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Commonalities of modern political discourse: three paths of modern activism in late imperial Russia's alternative intelligentsia.

Freed by the Great Reforms of the 1860s, sons of Russian Orthodox parish clergymen, or popovichi, departed from the caste-like clerical estate in large numbers and entered virtually every Russian profession and political movement. (1) Once detached from their traditional social estate, popovichi were compelled to construct new identities. Faced with adversity from the noble-dominated secular society they entered, popovichi tended to cling to aspects of their traditional clerical pasts, refusing to assimilate. They did not become citizens who subscribed to universalism; and as such, they can be seen as another example of the Russian state's incomplete modernization. Yet popovichi were not simply unfinished products of a modernization orchestrated by Russia's seemingly omnipotent state. Most of them chose voluntarily to leave their native estate, and they succeeded as self-made men. In this sense, they became modern, self-reliant agents distinguished by both introspection and the belief that they could and should change their world. They thus helped shape the era of "modernity" in Russia as they shaped themselves into agents of change, just as educated "sons of commoners" and marginalized groups who reach the center have throughout the modern world. (2)

Collectively, popovichi formed what can be called an "alternative intelligentsia." (3) Like the nebulous phenomenon of the Russian intelligentsia itself, which has aptly been described as a "nascent civil society," this alternative intelligentsia did not ever espouse a specific political agenda. (4) Popovichi were a remarkably diverse group professionally and politically; their ranks included Bolshevik revolutionaries as well as monarchist professors of theology. They tended to draw on aspects of their clerical heritage, but not all of them agreed on how to define it; as modern men they defined it individually. Much like turn-of-the-century German academics, united by a broad range of common assumptions despite their opposing views of modernity, some popovichi saw clerical values as tradition; others as modernity. (5) This seemingly contradictory interpretation of their native estate was aided by the fact that tradition itself is a modern concept invented by 19th-century intellectuals in response to the anxieties caused by modernity. (6) Russia's caste-like clergy, similar to the religiously sanctioned caste system of India and to the biblical Levites, to whom clergymen not infrequently compared themselves in the 19th century, encouraged this diversity--it allowed popovichi who became atheists to subsume and secularize Orthodox religious values in the guise of social estate values while discarding theological dogma. (7) The group's native estate identity could thus be simultaneously religious and social or merely common, without necessarily altering the content of its values. In this sense popovichi were similar to contemporary American Jews: all may identify themselves as Jewish, but many qualify their Jewish identity with labels--"cultural," "secular," "religious," or "ethnic" Jew--while retaining key aspects of their heritage. (8)

The traditions popovichi brought with them were so different from the noble-dominated culture they entered, and thus new and revolutionary, because in no other European country was there such a strict differentiation of the priesthood, extending from birth to marriage, education, law, and bureaucracy. (9) Russia's caste-like clergy was to some extent so segregated that it was racialized, as were Russia's peasant serfs due to their protracted enserfment. (10) This racialization of social estate groups helps explain why ethnic Russians belonging to estate groups could produce the types of alternative cultures associated with national, regional, or religious minorities, despite the predominance of Orthodoxy as their faith.

What cemented popovichi's collective identity was their affiliation with their common social origin as well as a common foe: the nobility. The prejudice all popovichi faced from nobles, who considered them an "other," coupled with the cultural chasm between the world they entered and the world they left, inspired them to model themselves according to an anti-aristocratic, anti-Western alternative: the clerical culture in which they were raised. Religion served, as it often does in the modern world, as their "cultural defense" against the majority culture, in this case the nobility, as they followed the cardinal tenet of self-fashioning--fashioning themselves, in the words of Stephen Greenblatt, "in relation to something perceived as alien, strange, or hostile." (11)

The context in which the battle between educated nobles and popovichi was fought was textual; whereas they often worked side by side in their professions and political organizations, in their writings they tended to affiliate themselves with different cultural traditions. The polemics between popovichi and nobles were bitter and prolonged precisely because, as "proximate others," they agreed on many fundamentals but disagreed, especially in the case of non-radical nobles, as to their origins. (12) Radical nobles differed from popovichi because of their different attitudes toward their pasts. While noble radicals fit the widespread assumption that "all revolutionaries are patricides" and self-hating, popovichi did not complain of alienation, whether from their families, the masses, or themselves. (13) Their lack of identity crisis explains a conundrum that has long faced scholars: if intelligenty (self-professed members of the intelligentsia) were so alienated, why did they appoint themselves leaders of the nation? (14) Because popovichi believed their clerical heritage christened them the chosen people, they were more than willing to become the nation's self-professed leaders as well as role models for "repentant" noble intelligenty rebelling against their privileged pasts. Other non-nobles who entered the intelligentsia at the turn of the century--many of whom were raised in traditional, pious, non-Westernized Russian culture--were also more likely to accept popovichi as role models than they would aristocratic nobles. Therefore, the secularized clerical culture of popovichi's "alternative intelligentsia" was ultimately more influential than noble culture in the formation of the intelligentsia's identity.

