchants alike, became a kind of metaphor for enemy barbarism in general. However, Muscovites also observed that such conduct did not reflect the policy of the French commanders; once again, they saw the lower ranks of the enemy troops as a rabble, but did not necessarily conclude that that the entire French regime rested on alien ideological foundations. Far from being a mere phantom dreamed up by hostile propaganda, the brutality and anticlericalism of the Grande Armee were genuine and should come as no surprise, for the French army—like 31

Pavlova, "Moi vospominaniia," 228. Lebedev, "Iz raskazov," 260. 33 This particular catalog of complaints is from "Otryvok iz chernovago pis'ma," 262. Similar charges can be found in "Tetrad' sviashchennika," 57-58, 60; T—ov, "O 1812 gode," 340-41; "Kopiia s pis'ma . . . Zakharova," 164; "Kopiia s vypiski . . . Karfachevskago," 166; "Kopiia s pis'ma kapitana Fedora Ivanovicha Kolobkova, iz Kolomny, A. Ozeretskomu, 5 oktiabria 1812 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 5, 175; "Kopiia s dela o krest'ianine Izmest'eve," in ibid., vol. 4, 223; "Proshenie g-zhi Shteidel' grafu F. V. Rastopchinu, ob osvobozhdenii iz pod karaula kuptsa lursha, 28 noiabria 1812 goda," in ibid., vol. 2, 54; P. F., "Nekotorye zamechaniia, uchinennye so vstupleniia v Moskvu frantsuzskikh voisk (i do vybegu ikh iz onoi)," in 1812 god v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov, 29; Kotov, "Iz 'Zapisok,'" 41; "Zapiski moskovskogo zhitelia," 51, 55; Kharuzin, "Melkie epizody," 167-68; Glushkovskii, "Moskva," 154; Nordhof, Geschichte, 200, 220; "Moskovskie monastyri vo vremia nashestviia frantsuzov," Russkii Arkhiv (1869), 1387-99; "Opisanie, chto proiskhodilo vo vremia nashestviia nepriiatelia v Donskom monastyre 1812-go goda," ibid., vol. 3 (1891), 265-69. 32

482

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

other contemporary military forces—had an officially tolerated habit of indiscriminate violence against enemy civilians and their religious shrines. Napoleon himself had been chastened by his disastrous experience in Spain and was still hoping for a speedy peace with the tsar, so he made no attempt to introduce antifeudal or anticlerical reforms in Russia.34 Still, the tendency of his regime in its last years was to return to its revolutionary ideological roots, especially in the face of intractable Spanish and Italian resistance and the breakdown of his modus vivendi with the Pope. Neo-Jacobin anticlericalism flared up with particular intensity on the Spanish front, and veterans of that conflict played a key role in the Grande Armee during the Russian campaign.35 There was also a more practical side to the issue: the destruction of many wooden buildings in the fire of Moscow made the stone churches all the more attractive to soldiers who needed a roof over their heads. Much of what so shocked Russians was the consequence of using churches to house soldiers who were bored, hungry, undisciplined, and tense after a grueling campaign and in the face of a highly uncertain future. The linkage between the occupation and social chaos was reinforced by reports that affluent people fleeing Moscow were being robbed and killed by Russian peasants who accused them of being traitors,36 as well as by the participation of the Russian lower classes in the sack of Moscow, often in direct collaboration with enemy troops. One eyewitness recalled that the withdrawal of Russian state authority "led to rioting in all the streets and houses, which was aggravated by the fact that the convicts had escaped from [prison]; [other looters included] lunatics, militiamen . . ., discharged soldiers, convalescing wounded soldiers, carters, and so forth; they began by smashing the piteinaia kontora and the liquor depot, and then the taverns and the liquor cellars, so that vodka, liquor, and near-beer ran in rivers through the streets. Indeed, they poured it out more than they drank it. Those who were drunk [then] broke into homes and stores and made off with everything they found." 34

Janet M. Hartley, "Russia in 1812, Part I: The French Presence in the Gubernii of Smolensk and Mogilev," Jahrbiicher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 38:2 (1990), 178-82. 35 Michael Broers, Europe under Napoleon 1799-1815 (London: Arnold, 1996), 37, 164, 183, 243. 36 Glushkovskii, "Moskva," 156; [A. D. Bestuzhev-Riumin,] "Kratkoe opisanie proisshestviiam v stolitse Moskve v 1812 godu," Chteniia v Obshchestve istorii i drevnostei rossiiskikh 29:2 (April-June 1859), 79.

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

483

With the lower classes running amok, this same contemporary recalled, the traditional social order collapsed, and "people no longer dared assert any kind of rank out on the street."37 This, of course, was precisely how Muscovites interpreted conditions in the French army as well.38 The same chaotic scenes were repeated a few weeks later, when hordes of peasants invaded the city in the interval between the French withdrawal and the restoration of Russian authority, to get drunk, make off with loot left behind by the French, and vandalize the homes of the affluent.39 The sources link lower-class violence with anarchic hooliganism and excessive drinking, perhaps to emphasize its irrational nature and the need for strict social controls to contain it. Many Russians of the poorer classes who remained in Moscow or otherwise came into contact with the enemy were either tempted or obligated by circumstances to break the law or collaborate. Indeed, contemporary accounts suggest that both Russians and Napoleonic soldiers often engaged in looting or violence simply in order to survive. In one case reported by the police, a nobleman had left his serf behind in his Moscow home when he fled the city. After her master's house had burned, the serf took refuge in burnt-out buildings and survived by begging and prostitution, though it is not clear whether her customers included enemy soldiers.40 A more frequent occurrence seems to have been looting. Nobles and merchants often left their possessions in the care of members of lower social strata who stayed behind in the city. For example,

37 "Zapiski moskovskogo zhitelia," 51; "Otryvok iz chernovago pis'ma," 261. Glushkovskii ("Moskva," 141) likewise claims that the crowds were drunk. 38 The same point is also made by other sources. "Kopiia s vypiski . . . Karfachevskago," 165; "Pis'mo moskvicha," 3; Lebedev, "Iz razskazov," 256-57; "Otryvok iz chernovago pis'ma," 261. 39 P. F., "Nekotorye zamechaniia," 32; "Zapiski moskovskogo zhitelia," 55; Lebedev, "Iz razskazov," 259; "Otryvok iz chernovago pis'ma," 263; Glushkovskii, "Moskva," 158-59; [G. la KozlovskiiJ "Moskva v 1812 godu zaniataia frantsuzami. Vospominanie ochevidtsa," Russkaia Starina 65 (January-March 1890), 106; "Pervye dni v sozhzhennoi Moskve," ibid. 64 (October-December 1889), 47; "O proisshestviiakh, sluchivshikhsia v Moskve vo vremia prebyvaniia v onoi nepriiatelia v 1812 godu. Donesenie chlena Votchinnago departamenta, A. D. Bestuzheva-Riumina, g. Ministru lustitsii," Chteniia v Obshchestve istorii i drevnostei rossiiskikh 29:2 (ApriHfune 1859), 166-67, 177-78; Bestuzhev-Riumin, "Kratkoe opisanie," 84; Nordhof, Geschichte, 234. See also Rostopchin's appeal for order: Kartavov, Rostopchinskiia qfishi, 75. 40 "Kopiia s doprosa dvorovoi devki Dar'i Stepanovoi v Taganskoi chasti, maia 1813 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 3, 112.

484

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

Count Aleksandr Osterman and several others had left their possessions in storage in Osterman's house. While the masters left the city, Osterman's serfs mostly stayed behind. The storage room was looted during the occupation, and some of the contents were later found in the quarters of Osterman's serfs and other Russians. The 14 people questioned in connection with the affair testified that Russians, whom none could identify, had led French soldiers to the storage room; afterwards, other Russians, who likewise could not be identified, had looted what was left. The suspects themselves had, of course, only taken their masters' property in order to protect it from looters.41 In another incident, the wealthy merchant Efim Sukhochev asked his fellow merchant Ivan Mikheev and various others to help him recover what was left of his possessions and merchandise after enemy soldiers had looted his residence. Sukhochev asked Mikheev to transport almost 19,000 rubles worth of goods to safety; when the goods disappeared, Sukhochev accused Mikheev of having stolen them, while Mikheev, somewhat unconvincingly, blamed French looters.42 Similarly, the merchant Semen Uskov suspected his neighbors, all meshchane, of having absconded with his possessions while he was out of town during the occupation.43 Another case involved Evgraf Sezemov, an allegedly drunken and unruly serf coachman. Before the French occupied Moscow, he had been in prison for stealing from his master and then running away, but was then released by Rostopchin together with the city's other prison inmates. According to his master, he had to be prevented by French soldiers from burning down his mistress's house. Later, his master saw him driving a two-horse carriage (which was legally permitted only to merchants of the first two guilds)44 and decked out in expensive garments that were unbecoming his lowly status and probably stolen to boot. During that chance encounter, the master "demanded that [Sezemov] stop causing trouble and return home," but Sezemov "contemptuously exclaimed that he no longer belonged 41 "Kopiia s dela o razgrablenii imushchestva grafa A. I. Ostermana," in ibid., vol. 3, 44-56. 42 "Kopiia s dela o moskovskom kuptse Ivane Mikheeve, 1817 goda," in ibid., vol. 4, 144-51. 43 "Delo kuptsa Semena Uskova o razlomannoi ego kladovoi i pokhishchennom iz onoi imushchestve v 1812 godu," in ibid., vol. 9, 85-91. 44 J. Michael Hittle, The Service City: State and Townsmen in Russia, 1600-1800 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1979), 219 (law of 1785).

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

485

to [his master], that he was free, and that he would play a trick on him." Sezemov adopted a false name and was masquerading as a meshchanin—a free townsman—before he was finally arrested and returned to prison, where his master caught up with him.43 What does all of this tell us about the stability of Imperial Russia's ancien regime? Russia was not occupied long enough by France to join Spain, the Hanseatic cities or the Papal States as part of what Michael Broers calls Napoleon's "Outer Empire," let alone the "Inner Empire" of Belgium, western Germany and northern Italy. Still, the experience of these countries is instructive. As Broers points out, the Inner Empire was transformed so profoundly by France that a native constituency emerged that actively supported the new order beyond 1815. In the "Outer Empire," by contrast, Napoleon's rule involved little more than brutal military occupation and (in Spain and Italy) attacks on the Catholic Church, both of which left the population nostalgic for the old regime.46 In the following decades, only the lands of what had been the Inner Empire became the site of broadbased liberal or democratic revolutionary movements. Thus, the Napoleonic experience weakened the ancien regime in the Inner Empire, but actually helped to shore it up in the Outer Empire. Napoleon did not challenge the traditional institutions of society in Russia as he had elsewhere, and the government there was far more sympathetic to Enlightenment ideas than in, say, the Papal States. Nonetheless, Muscovites, like the peoples of the Outer Empire, still lived in a world dominated by communal particularism, religious piety, and social dependency. Despite upper-class concerns that radical ideas had infiltrated the lower classes,47 the experience of 1812 suggests that the mental world of Moscow's population remained deeply traditionalistic. The flaws and tensions of the old regime were certainly in evidence in Moscow, but looters and collaborators did not appear to be driven by a desire to challenge the social order as such. Instead, their main concerns were the class hatreds that pervaded the ancien regime., the desire to settle personal scores, the difficulty of surviving during the occupation, and sheer greed and destructiveness. Even 45

"Kopiia s dela o . . . Sezemove," 252-57. Broers, Europe under Napoleon, 266-67. 4/ "Vypiska iz Ruskoi knigi, nazvannoi: Sobranie otryvkov, vziatykh iz nravstvennykh i politicheskikh Pisatelei, i izdannoi G. ... 1811," Ruskoi Vestnik, June 1811, 76-86. 4b

486

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

Sezemov, the fugitive coachman who impersonated a meshchanin, was merely acting out the dream of every serf—becoming a free man within the framework of the existing order. Muscovites in 1812 showed little interest in the political or ideological issues involved in the European wars since 1792. They saw Napoleon as a monarch and were oblivious to his revolutionary pedigree. They were shocked at his army's indiscipline and anticlericalism but saw these as the kind of heathenism that one might expect from infidel Turks or Tatars, not as a novel ideological challenge to the ancien regime. Religious matters aside, their feelings toward enemy troops were determined mainly by individual encounters with them as human beings. They evaluated the Napoleonic army from the standpoint of centuries-old cultural norms, and showed little awareness, let alone sympathy, for the revolutionary ideas it represented. From the tsar's point of view, that was the good news. The bad news was that Muscovites showed little active enthusiasm for fighting for the old regime. In particular, the web of dependencies on which the ancien regime rested proved exceedingly fragile. Those who accepted the regime's self-image—as a world where upperclass paternalism was rewarded with lower-class loyalty and affection— could draw little comfort from events in Moscow in 1812. On the contrary, given the opportunity, peasants looted the city, nobles abandoned their servants, and serfs masqueraded as free people and stole from their lords, as people fell back on family and class solidarities. In the absence of state and noble authority, society temporarily disintegrated into its component parts and a carnivalesque reversal of social roles took place. There must also have been a significant redistribution of property, as the households of Russia's richest merchants and aristocrats were picked clean during and immediately after the occupation. One example among many is the first-guild merchant Makai Abdulov, who traded in Middle Eastern wares and reported having lost moveable goods worth some 300,000 rubles (equivalent to the annual soul tax of 100,000 peasants) to fire and looters, including 2,400 rubles' worth of clocks and china, 16 Persian rugs, 187 expensive Turkish shawls, tea worth 20,900 rubles, and jewelry and gold items worth 8,000 rubles. It was indicative of Moscow society's rural character, incidentally, that Abdulov also reported losing two cows.48 48 "[Proshenie] Moskovskago 1-i gil'dii kuptsa Makaia Abdulova, 24 dekabria 1812 goda," in Shchukin, Bumagi, vol. 3, 75.

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

487

Many of these goods presumably were either stolen directly by peasants or taken by them from dead or dying looters from the Napoleonic 40 army. The government drew the logical conclusions from this experience. Its policy, after the French had withdrawn, had three major components: (1) liquidate the hard feelings that the war had created among Russians, (2) restore and bolster traditional authority structures, and (3) look for ways to generate more active popular support for the regime. To begin with, the state had to deal with people who had broken the law during the war. Countless millions of rubles worth of mostly noble and merchant property had been looted by peasants and townspeople, as well as by corrupt police officers, who in addition embezzled relief money provided by the government.50 Prosecuting them would have been an immense task for an already overburdened bureaucracy, while the alternative—massive extra-judicial reprisals— would have left a damaging legacy of bitterness. Instead, the state prudently let bygones be bygones. Most of the criminal cases discussed above were dropped under imperial edicts intended to close the books on cases of looting and collaboration, and the government chose to offer compensation to the (usually middle-class or noble) victims of the looting rather than pursue the looters (generally members of the lower classes or the police) in an attempt to recover the stolen goods. The tsar set the tone in his manifesto of August 30, 1814, in which he announced to his people what they could expect from the post-war order. In this manifesto, he granted an amnesty for most offenses committed during the invasion.51 His investigators and judges accordingly treated as criminal cases what might otherwise have been prosecuted as more serious political offenses. The state, spurred to action by its own reading of the nature of Russian society, also moved quickly to restore the old authority structures. The state saw the lower classes as impulsive, superstitious, and anarchic; trouble was to be expected if "order" broke down or something triggered a mass panic, as in Moscow during the plague riots

49 50 31

See Nordhof, Geschichte, 254. Ibid., 239-46, 253-54, 262-66. Shishkov, ^apiski, mneniia, vol. 1, 307.

488

ALEXANDER M. MARTIN

of 1771. At the same time, it assumed that upper-class leadership was needed to turn a senseless, drunken riot into a revolution. Consequently, especially after 1789, the authorities had used censorship and police methods to suppress dissent among the upper classes, and this continued after 1814. Among the lower classes, on the other hand, disorder was usually dealt with, in the short term, through a combination of repression and paternalism. In the longer term, the state responded by tightening administrative controls and strengthening corporatist structures among the population. Soon after the Grande Armee had been defeated, these time-tested methods were employed to reconstruct old-regime authority. Largescale repression was avoided, but the war-time popular militia was soon disbanded and the peasant guerrillas disarmed. That future troublemakers could expect no mercy was made clear by the brutal punishments for insubordination meted out in the Chuguev military settlement in 1819 and the Semenovskii guards regiment in 1820. Furthermore, Alexander I—despite personal misgivings—did not undertake the social and political reforms that both peasants and some nobles had hoped for; as he made clear in his manifesto of August 30, the serfs who had helped defeat Napoleon could be certain of his gratitude but would otherwise "receive their reward from God." Rather than take advantage of the spectacular victory over Napoleon to reconstruct social relations along more liberal, constitutionalist lines, the regime sought to restore and preserve social stability by reviving the old paternalist conception of society. In his manifesto of August 30, Alexander made clear that he expected nobles and serfs to treat each other as loving parents and loyal children. The decision to treat collaboration and looting as criminal (not political) offenses, and then magnanimously grant amnesty to the offenders, implied that the childlike common people were unable even to form the intent to commit political crimes. In this regard, the state's interest in restoring the old regime coincided both with the arrested offenders' desire to escape punishment for their excesses and with the evident desire among more affluent Muscovites for a return to "normalcy." Official propaganda tirelessly reminded Russians that the tsar was their father, who protected them against both foreigners like Napoleon and unpopular officials like Rostopchin. It was telling, in fact, that Rostopchin, whose services were no longer needed once the war was over, was dismissed on the same day on which

MOSCOW AND THE NAPOLEONIC OCCUPATION OF l8l2

489

Alexander granted his amnesty. In the same spirit, the offer of financial relief for war-ravaged Muscovites was sponsored by Empress Mariia Fedorovna, mother of the tsar and hence of the nation.52 Everything was done to reinforce the familial bond between the population and the dynasty, even while the religious emphasis in the commemorations of the 1812 conflict—including the annual prayer of thanks and the planned Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow— reminded Muscovites of their bonds with the Almighty. Lastly, in addition to displays of authoritarianism and paternalism, the state renewed its long-standing effort to tighten the bonds of society. Serfdom was maintained, and the legal stratification of urban society reinforced, at a time when the trend in other countries was clearly in the opposite direction. Similarly, Alexander's support for Protestant-inspired moral-reform movements, the increasing militarization of the monarchy's public image, and the creation of the military settlements, all suggested that he was looking for ways to strengthen society's cohesiveness and address egregious social problems without touching the basic structures of the old regime. The Holy Alliance, which sought to institutionalize both the old-regime order and Christian love, formed the international dimension of this policy. Prior to 1812, both the people of Moscow and the Russian state took for granted that a "normal" society was based on religious values and on social relations characterized by deference and paternalism, not only between lords and servants but also among the hierarchically arranged urban classes and between the population and the state. The brief but traumatic Napoleonic interlude, far from undermining popular faith in the regime, on the contrary reinforced traditional attitudes. Consequently, when the state restored and strengthened the old structures after 1812, it could count on the sympathy or at least acquiescence of much of Moscow's population. It would be an interesting topic for future study to see whether there is a link between the trauma of 1812 and the political silence of the people of Moscow in the revolutionary crises of 1825, 1830, and 1848.

:fl On the public role of Mariia Fedorovna, see Richard Wortman, Scenarios of Power: Myth and Ceremony in Russian Monarchy, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995, 2000), vol. 1, 247-54.