This article focuses on uncovering the commonality within diversity of this alternative intelligentsia culture through the biographies of three popovichi who on the surface appear to have nothing in common but their clerical origins, but whose professional works and life-long career patterns reveal otherwise. (15) The group's diversity made popovichi ubiquitous in Russian culture, social and political movements, and professions; its unity helps explain the scope and nature of the group's impact on the intelligentsia. Whereas noble intelligenty can usually be differentiated along the lines of generations and political affiliations, popovichi cannot. The ethos of many noble intelligenty shifted from words to deeds, and until the turn of the century those who espoused deeds were primarily radicals, but the ethos of popovichi remained constant over generations and across political divisions. This attests to the fact that they drew on their heritage, rather than the noble-dominated intelligentsia they entered, as the primary source of their identity. As we will see, the radical publicist Nikolai Dobroliubov (1836-61), the conservative stockbroker-turned-art-collector Ivan Tsvetkov (1845-1917), and the liberal physician and archivist Aleksandr Smirnov (1854-1918) expressed the same mix of values associated with tradition and modernity in their professional lives. These values comprised a collective ethos that was also expressed in popovichi's personal texts and included: anti-aristocratism; utilitarianism; asceticism; populism; industriousness; commitment to family, justice, and Russian "national" culture; a strong service ethic; social activism; and overt moralism. (16) They chose to implement these values in acts of modern activism through the new institutions and choices that modernization brought to Russia. The simultaneous affiliation of popovichi on different sides of the political spectrum with the forces of both modernity and tradition forces us to rethink a number of commonly accepted dichotomies at the heart of the discourse of modern politics that has ramifications far beyond the field of Russian history.

Dobroliubov: Icon of Radicalism

The radical writer and journalist Nikolai Dobroliubov so epitomized the "new man" of the Great Reform era that Ivan Turgenev was accused of using him as the model for the character Bazarov in Fathers and Sons. In his classic history of Russian populism, Franco Venturi noted that it was Dobroliubov "who gave shape to populist psychology.... He was the first to state uncompromisingly that one's every action, gesture, and taste must be made to correspond with one's ideas." The prerevolutionary literary critic Dmitrii Ovsianiko-Kulikovskii called him a "publicist [publitsist] and moralist by calling.... He wanted to influence societal opinions and develop in the reading public a spirit of humanity and liberating ideas ... the progressive generation of the '60s and '70s grew up on his articles. The following generation was also shaped by his influence." In the words of Isaiah Berlin, "Dobroliubov had, perhaps, the most Bolshevik temperament of all the early radicals." (17)

Dobroliubov's symbolic allure for the emerging intelligentsia was heightened by the fact that he died only a few years after he had burst upon the Petersburg literary scene and dethroned its gentry leaders. His premature death at the age of 25 was immediately followed by a massive funeral, carefully orchestrated by his friend and fellow popovich Nikolai Chernyshevskii, that laid the foundations of the Dobroliubov cult. Dobroliubov and Chernyshevskii were embraced as intelligentsia founding fathers by both populists and Marxists. In the Marxist tradition they were viewed as "enlighteners," comparable to the French philosophes; Engels praised Dobroliubov's writings, as did Lenin, who stated that Dobroliubov's articles "struck him like lightning." (18) Celebrations were held on the 25th and 40th anniversaries of his death, and in 1918 his statue was one of the first monuments built by the new Bolshevik government in Petrograd. This monument was followed by many more, and the 100th anniversary of his birth was elaborately celebrated in Stalinist Russia. While no book-length biography has been published in English, numerous biographies of Dobroliubov were written in the prerevolutionary and Soviet periods; and one of these, published in 1950, won the Stalin Prize. (19) Dobroliubov and his mentor Chernyshevskii remained such hallmarks of the intelligentsia tradition that even some staunchly anti-Marxist circles in emigration refused to repudiate them. The editors of one of the most prominent Parisian emigre belles-lettres journals, which had been serially publishing Vladimir Nabokov's Dar (The Gift) in the late 1930s, refused to publish the chapter of the novel that caricatured Chernyshevskii and included a sketch of Dobroliubov. (20)

The seeds of Dobroliubov's social radicalism were already planted prior to his departure from the clerical estate. His first attempt to formulate radical ideas was prompted by a homework assignment for his homiletics class at Nizhnii Novgorod Seminary. In a practice sermon, he praised St. John Chrysostom for opposing the church aristocracy and dying a martyr's death. He applauded the saint for his sermons on poverty and for giving all his earthly belongings to the poor. In another sermon on good and evil, Dobroliubov explained that good is defined by service to others, and evil is defined by serving one's own passions and egotistical interests. (21)

In 1853, the year before he was to enter the sixth and final year of the seminary course, Nikolai and his father petitioned for Nikolai to enter Petersburg Theological Academy. Permission was granted, and Nikolai passed the exams for the final year of the seminary course and left for Petersburg in the summer of 1853. Nikolai, uninspired by his seminary studies, had long wanted to enroll in a university, but his father, who supported his son's decision to seek a higher education, feared that the tuition was beyond his means. Even though he was a prominent urban archpriest, he was far from wealthy. Nikolai agreed to attend the academy because it was considered the most intellectually rigorous of the theological academies and because its location in Petersburg would facilitate his contact with literary figures. Once he arrived in Petersburg, however, Nikolai met fellow seminarians who were sitting for the entrance examinations to Petersburg Pedagogical Institute. Pressed for time by the institute's impending application deadline, Nikolai wrote his parents informing them of his change of heart and enrolled in the pedagogical institute before he received his parents' reply. Before Nikolai left Nizhnii Novgorod, Fr. Aleksandr had suggested in passing that if Nikolai did not pass the academy entrance examinations, he could try and enroll in the pedagogical institute. Yet confused by his son's seemingly impetuous decision, and fearful that the bishop would disapprove of his son's breach of their original request, Fr. Aleksandr initially expressed dismay. Nikolai responded to his father's indignation by apologizing profusely, explaining his decision in great detail, and offering immediately to withdraw from the institute. Nikolai unequivocally stated that he would never act without his parents' blessing. In his reply, Fr. Aleksandr gave his blessing, reassured his now frantic son, and attributed his last-minute decision to Divine Providence, a justification numerous other clerical parents used to understand their sons' decision to leave the clergy. (22) By leaving the clerical estate, Nikolai thus did not sever his ties to his father, the ultimate symbol of clerical patriarchy.

Soon after Dobroliubov arrived in St. Petersburg, he began to implement his ideas to save Russia. As the top student in his graduating class at the Petersburg Pedagogical Institute, he was slated to receive a gold medal bur was ultimately denied it because of his subversive activities. These acts included protesting against the institute administration, an arrest in 1855 for writing satirical political verse published in an underground journal, and heading a radical kruzhok (independent study circle) which caught the attention of the tsar's secret police. In their kruzhok, Nikolai and his new friends read the works of Vissarion Belinskii, Alexander Herzen, and French socialist thinkers, among others. Nikolai avoided being expelled or imprisoned only after a sympathetic professor at his institute interceded.

One of the authors Dobroliubov's kruzhok read, and whom be translated, was Ludwig Feuerbach. Feuerbach's work was instrumental in converting Dobroliubov to atheism. By all accounts an extremely pious boy in his youth, Nikolai began to voice some doubts about his faith in his final year at the seminary. In 1855, he published an anonymous response in a newspaper to an ode for the deceased Tsar Nicholas I. He castigated Nicholas and claimed that the "Orthodox Church and despotism mutually support each other." He wrote little else about religion or the Church, although in 1858 he attacked religion for the bifurcation of man and claimed that asceticism--which he defined as the harming of the body to save the soul--was madness, a criticism which church reformers, who emphasized the difference between body and flesh, also voiced as they clarified the definition of asceticism. (23)

Despite his rejection of religious faith and his 1855 attack on the institutional Church, in his publications Dobroliubov exhibited sympathy for parish clergymen and argued that they could play a positive role serving society. He reacted angrily and defensively to a review by a secular writer of the dissident priest Ioann Belliustin's expose of the parish clergy. Writing in response in 1859, Dobroliubov maintained that clergymen, not laity, should pass judgment on the book, which had to be published abroad, and that the "question of the condition and meaning of the clergy in Russia is extremely important." He was particularly upset by the reviewer's condemnation of Belliustin's proposal that priests should play a greater role in dispensing medical care. Given the special trust peasants placed in their priests, Dobroliubov argued that implementation of Belliustin's plan would improve the poor quality of health care in rural areas. Rather than belittling the priesthood, he stated that attending to parishioners' bodies fit the Christian mission of serving the poor and the sick. Parroting the rhetoric of the newly emergent Russian Orthodox pastoral care movement, he contended that the "dignity of a priest, according to the spirit of Christian faith, is not contained in external rituals, but in the purity of heart, in love toward one's neighbor." In another article on Belliustin's book, Dobroliubov clearly affiliated himself with his native estate, stating that under serfdom, the nobility "played with us as if we were checkers"; he had done the same in his 1855 condemnation of the ode for Nicholas I, when he cited the tsar's ban against the children of sacristans entering the civil service as one of the grave injustices committed during his reign. (24) In other reviews of clergymen's works, Dobroliubov treated the authors as his peers. In his social life, Dobroliubov kept up lifelong friendships with clergymen as well. (25) He even identified, in an 1855 diary entry, his clerical origins as the source of his activism: "I am as if purposely chosen by fate for the great purpose of revolution! ... The son of a priest, raised in the strict rules of the Christian faith and morality, born in the center of Russia, having spent my first years in close contact with the simple and middle classes of society." (26)

The other reason Dobroliubov lost his faith was the premature deaths of both of his parents in 1854, an event from which he never recovered. The eldest of eight siblings, Dobroliubov offered immediately to abandon his education and take over the household by accepting a job as a schoolteacher in his home province. He was dissuaded by relatives who pointed out that he would not have been able to support his siblings on a schoolteacher's salary. Because no relatives could accept all the children into their already large households, the children were divided among relatives and their father's former parishioners. The two youngest died within a few years. (27) For the remainder of his life, Nikolai corresponded with his surviving siblings frequently, lavishing them with advice, reprimand, and affection. He fretted about their schooling and social lives. They, in turn, revered him, symbolized by their addressing him with the polite form. As soon as he was able, he relocated his two brothers to Petersburg, where he, a bachelor, raised them in his apartment.