This page intentionally left blank

THE HOLY SEPULCHER AND THE ORIGIN OF THE CRIMEAN WAR David Goldfrank The origin of the Crimean War, Europe's greatest conflict between 1815 and 1914, has intrigued observers and scholars since the diplomatic preliminaries of 1853. According to the typical view, the conflict was senseless and "would have been avoided if the leadership of every major power in 1853 had acted rationally in its own imperialistic interest."1 I have argued elsewhere that the chief personal responsibility, which can be assessed for the outbreak of this war, lies with Russia's emperor Nicholas I, who acted irrationally and foolishly at times in 1852-53. His motives at key junctures remain puzzling. This paper argues that the emperor's particular fixation on the Church of the Holy Sepulcher (Tomb of the Lord) in Jerusalem played an inordinate role in Nicholas's initial turn to armed diplomacy and violation of a neighbor's territory, from which he then failed to extricate Russia before he found his empire at war with a more powerful coalition of the Ottoman Empire, France, and Britain. This paper first summarizes the general argument that Nicholas I was particularly responsible for this conflict. It then reviews the diplomatic events in which the Church of the Holy Sepulcher figured heavily. Finally, it touches upon Nicholas's family and personal connections to Russia's imitation of the Holy Sepulcher, the Church of the Resurrection at the New Jerusalem Monastery, providing some context for his fixation and hence his bellicose actions. Governments initiate wars for a variety of reasons. The Ottoman Empire, France, and Great Britain fought against Russia in the ' David Goldfrank, Origins of the Crimean War (London/New York: Longman, 1994), 5. 2 Some Ottomans and some British unrealistically hoped to roll back Russia's territorial gains in Europe since 1700, while some French desired to compensate their fathers' and grandfathers' "loss" in 1812. See Winfried Baumgart, TJie Crimean War, 1853-1856 (London and New York: Arnold and Oxford University Press, 1999), 28-32. Baumgart has written the most recent scholarly treatment of this war. Among the others to appear recently are Robert B. Edgerton, Death or Glory. The

492

DAVID GOLDFRANK

Crimean War for some elusive reasons,2 but first and foremost they waged war to terminate a hostile occupation of the Danubian Principalities, to eliminate Russia's naval threat to Constantinople, and to get rid of the Treaty of Kuchuk-Kainardji, on which basis Russia claimed rights to "protect" the Ottoman Christians and intervene in Ottoman domestic affairs.3 It can be argued that Russia also fought for some sound reasons: first to repulse Turkish attacks on Russian positions in the Principalities, the Caucasus, and Transcaucasia, and second to prevent or resist the allied invasions and limit allied gains.4 On the other hand, Nicholas I, having devoted so much of his energy and state resources to his army and navy, initiated his war-inducing policies of December 1852-September 1853 on an elusive but genuine pretext, as well as for open-ended goals. In fact, it is this pretext—a peculiar linkage of Russia's patronage of Orthodox primacy in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and overall influence within the Ottoman Empire—that helped blind the Russian mission in Istanbul, other foreign ministry officials, and Nicholas I himself to wider political realities, thereby contributing mightily to his foolish, bellicose initiatives and diplomatic rigidity. These in turn were the primary reasons that the diplomacy of compromise failed, and the "Eastern" crisis of 1853 led to war. Before examining the specific place of the Holy Sepulcher in Nicholas's policy, it is necessary to dispatch with several key myths and misconceptions concerning the causes and origin of the Crimean War that minimize Russian responsibility. For if the outbreak of the war had been due chiefly to British, French, Ottoman, or other players of this dangerous game, then Russian fixation on this shrine would be an interesting quirk or a footnote, not the proper subject of a scholarly inquiry. But first, we need to orient ourselves to the complexities of the diplomatic situation of late 1852. Legacy of the Crimean War (Boulder: Westview Press, 1999), containing much zesty social history, and Trevor Royle, Crimea. The Great Crimean War, 1854-1856 (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1999), excellent sports page military history, but relying on a limited source base and less than worthless for the diplomatic preliminaries. No serious study of the genesis of the war has appeared since my Origins to correct its likely flaws in this treacherously difficult historiographic terrain. 3 These were, in fact, the Allies' major war aims, enshrined in three of the Four Points, which Austria adhered to as well. (Baumgart, Crimean War, 17-19.) 4 One could also argue that in the initial, Balkan phases of the conflict, Russia was also fighting for Nicholas I's maximal aims of expelling the Ottomans from Europe. (Baumgart, Crimean War, 25~27.)

THE HOLY SEPULCHER AND THE ORIGIN OF THE CRIMEAN WAR

493

Russia cooperated with Austria in 1849 to put down the Hungarian patriots and in 1849-50 to dampen Prussian ambitions, but the Austrians were fearful of Russia's future moves, especially in the Balkans. The Russians had cooperated with the Ottomans to quell Romanian revolutionaries in 1848, but then quarreled with the Porte over Hungarian (and Polish) refugees from the 1849 debacle against the Austro-Russian forces. The Eurasian "Great Game" rivalry notwithstanding, the English had cooperated with Russia in 1848 against Prussian ambitions in Schleswig-Holstein, but opposed Russia and backed the Ottomans over the refugees in 1849. In the Holy Places dispute between Russia and France, Britain sought compromise, and, if anything, leaned toward Russia and backed the Porte. The British were also somewhat irked over Austria's repressive policies towards several nationalities. Louis Bonaparte had also supported the Ottomans in the refugee crisis, but joined with the Russians in backing the Greeks in the Don Pacifico affair of 1850. Nicholas I admired Bonaparte as a strong man at home, but viscerally opposed his aim to re-establish the French Empire and to reassert Catholic rights in the Holy Land. The other powers were also nervous about Bonapartism, but much less than Nicholas was, and they sought good relations with Paris. Relations among the European powers in 1852 were therefore fluid. No issue or rivalry promoted either a face-off between coalitions or the grouping of most of the powers against a lone disruptive one. Nor, as had been the case in 1847, were longfestering social and political sore points about to precipitate a crisis.5 Whatever one may think of the aims, motives, and policies of Louis Bonaparte/Napoleon III during 1849-53, the French government threatened the Porte far less than Russia did. Moreover, the French government compromised over the Holy Places at Britain's behest when the chips were down, and initiated its own naval diplomacy against Russia only when the Ottomans requested a counter to Russian threats. The fact that Russia's chancellor Karl (Vasilevich) Nesselrode and minister in London Philipp Brunnow (Filip Ivanovich Brunov) foresaw how French policies on the Bosphorus could lead first to Russian countermeasures and then to a countervailing Anglo-French-Ottoman alliance is no proof of such long range French

' The preceding paragraph is abstracted mainly from my Origins, 59-86, 102-04; the next four from Idem, 271-78.

494

DAVID GOLDFRANK

intentions.6 No shred of evidence shows that the French, in championing Catholic claims in the Holy Places dispute, planned or expected it to result in a coalition war against Russia. What they did do, by heeding British words, was ensure that the dispute did not end in a coalition war against France.7 Similarly, if Britain's overweening ambassador in Istanbul, Stratford (Canning) de Redcliffe and strong man at home Lord Henry Templeton Palmerston had some expanded war aims after the fighting commenced, neither set off the war with his personal policies, as has been claimed.8 From the start, Stratford sought to resolve the Holy Places dispute by pressing the interests of both Ottoman sovereignty and all Ottoman Christians at the expense of maximal French and Russian demands. It was standing British policy, not his, to bolster Ottoman resistance to Russian demands. Palmerston, pugilistic as always, suspected the worst from an opponent and felt that the best way to end a crisis was to meet a threat with a counter-threat. The only way either can be blamed for the outbreak of the war is to argue that without them Britain would have readily reversed course and allowed Russia to use a unilateral threat of force to obtain enhanced, legalized influence over the Ottoman Christians and possibly aspects of Ottoman security policy to boot. Another view, which has had a few backers, is that certain Ottomans engineered the diplomatic crisis with duplicitous turns in the Holy Places dispute, provocative military and naval policies regarding restive Montenegro, and outright cheating during the celebrated Menshikov mission of March-May 1853, when Anglo-French diplomacy (not just Stratford's) helped stiffen the Forte's back to resist Nicholas's expanded demands.9 True or not, this does not eliminate Russian responsibilfa Brunnow's and Nesselrode's views and advice are summarized in John Shelton Curtiss, Russia's Crimean War (Durham: Duke University Press, 1979), 56-57, 60-61. 7 Curtiss, Russia's Crimean War, 40, expresses the extreme view (citing The Cambridge History of British Foreign Policy—no documentation here), that Napoleon wanted a war with Britain as his ally and then discusses the Holy Places conflict in this vein. 8 Emile Bourgeois, Manuel historique de politique etrangere (3 vols., Paris, 1892-1905), 11:36; J. A. R. Marriott, The Eastern Question. A Historical Study in European Diplomacy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1917), 231-32; Kingsley B. Martin, The Triumph of Lord Palmerston. A Study of Public Opinion in England before the Crimean War (New York: The Dial Press, 1924), 85-102, 117-33, 143-54; R. W. Seton-Watson, Britain in Europe, 7759-1914 (New York: MacMillain, 1937), 6; Monnier, Etude sur les origins de la guerre de Crimee (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1977), 19; Norman Rich, Why the Crimean War. A Cautionary Tale (Hanover/London: University Press of New England, 1985), 8. 9 Sprinkled throughout some of the Russian and also Swedish documents and

THE HOLY SEPULGHER AND THE ORIGIN OF THE CRIMEAN WAR

495

ity for escalating its defensive diplomacy and ill-defined claims to a protectorate over the Ottoman Orthodox population into unilateral armed threats, which were seen by the other great powers as an unacceptable infringement upon Ottoman sovereignty. In both 1828 and 1877, Britain (and Austria) allowed Russia to initiate hostilities against the Ottoman Empire and waited to see the peace demands before deciding whether to intervene in the latter's favor. This time however, the British (and French and Austrians) backed the Forte's demands that Russia end her unopposed occupation of the Principalities even before the Turks fired the first shots. All of this is part and parcel of the Eastern Question in the nineteenth century and provides the context for understanding just how far out on a limb Nicholas went in 1853.10 Another view blames the Austrians and other Germans for being fence sitters instead of letting the Russians know from the start that the occupation of the Principalities was ultimately unacceptable. According to this view, their behavior fed the illusion that Russia might have at the least Vienna's benevolent neutrality in case of war. l ' This type of argument, blaming the cop for the robbery, hardly lets the robber off the hook, and gives no clue as to his motive. Finally, Winfried Baumgart, among others, has recently argued from Nicholas Fs written plans of early 1853 that the Holy Places dispute was a "mere camouflage" to justify his goal of overthrowing and partitioning the Ottoman Empire.12 While there is some evidence to support this proposition, it neglects the normal contingency of the emperor's aggressive military, naval, and partition plans against the Ottomans, going back to the 1830s, which he did not set in motion under other stimuli, and does not even try to explain why

later historical works are insinuations of the responsibilities of various Ottoman figures, including Aali Pasha for the deceitful firmans, Fuad Pasha for promoting anti-Russian Balkan policies and then rubbing Russian diplomatic defeats in their noses, Mehmed Ali as leader of a "war party" in 1853, and even K. Musurus, the Ottoman Turkish Minister to London, who fed his home government Palmerston's positions as if they were Britain's. See Ann Pottinger Saab, The Origins of the Crimean Alliance (Charlottesville, University oppress of Virginia, 1977), 67-72, 124-26; Goldfrank, Origins, 86, 98, 104, 108, 132, 135-36, 192, 206. 10 Barbara Jelavich, Russia's Balkan Entanglements, 1806-1914 (Cambridge UK et al.: Cambridge University Press, 1991), is as good as any analytical summary of these matters. " Baumgart, Crimean War, 58. 12 Baumgart, Crimean War, 25~26.

496

DAVID GOLDFRANK

he thought of operationalizing such plans at a certain moment in this particular crisis.13 The general background for the tsar's edginess in 1852 is clear enough: a standing counterrevolutionary urge to control political developments in Ottoman southeastern Europe, which he hoped to treat, to use modern parlance, as a "near abroad"; anger and fear over the British naval squadron's brief passing of the Dardanelles during the 1849 Polish-Hungarian refugee crisis;14 and apprehension due to Louis Bonaparte's acquisition of his uncle's imperial mantle.13 Likewise, Vienna's parallel anger with Ottoman military-naval assertiveness in the Adriatic,16 presumed (and vastly overestimated) British opposition to Bonapartism, and the advent of the Aberdeen ministry in London can explain why Nicholas would think that at the end of 1852 the political climate was ripe for a daring Russian move against the Ottoman Empire.17 A close look at the sources, however, shows that no one was giving Nicholas any grounds to expect a free hand in the Eastern Question in return for his anti-Bonapartism.18 Indeed, Brunnow and Nesselrode, both of whom could speak the language of Europe's conservatives, tried to dissuade Nicholas from pursuing policies that would unite England and France behind the Ottomans.19 But that is precisely what the Russian emperor did. Why? When I first examined this question on the basis of the published and unpublished sources in the late 1980s and early 1990s, I was struck by the peculiar role of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in the development of the crisis. Contrary to the standard view, the 13 G. H. Bolsover, "Nicholas I and the Partition of Turkey", Slavonic and East European Review 27 (1948): 115-45; Rossiiskii Gosudarstvennyi Arkhiv VoennoMorskogo Flota (RGAMF) f. 19, op. 1, d. 276b (Admiral Evfimii Vasilevich Putiatin Memo with Nicholas I gloss, 8/20.VII 1850); f. 19, op. 4, d. 92 (Plans for a descent on Istanbul by Admiral Mikhail Petrovich Lazarov, 1830s, and Captain Shestakov, 1850). 14 Vernon Puryear, England, Russia, and the Straits, 1844-1856 (Berkeley, University of California Press 1931), 162-80; Goldfrank, Origins, 70-71. 13 Curtiss, Russia's Crimean War, 48-57; Goldfrank, Origins, 102-04. 16 Bernhard Uenckel, Osterreich und der Krimkrieg. Studien zur Politik der Donnaumonarchie in den Jahren 1852-1856 (Lubeck/Hamburg 1969), 64ff. 17 Curtiss, Russia's Crimean War, 60, which too uncritically accepts the Russia's official position. 18 Goldfrank, Origins, 102-04, 110. 19 See above, Note 5.

THE HOLY SEPULGHER AND THE ORIGIN OF THE CRIMEAN WAR

497

French and Catholics were not alone in activating the Holy Places dispute in 1850.20 At the same time the French escalated the confessional conflict dispute over the Holy Places with a demand that everything in Catholic possession in 1740 be restored, including the right to repair the cupola of Holy Sepulcher to its pre-1808 condition,21 the Greeks were insisting on the right to renovate it as they had in 1811 after a fire in 1808.22 Russia had already consciously coupled support of the Greeks in the Holy Places with general political influence in Ottoman Empire,23 and the official position from St. Petersburg was that any change in this status quo was inadmissible, a stance unacceptable to the French.24 As the confessional bickering and the cautious Ottoman delaying tactics dragged on, early in 1851 Nesselrode explained Russia's position to his minister in Istanbul in no uncertain terms, underscoring precisely the importance of the Holy Sepulcher: The day that the emperor sees the cult or the Church persecuted or humiliated, be it in the Holy City or elsewhere, as the result of the suggestions of outsiders or with political aims in mind that we care not to fathom, His Majesty will not recoil before any consideration or any sacrifice to take up with pride the defense of his co-religionists and to insist upon the maintenance of the immunities which they have enjoyed since time immemorial, and among which control over the Holy Sepulcher and precedence in the celebration of offices may not be assaulted without a dreadful injustice.23 20 It is hard to find an account of the origin of the Crimean War, which does not make the French side out to be the initial and chief culprit here. Curtiss goes so far as to take his account of the Holy Places conflict from the Russian Foreign Ministry "Precis historique de la question des Saintes-Lieux," Andrei Medarovich Zaionchkovskii, Vostochnyaia voina 1853-1856 gg. Prilozheniia (2 vols., 3 suppl., St. Petersburg: Ekspeditsiia zagotovleniia gosudarstvennykh bumag, 1908-13) 1.93, and from another Russian Foreign Ministry official, Alexandre Jomini, Diplomatic Study on the Crimean War (1852-1856) (orig. Russian, 1863; London: 1882), neither of which is completely reliable. 21 Correspondence Respecting the Rights and Privileges of the Latin and Greek Churches in Turkey, 1853-1856 (CORR) (ed. Great Britain, Foreign Office, 8 vols., London: 1853-56), 1.7, Incl. 2 (Aupick to Aali, Note Verbale, 28.V 1851). 22 Arkhiv Vneshnei Politiki Rossiiskoi Imperii (AVPRI), f. Glavnyi arkhiv (GA) V-A2, op. 181, 1851, d. 521 (Titov to Nesselrode, 6/17.VI 1851), 487ff. 23 AVPRI, f. Kantserliarii, op. 469, 1850, d. 38, 287-92 (Otchety Aziatskogo departamenta). 24 AVPRI, f. GA V-A2, op. 181, 1850, d. 520, 282-85 (Nesselrode to Titov, 13/25.VIII 1850); AVPRI, f. Posol'stvo v Konstantinopole (Pos. Konst). op. 517, 1851, d. 213, 20-24 (Nesselrode to Titov, confid., 9/21.1 1851). 25 AVPRI, f. Pos. Konst, op. 517, 1851, d. 213, 20-24 (Nesselrode to Titov, confid. 9/21.1 1851).

498

DAVID GOLDFRANK

The Porte, backed by the British, generally favored the Ottoman Orthodox in these issues, but in the fall of 1851 the French convinced the Porte to recognize the validity of their 1740 treaty as a basis of negotiations. The Russians in turn prepared to counter with the 1774 Treaty of Kuchuk Kainarji,26 which the Russians, but only the Russians, always interpreted as granting protection over the Ottoman Orthodox.27 St. Petersburg thereupon communicated officially to the Sultan in the tsar's name that any alteration, even reexamination, of this status quo would be a violation of the "intimate alliance" between the two sovereigns.28 If the Ottomans persisted, Nicholas, according to Nesselrode's special letter to his minister in Istanbul, Vladimir Pavlovich Titov, was ready to close down the Russian mission in Istanbul.29 Does this mean that the tsar was really thinking of war with the Ottoman Empire at this time? One piece of evidence to support this interpretation is that he summoned home Brunnow to elicit from him, inter alia, ideas on reopening talks with the British on the partition of Turkey—something the envoy argued was a non-starter, even as he complied with the wishes of his ultimate boss.30 On the other hand, the emperor was simultaneously trying to work out a deal directly with Paris.31 His loose talk with the French envoy to St. Petersburg over the division of the Ottoman Empire were it to fall, as well as the Brunnow memorandum, indicate that the tsar

26 AVPRI, f. Pos. Konst, op. 517, 1851, d. 213, 175-78 (Nesselrode to Titov, 19/31.VII 1851). 27 Harold Temperley, The Foreign Policy of Canning, 1822-1827. England, the NeoHoly Alliance, and the New World (London, 1925/Hamden CN: Archon, 1966), 329-30; Paul W. Schroeder, Mettemich's Diplomacy at its Zenith, 1820-1823 (Austin, University of Texas Press, 1962), 187. 28 CORK 1.15, Incl. and AVPRI, f. Pos. Konst, op. 517, 1851, d. 213, 233-36ob. (Nicholas to Abdulmecid, undated), originally noted with AVPRI, f. GA V-A2, op. 181, 1851, d. 521, 466-468ob. (Nesselrode to Titov 13/25.IX 1851). 29 AVPRI, f. Pos. Konst., op. 517, 1851, d. 213, 231-32ob. (Nesselrode to Titov, reserved, 13/25.IX 1851). 30 Rossiiskii Gosudarstvennyi Arkhiv Drevnykh Aktov (RGADA), razr. III. d. 115, 41-42ob. (Nesselrode to Brunnow, private, 12/24.VII 1851), razr. Ill, d. 120, l-30ob. (Brunnow's report, dated 16/28.X 1851, with a penciled claim that it was read by the emperor in January 1853). 31 AVPRI, f. GA VA-2, op. 181, 1851, d. 521, 487ff. (Nesselrode to Titov, 8/20.XI 1851); Fedor Fedorovich Martens, Receuil des traites conclus par la Russie avec les puissances etrangeres (15 vols., St. Petersburg: Impr. du Ministere des voies de communication [A. Bohnke], 1874-1909), XV:250-251 (citing Kiselev to Nesselrode, 28.XI/10.XII 1851).

THE HOLY SEPULCHER AND THE ORIGIN OF THE CRIMEAN WAR

499

was willing to convert all of his differences with France and Turkey into a partition of the latter in connivance with the former.32 Early in 1852, the Ottomans, having been blocked by France and Russia from anything approaching disinterested, honest work in a "mixed commission" with Catholic and Orthodox representatives, produced their own compromise solution regarding some of the Holy Places. Significantly, it lacked anything definite concerning the cupola.33 This caused the Russian legation to pressure the Ottomans to pull back slightly from their promise to the French to grant the Catholics a set of keys to the Church of the Nativity—the second most important shrine—and allow them to officiate there.34 Then, with the aid of naval threats, the French persuaded the Porte to reject a Russian concession over the Bethlehem keys in return for complete Orthodox control of the Jerusalem cupola.33 Meanwhile official Russian legation communiques, in accord with instructions from St. Petersburg, were interpreting doctored Ottoman charters and statements as solemn promises to the tsar to observe a status quo that included such control.36 The impasse continued throughout most of 1852. In October the fractious Ottomans boldly needled both sides, allowing the Greeks only what they wanted in Bethlehem—that is, nothing concrete for the Latins—but granting to the Latins their minimal demands for the Jerusalem cupola, a promise to consult with them too.37 Both the French and the Russian representatives were furious, but at this point French and Russian policy diverged sharply. The French 32 Edmond Bapst, Les origines de la guerre de Crimee. La France et la Russie de 1848 a 1854 (Paris, 1912), 243. 33 CORK 1.42, 44, Incl, 46-48. (Canning to Palmerston, 18.XII 1851; Turkish Commission Report, by 31.XII 1851; Canning to Palmerston, Granville, 7, 17, 25.1 1852). 34 AVPRI, f. GA V-A2, op. 181, 1852, d. 522, 141-46 (annex to Ozerov to Nesselrode, 24.HI/5.IV 1852); Archive du Ministere des affaires etrangeres (AMAE), Correspondance politique (GP), Turquie 308, 166-172 (annex to Sabatier to Turgot, 6.V 1852). 35 AVPRI, f. GA V-A2, op. 181, 1852, d. 522, 200-04ob. (Ozerov to Seniavin, 4/16.VI 1852, tres confid.); CORR 1.67, 75 (Rose to Malmesbury, 7, 20.IX 1852). 36 AVPRI, f. GA V-A2, op. 181, 1852, d. 522, 110-15, 783-89 (Abdiilmecid to Nicholas I, dated 29.1710.11 1852, incl. with Titov to Nesselrode, 4/16.III 1852; text as "Projet de lettre"; Nesselrode to Titov, Instruction and lettre partic., 19.II/2.III 1852). 37 CORR 1.73 (Finn to Malmesbury, 27.X 1852); AMAE CP Turquie 310, 146-147 (La Valette to Drouyn de Lhuys, 27.XI 1852); AVPR GA V-2, f. 181, 1852, d. 522, 477-498ob. (Bazili to Ozerov, 7/19.X 1852).