In 1856, shortly after he began to publish his work, Dobroliubov met Chernyshevskii, then editor of the radical journal Sovremennik (The Contemporary), the most popular periodical of its day. That summer, as journalism blossomed following the death of the reactionary Nicholas I, Dobroliubov joined several other popovichi as a regular contributor to Sovremennik. Within a year, he was considered one of Russia's most celebrated public figures and was promoted to co-editor. He replaced Chernyshevskii as the literary critic of the journal, and in 1859, he launched a satirical supplement titled Svistok (The Whistle), which published biting political satires about the impending Great Reforms. Svistok was enormously popular. Although this was the golden age of Russian journalism, censorship remained an obstacle, forcing writers to camouflage their attacks on the government. Nevertheless, until the 1905 Revolution, journalism was one of the only means of legal public expression, and Dobroliubov effectively used literary criticism as a means of bypassing censorship in order to express his ideas about the important social issues of his era.

One of the central ideas that runs through all of Dobroliubov's work is the call for a new type of activist capable of destroying the tyrannical old order. A self-proclaimed socialist since 1857, Dobroliubov lambasted liberalism in the wake of the failed revolutions of 1848. Influenced by the utopian socialists Fourier, Owen, and Proudhon, he argued that the political rights proposed by liberal politicians were useless to people deprived of food, shelter, and clothing and mainly benefited the wealthy. He suggested that radicals should instead concentrate on improving the welfare of the common people. Deeply ambivalent about the role of the state, be believed that the autocracy could never reform itself and placed all his hopes in revolution. (28)

Dobroliubov argued that the emergence of a new type of activist was essential, since the reigning oppositionists in pre-reform Russia were noblemen, the very social estate on which the old order was based. Noble radicals were incapable of overthrowing the autocracy because they were products of the social realities they denounced. Heavily influenced by Rousseau, Dobroliubov believed that one's character was determined by one's upbringing and education. Although he subscribed to a positive view of human nature as inherently pure at birth, he argued that people were corrupted by the formative environment of their native estate. Upbringing within each estate differed due to varying socio-economic conditions, and by adulthood people were no longer malleable. Drawing on the anti-noble discourse voiced by his fellow popovichi and many clergymen, he believed that the most degenerate of Russian social estates was the nobility. Their very existence as parasites who fed off working people under serfdom was a deviation from the "rational" egoism he and Chernyshevskii posited. (29)

Dobroliubov expressed his hatred for the nobility in part in his famous essay on Goncharov's 1859 novel Oblomov. In this essay he coined the term "Oblomovism" (Oblomovshchina), which has been used ever since to describe the so-called Russian national disease. Dobroliubov, however, understood Oblomovism as a disease specific to the nobility, and he castigated nobles in his review for replacing their souls with an endless cycle of oversleeping and useless, lavish rituals. Nobles were not merely slothful; they were cruel tyrants. He reminded his readers that even Oblomov, whom educated society had embraced as a gentle buffoon, betrayed his social origins by kicking his servant. (30)

All nobles were Oblomovs, and thus even noble radicals were really only liberals, whose liberalism manifested itself in their vacillation, inaction, and ultimate endorsement of reforms from above. For these "superfluous men," as Dobroliubov dubbed them, revolution was yet another abstract idea that they debated only to escape their boredom, having abandoned their traditional service to the state in favor of sitting on their estates. The reality of revolution, Dobroliubov claimed, actually terrified them as a threat to their self-interest. As testament to their hypocrisy, he cited discussions in the liberal press about how to protect gentry rights during the impending emancipation of the serfs. Because their underlying concern was preserving the status quo, nobles were his--and subsequently Russia's--enemies. (31)

Having declared war on the nobility, Dobroliubov did not spare leading gentry writers or icons of the revolutionary movement. In 1860, be published a review of Ivan Turgenev's novel Nakanune (On the Eve) in which he attacked the writer for not having invested his work with more social content. Like Chernyshevskii, Dobroliubov had no patience for art that did not serve a utilitarian purpose, judging art for art's sake as a form of self-indulgent gentry escapism. He argued that literature produced by noblemen was devoid of positive heroes, even criticizing Pushkin, the father of Russian literature, as a frivolous aristocrat incapable of active thought. In his review of On the Eve, in which a Bulgarian liberates his country from Turkish occupiers, Dobroliubov reproached Turgenev for not transporting the novel's plot to Russia and casting a Russian as the hero. Turgenev was not able to construct this type of Russian hero, Dobroliubov surmised, because such heroes belonged to educated society as a rule, and overthrowing the autocracy would entail renouncing their upbringing, estate, friends, relatives, and material wealth. In short, they would have to renounce their very selves. Besides, he concluded, questioning the national identity of nobles as others from his native estate did, were Russian nobles not playing the same role in Russia as the Turks played in Bulgaria? (32)

Turgenev, who had twice invited the rising star Dobroliubov to his home only to be snubbed, was so horrified by this review that he told the editorial board of Sovremennik they had to choose between him and Dobroliubov. The board sided with the young upstart; and Turgenev, followed by several other prominent writers including Lev Tolstoi, severed all ties to the journal. The controversy reached across the ocean to Herzen, whose writings had once inspired Dobroliubov. He denounced Dobroliubov's review and accused the "buffoons" of Sovremennik of what amounted to treason. By criticizing the liberal press and intelligentsia, Herzen argued from exile in London, they were helping the tsarist regime and deserved to be decorated for their service to absolutism. He proudly identified himself as one of the "superfluous men" whom Dobroliubov attacked. Because of Herzen's stature, Chernyshevskii sailed to London to try to resolve relations with him. The meeting was unsuccessful and, in Chernyshevskii's words, "pointless." In a letter to Dobroliubov, Chernyshevskii complained that Herzen was a man of the past who now bored him. (33) Comments that Herzen made privately reveal that he, like other noble intelligenty of his generation, had never accepted his young colleagues from the clergy. He admitted there were parts of Chernyshevskii's Chto delat'? (What Is to Be Done ?) that he liked, but he complained that it "has been dipped into a Petersburg middle-class seminary urinal." (34)

In Dobroliubov's view, the passivity of gentry liberals was especially unforgivable because individuals could and should act to further historical development. To a greater extent than Chernyshevskii, Dobroliubov stressed the power of human agency and man's growing consciousness of his separateness from nature. He adhered to both the 18th-century belief in progress toward rationality and the 19th-century understanding of progress as man's increasing mastery over nature by means of scientific knowledge. (35) Yet on the question of the role of personality in history, he chose the middle road, asserting that the theory of both the hero and the crowd suppressed the person. He expected action from a self linked to its community rather than a lone individual. As a moralist, he also included in his definition of activism individuals living their lives according to a code of honesty and morality. Thus a person who did not play an energetic role in social matters, but who found enough strength to rework himself in his own life and live by his own convictions, would have a beneficial impact on society. (36) Conversely, a life of private immorality--the life of all Oblomovs--would harm society as much as evading one's civic duties.

Dobroliubov found the potentiality for the modern, activist man he was seeking in an unlikely source: the Russian peasantry. Denouncing the prevalent view shared by men of the 1840s that peasants were submissive, he argued that their main features were action, strength, energy, and courage. Dobroliubov believed in the peasantry's innate revolutionary potential and love of liberty. He argued that the strength that lay deep inside them manifested itself even under the oppression of serfdom. Drawing on Proudhon, he wrote: "It is impossible to distort human nature to such an extent as to obliterate all traces of natural instincts and common sense." (37) He detested portrayals of peasants as unconscious of themselves; consciousness was a normative attribute for all laborers.

Dobroliubov has been accused of being a crypto-Slavophile because of his views of the peasantry. (38) In his famous article on the characteristics of the Russian peasantry he voiced his belief that they were superior to other social estates: "[among peasants] we will find more regard for human dignity, less indifference to what my neighbor is and what I seem to be to my neighbor ... the common people are as capable of displaying all sorts of lofty sentiments and actions as the people of any other estate (if not more)." (39) Dobroliubov's faith in the peasantry ran counter to the nihilist rationality associated with the new men of the 1860s, a point the noble-born Pisarev himself made: "If I had had the chance to speak with Dobroliubov, then he and I would have disagreed on almost everything ... especially over one specific question, over the evaluation of positive features in our folk life." (40) Dobroliubov also wrote of the purely Russian character that characterized peasants, which educated society had lost. As a teenager in Nizhnii Novgorod he had researched this character in extensive bibliographical work on the history of his native province, in which he focused on the daily life (byt) of the peasantry, and in a massive collection he compiled of local proverbs and peasant folk songs. (41)

In the same article on the characteristics of the Russian peasantry, Dobroliubov dissociated himself from the Slavophiles by attacking the idea that Russia's future development should not follow the example of Europe, and by repudiating the qualities of humility, obedience, patience, self-sacrifice, and meekness that they attributed to the peasantry. (42) But while he criticized the Slavophiles for their belief that Russian peasants were distinct from or superior to other nationalities, he, too, viewed them as special. He argued that their distinctiveness stemmed not from their nationality but from the historical conditions under which they lived. The oppression they had suffered was worse than, but not entirely dissimilar to, that of all laboring people. Because they were the least free of all Europeans, their striving for freedom was therefore stronger. But regardless of the fact that he argued, as he had in the case of Russian nobles, that nurture, rather than nature, was responsible for the particular nature of Russian peasants, he shared the Slavophile view that Russian peasants were distinct from and--given his admiration for those who sought freedom--superior to other nationalities.

At times Dobroliubov's definition of the narod (folk) included not just the peasantry, but all "insulted and downtrodden" Russians, which could include individuals from all estates except the nobility. His view of Russian society, one of "haves" versus "have-nots," was based on social origin. (43) Dobroliubov was not a nihilist; he did not repudiate all traditions. Rather, he rejected the tradition of the gentry while promoting a second, distinct Russian culture.