500

DAVID GOLDFRANK

continued their threats in Istanbul, but, under British pressure, disavowed them in Paris.38 On the other hand, when the Russians in Istanbul treated British attempts to mediate as siding with the French and dramatized their legation's loss of influence, they had the full backing of St. Petersburg.39 Nicholas reacted to the report of loss of influence, which he received on December 8, with a grave warning—so grave that Nesselrode immediately told Brunnow to inform the British that Russia would take dramatic steps if the next set of dispatches from Istanbul did not contain favorable reports concerning the cupola. Furthermore, if they wished to "to prevent a serious conflagration in the Orient," they must tell their charge "to support us and not be the advocate of French pretensions."40 What is this, if not a threat of war with France and the Ottoman Empire (not to say Britain too, were it to back its charge) over a church dome? Meanwhile the Ottomans had resolved in late November to compromise over the Bethlehem keys, but nothing further concerning the cupola—an act which the Russian legation reported as manifest and admitted Ottoman cheating of the tsar.41 The tsar learned of this decision on 21 December. Five days later word came that not only had the Latins obtained their keys, but the Greeks were banned from protesting and were appealing to Russia for help. The Ottomans admitted they were playing with fire.42 38

AMAE CP Angliterre 686, 116-17, 259-61 (Walewski to Turgot, 29.VII 1852, Walewski to Drouyn de Lhuys, 14.XII 1852); Public Record Office (PRO), Foreign Office (FO) 78/893, No. 45 (Rose to Malmesbury, confid., 10.VIII 1852), not published in CORR; CORR 1.77, 81-82, 86-87 (Malmesbury to Rose, 14, 21.XII 1852; Rose to Malmesbury, 16, 18.XII 1852; Cowley to Malmesbury, 19.XII 1852). 39 AVPRI, f. Kants., op. 469, 1852, d. 39, 35-37, 63-4 (Ozerov to Seniavin, 4/16, 14/26.VIII 1852); f. GA V-A2, op. 181, 1852, d. 522, 531-536, 557-561ob. (Ozerov to Nesselrode (two), 15/27.XI 1852, received 26.XI/8.XII). 40 RGADA, razr. Ill, d. 120, 69-71 (Nesselrode to Brunnow, lettre partic., 27.XI/9.XII 1852). 41 AMAE CP Turquie 310/41 (Lavalette to Drouyn de Lhuys, 5.XII 1852); AVPRI, f. GA V-A2, op. 181, 1852, d. 522, 593-611 (Ozerov to Nesselrode, with Nicholas I's glosses, 18/30.XI 1852, received 9/21.XII 1852). Pace a common misconception, the Greeks retained their keys too. Brison D. Gooch, "A Century of Historiography on the Origins of the Crimean War," American Historical Review 60.3 (Oct. 1956) 35; Rich, Why the Crimean War, 22; Curtiss, Russia's Crimean War, 47. 42 AVPRI, f. GA-V2, op. 181, 1852, d. 522, 665-82 (Ozerov to Nesselrode, reservee, 1/13.XII 1852; Patriarch Germanos to Ozerov, to Holy Synod, 29.XI/11.XII 1852). The Russian charge Aleksandr Ozerov placed dramatic, if improbable words in the mouths of two of the top Turks—words which indicate a need for a study of the genre of the Russian diplomatic dispatch of that time: "I know I am taking

THE HOLY SEPULCHER AND THE ORIGIN OF THE CRIMEAN WAR

501

The twenty-sixth of December was the fateful day when Nicholas, upon receiving that dispatch, resolved: "... there is nothing more to review, and we must immediately make our preparations; God will decide the rest; we can no longer stay where we are."43 Moves to activate the IV and V Corps, the Black Sea Fleet, and a special mission to the Sultan followed immediately.44 That in the tsar's mind the Holy Places dispute, as well as the Forte's scrape with Montenegro (if the Turks committed atrocities there), could bring on war is clear from his 17 February commentary to a memorandum from the British Foreign Secretary, Lord John Russell.45 Following the tsar's strict instructions, Russia's extraordinary mission under Prince Aleksandr Sergeevich Menshikov expanded the demand regarding the cupola to insist on an overall guarantee, which the Porte interpreted as a Russian claim to protect the interests of not only the Orthodox pilgrims in the Holy Land, but also the Orthodox subjects of the sultan. Since, under Stratford de Redcliffe's clever guidance, satisfactory compromises on all the Holy Places was achieved, the Greeks enjoying in theory the greater say in the repair of the cupola, the only outstanding issue was the guarantee demanded by Russia.46 From the time Menshikov and the new Ottoman foreign minister Reshid Pasha squared off over the terms of a note the sultan was supposed to send to the tsar, through all of the "projects", "expedients", "ultimata", "notes", "modifications", a dangerous path, which will lead, perhaps to an abyss, but if there is still any future for Turkey, this is the only route that can save her" (the Foreign Minister Fuad Pasha). "The final hour of Turkey has thus struck, since I myself have been pushed to appoint an imbecile and a rogue as leaders, and I am reduced, due to other causes, to dare to play the desperate part, which they propose for me" (the Sultan). 43 AVPRI, f. GA V-A2, op. 181, 1852, d. 522, 691 (in Ozerov to Nesselrode, 4/16.XII, 1852, very secret, received 14/26.XII 1852). 44 The sources from the military, naval, diplomatic, court archives, as well as Menshikov's diary, all show that the decision to launch the descent on the Bosphorus was taken on the 26th, that to mobilize the southern army by the 27th, and that to send the mission by the 30th. (Goldfrank, Origins, pp. 109-110.) to Russell was responding to reports of Britain's minister in St. Petersburg, Hamilton Seymour, of his Conversations with Nicholas I and the latter's partition feelers, as well to Russia's overall stance on the Eastern Question. Nicholas noted two other hypothetical pretexts for war: any Ottoman attempt to introduce religious liberty for Christians (i.e., give Catholic or Protestatant missionaries a free hand among the Orthodox) or the security threat of another power's occupying the Bosphorus, "can bring war." (Zaionchkovskii, Prilozheniia 1.99 (Russell to Seymour, 9.II 1853).) 46 AMAE CP Turquie 312, 325-26 (Lacour to Drouyn de Lhuys, 7.V 1853, Annex 2).

502

DAVID GOLDFRANK

and "examens" or "(violent) interpretations" of such "modifications", which criss-crossed Europe between the last phase of the Menshikov Mission in May, down to the start of the shooting in October, the constant bone of contention remained the "subjects of the Porte."47 In other words, the linkage of the Holy Places to Russian claims of protection of the Ottoman Orthodox remained the central issue over which neither side would back down until the Ottomans decided to use their mobilized army to attack the Russian positions in occupied Wallachia. One further question remains. If this war and its 700,000-900,000 deaths were set off by Nicholas I's anger at the Porte's failure to satisfy Russian demands regarding the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, did this shrine represent for him more than merely Russia's prestige on the line, as the self-proclaimed protector of Ottoman Christians? There is some evidence that it did. Richard Wortman, in his terrific study of the semiotics of Russian monarchy, noted that Nicholas I, even before he was emperor, had a direct hand in the plans to restore the Church of the Resurrection at New Jerusalem (Novyi lerusalim) Monastery on the basis of the Jerusalem original, and continued this interest during his reign. Indeed Nicholas can be said to have been a special patron of the artist M. N. Vorob'ev, who, on the former's suggestion, visited Jerusalem, drew plans of the original, as it was then, and made several paintings of it for the imperial family.48 Beyond Wortman's suggestion, there is further evidence that the Holy Sepulcher held of more than mere antiquarian and artistic significance to Nicholas and his sense of dynasty and duty. Empress Elizabeth, who named Nicholas's grandfather Peter (III) heir and raised Nicholas's father Paul as her own child, financed the construction of the likeness of the Holy Sepulcher (grab Gospodind).^ Paul visited the monastery with his entire family in 1797, the birth-year of Nicholas, the son whom Paul was going to be able to raise him47

I attempted to follow all of this in Origins, 151-226. Richard Wortman. Scenarios of Power. Myth and Ceremony in Russian Monarchy (2 vols. Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1995-9?) 1:382, citing P. N. Petrov, "M. N. Vorob'ev i ego shkola." Vestnik iayichnykh iskuustv 8 (1888):297-303, and Elena Andreeva Borisova, Russkaia arkhitektura vtoroi poloviny XIX veka (Moscow: Nauka, 1979), 95. 49 Kratkoe istoricheskoe opisanie Stavropigal'nago Voskresenskago Novy lerusalim imenuemago monastyria (Moscow: tip. V. Got'e, 1852), 13-14. 48

THE HOLY SEPULCHER AND THE ORIGIN OF THE CRIMEAN WAR

503

self (his hated mother had raised Alexander and Constantine).50 Nicholas in turn visited the monastery in 1818, the year his oldest son Alexander (II) was born.51 This was no normal birth of just another "tsar's son" (tsarevich) or grand duke, but a capital event, celebrated in Moscow, as it likely insured the survival of the dynasty.52 At this moment, regardless of whether Nicholas eventually would succeed his brother Alexander I to the throne, the baby Alexander appeared in line for the succession, and Nicholas thus was to be at least the father of an emperor, if not emperor himself. Nicholas took this birth most seriously and displayed the same sense of trust in Divine Providence and God's will that he exhibited when he was being rather diplomatically foolish in 1853.53 With the birth of Alexander, Nicholas wrote to the archimandrite of the New Jerusalem monastery: Not knowing what Providence has determined for me, joy or bitterness, I have firmed up my soul with a vow, and I have awaited God's will with submission. It was his pleasure to bless me with the happiness of a father. . . . This humble offering of a happy father, believing in the Almighty Father, that the most precious blessing is the fortune of the wife and son.

The younger Alexander, it should be noted, also visited and patronized the monastery several times before 1852, including once with his new wife Maria in 1841.54 In an earlier visit in 1837, he discussed the details of the modeling of the copy of the Holy Sepulcher with the influential religious scholar and Holy Sinod figure, Andrei Nikolaevich Murav'ev, who had catalogued the Holy Places in Judea.55 If the genuine interest of Nicholas I and his immediate family in New Jerusalem and its fidelity to the original can be considered established, it would be most interesting to ascertain whether Nicholas M

Kratkoe istoricheskoe opisanie, 60. Kratkoe istoricheskoe opisanie, 30-32. 02 Nikolai. K. Shil'der, Imperator Nikolai Pervyi: ego zhizn' i tsarstvovanie (2 vols., St. Petersburg: Izd. A. S. Suvorina, 1903), 1:112-14. 53 Goldfrank, Origins, 170, 235, from letters not to a priestly "father", but to the man whom Nicholas called, "father-commander", General Paskevich. 54 Kratkoe istoricheskoe opisanie, 62-63. 50 Kratkoe istoricheskoe opisanie, 16. Muravev's Puteshestvie po Sviatym mestam, published in 1832, when he was just twenty-six, caught the attention of Nicholas I and resulted in an appointment to the Procurator-General's office: Entsiklopedicheskii slovar' (84 v., 4 suppl.) (Leipzig and St. Petersburg, F. A. Brockhaus (Brokgauz) and I. A Efron, 1890; rpt. laroslavl, Terra-Terra, 1990-94), 39:188-89. 51

504

DAVID GOLDFRANK

I shared the view expressed in the detailed description of the monastery, dated 1852, and thus possibly seen by him before the initial mobilization, that the center of the model, Jerusalem's Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where Christ's passion and resurrection took place, is "the center of the entire world."56 At any rate, Nicholas's drawing a line in late 1852 precisely over the cupola of the original Church of the Holy Sepulcher seems to have been related to his personal and dynastic religiosity, bypassing Catherine the Great, but going back to Elizabeth's piety and to that of his father Paul, and continuing with the education of the new heir Alexander. Nothing like this fixation on a religious symbol touched off another of Russia's or any other power's war-going diplomacy in Europe's long nineteenth century. Russia's other Turkish wars were prompted either by brutal Ottoman responses to (equally brutal) Christian uprisings (1828, 1877) or by a change in the shared clientage relationship with the Porte, along with a loss in the Danubian Principality of a client society (1806), to use John LeDonne's term. In all three cases, Russia had great power alliances or agreements (in 1806 with Britain and Prussia; in 1828 with France and Britain, at least on the Greek question; in 1877 with Austria and Germany). Russia's other wars were fought for concrete assets (two against Persia, 1804-13, 1826~28; one against Sweden, 1808-09; one against Japan, 1904-05; also the Caucasus, Central Asian and Manchurian operations), or to prevent major, threatening shifts in the European balance of power (1799-1800, 1805, 1806-07, 1812-14 against France; 1914-17 against the Central Powers). These same sorts of goals figured in all of Russia's wars from even before Ivan III through 1796. The only remote analogies I can find for such a symbolic issue setting off a major war are the roles of the greased musket wad rumors in the Great India Mutiny and the election of Lincoln in the Southern secession and hence the US Civil War. These two, curiously, followed on the heels of the Crimean War and had as their background the rise of industrial capitalism and its threat to less dynamic orders. What makes these analogies intriguing is that they were civil wars, to all intent and purposes, started by adherents to an older order. This perhaps is also a key to Nicholas and

06

The idea is based on Psalm 73/74.12: "For God is my King of Old, working salvation in the midst of the earth." (Kratkoe istoricheskoe opisanie, 17.)

THE HOLY SEPULGHER AND THE ORIGIN OF THE CRIMEAN WAR

505

the origin of the Crimean War. As contemporary diplomats and others realized, with his demands on the Ottoman Empire, as set forth in the Menshikov Mission, Nicholas was seceding from the Concert of Europe and its ideological cover, which Alexander I had devised— the Holy Alliance—while he was escalating Russian claims to protect a huge, imagined client society within the Ottoman Empire.37 And it was over the repair of the cupola of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem that he plunged recklessly and rigidly into this diplomatic "blunder,"38 where his use of his military as diplomatic leverage resulted in Europe's costliest war between 1815 and 1914.

37 Paul W. Schroeder sees this secession as unintended: Austria, Great Britain and the Crimean War. The Destruction of the Concert of Europe (Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 1972), 29. 58 M. S. Anderson, The Eastern Question, 1774-1923 (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1966), 125, 131-32.

This page intentionally left blank

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM, AND THE END OF THE OLD REGIME Josh Sanborn On the first day of 1874, Tsar Alexander II issued the decree that introduced the last of the Great Reforms. In it, he announced that in his "constant solicitude for the well-being of Our Empire," he was changing the basis for military service throughout the realm. The burden of military service, he recognized, "lies presently only on the lower urban and peasant estates, and a significant portion of Russian subjects are freed from the responsibility that should be sacred for everyone in an equal measure." "Recent events have proven," he went on, referring to the Prussian victory over France, "that the strength of a state is not in the number of its troops alone, but is primarily in the moral and intellectual qualities of those troops. Those qualities only reach the highest stage of development when the business of defending the fatherland becomes the general affair of the people (narod\ when all, without distinction of title or status, unite for that holy cause."1 The decree on universal conscription was an important moment for modernizing officers. Prior to Alexander's decision, military reform in Russia had been a mixed bag. Dmitrii Alekseevich Miliutin (minister of war, 1861-81) had done his best to improve educational programs for officers and soldiers alike, to streamline an inefficient bureaucracy, and to decentralize field command. But universal conscription, the centerpiece of his reform agenda, had been postponed due to strong objections in the 1860s. Therefore, although they threatened to undermine the old regime bases of the army, Miliutin's early reforms were confined within the boundaries of the old system.2 Military reform was hindered by other factors as well. First, in 1870, as in 1850 and in 1750, military affairs remained the exclusive domain of the ruling house. Second, socio-political status determined one's

1

Polnoe sobmnie zakonov Rossiiskoi imperil. January 1, 1874 (#52982). Peter von Wahlde, "Military Thought in Imperial Russia" (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1966), 83. 2

508

JOSH SANBORN

place in the army—officers were expected to supply all initiative and moral leadership during battle, and the rank-and-file were treated as a mass, rather than as individuals, both in tactical considerations and in social terms. After 1874, however, the army definitively shifted course: professional expertise began to eclipse socio-political status as the basis for defining military worth; soldiers were called up individually as citizens rather than en masse on an estate basis; and military affairs became the task of the whole people. The 1874 reform was therefore much more than a central moment in the history of the army. It was, in many ways, the watershed moment of the late imperial period, the point in time when the Great Reforms stopped flowing and a new political formation emerged that shaped the flow of events that culminated in the Great War. I am not speaking here of the rather well-worn notion of a retreat from "reform" to "reaction" that occurred—according to one's tastes— either after the unsuccessful attempt to assassinate Alexander II in 1866 or the successful one in 1881. The shift I am addressing was one forward into the brave new world of "modern" European politics. So much time has been spent examining the ways that the Russian state attempted to dam up one variant of this political formation, the revolutionary socialist one, that the fact that it was enabling a separate variant of modern politics within the armed forces has been overlooked. The idea that the military had become fundamentally "subversive" in late imperial Russia has been gaining some ground as of late. Most this work has been concerned with only one aspect of the modernization of Russia's armed forces: the professionalization of Russia's staff officers. David Alan Rich has been especially emphatic and convincing in this respect, arguing that Russia's staff officers, led by Nikolai Nikolaevich Obruchev, became proponents of a quite anti-autocratic positivism over the course of the reform era. Using the relatively new disciplines of military statistics, military topography, and military intelligence, Obruchev's staff proved able to engage in "deep future-oriented thinking" about the next war, calculating potential foreign and domestic dangers by identifying and classifying human populations, railway networks, and geographical features. This staff calculus quickly supplanted the traditional modes of thinking within Russian military and foreign policy.3 After the Prussian victory in the Franco-Prussian War and the subsequent for-

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM

509

The professionalization of the Russian General Staff was, of course, tremendously important. The rise of professional military politicians fundamentally transformed Russian high politics, as military men entered the fray of late imperial politics with a vision of Russia's future and the capacity and willingness to engage in bare knuckles bureaucratic (and eventually even parliamentary) politics with other ministries.4 Their goals, methods, and political projects could no longer be accurately described simply as court politics. Indeed, it was precisely this group of military politicians that finally forced Nicholas IFs abdication and brought an end to a dynasty that most of them thought had crippled their motherland. Instead of focusing on the transformation in high politics, this article examines the impact of military modernization upon notions of the political subject in Russia at the mass level. In many ways, this was the more important shift that occurred, one that transformed the relationship between the individual and the state more broadly and fully. Far from being an unintended consequence of the European race to war, the fundamental change in the Russian political nexus was fully intended by its military authors. That military reformers were attempting to transform Russian society and Russian politics was apparent at the time. In response to this threat, conservatives forced Miliutin to shelve his radical plans— by the end of the 1860s, universal conscription was virtually a dead issue. Only the stunning victory of the Prussians over the French in 1870-71 reopened the question for debate, and even then it took the support of a prominent conservative aristocrat, Count Petr Aleksandrovich Valuev, for the issue to be raised again. Conservative resistance remained strong from 1870 to 1873. Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolaevich wrote of "terribly difficult" State Council sessions in which no progress at all was made.3 mation of the German Reich in 1871, the Main Staff decided that Germany was the primary threat. These military considerations helped to undermine the already uneasy alliance between the Romanovs and the Hohenzollerns, making the outbreak of hostilities between them in 1914 at least partially a self-fulfilling prophecy. (David Alan Rich, The Tsar's Colonels: Professionalism, Strategy, and Subversion in Late Imperial Russia (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998).) 4 See also William C. Fuller Jr., Civil-Military Conflict in Russia, 1881^1914 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985); idem, Strategy and Power in Russia, 1600~1914 (New York: Free Press, 1992). 5 W. Bruce Lincoln, The Great Reforms: Autocracy, Bureaucracy, and the Politics of Change in Impenal Russia (Dekalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press, 1990), 156.

510

JOSH SANBORN

Alexander himself was wary of the very real concerns that nobles might have with universal conscription, which would damage, perhaps fatally, their privileged status in Russian society. He warned Miliutin in December 1873 that there was "strong opposition to the new law" and that this opposition should not be lightly dismissed.6 Indeed, he shared some of the concerns of the conservative opposition, blanching at an early draft of the proclamation produced by Miliutin that ignored the autocracy and the estate system entirely. Alexander forced Miliutin to add the words "throne" and "subject" to the proclamation lest unwary readers come to the conclusion that the new army was the property of the nation rather than the autocrat.7 Even after the changes, however, the "modern" thrust of the new law was unmistakable. It was therefore little surprise that conservative nobles reacted with outrage to the 1874 proclamation, seeing in the law a devastating blow to their status and a direct repudiation of the "eternal" freedom from state service they had been granted in 1762. Despite Alexander's bold spin in the decree itself, where he stated that "our heroic aristocracy and other estates not subject to recruitment have expressed . . . their happy desire to share the burden of obligatory military service with the rest of the people," nobles instead tended to share the feelings of conservative publisher Prince Vladimir Petrovich Meshcherskii, who wailed that "one of the main rights of the Russian nobility was destroyed."8 The conservatives were right, of course. The new universal conscription law did indeed destroy the estate basis of the old army and further undercut the already weakened position of the Russian nobility. But the principles enshrined in Alexander's manifesto and in the law that followed destroyed much more than noble privilege; they helped to undercut the very basis of the Russian autocracy. The contradictions introduced by the new principles of service were profound. Alexander talked about the empire as his own patrimony, but talked about its defense as the "task of the people." He praised the heroic aristocracy, but introduced notions of civic equality and an

6 Cited in Forrestt A. Miller, Dmitrii Miliutin and the Reform Era in Russia (Knoxville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1968), 223. 7 Lincoln, The Great Reforms, 156. This was, of course, Miliutin's intent. 8 Cited in V. G. Chernukha, "Bor'ba v verkhakh po voprosam vnutrennei politki tsarizma (seredina 70-kh godov XIX v.)," Istoricheskie zapiski, no. 116 (1988), 169.