Russian intellectual historians disagree over whether Dobroliubov should be considered a classical populist, but they agree nonetheless that he was a founding father of Russian populism. (44) The main divergence between Dobroliubov and classical populists was over one of the central questions in modern Russian history, an issue that would later split both the populist movement and the Russian Marxists: the relationship of the intelligentsia to the masses. In contrast to classical populists who wanted to learn from the peasantry, Dobroliubov believed that the peasantry's innate strength needed to be correctly cultivated and directed by the intelligentsia. In describing the intelligentsia he employed terms like the "chosen people," stating that only a few people are ever the "best" of a given population. Yet he did not side with those Russian intelligenty who had argued, and would continue to argue, that the only progressive force in Russian history was the educated minority. He demonstrated his democratism by consistently arguing that peasants themselves had to be the operating force in history, and his main criticism of the Great Reforms was that the peasantry played no role in their own emancipation. Dobroliubov saw the guiding role of the intelligentsia as necessary because, unlike latter-day populists, he did not idealize the life of the Russian peasantry. While he believed that the peasants had positive characteristics and were innately pure, he saw that they were riddled with vices that stemmed from feudal oppression and, like other estates, were adversely affected by their upbringing. Since the peasantry was unable to lead itself and the old guard was useless, he called for the creation of a new intelligentsia. By the Great Reform era, as the old social order was crumbling, Dobroliubov argued that the social environment had now reached the stage at which it could facilitate the appearance of such "new people." (45) Not coincidentally, the Great Reform opened up his native estate; and most of those "new people" were popovichi, the bearers of the "other" educated Russian cultural tradition.

Dobroliubov had a reputation for being extremely industrious. The wife of one of his colleagues recalled that "he could no more live without work than a drunk could live without liquor." (46) By 1857, his health was failing from his excessive work habits and his friends begged him to cease working and convalesce. It was not until 1860 that he finally agreed to seek treatment abroad, and once there he never ceased writing. Despite his stature as a leading literary critic, while abroad he was forced to tutor the offspring of Russian noble families to earn money for his orphaned siblings' care. His students, meanwhile, perceived Dobroliubov--in the way that nobles generally regarded the clergy and their offspring--as a true "other" endowed with inherent and distinct physical features. A liberal gentry official's daughter he tutored described him: "His nose was worse than mine, so fat and soft ... and his lips were fat, completely shapeless--like two round, thick pieces of flesh--a grayish-green face and stringy, straight hair." (47)

On the eve of his return to Russia in 1861, Dobroliubov expressed dissatisfaction about the Westernized, noble-dominated secular society he had joined, a society foreign to his clerical upbringing and seminary education. He wrote his friends that he knew that when he returned to Petersburg he would order clothes that would look strange on him, would go to Italian operas that he would not understand, and would spend evenings as the guest of people who bored him to pieces: "if I had the slightest chance, I would leave Petersburg and all of its muck." He longed instead for the world of his clerical childhood. On his way back to Petersburg after his trip abroad, he stopped in Nizhnii Novgorod to see his family and visit his beloved parents' graves. He had written his eldest sister a few weeks before: "I wander about the world a ship; I am alien to everyone, no one knows me, no one loves me.... If I said something about my parents, about my childhood, about my mother, no one would understand me.... To tell you the truth, since Mamma's death I have not had a single joyful day." (48) A few months after returning to Russia, he died in Chernyshevskii's arms.

Tsvetkov: Conservative Stockbroker Turned Art Collector

Modernization fostered the burgeoning independent national press that catapulted Nikolai Dobroliubov into fame; it also introduced progressive modes of business such as a national stock exchange. It was through the stock exchange that Ivan Tsvetkov, one of the few popovichi employed in the business world, earned his fortune. Born in 1845, a decade after Dobroliubov, he transformed himself from a poor village priest's son into a millionaire and was likened by his prerevolutionary biographer to the American robber barons John Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie. (49) But he found his true calling as a collector of Russian art who eventually gave his collection to the nation. For Tsvetkov, a political conservative, his avocation was part of an attempt to save Russia. Though the means and ends of Tsvetkov's blueprint for Russia's salvation differed dramatically from those of the revolutionary Dobroliubov, even an atypical popovich like Tsvetkov conducted himself as a modern man, believing that he should and could change the world through his own initiative. Confident of their ability to lead, popovichi-intelligenty, including Tsvetkov, disparaged the hegemony of the noble elite and questioned the orientation of Russian national culture.

Ivan began to display his feistiness at a young age. In 1863, a year after enrolling in Simbirsk Seminary, he fell into disfavor with administrators after choosing to write one of his assigned compositions on the daily hardships of two priests from his home village. While several teachers agreed that he had accurately depicted clerical reality, seminary officials found his portrayal too bleak and instigated an investigation of Ivan, whom they suspected had come under the sway of secular literature. Outraged by this hypocrisy, Ivan published his essay in an underground seminary journal. Moreover, be had already decided that he wanted to obtain a degree in mathematics from a secular higher educational institution and, advised by a sympathetic teacher, knew that it would be easier to pass university entrance examinations if he completed his secondary education at a gymnasium. (50)

Ivan enrolled in a gymnasium in 1864 after receiving permission from his parents, and he helped pay for his education by tutoring the sons of two gentry families. Ivan's honeymoon at the gymnasium was short-lived. He was expelled from the seventh class after a teacher complained that he was a harmful influence on fellow students. Tsvetkov believed that the teacher's animosity toward him stemmed from jealousy; the sister of one of Tsvetkov's pupils preferred him to this teacher, who had previously tutored the girl's brother. Tsvetkov had further irked the teacher by objecting to his not shaking the hands of his students and accusing him of immorality for writing compositions for his favorites. Ivan was readmitted to the gymnasium only after he suffered and recovered from a bout of typhus. Because of his previous record, however, he was later denied the gold medal he should have received as the top graduating student. Ivan believed that he had been slighted because, unlike the noble pupil who was awarded the medal, he had not spent his entire secondary-school career at the gymnasium. (51)

From the time of his initial contact with secular society, Tsvetkov expressed judgment of others' morality. He proved himself a contentious peer who, like his radical counterpart Dobroliubov, did not accept injustice. This trait was so important to him that he included it on a brief list entitled "Several Traits of My Character," which he compiled for his biographer in 1909. On this list, be described himself as someone who was so honest that he always spoke what was on his mind, even if his words were unpleasant for his listeners. He paid for this outspokenness and directness, he wrote, by remaining unpopular his whole life--something he did not regret, for although be had not generally socialized, he had never been bored. (52)

In 1866, he enrolled in the Petersburg Technological Institute after its administrators, who were recruiting at his gymnasium, awarded him a tuition waiver for the full four-year course. To support himself in Petersburg, Ivan continued to work as a tutor. In letters to his family, Ivan displayed the same anti-aristocratism and ill ease among nobles that Dobroliubov voiced. In 1866, he complained to his parents that his employers made him feel self-conscious: "I am somewhat awkward among my pupils, amid the luster.... That is one point. The second point is that Mr. Moskvitanov let it be known to me that I should dress more appropriately in their home. I still have not found the right moment to sort this matter out with him." (53) In a diary entry written the same year, Ivan more directly vented his rage against the prejudice he felt his kind--seminarians--were subjected to:
   Society regards a tailor, a shoemaker, and a seminarian
   identically. As opposed to a gentleman, a seminarian is
   inexperienced, timid. When I have happened to witness lofty,
   idiotic aristocratic bias, I, like Satan, have become inflamed with
   bile against them. Once on the street I stopped and interrupted one
   gentleman because he spoke about my friends, who were walking ahead
   of me, with contempt. I almost hit him. (54)


As the tutor of the children of a Prince Gagarin, Tsvetkov had the privilege of traveling abroad during his summer vacation. He visited Geneva with the Gagarins and later traveled to Berlin and Vienna in the employment of other Russian aristocratic families. Like Dobroliubov, Tsvetkov felt uneasy abroad. In a 1909 unpublished autobiography, he recalled that he enjoyed his time abroad but was overjoyed when he returned "to Russia, to home." He further displayed his nationalism and his overt morality in his explanation of why he was overjoyed to bring 200 gold rubles back to Russia: "these circumstances comforted me greatly not in terms of the material success of my work, but as a moral victory of a Russian, who did not take 200 rubles out of Russia, as others do, but brought 200 rubles to Russia from abroad." Money was a source of pride for Tsvetkov, since it provided him with independence from his noble foes. Regarding his early years, he noted that he would rather have starved than borrow money from anyone.

Once he returned, his health began to deteriorate. Convinced that the Petersburg weather was sickening him, he returned to his parents' home in 1868. In the fall of that year, he was well enough to enroll in nearby Kazan University; and in 1869, he transferred to the more prestigious Moscow University, where he graduated from the mathematics department in 1873. He chose the Mathematics Faculty because he believed the students who selected it were motivated by their consciences. He contrasted them to students in the Law Faculty, which was not coincidently dominated by nobles, who cared nothing about knowledge or personal development but only lusted after a diploma so they could obtain a good position and salary. (55) The significant role he assigned to his conscience is also evident in a diary entry he wrote at the age of 21, in which he espoused the hallmark features of a modern man: "In my opinion, it is necessary to think, speak, and act such as my own mind, my own conscience, tells me." (56)

Ivan felt much more at home in Moscow than he had in Petersburg. Ivan grew so deeply attached to his alma mater in Moscow that he began at one point to research its history for a monograph he hoped to write. (57) Ultimately he expressed his love for his adopted city by bequeathing his beloved house museum to Russia's "ancient capital Moscow." This phrase, used by Tsvetkov's biographer, evokes the distinct images associated with the "rival" cities of Moscow and Petersburg. Moscow symbolized the "heart of Russia," whereas Petersburg, which was established as the seat of the emperor and the aristocratic court, was seen as a foreign and artificial capital. (58)

After graduation, Ivan began his career in commerce by working for the newly opened Moscow Land Bank in 1874. In his autobiography, he explained that his career choice was motivated by his desire to destroy Russia's poverty and improve the living standards of its people. He believed he could accomplish this by working in these new banks, which provided Russia with the infrastructure for advanced industrial development by offering inexpensive and widely available credit to capitalists. Describing his decision, he wrote, "it was already time for me to start life itself, it was time to do something for society," and he contrasted himself to those who sat around doing nothing but enriching themselves in bureaucratic posts. Unlike them, he longed to be useful and active. (59) The fact that he did not seek business employment to gain a life of luxury is attested by his biographer, who noted that Tsvetkov had a reputation for being extremely frugal with his money and for never spending any on himself. (60)