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM

511

erasure of title and privilege as the basis for military service. He was, in essence, trying to create a modern national army of citizensoldiers while maintaining his autocracy, indeed in order to maintain his autocracy. Alexander bought into the belief of his reformist advisors that Russia could only win a modern war with a modern army without fully realizing that modern armies were fundamentally connected to modern societies and modern, mass-mobilized polities. Within court circles, this fundamental realization was perhaps never made. Within the military, as we shall see shortly, thoughtful officers had been concerned about the question for decades. It was this group of reformist military intellectuals, quite small at first, that began laying the plans and institutionalizing the procedures and mindsets typical of "modern" politics. They started down this path as the result of their investigations into the nature of "modern war," a notion that would consume them throughout the latter half of the nineteenth century and well into the twentieth century. As this small group reproduced itself and expanded within officer and officer training circles, it provided several insights into the war of the future that were accepted across the military-political spectrum. In the late imperial period, though there were heated disputes between different factions of these intellectuals about the relative importance of Russian particularism and new technology on the modern battlefield, there was general agreement about what modern war would entail.9 By the turn of the century, for example, all military thinkers accepted that technological change had altered what was needed from a soldier during battle. Two changes were seen as the most important. First, breech-loaded rifled weapons replaced smooth bore muskets. This change made a tremendous difference in the accuracy, range, and possible rate of gunfire. Second, the range, power, and accuracy of field artillery increased sharply. Both of these technological developments forced military planners to abandon the traditional tactic of massing troops together—in the first place because it was no longer necessary to group soldiers together to produce deadly volleys, since they could achieve the same results when spread 9 Peter von Wahlde has the most complete account in English regarding the debates within the military about modern war in "Military Thought in Imperial Russia," (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1966). See also P. A. Zhilin, Russkaia voennaia my si": konets XIX-nachalo XXv. (Moscow: Nauka, 1982).

512

JOSH SANBORN

out, and in the second place because such a massing of troops rendered them especially vulnerable to destruction from artillery fire. The implication for military organization was profound. Leadership had to be radically decentralized, as troops scattered to man fronts hundreds of miles long. No longer could the courageous colonel or general lead his army in a charge to victory by personal visual example. This decentralization laid a heavy new burden not only upon junior officers but upon rank and file soldiers as well. Rather than simply aiming a musket in a general direction, firing when ordered, and then charging with bayonet fixed, the enlisted man now had to select his own targets, and occasionally even decide on his own when and how much to fire on the atomized battlefield of modern war. He also needed to be able to supply his own motivation, as the heroic figure of the high-ranking officer was now relegated to coordinating activities from behind the lines. The idea, still powerful among conservatives in the 1870s, that initiative and bravery could "never be developed among the rabble" had rather rapidly faded away by the turn of the century.10 More precisely, the view had succumbed to persistent attacks from military intellectuals. Dmitrii Miliutin, for one, argued as early as 1839 that (put in block quote) Troops are not simply a physical force, a mass, composed of the weapons of military operations, but are in addition a unity of people endowed with minds and hearts. Moral force plays an important role in all the considerations and calculations of field commanders, and it follows, for the latter, that it is insufficient merely to lead an army like a machine, he has to know how to lead like a person, how to attach the troops to himself, and how to strengthen his conventional power over them with his moral power.11 The notions of "moral force" and "moral power" introduced here require some explanation. By "moral," Miliutin meant not the capacity to distinguish between good and bad, but between honor and dishonor, courage and cowardice, strength and weakness. It referred to the capacity to display and exert one's will and to efface one's

10

These comments are Gen. Rostislav Fadeev's. R. A. Fadeev, Russkoe obshchestvo v nastoiashchem i budushchem (Chem nam byt'?), in Sobranie sochinenii, vol. 3 pt. 1 (St. Petersburg: V. V. Komarov, 1890 [1874]), 112. 11 Cited in P. A. Zaionchkovskii, Voennye reformy 1860-1870 godov v Rossii (Moscow: IzdatePstvo Moskovskogo Universiteta, 1952), 49-50.

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM

513

own self-interest in a time of danger. Miliutin sought to develop these qualities of character in officers and soldiers alike. In short, moral reform was to make soldiers strong, but not necessarily "good." In a modest way, it was Miliutin who brought the "Machiavellian Moment" to Russia, with his explicit linkage between virtu, military worth, and civic belonging.12 Miliutin's greatest success was to convince Alexander II of his vision, a success clearly seen in Alexander's declaration of the link between the moral qualities of the "people" and the strength of the state, a decidedly national and anti-autocratic formulation, for in old regimes war was the business of rulers, not of the national community.13 Even after Miliutin was replaced as war minister by Petr Semenovich Vannovskii in 1881, his project for moral reform remained, not only among staff officers led by Obruchev, but also among those involved with training soldiers throughout the empire. These instructors were led by Mikhail Ivanovich Dragomirov, who consistently stressed the moral aspect of soldiering and the need to make soldiers autonomous moral actors. Dragomirov had been recognized as the preeminent expert on military training in Russia since the 1860s, when he had argued in an article entitled "The Impact of the Spread of Rifled Weapons on the Training and Tactics of Troops" that rifles had "raised the question of respect for individuality" and were clearly "hostile" to massed troops. As a result, the task of military instructors was to lead soldiers so that they not only understood their specialized training, but also remained "energetic and sensible people."14 Dragomirov constantly repeated his call to pay attention to the moral strength and individuality of soldiers straight through the end of the century, publishing his widely used Textbook on Tactics in 1879, becoming the strongest voice on training in Russia in the latter half of the nineteenth century, and gaining an international reputation.10 12 The notion of the "Machiavellian Moment" is developed in J. G. A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975). 13 Peter Paret, Understanding War: Essays on Clausewitz. and the History of Military Power (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), 41, 44. 14 M. I. Dragomirov, "Vliianie rasprostraneniia nareznogo oruzhiia na vospitanie i taktiku voisk," in Sbornik original'nykh i peredovyhh statei, 1858~1880, 2 vols. (St. Petersburg: Tip. V. S. Valashev, 1881), vol. 1, 31. '' On status in Russia, see von Wahlde, "Military Thought in Imperial Russia," 117-22; Bruce Menning, Bayonets Before Bullets: The Imperial Russian Army, 1861-1914 (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1992), esp. chapter 1,

514

JOSH SANBORN

What we see here, both in discussions among instructors and in the institution of universal military conscription, is a kind of nonliberal individualism. The relationship between the state and the individuals living within its borders had undergone a dramatic change with the proclamation of the universal service manifesto in 1874. The principle that all able-bodied men had a duty individually to the state was at once liberating, for neither caste nor village now theoretically mediated this relationship, and confining, because this relationship was involuntary and coerced.16 This was a new credo of state-sponsored individualism, grounded in state coercion, and linked to the defense and interests of the narod. I call this credo nationalism, and so did many tsarist military planners.17 Nationalism, of course, was difficult to reconcile with autocracy: the former was a mass political doctrine, the latter was not. Nationalism, even of the type espoused by fairly cautious and upstanding members of the state bureaucracy and General Staff, simply did not correspond to a political vision in which the emperor could talk blithely about "Our Empire" in the royal "We" as he created a million-man conscript army to face off against the new German Reich. If the tsars were generally oblivious to this problem, military planners were not, and they scrambled to do what they could to create a modern society and modern polity before it was too late. They soon learned that it was one thing to talk about a nation, but quite another to actually "build" one. This was the central, soul-wrenching dilemma faced by military manpower experts in the late imperial period. They truly believed that only a united modern nation could prevail in the looming European war, but they knew that Russia was neither united nor a modern nation. As military men, these intellectuals and politicians naturally looked to "militarization" as the means by which the Russian populace could be made into "The Army of D. A. Miliutin and M. I. Dragomirov." On international reputation, see Azar Gat, The Development of Military Thought: The Nineteenth Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 139-40. 16 See Josh Sanborn, "Conscription, Correspondence, and Politics in Late Imperial Russia," Russian History/Histoire Russe 24:1-2 (Spring-Summer 1997), 27-40. 17 I have made the argument elsewhere that nationalism is best understood as a specific ideology that structures mass politics around the notion of a territorialized and sovereign "people" rather than as the maturation of an ethnic "consciousness." It is this sort of nationalism that I am referring to here. See Josh Sanborn, "The Mobilization of 1914 and the Question of the Russian Nation: A Reexamination," Slavic Review 59:2 (Summer 2000), 267-89.

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM

515

citizen-soldiers. By militarization, they had in mind a fairly stable set of ideas: first, of course, they intended that the whole male populace should learn military technique. More important, however, was the inculcation of a national consciousness, a sense of participation, of belonging, and of loyalty. They would have fully agreed with Michael Geyer's insightful argument that militarization "does not 'interrupt' or 'disrupt,' but it compresses processes of community and nation-building under the dictates of scarcity."18 Building unity with scarce resources for national cohesion was exactly what military intellectuals were trying to do. Officers would also have agreed with Geyer that militarization was "the contradictory and tense social process in which civil society organizes itself for the production of violence,"19 and that the process had to take place both inside and outside of military institutions. Miliutin had been clear on the potential citizen-building role of the military, saying that "general obligatory participation in military service, uniting in the ranks of the army men of all estates and all parts of Russia, presents the best means for the weakening of tribal differences among the people, the correct unification of all the forces of the state, and their direction towards a single, common goal."20 The army was to become the "school" of the Russian nation.21 The role of civilian institutions in preparing soldiers was equally obvious. Military men were painfully aware that creating a capable soldier "from a formerly peaceful citizen" was "completely impossible," during their short period of military service.22 As Colonel Andrei Georgievich Elchaninov urged, the "preparation for war must come from all comers, with the effort of everyone, and with all the moral and material strengths of the state . . . we must prepare for war not only in the purely military sense but also from the point of view of society, from the point of view of politics, and finally, in the broad economic sense."23

18 Michael Geyer, "The Militarization of Europe, 1914-1945," in The Militarization of the Western World, ed.John Gillis (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1989), 79. 19 Ibid. 20 Cited in Robert F. Baumann, "Universal Service Reform and Russia's Imperial Dilemma," War and Society 4:2 (September 1986), 31. 21 Aleksandr Neznamov, Oboronitelnaia voina (teoriia voprosa), chast' 1: strategiia (St. Petersburg: Izd. Nik. akad. Gen. shtaba, 1909), 219. 22 E. I. Martynov, Strategiia v epokhu Napoleona I i v nashe uremia (St. Petersburg: Voennaia tipografiia, 1894), 17. 2i A. G. Elchaninov, Vedenie sovremennykh voiny i boia (St. Petersburg. Tip. Skachkova, 1909), 12, 13. Emphasis in original.

516

JOSH SANBORN

Military intellectuals realized that military affairs were in the midst of a "spectacular change" in which new technologies and ideas of war were leading to a situation in which "the role of the state and people now equaled the role of the army."24 In all of these passages, we see the shared understanding that military reform was impossible without substantial moral reform. Both the traditionalists and the modernizers agreed that soldiers needed individual initiative, will power, and the capacity to make important judgments in the heat of battle. The modernizers simply added that they also needed the very latest in military technology in order to win, while the traditionalists thought that soldiers had to be put in touch with their national spirit and their rich heritage of obedience, valor, and staunchness. The fact that all military leaders agreed that soldiers needed to be autonomous moral actors for the army to be effective was a substantive change. As late as 1874, conservative generals were claiming that "soldiers, by themselves, apart from their officers, even the soldiers of Caesar or Suvorov, represent nothing more than a machine without a mechanic, not only in intellectual terms, but in moral terms as well."23 In contrast, Mikhail Galkin, writing in 1906, listed the exact moral qualities of the individual citizen-soldier that were "necessary for the army": 1) Devotion to the motherland to the point of selflessness, this is duty in relation to the motherland. The Russian people, from the midst of whom the main mass of our army is taken, since olden days has distinguished itself with its devotion to Russia (Rossiia) . . . Thus, these feelings are already natural to new recruits and . . . the task of military training consists simply in strengthening i t . . . This first point is the cornerstone for the building of a modern citizen-soldier. 2) Discipline . . . Woe to them who think that discipline is needed only in military service, and unfortunate is that people in which it does not arise! The difference between civilian and military discipline is in the strength of its application, not in its spirit or its basis . . . 3) Faith in the inviolability (sacredness) of orders . . . 4) Valor (decisiveness, fearlessness). . . 5) Resoluteness to bear the labors, cold, hunger, and deprivations of the soldier without complaint. In every man there is a reserve of hidden strength, which he displays in the significant, difficult moments of his life . . .

von Wahlde, "Military Thought in Imperial Russia," 212. Fadeev, Russkoe obshchestvo v nastoiashchem i budushchem, 115.

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM

517

6) A feeling of mutual assistance, that is, "I may perish, but I'll help my comrade." The development of this feeling in peacetime is facilitated by a feeling of belonging to a given military unit, reminiscences of shared battle burdens, a feeling of village solidarity (zemliachestva) . . .26

This was a profound moral shift. Soldiers now found the "reserve of hidden strength" within themselves, not from their officers. This reserve was human, military, and civic, shared by all the men of Russia. This moral stance had troubling political implications, especially given the clear link between military morality and civic morality that Galkin posited. As he would note again in 1914, "Army and society are not two worlds, are not two different systems of faith."27 But if all citizen-soldiers were morally equal and autonomous, how could a political community based upon estate distinctions and devotion to a hereditary monarch be sustained? This was the great silent question embedded in all projects of military-social reform in late imperial Russia, and it helps explain why Miliutin originally left a discussion of the "throne" to the side in early drafts of the universal conscription decree. A careful reader of Galkin in 1906 would also have noted the lack of any mention of the tsar in that crucial "cornerstone" ethic of devotion to the motherland. Galkin was not alone in his identification of the ethical necessities of the citizen, the soldier, and the citizen-soldier: when one of Mikhail Dragomirov's best students, future head of the Red Army's Supreme Military Council Mikhail Dmitrievich Bonch-Bruevich, summarized Dragomirov's teaching on the ethical demands for a soldier he listed the same six as Galkin, word for word, simply adding a seventh: "personal initiative."28 Vladimir Aleksandrovich Samonov perhaps best summed up the thinking of military reformers about the Russian conscript when he wrote that "our motherland possesses a healthy, strong people, which can give moral and valorous soldiers." True, he claimed, "they are barely developed, but they are moral, good and represent that soft wax from which it is possible

26 M. Galkin, "Novyi put' sovremennogo ofitsera [1906]," in 0 dolge i chesti voinskoi v rossiiskoi armii: sobmnie materialov, dokumentov i statei, ed. V. N. Lobov (Moscow: Voenizdat, 1991), 203-04. The quote in pt. 6 is taken from Dragomirov's famed "Soldier's handbook" (Soldatskaia knizhka). Emphasis in original. 2/ M. Galkin, "K poznaniu armii [1914]," in 0 dolge i chesti, ed. Lobov, 206. 28 M. D. Bonch-Bruevich, "Armeiskie dela i delishki [1911]," in 0 dolge i chesti, ed. Lobov, 223.

518

JOSH SANBORN

to fashion military men who are exceedingly valorous and patriotic to the point of selflessness."29 The notion that military reform, moral reform, and civic reform were inextricably connected was eagerly proselytized by military intellectuals. In some respects, though, it proved easier to reach recently literate conscripts with the message than it was to reach their officers. The task of reaching lower ranking military officers proved frustratingly difficult. Military reformers published dozens of articles in publications sent to unit libraries around the country articulating their program,30 but the anti-intellectual and apolitical ethos of the old regime officer corps meant that those publications apparently often remained unread by their intended audience.31 It should be emphasized, though, that this conventional wisdom about the unwillingness of the officer corps to read and reform has never been exhaustively studied and is based largely on a barrage of complaints by reformist officers who disparaged their colleagues.32 This certainly indicates that the reformers felt isolated among fellow officers. However, the number of times that outside observers happened upon modernizing officers who made this sort of complaint points as well to the fact that there was a substantial body of reform-minded men at all levels of the army.33 Even given the recalcitrance of many bored and lazy line officers, the increasing literacy of conscripts made it possible for military intellectuals to target soldiers directly. As part of this surge of literature for soldiers, the army published explicit texts about the meaning of military service and the military ethic for young men about to be drafted into the army. One such text began with an explanation of why military service was necessary, detailing the history of invasions 29 V. A. Samonov, "Mysli sovremennogo ofitsera [1907]," in 0 dolge i chesti, ed. Lobov, 230. 30 A fine selection of these articles are collected in 0 dolge i chesti, ed. Lobov. 31 Vladimir S. Littauer, Russian Hussar: A Story of the Imperial Cavalry, 1911-1920, reprint ed. (Shippensburg PA: White Mane Publishing, 1993 [1965]), 13-14. •w Bruce Menning, one of the few historians who has examined the performance of officers in addition to their mutual recriminations, is much less pessimistic about the quality of their training. See Menning, Bayonets Before Bullets: The Imperial Russian Army, 1861—1914 (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1992), 273. 33 See Sir Alfred Knox, With the Russian Army, 1914-1917, 2 vols. (London: Hutchinson, 1921), vol. 2, 452-53. See also the dislike and scorn for old-style officers among the junior officers in Fedor Stepun's artillery unit evident throughout his wartime letters: F. Stepun, Iz. pisem praporshchika artillerista (Prague: Plamia, n.d.).

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM

519

from the steppe and blaming Russia's vulnerability to the Pechenegs and the Tatars on lack of military training among men. The evil invader "killed him, took what he wanted, drove away the livestock, took away his wife if he liked her, and if he didn't, he raped, tortured, and killed her; he broke the heads of the children on the rocks." Only when "intelligent people came along" did Russia raise troops to protect itself. 34 The lesson was clear—the military was about protection of the family and local community.35 Only a man unconcerned about the honor of his daughters and his wife would oppose the army or refuse to enter it. Lest there be any confusion, the author went on to add that the reason for the Mongol invasion was that Russians "began to forget about enemies" and stopped learning military affairs, stopped listening to their elders. Why did the Mongols leave? "After three hundred years of slavery, the people understood that without soldiers it was impossible to live in peace for a single day, and began to maintain a permanent army."36 The young readers of this short tract were thus taught that the only thing that preserved their own well-being and the sexual purity of their women was a strong army, that an army was only strong when it was composed of men infused with the military ethic, and the precise set of attitudes and activities that constituted that ethic. Nor was this moral codes taught only to young soldiers or young men about to be drafted. It was also a constitutive part of the history that primary school students learned. One textbook detailed the career of the much lauded eighteenth century (g) General Aleksandr Suvorov and explained his success by pointing to his close relationship with soldiers, his loyalty, bravery, and capacity for self-sacrifice.37 In further instructions to primary school teachers, state officials urged schools to "develop character, harden energy and spiritual staunchness, develop national pride, inculcate a martial spirit and courage

34 V. Akulinin, ^nachenie voennoi sluzhby i obiazannosti soldata: molodym liudiam, vaemym na sluzhbu tsariu i otechestvu, 2nd ed. (Kherson: Gub. tip., 1913), 5. i;) Only secondarily was it about the production of glory for Russia, though this too was mentioned. "This standing army, under the leadership of our tsars, built a powerful Russia, and brought glory to Russian arms around the whole world. Your great-grandfathers smashed the French commander Napoleon." Ibid., 6. 36 Ibid., 5-6. 5 ' N. Gorbov comp., Russkaia istoriia dlia nachal'nykh shkol, 18th ed. (Moscow: Izd. Tikhomirova, 1914), 109-10.

520

JOSH SANBORN

and admiration for military prowess." A new generation "healthy in body and soul" would give to the future "not only physically and spiritually strong citizens, but also a completely prepared and reliable element for the army and worthy defenders of our fatherland."38 Thus, the most visible aspect of military reform outside of the halls of power was not rearmament or strategic modifications in Poland, but a concerted effort to morally reform society to make young men citizen-soldiers. This morality project, like others of its ilk, encountered serious resistance. Again the opposition came from social conservatives afraid of the implications of military reform. The resistance came to the very idea of mobilization (broadly construed) that lay at the heart of the military's project. At the center of this controversy in the years leading up to World War I were the "Young Turks," a group of young self-proclaimed modernizing reformers within the General Staff Academy who argued vociferously for moral and national regeneration and a reassessment of modern war that took more serious account of the latest changes in military technology. They loudly beat the warning drum of impending doom, painting a picture of Russian technological and moral backwardness that could only be overcome with a commitment to modern industry and a modern citizenry.39 In the words of Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Neznamov, the Russian army had "paid for its backwardness in arms and training in blood" during the Crimean, Turkish and Japanese wars and had to change its approach to the question of war-making as a result. Every soldier had to be trained to be ready for modern war, and this meant above all making sure that he knew how to use military technology effectively and to "use his own personal capabilities" in battle as well. The Russian army had to learn to win with "skill, not with numbers."40 38 Instruktsiia po obucheniiu, 3. See an almost identical list of qualitites for the same goal in the "Programma k voennoi sluzhbe v uchebnykh zavedeniiakh i vne ikh," 1910, Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi voenno-istoricheskii arkhiv (RGVIA) f. 2000, op. 2, d. 794, 1. 75. 39 On the Young Turks, see Menning, Bayonets Before Bullets, 206-21; William C. Fuller, Jr., Civil-Military Conflict in Imperial Russia, 1881^1914 (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1985), 201-04. The phenomenon of the "Young Turks" (mladoturki] in the Russian General Staff is a significant and underexplored one. The name itself, which referred to the group of secular, "modernizing" Turks who undermined the Ottoman Empire in its waning years, was explicitly subversive. +0 A. Neznamov, Trebovaniia, kotorye pred'iavliaet sovremennyi boi k podgotovke (obucheniiu) nachal'nikov i mass (St. Petersburg: Tip. Skachkova, 1909), 4, 7, 12.

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM

521

Across the board, military intellectuals in the early twentieth century were convinced that the individual personal qualities of their soldiers would be crucial in the coming war. But again, this was an authoritarian individualism. Even Neznamov, so enamored with the military power of the more open polities in Western Europe, made his vision of individualism clear. Victory was possible only with fully developed soldiers, it was true, but it would also come only if the army was "prepared and trained to fulfill the orders it is given."41 Had Neznamov lived in a militarized democracy, this might have been a viable position to take. But he lived and worked in an autocracy, and the conflict between orderly obedience and the demands of skill and training in such a system soon made itself felt. Neznamov and his Young Turk colleagues were involved in a complicated political battle both within and outside of the armed forces. The nature of the battle within the army itself is still a bit unclear. Some authors argue that the split was between "nationalists" and "westernizers," others that it was between "magicians" and "technologists." Most enigmatically, Norman Stone describes the fundamental split as one between "patricians" led by Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich and "praetorians" led by the minister of war Vladimir Aleksandrovich Sukhomlinov (1908-15).42 These categories, unfortunately, do not always precisely overlap. As a result, any explanation for the rancorous division within the ranks of military politicians (and that rancor is indisputable) must include a number of factors. Though more work on this question needs to be done, it seems most likely that the two most important factors were patronage politics (which is essentially what Stone describes) and the relative importance of a distinct national heritage in Russian military affairs. Whatever the nature of the split, the Young Turks ended up aligned against Sukhomlinov and paid the political price. Neznamov was told in no uncertain terms that he had to be more careful about what he was saying, and the Young Turks were disbanded and sent into virtual exile in the provinces. The chain of command and obedience was then made quite clear by the tsar, who declared that "military doctrine consists in doing everything which I order."43 41 42

Ibid., 7.

See von Wahldc, "Military Thought in Imperial Russia"; William C. Fuller, Strategy and Power in Russia, 1600-1914 (New York: Free Press, 1992); Norman Stone, The Eastern Front 1914-1917 (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1975). li Discussion of this incident and the quote from Nicholas II are in Menning, Bayonets Before Builds, 216.

522

JO§H SANBORN

This, of course, was not at all what the Young Turks thought about the situation, regardless of what they thought about the need for obedience on the part of enlisted men. In their view, military doctrine should have consisted in doing what the fruits of scientific, positivistic military scholarship indicated. Sukhomlinov too probably shared this view, but he was also growing uneasy about the political implications of giving that much initiative and authority to millions of common Russians. Thus, personally anxious about the prospect of public mobilization and aware that the tsar shared his concerns, Sukhomlinov refused to accept the argument of the Young Turks that mass warfare implied the necessity of mass politics.44 Simply put, conservatives thought that mass mobilization, which (in the words even of reformers) "puts a state into a situation similar to a raging torrent,"45 was lethal for an old regime state, while reformers thought that, in contemporary circumstances, a failure to conduct mass mobilization was lethal for any state. Both sides, surely, were correct, which led to a situation in which some military men were forced into opposition to the old regime, while others, like Sukhomlinov, learned to live with cognitive dissonance. Sukhomlinov's cognitive dissonance became political dissonance in 1914. In a matter of days, military officials conducted their first general mobilization and then wrested control over vast (and ever-expanding) regions of the empire. Army politics during the war reflected their vision of Russian society and Russian politics prior to the war. A number of recent studies have stressed the degree to which army leaders at Stavka (Army Headquarters) both undertook massive projects of social engineering during the war and tried to enlist members of the public sphere to help them.46 This military-civil alliance was of course contentious, but it was real. On numerous occasions, respected moderates and leading military officials joined forces in opposition to the tsar himself. The first break came in the summer of 1915, when Nicholas decided, in the midst of military catastrophe, that he would push aside military professionals and lead the 44

Fuller, Civil-Military Conflict in Russia, 242, 244. Aleksandr A. Svechin, Strategy, 2nd ed., ed. Kent D. Lee (Minneapolis: East View Publications, 1992 [1927]), 200. 46 See especially Peter Gatrell, A IVhole Empire Walking: Refugees in Russia During World War I (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999); Eric Lohr, "Enemy Alien Politics Within the Russian Empire During World War I," (Ph.D. diss., Harvard University, 1999). 45

MILITARY REFORM, MORAL REFORM

523

army himself while simultaneously dissolving the Duma. Moderate ministers, including Aleksei Andreevich Polivanov, Sukhomlinov's successor as minister of war, felt duty-bound to object. They went to Nicholas and declared that they had lost faith in the possibility "that we can usefully still serve you and our homeland." "Unless there is cooperation between the government and people," one minister added, "we shall not be able to conquer our enemies."47 When push came to shove, moderate nationalists, including most of the high-ranking members of the military, thought that the interests of "the homeland" took precedence over the interest of the autocrat. The centrist ministers were cashiered and replaced by court favorites, beginning the now infamous "ministerial leapfrog," which would paralyze the Russian government and polarize public opinion in the final months of the tsarist regime—but the nationalists in the high army command remained.48 Though moderates were pushed out of ministerial positions, Nicholas was completely unable to demobilize society and politics and still maintain the war effort. Russia had been mobilized by the war, and there was no possibility of turning back. Not only had men been mobilized into the army, but public society had rallied around warrelated causes as well, supplying through such institutions as the Red Cross and the Union of Towns and Zemstvos the philanthropic, medical, and social support necessary to conduct total war, while groups of private industrialists worked hand in hand with modern military men to remedy the initially catastrophic supply situation. Throughout the country "mobilization" was the watchword, as youth joined the Boy Scouts and junior military organizations in massive numbers, sporting groups were "militarized," and women joined the industrial workforce, took over the tilling of the fields, and even joined the army as soldiers and nurses. Thus, time was on the side of those favoring a popular, mobilized political community. Though loath to prepare a coup on their own for fear of inciting disorder, when disorder unhinged Petrograd in February 1917, military men did not hesitate to side with "the people" whose cause and empowerment they had been championing 41 Quotes are from W. Bruce Lincoln, Passage Through Armageddon: The Russians in War and Revolution, 1914-1918 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1986), 200. Emphasis added. 48 Ibid., 298.

524

JOSH SANBORN

for some time. As Nicholas rushed confusedly toward Petrograd to try to restore an order that had already been lost, his top military advisers, headed by General Alekseev, sat him down and explained the need for him to abdicate. When he continued to temporize, Alekseev asked all the front and army commanders to telegram their opinions about the future of the monarchy. The result was unanimous: in order to save the nation and the war effort, Nicholas should go.49 This vote of no-confidence was elicited by the Petrograd events, but the sentiments expressed by the army brass were long-standing ones. Nicholas was finally made to see what his grandfather had refused to see: a national army is ultimately incompatible with an autocratic regime. Far from being the paragons of "reaction" and the proponents of conservatism, military men in the late imperial period proved to be profoundly subversive. Ever since the Great Reforms, the centerpiece of military subversion was the institution of universal male conscription. It had been introduced explicitly in order to build both the national army and the national political community, and the old regime suffered directly as a result. In articulating a model of political community and military action centered on the moral individual and on notions of equal treatment under the law and equal status within the nation military intellectuals built a national discourse of power that effectively challenged the autocratic system during the last years of the Romanov dynasty. Over the course of World War I, as the nation and the court diverged dramatically, tsarist power effectively melted away. When military officials and moderate politicians looked for a model of order amidst the chaos in 1917, they looked to a national order largely built and articulated within the army rather than the autocratic order. In this sense, at least, Russia's military intellectuals were its most effective revolutionaries.

49 These events are most ably narrated in Orlando Figes, A People's Tragedy: The Russian Revolution 1891-1924 (London: Pimlico, 1996), 339-45.

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALICIA, 1914-15 Dr. Alexander V. Prusin Among the regions most severely devastated by World War I, Galicia occupies a top place. From the summer of 1914 to the fall of 1917, this densely populated Austrian province was a fluid battlefield as Austro-Hungarian and Russian armies rolled back and forth leaving behind a trail of blackened ruins. At the beginning of September of 1914, after a series of initial engagements, the Russian army occupied the provincial capital, Lwow,1 and a month later subjugated the entire eastern part of the province. Claiming to liberate the "Slavic brethren"—Ukrainians from the Austrian yoke and reunite Galicia—once a part of Kievan Rus'—with the Empire, the Russian military administration subjected the province to intensive "assimilation" campaign. Since the Russians doubted the loyalty of the population in Galicia, the occupation had disastrous consequences for all inhabitants. Arbitrary arrests, requisitions of grain and livestock, and mass deportations of potential opponents became a daily occurrence. One of the most brutal facets of Russian rule was persecution of the Jews, who were accused of sabotage, economic subversion, and active collaboration with the enemy. This essay examines the Russian military's perceptions and attitudes towards Galician Jews focusing on the causes of wartime antiSemitism. My position is that while the persecution of Jews undeniably stemmed from traditional negative images fostered, perpetuated, and shared by large segments of Russian society, the military regime's obsession with potential saboteurs in the front zone was as consequential. This vigilance against the "enemy within" stimulated reprisals and further exacerbated anti-Jewish animosities. In turn, the reprisals generated what can be dubbed "spirals of fear"—an atmosphere of pervasive siege mentality within the Russian military, which

' For the sake of consistency, all Galician localities are given in their contemporary pre-World War I Polish spelling.

526

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

perceived Jews as a formidable foe to be rendered harmless by all possible means. The first section of the essay briefly reviews Russian plans for Galicia on the eve of World War I. The second section addresses the perceptions of the Jews within various Russian military and police branches, and step-by-step anti-Jewish restrictions imposed by the military. The third and fourth sections deal with the expulsions and deportations of Jews as a response to the alleged threat they posed to the Russian Empire. Special attention is given to the nature of anti-Jewish violence that marked Russian advances into Galicia. Since the events in the region were closely connected to the situation along the entire Eastern Front, references to Russian anti-Jewish policies in the Polish provinces and Gourland are frequently called upon.

From the end of the nineteenth century Galicia occupied an important place in Russian contingency plans for the war with AustroHungary since the region provided an accessible route through Silesia to Austria-proper and through the Carpathian mountain ranges to the Hungarian plains. The Russian General Staff also took into account the potential predicament of Russian forces in the Polish salient, which, in case of simultaneous attack by the Central Powers from East Prussia and Galicia, could be cut off from the Empire.2 Strategic objectives were augmented by ideological ones, for the Russian government watched with wary eyes the national aspirations of Galician Poles and Ukrainians, whose pronounced anti-Russian stance often reverberated in Russia's Polish and Ukrainian provinces. In addition, starting from the end of the eighteenth century, Russian politicians did not fail to stress that Galicia, once a part of mediaeval Kievan Rus', had to be brought back to the bosom of "MotherRussia." Hence, Russian Pan-Slavists maintained contacts with Galician Russophiles, supplying them with money and emphasizing the common roots of the Ukrainians and Russians. In addition, the proliferation of various Russophile educational, religious, and cultural

2 Vladimir Stepankovsky, The Russian Plot to Seize Galicia (Austrian Ruthenia) (Jersey City, NJ: The Ukrainian National Council, 1915), 15; Stephan Tomashivs'kyi, Die weltpolitische Bedeutung Galiziens (Munich: F. Bruckmann A. G., 1915), 34-41.

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALICIA

527

societies, and pro-Russian propaganda by the so-called "RussianGalician committees" greatly alarmed the Austrian government.3 In turn, the Russian government was worried about Galicia-based Polish revolutionary organizations, which aimed at the restoration of independent Poland and had connections with anti-Russian groups in major Polish cities. The influential Galician-Polish faction in the Austrian parliament also did not mince words attacking the heavyhanded Russian rule in Poland. As tensions in Europe mounted, Vienna and St. Petersburg bombarded each other with mutual accusations of inciting ethnic minorities.4 While Galician Jews did not feature as prominently in the Russian political agenda as did Poles and Ukrainians, the Russian public perception of the "Jewish question" had already crystallized as early as the mid-nineteenth century. Religious, social, and economic antiSemitism was widespread in all branches of the government, civil service, and the army. As industrialization gained speed in the 1880s, both Russian and foreign Jews were seen as a hostile pro-western financial force, and, especially after the revolution of 1904—05, as a major seditious group in the Empire. Ideological indoctrination of the army was based on the premise that Russia was threatened by external enemies—Germans and Austro-Hungarians—and by the internal ones—"Jews, socialists, and students."5 The army's suspicions towards the Jews were highlighted in a list of the so-called "groups of risk" compiled by the Russian military counterintelligence in December 1908. Alongside foreign spies the counterintelligence stressed the danger posed to Russia by ". . . persons of Jewish

' For the origin and evolution of Galician Russophiles, see Paul R. Magocsi, "Old Ruthenianism and Russophilism: A New Conceptual Framework for Analysing National Ideologies in Late 19th Century Galicia," in American Contribution to the Ninth International Congress of Slavists, Kiev, September 1983, ed. Paul Debreczeny, 2 vols. (Columbus, OH: Slavica Publishers, 1983), vol. 2, 305-24. For Russian policies in regards to Galicia, see P. N. Yefremov, Vneshniaia politika Rossii, 1907~1914 (Moscow: IzdatePstvo Instituta Mezhdunarodnykh Otnoshenii, 1961), 236-38; Ukrainische Rundschau, 8:1 (1910), 15-27; ibid., 10:2-3 (1912), 38-48. 4 Wolfdieter Bihl, "Die Beziehungen zwischen Osterreich-Ungarn und Russland in Bezug auf die galizische Frage, 1908-1914," in Gali^ien urn die Jahrhundertwende: politische, soziale und kulturelle Verbindungen mit Osterreich, ed. Karlheinz Mack (Vienna: Verlag fur Geschichte und Politik, 1990), 46; A. lu. Bakhturina, Politika Rossiiskoi Imperil v vostochnoi Galitsii v gody pervoi mirovoi voiny (Moscow: "AIRO-XX, 2000), 58~62. I am grateful to Dr. Eric Lohr for providing me with this source. 3 M. D. Bonch-Bruevich, Vsia vlast' Sovetam (Moscow: Voennoe Izdatel'stvo Ministerstva Oborony, 1964), 13.

528

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

nationality who attempt to infiltrate and establish congenial relations with military personnel."6 Since the Russian government suspected its Polish, Ukrainian, and Jewish subjects of disloyalty, it had no doubt that Austrian Poles, Ukrainians, and Jews cherished no sympathies for Russia. The army, which according to a special regulation signed by the Tsar on July 29, 19147 received extraordinary powers in western Russian provinces, entirely shared these suspicions.8

The army's distrust of potentially disloyal ethnic minorities in the front zone came to the fore immediately after the outbreak of hostilities in August 1914. The Russian offensive in Eastern Prussia was accompanied by hostage taking and executions of local Germans on the grounds of alleged resistance. Russian Germans were equally blamed for seditious activities, and later, after Turkey entered the war, the Muslims of the Trans-Caucasus region were also identified with the enemy.9 The army also targeted Russian Jews as rumors of Jewish espionage in Poland and Courland spread among Russian troops and reverberated in Russia in even more distorted forms.

6 A. Iu. Shelukhin, "Razvedovatel'nye organy v strukture vysshego voennogo upravlenia Rossiiskoi Imperii nachala XX veka, 1906-1914," Vestmk Moskovskogo Universiteta, Series 8: History, 3 (1996), 22. 7 All dates are given in the Gregorian calendar which ran thirteen days ahead of the Julian calendar used in Russia until 1918. 8 Daniel W. Graf, "Military Rule Behind the Russian Front, 1914-1917: The Political Ramifications," Jahrbucher fur Geschichte Osteuropas, vol. 22, 3 (1974), 390-94, and also his "The Rule of the Generals: Military Government in Western Russia, 1914-1915," Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, 1972, 35~37; I. I. Rostunov, Russkii front pervoi mirovoi voiny (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo "Nauka," 1976), 113-14. 9 For Russian attitudes towards Germans in Eastern Prussia, see S. G. Nelipovich, "Internirovanie chasti zhitelei Vostochnoi Prussii, Galitsii i Bukoviny: naselenie okkupirovannykh territorii rassmatrivalos' kak reserv protivnika," Voenno-Istoncheskii ^hurnal 2 (2000), 61-62. I am grateful to Dr. Eric Lohr for this reference. For the persecution of the Muslim population in the Kars and Batumi areas, see Gosudarstvennaia Duma: stenographicheskie otchety, 1915-1916, (St. Petersburg: Gosudarstvennaia Tipografiia, 1915-1916), 4th convocation, 4th session, 31 July 1915, 130; 1 August 1915, 153-54. For its part, the Austrian army imprisoned and executed thousands of Galician Ukrainians suspected of collaboration with the Russians. See, for example, Voennye prestupleniia Gabsburgskoi monarkhii: Galitskaia Golgofa (Trumbill, Connecticut: Peter S. Hardy, 1964).

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALICIA

529

Stories of Jews firing at passing columns or giving signals to the enemy provided justification for retribution. Easily identifiable by their peculiar dress and unintelligible for the Russians Yiddish (which sounded like German), Jews looked especially "suspicious" to Russian commanders and the counterintelligence service. Already in August of 1914, on the grounds of unreliability, entire Jewish communities in several Polish provinces were ordered to leave within 24 hours for "security" reasons. In September, the expulsions began in Warsaw province and continued until November.10 Anti-Jewish actions in Poland and Courland became symptomatic of the Russian military's mindset—if Russian Jews were assisting the enemy, their foreign co-religionists in Galicia were even more hostile to the Empire. Subsequently, having no inhibition in mistreating Russian citizens, the army would hardly show less restraint towards subjects of an enemy state. Indeed, in the summer 1914, a wave of pogroms swept over many localities as Russian troops entered Galician towns and villages. Dozens of Jews were killed and hundreds of women were raped as the Cossacks and soldiers pillaged and burned Jewish houses and entire quarters in Tarnopol province. The most violent pogrom took place in Lwow on September 27, when soldiers and Cossacks assaulted the Jewish quarters as a reprisal for alleged shooting at the troops.11 Pogroms soon engulfed many localities, causing widespread destruction in Jewish communities. However, while the Russian high command sanctioned the expulsions, it neither planned nor instigated the pogroms. Discipline, never the strongest asset of the Russian army, became a grave concern for Russian generals, who attempted 10 "Iz 'chernoi knigi' rossiiskogo evreistva: materialy dlia istorii voiny 1914-1915 g.," Evmskaia Stanna 10 (1918), 203f.-204f., 210, 220-21. 11 Bronislaw Debinski, "Wspomnienia z lat 1914-1918," manuscript, Biblioteka Narodowa, microfilm 45109, s. 47; Archiwum Glowny Akt Dawnich (AGAD), sygn. MSW/34, no page; Tsentral'nyi Derzhavnyi Istorychnyi Arkhiv Ukrainy u Kyevi (TsDIAUuK), f. 365, op. 1, d. 235, 11. 4, 7; Ibid., f. 385, op. 7, d. 102, 1. 51ob.; Ukmimsche Nachrichten: Mitteilungen des Bundes zur Befreiung der Ukraina, 18 December 1914, n. 133; Natsional'na Biblioteka Ukrainy imeni Vasylia Vemads'koho (NBUiW), manuscript, Institute of the Oriental Studies, f. 339, d. 89, 11. 6-7; Tsentral'nyi Derzjiavnyi Istorychnyi Arkhiv Ukrainy u L'vovi (TsDIAUuL), f. 694, op. 1, d. 6, 1. 30; Ibid., f. 146, op. 4, d. 3560, 11. 98-99, 11 Sob; Bohdan Janusz, 293 dni rzqdow rosyjskich we Lwowie/3.IX.1914~ 22.VI.1915/ (L'viv: Ksiegarnia Polska Bernarda Polonieckiego, 1915), 160-64; Josef Biarynia-Cholodecki, Lwow w czasie okupacji rosyjskiej/3 wrzesnia 1914-22 czerwca 1915: Z wlasnych prz.ez.yc i spostrz.ez.en (L'viv: Nakladem Redakcji, 1930), 91; Judisches Archiv: Mitteilungen des Komitees "Judisches Kriegsarchiv" n. 8-9 (1916), 8-10.

530

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

to stop the rampage and issued several decrees to their subordinates to stop marauding and pillaging.12 Why then did anti-Jewish violence become such an overriding component of Russian conduct in the front zone? Opportunity to easy loot seems to be the obvious explanation. Alleged Jewish shots were always fired from shops or warehouses, which immediately were plundered "in retaliation." An old tradition of allowing the troops to indulge themselves in a pillage of a conquered place—otdat' na otkup—was undoubtedly exercised by some company or battalion commanders who let their subordinates go on rampage as reward for capturing a given locality. Once aroused, the fury of a pogrom would spill over to neighboring Jewish houses where the attackers would demolish furniture, beat the residents, and rape women.13 However, rapacity is in itself not sufficient to explain wanton devastation levied on the Jews. The attitude of soldiers and Cossacks was also buttressed by anti-Semitic propaganda, which for years had held sway in the army. After all, many units that entered Galicia in the summer of 1914 were formed in central Russia and Siberia, whose residents had never had contacts with Jews prior to the war. It was the effects of intensive brainwashing that made Russian soldiers believe that the war was a crusade against the Jews. The notion of Russia's liberating mission to free brother-Slavs crystallized immediately when, upon entering towns and villages, Cossacks and soldiers conveyed to the people that they had come to free Galicia from the "Jewish yoke." Often, the Cossacks stopped passers-by and inquired "gde evrei?" (where are the Jews?). Presenting a cross, or a locket portraying Jesus Christ, was sufficient to be let go; those who could not provide such "evidence" were unceremoniously robbed or beaten. In some instances, the population was incited to anti-Jewish excesses, and after having looted Jewish stores and houses, the Russians distributed the booty to the Christian populace.14 12 Michael Lemke, 250 dnei v tsarshoi stavke/25 sent. 1915-2 iulia 1916/(St. Petersburg: Gosudarstvennoe IzdatePstvo, 1920), 199, 202; A. A. Brusilov, Moi vospominaniia (Moscow: Voennoe Izdatel'stvo Ministerstva Oborony, 1963), 137. 13 TsDIAUuK, f. 385, op. 7, d. 102, 11. 50-51; Ibid., f. 365, op. 1, d. 235, 1. 8; NBUiW, f. 339, d. 89, 11. 3-4; Prikarpatskaia Rus\ 26 September 1914, n. 1415; 28 September 1914, n. 1416; 29 September 1914, n. 1417. 14 On situation in Galicia see, Ukrainische Naehrichten, n. 40, 19 June 1915; Henryka Kramarz, Samorzqd Lwowa w czasie pierwszej wojny swiatowej i jego rola w iyciu miasta (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Naukowe WSP, 1994), 40; Lwow po inwazji rosyjskiej, wrzesien-grudzien 1914: opowiadanw naocznego swiadka (Vienna: Nakiadem Z. Machnowskiego,

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALICIA

531

The different attitudes towards Jews and non-Jews were reflected in the degree of violence inflicted upon the two groups. While the troops did not shy away from looting and robberies everywhere, rape and murder were less frequent in Ukrainian and German villages and Polish city quarters. No such inhibition was displayed towards the Jews, who were often murdered on the spot. Eyewitnesses recalled that many Jews were killed immediately by the pillaging units, and soldiers and Cossacks took special pleasure in group-raping Jewish women and girls. Having discerned such a mental disposition of the pogromists, Poles, Ukrainians, and Germans began displaying crosses and icons on doors and windows to avoid the confrontation with intruders.13 An integral part of anti-Jewish violence was rumors. This phenomena was not new in Jewish history. Almost every single riot or attack against the Jews in pre-war Russia was preceded by rumors, which insinuated either "official" consent to beating the Jews, or provided sensational accounts of Jewish revolutionary activities.16 Rumors of Jewish sabotage in the front zone mirrored traditional suspicions of Jewish cabalistic rituals and secretive societies; during the war these traits were "modernized" to include Jewish armed resistance. Many commanders repeatedly informed Stavka of underground Jewish organizations thriving in the Russian rear and of Jewish agents directing the enemy's fire. It was pervasive trepidation of being ambushed in the unknown territory—partially a projection of Russian troops' own predisposition to violence—which generated "preventive" antiJewish reprisals. The reprisals thus became the dominant pattern through which these subconscious anxieties and fears were expressed as every soldier or Cossack turned into a spy-hunter. A senior Russian officer recalled his encounter with the Cossacks in Galicia who had rounded up a group of Jewish "suspects": 1915), p. 5; Judisches Archiv (Vienna), 8-9 (1917), p. 6; Jakob Schall, ^jdostwo galicyjskie w czasie inwazji rosyjskiej w latach 1914-1916 (L'viv: Nakladem Ksiegarni I. Madfesa, 1936), 4-6; Janusz, 293 dni, 44. 15 Lev Aba, "Razgrom galitsiiskikh evreyev v krovavye gody voiny: otryvok iz dnevnika," Evreiskaia Letopis', vol. 3 (St. Petersburg-Moscow: IzdatePstvo Raduga, 1924), 169; NBUiW, f. 339, d. 89, 1. 7; TsDIAUuK, f. 385, op. 7, d. 102, 1. Slob; Lwow po inwazji rosyjskiej, 5; Schall, ^ydostwo galicyjskie, p. 6; TsDIAUuL, f. 694, op. 1, d. 6, 1. 30; Ibid., f. 146, op. 4, d. 3560, 11. 98-99, 11 Sob. "' For rumors which preceded or accompanied Jewish pogroms in Russia, see John D. Klier and Shlomo Lombroza, Pogroms: Anti-Jewish Violence in Modem Russian History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 33, 164, 292, 323.

532

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN 'Who are they?' I inquired of a Cossack NCO. 'Spies, sir,' he replied. 'They cut telephone wires.' 'Did you see them doing that?' I asked. 'No, sir,' answered the Cossack, 'but it is said they did. At any rate, all kikes, whether Russian or the local ones, are against the Tsar.'17

Anti-Jewish violence continued throughout winter of 1914—15 often under the disguise of sanctioned "official" reprisals and punitive expeditions against Jewish settlements suspected of anti-Russian activities. Degree of brutality inflicted upon Jews often depended on the disposition of local administration and army commanders. The majority of town or district chiefs and commandants for the first time held both military and civil power, and they saw little difference between the two. A sense of independence from their distant superiors facilitated their belief that they could rule as they pleased, and they engaged in the routine practice of extorting money from the Jews on various pretexts such as ransom for hostages or protection against marauding soldiers and Cossacks.18

By the end of September 1914 the Russian army occupied two thirds of Galicia. These territories were divided into four provinces and placed under a military Governor General. The provinces, in turn, were subdivided into districts headed respectively by provincial, district, and city chiefs. The post of Governor-General was conferred upon Lieutenant-General Count George Bobrinskii who was subordinated to the Quartermaster-General of the Southwestern Front. The military administration had to share power with the army, which had its representatives in each province, district, and town who ran army supplies, hospitals, and depot units.19 Since the Russian political establishment had long perceived Galicia as a "primordial" Russian territory, the press emphasized the "Russian" 17

Bonch-Bruevich, Vsia vlast' Sovetam, 24-25. Rossiiskii Gosudarstvennyi Voenno-htoricheskii Arkhiv, (RGVIA) f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539, 1. 64; Ibid., f. 2005, op. 1, d. 12 (1), 1. 9; Prikarpatskam RMS', 14 October 1914, n. 1430; TsDIAUuK, f. 146, op. 8, d. 1892, 1. 4; Pravitel'stuennyi vestnik, 9 November 1914, n. 255, and 11 November 1914, n. 257; Simon Spund, Die Schreckenhenschaft der Russen in Stanislau: selbsterlebte Schilderungen (Budweis: Selbverlag, 1915), 39-49. 19 Ivan Petrovych, Halychyna pid chas rosiis'koi okupatsii, serpen' 1914-cherven' 1915 (L'viv: "Politychna Biblioteka," 1915), 13-18; RGVIA, f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(4), 11. 3, 47; Ibid., f. 2003, op. 1, d. 1(1), 1. 27; Graf, "Military Government," 21-23. 18

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALICIA

533

character of Galicia. After the beginning of the war, these propagandist efforts culminated in appeals made by the Russian Supreme Commander, Grand Duke Nicholas, to Ukrainians and Poles. To the former Nicholas asserted that the Russian army had come to free them from the "foreign yoke," while to the latter he promised that all Polish territories would be reunited under Russian rule.20 Protestations of fraternal unity between "brother-Slavs," however, almost immediately ran afoul of the realities of the occupation. A number of restrictions severely curtailed cultural and economic liberties in the region. Multiple decrees provided for the surrender of firearms, prohibition of liquor sale, and shutting down of educational institutions. Correspondence in Yiddish and Ukrainian was destroyed.21 The army also cracked down on the nationally conscious Ukrainians labeled "mazepists"22 by the Russian press, and arrested GreekCatholic priests and prominent Ukrainian leaders suspected of a proAustrian orientation. Later in the war, the attack on the Greek-Catholic church escalated into the closing of churches and a mass proselytizing campaign, in which entire villages were forcibly converted to Orthodoxy.23 Although highly suspicious of Polish national aspirations, the Russian administration tried to win the loyalty of Poles by retaining Polish civil employees in their posts, allowing several newspapers to function, and tolerating the Roman-Catholic church. Nevertheless, strict 20

Mva: illustrirovannyi zhurnal literatury, politiki i sovremennoi zhizni, 28 August 1914, n. 33; Pravitel'stvennyi vestnik, 23 October 1914, n. 238, and 25 November 1914, n. 258; Armeiskii vestnik, 30 August 1914, n. 4, and 5 September 1914, n. 7; £avoevanie Vostochnoi Galitsii (Moscow: IzdatePstvo Sytina, 1914); A. Chervinskii, Galitsiia, eya proshlaia sud'ba i nastoyashchee polozhenie (Riazan': Tipografiia "Bratstva sv. Vasilia," 1915); E. Vulfson, Galitsia, eya minuvshye sud'by i sovremennoe polozhenie (St. Petersburg: Tipografia "Kolokol," 1915); Ukrainische Nachrichten, 19 June 1915; n. 40, Bakhturina, Politika Rossiiskoi Imperil, 58-59. 21 RGVIA, f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539, 1. 23; Ibid., f. 2005, op. 1, f. 12 (1), 11. 16-17, 20; Prikarpatskaia Rus\ 5 November 1914, n. 1449. 22 The reference was derived from the name of the Ukrainian leader Ivan Mazepa, who in an attempt to regain Ukrainian independence sided with the Swedes during the Russo-Swedish war of 1700-21. 23 "Perepiska V. A. Sukhomlinova s N. N. lanushkevichem," Krasnyi Arkhiv 2 (1922), 248; Ukrainische Nachnchten, 18 December 1914, n. 133, and 19 June 1915, n. 40; Brusilov, Moi vospominaniia, 100; Judisches Archiv, 8-9 (1917), 6; Bedwin Sands, The Russians in Galicia (New York: "Ukrainian National Council," 1916), 12-15; Dmytro Doroshenko, Moi spohady pro nedavne-mynule (1914—1920) (Munich: Ukrains'ke vydavnytstvo, 1969), 24-28; Petrovych, Galychyna, 71-83; Bialynia-Cholodecki, Lwow, 88; Felix Przysiecki, Rzqdy rosyjskie w Galicji Wshodniej (Piotrkow: Wydawnictwo Wiadomosci Polskich, 1915), 19-20, 65.

534

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

censorship controlled press and schooling, and Poles suspected of an anti-Russian orientation were deported to Russia.24 The attitude of the occupation regime towards Jews reflected both traditional anti-Jewish prejudices and security concerns of the military administration. Alongside their Christian compatriots they were subjected to economic regulations, arbitrary requisitions, limitations on movement, and prohibitions of language and schooling. Yet, unlike their neighbors, Jews had to endure torments of a different nature. If for the Russians the assimilation of Ukrainians and co-optation of the Poles seemed feasible, neither option was even considered with regards to the Jews. By the end of September, the military administration initiated a mass dismissal of Jewish employees from civil offices and courts. The removal of the Jews from social and economic sphere aimed to reconcile Poles and Ukrainians—who would fill the vacancies—to Russian rule and to "level" Galician Jews to the status of their co-religionists in the Empire.2s The drive to "leveling" the Jews in socio-economic sphere reflected in Stavka's preoccupation with Jewish land ownership. In midSeptember, poised to break up what was perceived as the backbone of Jewish economic dominance in the region, Stavka sent the vice-director of its diplomatic bureau, N. Basili, to Galicia, to investigate the issue on the spot. Basili reported to Stavka?, Chief of Staff, General Nikolai lanushkevich, stressing the hostility of the Jews to Russia and accusing them of damaging telephone lines, withdrawing coinage from circulation, and jacking up prices. Basili urged lanushkevich to extend Russian imperial laws prohibiting Jewish land ownership in Galicia.26 lanushkevich, in turn, reported to the Chairman of the

24 Biafynia-Choiodecki, Luuow, 88, 93, 102; Przysiecki, Rzqdy rosyjskie, 25-27, 30-31; Janusz, 293 dni, 120-22. 20 I. Schiper, "Zydzi galicyjscy w dobie wojny swiatowej," in Ignacy Schiper, Arieh Tartakower, and Aleksander Hafftka, eds., Zjdzi w Polsce odrodzonej: dzialalnosc spoleczna, gospodarcza, oswiatowa i kulturalna, 2 vols., (Warsaw: Nakladem Wydawnictwa "Zydzi w Polsce Odrodzonej, 1932-1933), vol. 1, 414-15; Schall, Zjdostwo galicyjskie, 10; Gosudarstuennaia Duma, 1915, 4th convocation, 4th session, 1133; RGVIA, f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(1), 1. 55; Ibid., f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(7), no page; Prikarpatskaia Rus\ 3 October 1914, n. 1421, and 6 October 1914, n. 1423; Bohdan Janusz, Dokumenty urzedowe okupacji rosyjskiej Lwowa (L'viv: Nakladem wydawcy, 1916), 33. 26 Internationale Beziehungen im ^eitalter Imperialismus: Dokumente aus den Archiven der Zjirischen und der Provisorischen Regierung hrsg. von der Komission beim ^entralexekutivekomittee der Sowjetregierung unter dem Vorsitz von M. JV. Pokrowskii. Einzig berechtigte deutsche Ausgabe Namens der Deutschen Gessellschaft zum Studium Osteuropas hrsg. von Otto Hoetzsch, 8 vols., (Berlin: Robbing, 1931-1936), vol. II, 6.1, 259-61.

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALICIA

535

Council of Ministers Ivan Goremykin that confiscating Jewish land property would definitely undercut the power of Jews. He further suggested that the "ultimate" solution to the Jewish question in Galicia was to be carried out concomitantly with similar anti-Jewish measures undertaken in Russia. However, the Russian government was reluctant to antagonize Polish landowners whose land Jews rented, and much to lanushkevich's chagrin, Goremykin replied that any changes in Galicia should be postponed until the end of the war.27 The obsession with Jewish economic and political influence also materialized in the reports filed by Russian officials who emphasized the necessity to abolish Jewish land owning. The Temporary Gendarme Department of the occupation regime raised similar concerns. The gendarmes listed Jews as the number one potential trouble-makers, and presented to Stavka the image of the Jewish Orthodox, the Zionists, the Bundists, and the socialists as a unified and monolithic foe further exacerbating the anxieties of the Russian military.28 The campaign of dehumanization of the Jews seems to have been closely connected to the failure of the military to keep to its war timetable. In the winter of 1915, Russia's fortunes on the southwestern front began to change for the worse. A major offensive in the Carpathians bogged down, and Russian armies also suffered a serious setback in northwestern Poland. Military defeats and uncertainty of the war's outcome had to be ascribed to the more palpable reasons other than incompetence, ill discipline, and corruption of the army. Treachery and espionage were seen everywhere, even in the General Staff and the Tsar's palace, and the enemy's "fifth column" seemed to have first-rate information on Russian movements and the state of economy. Hence, mounting reports of Jewish subversive activities facilitated the army's determination to treat the Jews as a crafty foe capable of debilitating Russia's war efforts.29 Further concern and outrage within the military was caused by its own inability to find an effective solution to the "Jewish question"

27 While Jews owned and leased only 7% of land in Galicia, Basili inflated this amount to 35%. Internationale Beziehungen, vol. II, 6.1, 271-72; RGVIA, f. 2005, op. 1, d. 11. 13, 11. 28 Ibid., f. 2005, op. 1, d. 13, 11. 34-36, 39-40; TsDIAUuK, f. 363, op. 2, d. 89, 11. 7ob, lOob.-llob.; Ibid., f. 363, op. 2, d. 5, 1. 60ob. 29 Rostunov, Russkii front, 219-21, 223-32, 238; Norman Stone, The Eastern Front, 1914-1917 (London: Gordon Cremonesi Publishers, 1975), 113-14; Graf, "Military Rule," 398-99.

536

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

in Galicia. Forced migration of the Jews from Galicia to Austria via a neutral country—for example, Romania—was considered as one of the possibilities to resolve the problem. The military hoped that economic restrictions, dismissal of Jewish employees, requisitions of property, and freezing of Jewish bank accounts would expedite the process. However, all limitations and decrees caused mass internal migration of the Jews, rather than anticipated exodus abroad. For instance, by December 1914 more than 40,000 Jews from the countryside had moved to Lwow alone. The influx of refugees to the cities immediately caused dramatic economic shortages, which the military instantly ascribed to Jewish sabotage.30

*

*

The intensification of anti-Jewish measures was a part of a larger campaign against potentially dangerous minorities. In mid-February 1915, the Tsar signed the so-called "Liquidation Law" which stipulated the liquidation of land owned by immigrants from Austro-Hungary and Germany within the Polish provinces and a 160-kilometer zone along the front line. The "Liquidation Law" signified an attempt to change the ethnic profile of the country's socio-economic sphere, and to bolster the Russian economy by appropriating foreign property. The "Law" was followed by Grand Duke's decree forbidding Jews from entering Galicia and from moving from one district to another. Jewish spies and hostages were to be hanged, and those who moved from place to place without permission would be liable to three-month detention.31 Further "security measures" gradually evolved into mass expulsions and deportations to the Russian interior. The first deportations started in November 1914, when a number of Jews and "unreliable" Poles and Ukrainians were shipped off to Tomsk province. The num-

30 Prilozheniia k stenographicheskim otchetam Gosudarstvennoi Durny, 4th convocation, IV session, 19 July-3 September 1915, (St. Petersburg: Gosudarstvennaia Tipografia, 1915), 1; NBUiW, f. 339, d. 89, 17-20; Aba, "Razgrom galitsiiskikh evreyev," 171; Schall, Zydostwo galicyjskie, 10; TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 553, 11. 1-12, 13-14, 18-23; RGVIA, f. 2005, op. 1, d. 13(10), 11. 430, 436, 440-42; Archiwum Akt Nowych (AAN), "Centralna Agencja Polska w Lozannie," Box 61 [Kurjer Lwowski, 4 August 1917]. 31 TsDIAUuK, f. 363, op. 1, d. 11. 8, 14; RGVIA, f. 13142, op. 1, d. 61, 1. 94.

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALIGIA

537

bers of deported grew in winter 1915, when entire families including old women and small children, were sent to Russia. The charges typically consisted only of a cover letter, which stipulated that the residence of an accused in a given locality was "undesirable."32 In February, Stavka facilitated the process by ordering the deportation of Jews suspected of espionage to the Russian interior, and in March the Grand Duke ordered an expulsion of "unreliable" Jews towards enemy positions. The order stressed that new anti-Jewish measures marked the end of "six-months of patience [of the army]" and were undertaken to "protect" the non-Jewish population from Jewish terror.33 If at the beginning of the war, the army had lacked a formal ideological doctrine for anti-Jewish campaign, by winter 1915 slander and reprisals had completed the process of vilification of the Jews. While punitive measures were also directed against other national groups, in the eyes of the Russian army the Germans, Austrians, Poles, and Ukrainians lacked the same cunning, tenacity, and ominous psychological stature as the Jews. Such reasoning reflected in mutually contradictory qualities ascribed to the Jews—a cowardly and weak race and yet a dangerous and bold foe. These contradictions never bothered Russian generals, officers, and gendarmes, for the distorted image of the omnipotent or a gutless Jew conveniently filled the need for a ubiquitous scapegoat. Expulsions and deportations were gaining momentum according to the situation on the front. In the early spring of 1915 many Russian commanders evicted Jews from their houses and marched them on foot away from the front line, while others were reported to have driven entire Jewish communities towards Austrian positions. Hundreds of hostages were taken from the Jewish intelligentsia. By the beginning of March, the number of Galician Jews uprooted and expelled from their place of residence had reached 10,000 people. Lacking food and adequate clothing, many collapsed and died on

32 "Iz chernoi knigi rossiiskogo evreistva," 251; TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 221, 1. 46; Ibid., f. 363, op. 1, d. 35, 1. 76; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 674, 1. 18; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 672, computed on the basis of the lists 1, 4, 6-8, 10, 13, 19, 22, 27, 28; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 679, 1. 11; Gosudarstvennyi Arkhw Rossiiskoi Federatsii (GARF), f. D2, op. 1915, d. 391, computed on the basis of the lists 5-104. : " RGVIA, f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539 (1), 11. 30, 120-21; Ibid., f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(2), 11. 122-23; Pnkarpatskaia Rus\ 21 February 1915, n. 1552; TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 674, 1. 4.

538

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

the way. Trains loaded with Jews headed for Russia caused heavy traffic on the railroads, and the imperial administration had neither enough money to provide the Jews with food and clothing, nor adequate facilities to house them. The military administration in Galicia bombarded Stavka with requests for further directions for the expelled Jews, while the authorities in Poltava, Tomsk, Yenisei, and Ufa provinces, where Galician Jews were sent, bitterly objected to the deportations, which were depleting provincial economic resources.34 The expulsions reached their apex at the end of March after Russians captured the largest Austrian fortress, Przemysl. The victory was immediately followed by a mass removal of "undesirable elements," and alongside Austrian POWs up to 20,000 Jews were sent to Lwow and to nearby rail stations.35 As the numbers of expelled and deported Jews rapidly mounted, so did the resistance of the imperial administration. Ministries of the interior and justice, provincial governors, and the Department of Railroads demanded that the government intervene with the army and complained that the deportations disrupted the traffic on railroads and caused economic shortages. In Galicia, the administration pointed out that typhus had broken out among thousands of expelled Jews who were left under the open sky nearby towns and cities.36 In May and June 1915, after the German-Austrian offensive shattered the Russian front at Gorlice and Krasnik, the Russian scorched34 Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 674, 11. 13-16, 45; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 651, 11. 1, 6; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 679, 11. 20, 39-40, 57, 59-61; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 896, 11. 11-12; Ibid., f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539 (1), 11. 38-40; Der^havnyi Arkhiv L'vivs'koi Oblasti (DALO), f. 907, op. 1, d. 94, 11. 13-16, 28, 17, 45; RGVIA, f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(1), 1. 32; TsDIAUuK, f. 146, op. 4, d. 3560, 11. 39, 11 Sob; Ibid., f. 146, op. 8, d. 1895, 1. 44; Ernst Muller-Meiningen, "Who are the Huns?": The Law of Nations and Its Breakers (Berlin: Georg Reimer Publisher, 1915), 158; Ukrainische Nachrichten, 17 May 1915, n. 30; Schall, Zjdostwo galicyjskie, 23; John Reed, The War in Eastern Europe (New York: Scribner, 1916), 141. 35 Holger H. Herwig, The First World War: Germany and Austria-Hungary, 1914-1918 (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1997), 137-39; TsDIAUuK, f. 365, op. 1, d. 163, 11. 2, 6; Juri Danilov, Velikii Kniaz! Nikolai Nikolaevich (Paris: Imprimerie de Navarre, 1930), 169-70; RGVIA, f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539 (1), 1. 33; Ibid., f. 13142, op. 1, d. 19, 1. 5; Ibid., f. 13142, op. 1, d. 61, 1. 43, Ibid., f. 13142, op. 1, d. 72, 1. 3; TsDIAUuK, f. 146, op. 4, d. 3560, 1. 46; Aba, "Razgrom galitsiiskikh evreyev," 169; AGAD, sygn. MSW/F34, no page; DALO, f. 907, op. 1, d. 94, 11. 10,12, 15; TsDIAUuK, f. 363, op. 1, d. 35, 1. 49; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 674, 11. 53-60; Janusz, 293 dni, 250-51; Schiper, "Zydzi galicyjscy," 414. 36 TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 674, 11. 29-30, 41; RGVIA, f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539 (1), 1. 32; Ibid., f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(2), 11. 105-06; Ibid., f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(2), 11. 33-35, 43-44, 47, 48.

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALICIA

539

earth policy along the entire Eastern Front generated a mass wave of expulsions. More than a million people, including a half-million Jews from Courland and Poland were forced to leave alongside retreating troops. This time, hard-pressed by the government, Stavka reversed its policies and prohibited deportations of Galician Jews to Russia claiming that "there were already too many Jews." However, expulsions within the province continued throughout the summer, and many Jewish settlements were subjected to wanton destruction.37 In the autumn 1915, when Russian armies finally stopped retreating, only a small strip of Galicia around Tarnopol remained under Russian rule. Although the attitude of the army towards the Jews remained hostile, anti-Jewish restrictions were relaxed and a number of Jewish refugees were allowed to return to Galicia. Jewish refugees received aid from the ^emstvo, and Jewish schools were opened with Yiddish as the language of instruction. Jews, however, were to suffer further brutalities during the advances and retreat of the Russian army in 1916 and 1917, when Stavka attempted to gain ground on the southwestern front.38 The numbers of Galician Jews directly affected by the occupation is difficult to establish. The St. Petersburg Jewish Aid Committee estimated that 75,000 Jews from Galicia and Bukovina were deported to Russia.39 The Russian Council of Ministers referred to "tens of thousands" Jews deported from Galicia, while other sources

37 Ibid., f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(4), 1. 29; Ibid., f. 2005, op. 1, d. 12(3), 1. 120; TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 552, no page; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 674, 11. 85, 100; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 896, 11. 1, 24, 27, 33, 37, 47, 52, 64, 67, 82-83, 118-19, 128, 130, 172, 174-75, 245-48, 324, 516-17, 583, 622; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 897, 11. 2-6, 11-12, 13-14, 34-35; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 839, 11. 10-26; AAN, "Centralna Agencja Polska w Lozannie," Box 61 \Nowa Reforma, 27 September 1915; 19 April 1916; 21 April 1916; 25 April 1916; 26 April 1916; 27 April 1916; 1 May 1916; 4 May 1916; 6 May 1916]; Janusz, 293 dni, 256, 259; GARF, f. D2, op. 1915, d. 391, 11. 5-104; Jiidische Rundschau, 14 January 1916, n. 2; Ukrainische Nachrichten, 26 June 1915, n. 41; Schall, Zjdostwo galicyjskie, 25-26. 58 AAN, "Centralna Agencja Polska w Lozannie," Box 61 [Deutsche Warschauer ^eitung, 2 3 July 1916], [Dziennik Berlinski, 4 August 1916], [Novoe Vremia, 29 November 1916] [Dziennik Kijowski, 25 September 1916, 9 October 1916, 23 October 1916]; GARF, f. 1800, op. 1, d. 174, 11. 16-17; Aba," Razgrom galitsiiskikh evreyev," 174-76; Nova Rada, 29 March 1917, n. 3; Ibid., 22 July 1917, n. 84; Ibid., 1 September 1917, n. 116; Ibid., 12 October 1917, n. 160; TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 1681, 11. 3-4; Anton Denikin, Ocherki russkoi smuty: krushenie vlasti i armii, fevral'sentiabr' 1917 g. (Moscow: "Nauka," 1991), 104, 168. 30 Frank Golczewski, Polnish-Jiidische Beziehungen, 1881-1922: eine Studie zur Geschichte des Antisemitismus in Osteuropa (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag GMBH, 1981), 123f.

540

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

mentioned between 10,000 to 30,000 Jews dispersed around the Empire from Brest-Litovsk to Kamchatka. From available archival documents it can be approximated that within the province the army uprooted up to 50,000 Jews.40 These numbers seem small in comparison to hundreds of thousands Jews expelled from Courland and Poland. However, one should not underestimate the scope of destruction wrought upon the Galician Jewish community. Before the war, Jews comprised eleven per cent of the total population of the region, and played a prominent role in regional commerce, petty trade, and the free professions.41 The war generated a mass exodus of approximately 200,000 Jewish refugees to Czech lands, Hungary, and Austria. Jewish economic base was shattered, and in some localities evacuation, Russian pogroms and expulsions reduced the Jewish population almost to a half. All around Galicia, up to 50% of Jewish settlements lay in shambles. The bulk of schools, synagogues, and cultural institutions were damaged or ruined, and thousands of Jews moved into urban areas.42

Persecution of the Jews became both the justification for "security measures" and the instrument of socio-economic reconfiguration of the conquered province. In this context, it is important to make several important observations. Indeed, how real was the threat posed by the Jews to Russian rule? After all, all Russian reports referred to a coordinated Jewish opposition, which allegedly included sabotage, anti-Russian propaganda, armed resistance, and international

40

A. N. lakhontov, "Tiazhelye dni (Sekretnye zasedaniia Soveta Ministrov 16 liulia—2 Sentiabria 1915 goda," Arkhiv Russkoi Revolutsii, vol. 18, 42-45; RGVIA, f. 2003, op. 2, d. 539(3), 11. 16-17; AAN, "Centralna Agencja Polska w Lozannie," Box 61 [Nowa Reforma, 27 September 1915], [Die £eit, 25 April 1916]; TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 896, 11. 1, 24, 27, 33, 37, 47, 52, 64, 82-83, 118-19, 128, 130, 172, 174-75, 245-48, 324, 516-17, 583, 622; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 897, 11. 2-6, 11-14, 34-35; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 839, 11. 10-26; Ibid., f. 363, op. 1, d. 73b, 1. 6. 41 Bohdan Wasiutynski, Ludnosc iydowska w Polsce w wiekach XIX i XX (Warsaw: Wydawnictwo Kasy im. Mianowskiego, 1930), 90. 42 Ukrainische Nachrichten, 9 October 1915, n. 56; TsDAUuK, f. 365, op. 1, d. 142, 11. 16-17, 26; Ibid., f. 365, op. 1, d. 163, 11. 2, 4, 5, 8, 48-50, 71; Ibid., f. 363, op. 1, d. 8, 11. 30, 38, 57; Aba, "Razgrom galitsiiskikh evreyev," 170; Die Wahrheit: unabhdngige ^eitschnft fur judische Interessen, 16 April 1915; Judische Rundschau, 21 January 1916, n. 3; 11 February 1916, n. 6; 18 February 1916, n. 7; 5 May 1916, n. 18.

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALIGIA

541

financial pressure on the Russian government. For example, fears that the mistreatment of Jews was alienating foreign public opinion came to the fore most vividly in April 1915, when a British delegation arrived in Galicia to organize aid to the population. The arrival of the delegation caused pandemonium in Stavka and in the staff of the southwestern front, for the generals were particularly alarmed that the delegation would investigate crimes perpetrated against the Jews.43 In reality, however, Jews were able neither to protect themselves from Russian persecution nor influence any great power to apply pressure on Russia on their behalf. The traditional pacifism of Orthodox Jews effectively prevented the Galician Jewry from engaging in any kind of resistance, while the most active elements among socialists and Zionists fled westward during the Russian invasion. Within the first six months of the occupation Jews practically disappeared from any positions of influence, and entire Jewish communities were economically ruined. The majority of the Jews, therefore, tried simply to survive by any means. Many turned to speculation, causing further resentment by the military and the Christian population.44 Sometimes the hostility of the Jews towards the occupiers manifested in certain forms of civic resistance such as sheltering and abetting German and Austrian POW escapees. After Galician towns and villages were liberated, Jewish informants denounced to Austrian authorities Poles and Ukrainians who had collaborated with the Russians.40 Apparently, Jews were also most active in spreading rumors of Russia's misfortunes on battlefields and predicting the inevitable return of Austrian troops.46 While it can be taken for granted that neither Poles nor Ukrainians were less prone to hearsay than Jews, the latter, subjected to the most brutal horrors of the Russian occupation, disseminated rumors to defy their oppressors and verbalize hopes for forthcoming liberation.

43 For the arrival of the British delegation in Galicia, see TsDAIUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 316, no page. 44 NBUiW, f. 339, d. 89, 1. 17-20; TsDIAUuK, f. 385, op. 7, d. 102, 1. 49-50; Aba," Razgrom galitsiiskikh evreyev," 171; Janusz, 293 dni, 66. 45 TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 648, 1. 16; Ibid., f. 363, op. 1, d. 35, 1. 77; Shall, ^jdostwo galicyjskie, 20~21; Lwow po inwazji, 33~34. 4(> For example, see Russkoe Voennoe Slovo, 30 September 1914, n. 4, n. 5, 2 October 1914, n. 5; 5 October 1914, n. 8.

542

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

All the aforementioned episodes, however, scarcely measured up to the wave of charges proffered against Jews by the Russian military. Presenting the Jews as a secretive and dangerous society, the military administration, the gendarmes, and Stavka appealed to emotions, rather than the reasoning capacities of the Russian officer corps and the rank-and file. Having no empirical evidence of Jewish subversive activities, these institutions did not differentiate between foreign and Russian Jews, between rich and poor, between religious and secular, but cut to the bottom of the matter—all Jews were intrinsically evil. Treatment of Jews, therefore, depended much upon the willingness of a local commandant, an official, or a military judge to separate rumors from proven events and act upon the latter. This the majority of Russian officials refused to do. In hindsight the brutal treatment and mass removal of the Jewish population in 1914-15 seem to have foreshadowed the tragic events of the Second World War. Deportations and expulsions of Jews to Russia ran into technical difficulties and provoked sharp criticism and resistance of the imperial administration. In 1941-42, similar circumstances caused a fundamental change in Nazi ethnic policies from mass ghettoisation and transfer of Jews from area to area to systematic and organized murder. The uprooting and marching of thousands of helpless people driven on by brutal Russian guards resembled Nazi "death marches" of Jewish prisoners. Furthermore, at the time when the Russian military ordered mass expulsions of civilians from the front zone, the Turkish state successfully carried out a genocidal campaign against the Armenians. In comparison, the assault on the Jews along the Eastern Front never escalated into physical extermination. A few words, therefore, should be said about forces that mitigated the genocidal potential of the Russian army. Despite the vehement anti-Semitism of the Russian military, it lacked two major prerequisites for a war of annihilation: a welldefined ideological doctrine and a unified effort of military and civil structures. These were the main genocidal tools of the Nazi Party and the Turkish Committee of Union and Progress.47 The Russian government, while sharing the anti-Semitic biases of its military leaders, vociferously objected to the army's brutal practices on the grounds 47 For ideology as a main prerequisite for genocide, see Robert Melson, "Revolution and Genocide: On the Causes of the Armenian Genocide and the Holocaust," in The Armenian Genocide: History, Politics, Ethics, ed. Richard G. Hovannisian (London: Macmillan, 1992), 80-102.

THE RUSSIAN MILITARY AND THE JEWS IN GALICIA

543

that the influx of thousands of deportees into the Empire undermined Russia's war efforts. In August 1915, the cabinet ministers were agreed on the "destructive" nature of the Jews. They pointed out, however, that mass expulsions eroded Russia's war capacity and pressed the army to stop expulsions.48 In addition, American, British, and French loans and credits were paramount for Russia's war economy, and the government was concerned that mistreatment of the Jews would bring negative reactions from abroad. Given the belief of the government that foreign banks were in the hands of the "international Jewry," it was feared that the expulsions in the front zone would directly affect the capability of the Russian military industry.49 To the credit of the Russian officer corps, despite the Stavka's pressure, some commanders treated all national groups on an equal basis, and extended to the Jews protection against the depredations of troops and local hoodlums. Bobrinskii himself, though hostile to the Jews, pleaded with his superiors that the army's conduct was damaging to the economy and stability of the territory he was responsible for.50 Russian public opinion also denounced the inhuman treatment of the Jews, and even rabid anti-Semites joined in the protests against the heavy-handed rule of the army. A whole plethora of liberalminded Russian businessmen, writers, and politicians such as Maksim Gorkii, Pavel Miliukov, and Alexander Kerenskii from the Duma rostrum courageously criticized the army for its barbaric conduct of the war.51 48

For socio-economic problems created by the influx of refugees and deportees in Russia-proper, see Peter Gatrell, A Whole Empire Walking: Refugees in Russia during World War I (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1999); Paul P. Gronsky, The War and the Russian Government (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1929), 231-52; The Jews in the Eastern War %pne (New York: American Jewish Committee, 1916), 21-22; 24-25, 72-83. Debates in the State Council in lakhontov, "Tiazhelye dni," 42-45, 47-50, 57. 49 "Dopros kniazia N. B. Shcherbatova, 27 sentiabria 1917 g.," Padenie tsarskogo rezhima: stenographicheskie otchety doprosov i pokazanii, dannykh v 1917 g. v Chrezvychainoi Sledstvennoi Komissii Vremennogo Pravitel'stva, P. E. Shchegolev, ed., 7 vols. (Leningrad: Gosudarstvennoe Izdatel'stvo, 1925), vol. 7, 228. 50 NBUiW, f. 339, d. 89, 11. 9-10; TsDIAUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 674, 11. 86-88, 90-91, 93; ibid, f. 361, op. 1, d. 754, 11. 2, 5. Dl For protests of the Duma members, see Gosudarastvennaia Duma: stenographicheskie otchety, 1915, 4th convocation, 4th session, 58, 125, 162-63, 1067; Prilozhenie k stenographicheskim otchetam, 4th convocation, 4th session, 1-2. For further debates in Russian high offices and the release of Jewish hostages, see DALO, f. 907, op. 1, d. 94, 1. 60; TsDAIUuK, f. 361, op. 1, d. 780, 11. 142, 146-47, 166-67, 170, 175, 180, 193-94, 265; Ibid., f. 361, op. 1, d. 896, 1. 50.

544

ALEXANDER V. PRUSIN

The persecution of Galician Jews was an integral part of Russia's treatment of potentially unreliable ethnic minorities in the front zone, and anti-Semitism provided necessary preconditions for the escalation of slanderous campaigns, pogroms, and hostage-taking into the more organized assault. Creating and defining the image of the omnipresent Jewish enemy was, however, more than just traditional Jew-baiting—it became an important psychological prerequisite for waging war. It eventually acquired momentum on its own, whereby the Russian army, counterintelligence, and the police were alarmed by the very rumors they had helped to generate. This process assumed almost pathological proportions and provided a sense of necessary logic behind anti-Jewish policies in the front zone. Potential mass murder of the Jews, was, however, averted by concerted efforts of the Russian government and liberal political circles. While the former acted out of purely pragmatic reasons, and the second from humanitarian considerations, their criticism and reactions to anti-Jewish brutalities effectively blunted the destructive capacity of the Russian army. These mitigating factors disappeared during the Russian Civil War of 1918-20, when anti-Semitism of the Ukrainian nationalist and White armies acquired additional components to its ideological shape and reemerged in its much deadlier form.

INDEX 1827 Law on Conscription: 417, 424 1905 Revolution: 294-295, 316, 320 Abbreviated chronicle: 29 Abkhazia: 8 Adriatic Sea: 496 Afghanistan: 193 Aleksei Mikhailovich (Tsar): 106, 119-145, 391, 394 Alexander I: 7, 421, 448, 458, 461, 469, 488-489, 503, 505 Alexander II: 294, 420, 503, 507-508, 510-511 Alexander III: 263, 296, 420 Amu Daria River: 178 Andrusovo (Treaty of): 79, 99-100, 121, 175 Arkhangel'sk: 51, 69, 73-74, 76-77, 80, 83, 93-94 Armenia: 8, 192, 449, 542 Astrakhan': 5, 35-37, 51, 92, 176, 178, 183, 374; Rebellion of: 158 Austria: 10-11, 89, 177, 180, 182-184, 187, 189-190, 192-193, 198, 214, 219, 419, 493, 495, 504, 536, 540 Azerbaizhan': 8, 449 Azov: 51 Bakhchisarai (Treaty of): 115, 117 Baku: 183 Balkans: 10, 193, 233, 271, 320, 430, 436-437, 493 Baltic Germans: 181-182, 192, 212, 218 Baltic Sea: 6, 120-121, 175, 178-179, 182, 184, 187, 190, 194, 215, 232, 241-242, 249, 302, 313, 393 Bashkir rebellion: 156 Bashkirs: 201 Bashmakov, Dementii: 127-128 Bavaria: 189, 477 Belgium: 485 Belgorod (fortified line): 5, 48, 50-51, 53, 135, 141 Belorussia: 8, 12, 14, 121-125, 129, 134-136, 139, 178, 186, 189, 393 Berlin: 181-182, 186, 190, 202, 213, 471

Bessarabia: 190, 431 Black Sea: 8, 10, 120, 175, 183-184, 194, 501 Blagodarov, la. I.: 238 Bolsheviks: 11-13, 274, 290 Bonaparte, Louis: 493, 496 Bosporus Strait: 493 Brandenburg: 177, 180-181, 215, 217 Brest-Litovsk: 178, 540 Briansk: 133, 136, 178, 185-186, 431, 434-437 Britain: 181, 189, 193, 276, 294, 392, 394, 399, 411, 491-505, 541, 543 Bucharest: 183 Bukhara: 8 Bukovina: 431, 539 Bulavin rebellion: 156, 158 Bulgaria: 183, 435 Bundism: 535 Byzantium: 351 Calvinism: 397 Carolingian Empire: 2 Carpathian Mountains: 526, 535 Caspian Sea: 175, 177, 193 Catherine I: 158 Catherine II (the Great): 7, 183, 202, 232, 442, 461, 504 Caucasus: 6, 10, 187, 190-191, 232, 242, 302, 449, 458, 461, 492, 504 Central Asia: 5-6, 10, 177 Central Powers: 504 Charles XI (Sweden): 132 Charles XII: 177 Chechnia: 8 Cherkasskii, Alexander: 177 China: 82, 176, 179, 184, 186 Church of the Holy Sepulcher: 491-505 Civil War: 11 Constantinople: 183, 189, 352, 357, 396, 492 Constitutional Democratic Party (Kadets): 304-306 Copenhagen: 176

546

INDEX

Cossacks: 60, 65, 85, 100, 108, 123, 130-131, 134, 139, 150, 153, 156, 159-160, 181, 184-185, 189, 191, 193, 201, 206, 208, 212, 249, 365, 374, 381, 447, 461-463, 529-532 Courland: 526, 528, 539-540 Crimea, annexation of: 232 Crimea: 6, 10, 35-37, 53, 98-99, 109-110, 175, 181, 184, 186, 348-349, 355 Crimean Tatars: 181 Crimean War (1853-1856): 195, 232, 265, 295, 317, 434-435, 459, 464, 491-505, 520 Cromwell, Oliver: 129 Czech lands: 540 Daghestan: 8 Danube River: 175, 177, 183, 188, 190, 194 Danubian Principalities: 492, 495, 504 datochnye liudi: 149, 159 Decembrist Revolt: 293, 469 Denmark: 93, 176-177, 325, 392-393, 412 Desna River: 178, 189 Deulino (Truce of): 72 Dmitrii Donskoi: 21, 28, 30-31, 37 Dniepr River: 50-51, 60, 97, 100-101, 103-105, 112, 116, 124, 138, 175, 181, 186, 190 Dniestr River: 175, 190, 194 Dobrudzha: 97 Don River: 26, 31, 51, 60, 181, 355 Donskoi, Dmitrii: 355 Doroshenko, Petr (Hetman): 97, 100-101, 117 Dukhobors: 441-467 Dvina River: 51, 124, 185, 214, 326, 383 dvorianstuo: 224 Edward VII: 313 Elbe River: 175 Elizaveta Petrovna, Tsarina: 199, 220 England: 4, 15, 70-73, 76 English Russian Company: 70-71 Erastfer: 150 Ermolin chronicle: 24 Estonia: 8, 12, 370, 372 Eurasia: 2, 19, 35, 40, 48 Eyewitness Chronicle: 131

February Revolution: 293, 320 Fedor Alekseevich (Tsar): 132 Fedor Ivanovich (Tsar): 132 Finland: 6, 186, 188, 191-192, 241-242, 249, 462-463 First Polish War (1768-72): 232 First Turkish War (1768-1774): 232 Fonvizin, D. I.: 240 France: 4, 10, 177, 180-182, 198, 211, 232, 265, 276, 286, 297, 392, 419, 469-489, 507, 509, 543 Frederick II: 182-183, 218-219 Frederick William III: 191 French Revolution: 188 Friedberg: 206 Fundamental Laws of 1832: 296-297 Fundamental Laws of 1906: 299-303, 307-308, 314-315 Galich: 178 Galicia: 351, 431, 525-544 Gdansk: 213, 217 Georgia: 8, 181-185, 191-192, 249, 449 Germany: 12~13, 15, 70-71, 74, 77, 79-80, 176, 184, 215, 249-252, 276, 286, 392, 401, 469, 477, 485, 504, 514, 527, 531 glasnost': 13 Glavnaia proviantskaia kantseliariia: 209, 211 Glavnyi krigs-komissariat: 209, 211 Glukhov Articles (1669): 104 Godunov, Boris: 37 Golitsyn, A. M. (General): 216 Golitsyn, V. V.: 104-105, 112 Gorbachev, Mikhail: 13-14 Gordon, Patrick: 106, 108-109, 111, 113-114 Gorodchaninov, G. N.: 228 Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich: 521 Great Horde: 35-36 Great Northern War: 79, 95, 149-150, 154, 157, 164, 170, 176-177, 180-181, 198, 232 Great Powers: 271 Great Reforms: 443, 507-508, 524 Greece: 193, 233-234, 497, 499-501, 504 Greek-Catholic Church: 533 Grodno: 210 Guchkov, Aleksandr: 305-313 Gulf of Finland: 179 Gustavus Adolphus: 129-130

INDEX

Habsburg Empire: 150, 214, 219, 525-527 Hamburg: 176 Hanseatic League: 485 Heidelberg: 177 Hetmanate: 186 Hohenzollern dynasty: 180, 219 Holland: 189, 232 Hungary: 425, 435, 493, 496, 540 laik River: 60 laroslavl': 178, 186, 189 India: 177-178 Ingermanland infantry regiment: 160, 169 Ingria: 8 Irkutsk: 176, 186, 427 Italy: 189, 232, 392, 477, 485 ioniser schools: 246-247 lurev: 178 lurii Daniilovich, prince: 19, 25, 27-28 Ivan Daniilovich, prince: 21, 28 Ivan I: 37 Ivan III: 2, 22, 27, 33-35, 39, 350, 504 Ivan IV (the Terrible): 42, 120-121, 325-363, 366-370, 372-373, 375, 379, 381-382, 384, 386-387 Ivan Samoilovich (Hetman): 97-118 Ivangorod: 5, 51 Iverskii Monastery: 80 Izium (fortified line at): 48, 51, 100 Izmail: 235 Jagiello, Grand Duke of Lithuania: 31, 397 Japan: 10, 15, 504 Jerusalem: 352-354, 491, 499, 502, 505 Jews: 413-439, 464, 525-544 Kalmyks: 150, 153, 181, 185, 201 Kaluga: 186, 189-190 Kantsy: 51 Kara Mustafa (Grand Vizier): 97 Kazan': 5, 158, 160, 167, 179, 327, 334-335, 342, 344, 349, 354, 356, 361, 366, 368-369, 375-376, 378, 381 Kharkov: 435 Khiva: 178 KhmePnyts'kyi, Bohdan: 136 Kiev: 97-104, 116, 121, 175-176, 257-258, 269, 326, 349-353, 357, 361, 427, 433-434, 460

547

Kievan Rus': 525-526 Kircholm: 153 Kirghizistan: 8 Kokoshkin, I. A.: 237 Kolomna: 21, 185 Konigsberg: 180, 186, 202, 205, 210, 213, 218 Kostroma: 30, 32 Kovno: 202 Krasnoe Selo: 254, 263-264, 268-269 Kuban: 6 Kuchuk Kainardji, Peace of: 184, 233, 492, 498 Kulikovo Field, Battle of: 21, 37 Kunersdorf: 206, 207 Kurbskii, Andrei (Prince): 343-344, 346 Kurland: 218-219 Kuropatkin, A. N. (War Minister): 254-262, 264-265, 268-269 Kursk: 100, 103, 185-186, 254, 256-259 L'vov: 190, 525, 529, 538 Ladoga canal: 156 Lake Baikal: 176 landmilitsiia: 152, 156-158 Latvia: 8, 12, 249 Lefortovskii infantry regiment: 157 Lenin, Vladimir: 11, 119, 300 Lermontov, Mikhail: 8 Lesnaia (Battle of): 155 Leszczynski, Stanislas: 177 Liegnitz, Battle of: 23 Lithuania: 8, 12, 19, 20-23, 26, 29-32, 37, 39, 48, 123, 136, 138, 181-182, 186, 190-191, 211, 249, 356-357, 361, 366, 369-371, 377-378, 383, 393, 395, 404, 429 Livonia: 84, 180, 186-187, 203, 325-326, 348-349, 357, 359, 365-387, 392; War of: 120, 365-387 Lukin, V. I.: 223 Lutheranism: 357-358, 397, 399, 411-412, 418 Madrid: 471 Mamai: 27-28, 31 Manchuria: 265, 268-269 Mazepa, Ivan: 105, 109 Mecklenburg: 176, 180 Mediterranean Sea: 193, 232 Mennonites: 441

548

INDEX

Menshikov, Aleksandr (Prince): 160, 169, 501 Metropolitan Makarii: 327-328, 333, 340-341, 343, 355, 357 Mikhail Fedorovich (Tsar): 132, 140 Miliukov, Pavel: 302, 543 Miliutin, Dmitrii: 246, 256, 507, 509-510, 512-513, 517 Minsk: 178, 186, 210, 433 Mohi, Battle of: 23 Moldavia-Wallachia: 187 Moldova: 6, 181-182 Molokans: 441-467 Mongols: 2, 19, 39, 193, 519 Montenegro: 494, 501 Moskva River: 12, 46 Moulin, Louis Etienne (General): 255-256, 262-263, 265, 268-269 Muscovy Company: 73 Napoleon III: 493 Napoleon: 9-10, 188, 262, 458 Napoleonic Wars: 198, 232, 434, 469-489 Narva (Battle of): 149, 150, 166, 185, 370 Nazi Party: 542 Netherlands: 69-78, 85-86, 91-93, 392, 394, 400 Neva River: 51 Nevskii, Alexander: 26 Nicholas I: 7, 119, 296, 413, 416-419, 421, 423, 426, 448, 450, 491-505 Nicholas II: 255-256, 261-262, 264-269, 296-297, 300, 304, 311-313, 315-317, 421, 437, 509, 522-524, 528 Nikanor chronicle: 24 Nikon chronicle: 21-22, 24, 29, 31, 38 Nizhnii Novgorod: 26, 28~29, 35, 37, 178 Noble Cadet Corps: 224 Nogai Tatars: 181, 368, 376-378, 381, 387 Norway: 191 Novgorod chronicle 5: 21, 27 Novgorod: 26-27, 29, 33, 35, 41, 67, 81, 90-91, 166-167, 178-179, 186, 328, 333, 339, 349-350, 352, 361, 372-373, 376-377, 381, 386 Nystadt (Treaty of): 95, 180

Octobrist Party: 304-310, 312-313 Oder River: 183-184, 213-214 Oka River: 20, 26, 37, 50, 53, 378 oklad ("entitlement"): 42, 44, 47-48, 52, 56, 64 Olonets: 178 oprichnina: 42, 382

Orel: 185-186 Orenburg: 5, 184, 191, 195 Oreshek: 51 Ossettiia: 8 Ottoman Empire: 6, 35, 60, 79, 97-118, 149, 151, 153, 155, 157, 176-177, 181, 183-187, 190-191, 193-194, 198, 219, 294, 412, 449, 480, 491-505 Pac, Michal (Lithuanian Hetman): 98 Pale of Settlement: 414, 427, 429, 433-434, 439 Pan-Slavism: 526 Papal States: 469, 485 Paris: 189, 476, 493, 498 Penza: 178, 185 Pereiaslav: 116 Pereslavl': 479 Pereslavl'-Zalesskii: 178 Perevolochna: 155 Persia: 35, 82, 176-178, 183, 188, 191, 193, 232, 449 Peter I (the Great): 4, 7, 10-11, 41, 91, 108, 119, 126, 128, 132, 176-177, 179, 180, 183, 193-195, 198, 204, 224, 226, 284, 287-289, 391, 396, 437 Peter III: 219, 502 Podolia: 8, 116, 189, 351 Poland, partitions of: 186 Poland: 6, 8, 10, 48-49, 60, 70, 81, 106, 108, 121, 124, 136, 175-177, 180, 182, 184-187, 191-192, 193, 194, 211, 215-216, 219, 241-242, 249-251, 279, 379, 393, 404, 418-419, 429, 431, 433, 477, 496, 525-544; partitions of: 121, 186; uprising of 1831: 190 Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth: 2, 35-36, 67, 72, 76, 99, 107, 118, 120-121, 123-126, 138, 153, 157, 211, 325, 346, 348, 362, 365, 371-372, 375, 380, 387, 390, 392-393, 398

549

INDEX

Polotsk: 5, 325-363, 368-370, 372, 374-375, 383 Poltava (Battle of): 151, 155-156, 161, 176-177, 434-435, 437, 538 Pomerania: 215 pomest'e: 26, 35 Port Arthur: 295 Poshekhon'e: 178 Potemkin, P. S.: 233 Poznan: 213 Prikaz. Maloi Rossiv. 104, 116 prikazy ("chancelleries"): 42, 44-48, 64, 126 Prince Vladimir: 389 Protestantism: 326, 357-359, 361, 396-398 Prussia: 4, 176, 180, 182, 184-186, 190-194, 198, 208, 210-213, 215-220, 270, 320, 419, 493, 504, 507, 509, 526 Prut expedition: 155-157, 177, 181, 188 Pskov Third chronicle: 22 Pskov: 81, 178, 185, 328, 333, 350, 369, 372-373, 381, 385-386 Pugachev rebellion: 186 Pushkin, Aleksandr: 476 Qipchaq Khanate: 19, 25-26, 32, 36 Razriadnyi prikaz: 101-102, 104-105, 107 Rhine: 177, 182, 189 Riazan': 25~26, 29, 32-33, 35, 178, 185, 189-190 Riga: 121, 158, 180, 186, 202-203, 205, 210, 370-371 Rogozhskii chronicle: 24 Roman Catholicism: 359, 395-399, 418, 485, 493-494, 496-497, 499, 533 Roman Empire: 2, 15 Romania: 6, 493, 536 Romanov dynasty: 191, 193, 261-264, 293, 296, 524 Rome: 358 Romodoanovskii, Grigorii: 97-118, 141-142 Russian Civil War: 544 Russo-Japanese War: 254-255, 261-264, 266, 275, 295, 297, 303, 306, 310, 420, 436, 520 Russo-Polish War (17th century): 122, 125, 129, 132

Russo-Swedish Russo-Turkish Russo-Turkish Russo-Turkish 430, 520

War War War War

(1741-1743): 232 (1736-1739): 232 (1768-1774): 183 (1877-1878): 263,

Saratov: 186

Saxon dynasty: 180 Saxony: 218, 404, 477 Scotland: 394, 406, 412 Second Polish War (1794-1795): 232 Second Turkish War (1787-1791): 232, 234 Serbian hussars: 155 Sevastopol': 427, 434-436, 459 Seven Years War: 182, 197, 199, 202, 219, 232 shliakhetstvo: 166-171, 224 Shuvalov, Peter: 201, 207 Siberia: 84, 176, 178, 184, 187, 191, 195, 461, 530 Sibir' Khanate: 35, 37 Sigismund II: 325, 336, 348-349, 356, 358 Sigismund III: 73 Silesia: 182, 206, 215 Simbirsk: 178, 186 Simeonov chronicle: 24 Smolensk: 5, 28, 48-51, 60-61, 72, 175, 178, 186, 189-190, 210, 353, 370; War of: 41, 76, 94, 123-124, 127, 131, 134-138, 142, 153, 167 Sobieski, Jan (King): 98-100, 118 Solikamsk: 178 South Korea: 13 Spain: 15, 392, 469, 477, 482, 485 Stalin: 119 Staraia Ladoga: 51 State Duma: 294-321, 422 Stockholm: 179, 188-189, 194 Stoglav of 1551: 44 Stolypin, Petr: 304-305, 314-316, 319 strel'tsy. 150-151, 154, 156-160, 365, 374, 381 Sumarokov, A. P.: 238 Suvorov, A. V.: 235 Suvorov, V. I.: 213 Suzdal': 26, 28-29, 35, 178; Battle of: 22, 39 Sweden: 2, 6, 10, 48, 51, 67-68, 73-75, 80-81, 84, 86, 89-90, 94, 99, 106, 120-121, 126, 130, 132, 139, 147-148, 153-155, 157, 175-177, 179-180, 184-185,

550

INDEX

192-193, 198, 216, 232, 249, 325, 359, 365, 370-371, 376, 379-382, 387, 392-393, 399-400, 404, 411-412, 504 Switzerland: 189, 232

Ulozhenie of 1649: 43-44, 143, 409 United States Civil War: 504 United States: 13-14, 297, 543 Ural Mountains: 12, 84, 178-179 Ustiug chronicle: 21-22, 24

szlachta: 249

Vasilii I: 22, 30, 32-33, 38 Vasilii II: 22, 25, 32, 34, 39 Vasilii III: 19, 30, 35 Velikie Luki: 178, 186, 210, 333, 338, 342-343, 370-372, 376-377, 383, 385-386 Viatka: 178 Viazma: 178, 370 Vienna: 190, 208, 214, 495-496 Vilna: 326, 351, 433 Vilnius: 210 Vistula River: 183, 216 Vitovt, Grand Duke of Lithuania: 32 Vladimir Monomakh: 351 Vladimir: 25, 29, 178, 186, 189 Vokhov River: 179, 189 Volga River: 3, 12, 26, 30, 37, 40, 60, 179, 183, 185, 189, 375, 377, 380, 384 Volhynia: 351 Vologda-Perm' chronicle: 24 Volynia: 8 Voskresenskaia chronicle: 21 votchina: 26 Vyborg: 161, 186, 372

Table of Ranks: 170, 224, 246 Tadjikistan: 8 Taganrog: 51 Taiwan: 13 Tatars: 2, 21-22, 25-26, 28-29, 31, 34, 37, 39-40, 44, 120, 149, 151, 157, 365-387, 480, 486 Tavan': 51 Tehran: 183, 188-189, 193 Thirteen Years War: 41-42, 52-53, 55, 60-61, 73, 80, 94, 106, 108, 119, 121, 123, 129, 138, 140, 144-145, 399 Thirty Years War: 73, 393 Tiflis: 188, 191, 243, 427 Time of Troubles: 52, 61, 67, 70-72, 94, 175, 193 Tiumen' Khanate: 35-36 Tolstoy, Lev': 8, 469 Tomsk: 427, 536, 538 Transcaucasia: 181, 183, 185, 193, 454, 461, 492, 528 Trediakovskii, V. K.: 238 Trinity chronicle: 24 Trubetskoi, Aleksei Nikitich: 124-125, 133 Tsaritsyn: 156 Tsarskoe Selo: 248 Tsushima: 281, 295, 320 Tula: 178-179, 185-186, 189, 404, 406 Turkey: 6, 10, 11, 232, 499, 542 Turkmenistan: 8 Turks: 234, 249, 435, 486 Tver' chronicle: 32 Tver': 25-27, 32-33, 35, 178-179, 186, 189-190, 349, 372

Young Turks: 315, 520-522

Uglich: 178 Ukraine: 8, 12, 81-82, 93, 97-118, 120-122, 125, 175, 178, 185-187, 189, 193, 232, 431, 434, 442, 525-544

Zaporozhian Sich: 98-99, 136, 181, 185 zemskii sobor: 5 Zionism: 535 Zorndorf: 205, 206 Zurawno (Treaty of): 99

Wallachia: 502 War and Peace: 469

War of Polish Succession: 232 Warsaw Pact: 12 Warsaw: 186, 190-191, 269, 433, 435 World War I: 125, 248, 271, 295, 320, 418, 434, 439, 508, 520, 524, 525-526 World War II: 542 Wright Brothers: 277, 280

HISTORY OF WARFARE History of Warfare presents the latest research on all aspects of military history. Publications in the series will examine technology, strategy, logistics, and economic and social developments related to warfare in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East from ancient times until the early nineteenth century. "The series will accept monographs, collections of essays, conference proceedings, and translation of military texts.

1. HOEVEN, M. VAN DER (ed.). Exercise of Arms. Warfare in the Netherlands, 1568-1648. 1997. ISBN 90 04 10727 4 2. RAUDZENS, G. (ed.). Technology, Disease and Colonial Conquests, Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries. Essays Reappraising the Guns and Germs Theories. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11745 8 3. LENIHAN P. (ed.). Conquest and Resistance. War in Seventeenth-Century Ireland. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11743 1 4. NICHOLSON, H. Love, War and the Grail. 2001. ISBN 90 04 12014 9 5. BIRKENMEIERJ.W. The Development of the Komnenian Army: 1081-1180. 2002. ISBN 90 04 11710 5 6. MURDOCH, S. (ed.) Scotland and the Thirty Years' War, 1618-1648. 2001. ISBN 90 04 12086 6 7. TUYLL VAN SEROOSKERKEN, H.P. VAN. The Netherlands and World War I. Espionage, Diplomacy and Survival. 2001. ISBN 90 04 12243 5 8. DEVRIES, K. A Cumulative Bibliography of Medieval Military History and Technology. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12227 3 9. CUNEO, P. (ed.) Artful Armies, Beautiful Battles. Art and Warfare in Early Modern Europe. 2002. ISBN 90 04 11588 9 10. KUNZLE, D. From Criminal to Courtier. The Soldier in Netherlandish Art 1550-1672. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12369 5 11. TRIM, D.J.B. (ed.) The Chivalric Ethos and the Development of Military Professionalism. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12095 5 12. WILLIAMS, A. The Knight and the Blast Furnace. A History of the Metallurgy of Armour in the Middle Ages & the Early Modern Period. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12498 5 13. KAGAY, D.J., VILLALON, L.J.A. (eds.) Crusaders, Condottieri, and Cannon. Medieval Warfare in Societies Around the Mediterranean. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12553 1 14. LOHR, E., POE, M. (eds.) The Military and Society in Russia: 1450-1917. 2002. ISBN 90 04 12273 7

ISSN 1385-7827