Ivan had no influential connections to recommend him to his new employers and was hired on a whim by the prince presiding over the bank, who agreed out of curiosity to meet the young man who had the fortitude to ring his doorbell unannounced. Initially Ivan performed a wide variety of odd jobs for the firm and did not receive a salary for his work. After one year, his mathematical talents and industriousness helped him to be promoted to accountant and given a salary that allowed him to discontinue his tutoring work. Two years later, he was promoted to agent, an assignment that required him to travel to 19 different provinces to evaluate estates. In a letter to his sister in 1877 about these trips, he exhibited both his patriotism and his activism: "and off I go again to travel about our motherland [matushka], to travel around Russia. I travel a great deal, an awful lot, but I don't consider this a burden. New places, new faces, types, interests. In a word, a lot that is curious and from which one can learn. I see that all these travels broaden my view of life in general and Russia in particular." It especially enthralled Tsvetkov that he was able to travel for free, while Russian aristocrats and foreigners paid enormous sums of money for the privilege. (61)

In 1890, Ivan received another promotion and began to work as one of the bank's stockbrokers, a position he held until he retired in 1909. Ironically, in the same year, he wrote one of his brothers expressing antipathy toward his business career. He had been ready to quit his job, he explained, when he was given this promotion. He had accepted it only because the additional income would allow him for the first time to achieve full independence. A letter he wrote to his brother 14 years earlier sheds light on the way Tsvetkov's sensitivity toward slight caused him professional difficulties. He bragged that he had openly, in front of his colleagues, terminated all relations with the main accountant of his firm. He was proud that he had not sworn at him but had calmly, quickly, and clearly made evident that the disgraceful way the accountant treated him had to stop. (62)

Despite his remarkable financial and professional success, Tsvetkov continued throughout his life to see himself as an underdog. In his unpublished autobiography he wrote: "I lived my life without belonging to any estate, without possessing any rank or orders--and I defended a great deal my non-estate position." He compared his situation to that of Jewish residents of the Russian empire, one of the most persecuted groups in tsarist Russia. He explained that because of his lack of estate status he had to live without registering legally during visits to Petersburg from 1888 to 1893, and to circumvent the law he received advice from Jews "experienced in these matters." (63)

During his lifetime, Ivan used his vast wealth to help support his siblings, nieces and nephews, cousins, and elderly parents. Once Ivan's mother was widowed in 1888, she divided her time between his home and the homes of his brothers, who both became doctors. An attentive son, Ivan sent his widowed mother, when she was not with him in Moscow, religious books and a cross dipped in the oil of a martyred saint. (64)

Besides supporting his extended family, Ivan spent his fortune indulging his true calling, art-collecting. He had first been introduced to art in 1871, during his second year at the university, when he stumbled into a Moscow museum by accident. Enchanted, he soon visited every museum in Moscow and Petersburg. He bought his first painting in 1881. In 1890, in the same letter to his brother in which he expressed dissatisfaction with his job, Ivan explained that while his success at the bank and the respect of his co-workers was a source of pride for him, his moral calling was his art collection: "collecting paintings provides me with the greatest satisfaction and moral serenity; it provides all of my spiritual joy, on which my soul lives. Love for art is the strongest passion and the most perpetual of all passions." (65) The independence Ivan had sought was thus not to enrich himself but to support his true vocation, the collection of Russian national art, which he intended to bequeath to his nation.

Unlike many wealthy nobles who used their inheritances to live free of toil, Ivan could not imagine ever ceasing to work, no matter how much money he amassed. He applied the same zeal and productivity he was known for at the bank to being an art collector. At the end of his life, after he had retired, he warned his nephew that "without work even a person with an income is always an unsatisfied, unhappy creature, whom no one and nothing can help." (66) Work brought joy, but it was joy earned through suffering. In 1909, he presented his ceaseless industriousness and dedication to his biographer as the ascetic acts of a hero: "When I took on a specific matter, be it official business, of concern for the public or social, then I always strove to execute it in the best possible way, no matter how much work or [how many] unpleasantries I had to endure." (67)

Ivan's niece referred to his art collection as his "beloved child." (68) Ivan had no children, having married late in life a woman who had served for many years as the caretaker of his household. His choice of a bride was a highly unusual one for a wealthy man, but it was not an unusual choice for a wealthy popovich. Given Ivan's disdain for the well-to-do, a high-society bride, even if she would consider a proposal from a popovich, was out of the question.

Tsvetkov quickly became one of the major art collectors in Moscow. To house his expanding collection he had a home built near the Kremlin, designed for him by the popovich artist Viktor Vasnetsov. Vasnetsov, who began his career as one of the peredvizhniki, the Russian realist painters who depicted populist themes, became a prominent neo-Slavophile renowned for his paintings of Russian historical and religious subjects. It was his later work that attracted Tsvetkov, who asked him to design a house in the style of the Russian architecture Ivan so enjoyed in medieval Russian towns such as Rostov Velikii. Once built, the house Vasnetsov devised was likened in the contemporary press to Ivan the Terrible's Novgorod palaces. (69)

Ivan's taste in architecture corresponded to the kind of art he collected. He cultivated the development of Russian national culture by focusing on what contemporary collectors neglected: drawings by Russian artists. Soon he had amassed a unique collection. In art circles, Ivan, who was an active member of the Academy of Artists and a representative of the Moscow Society of Art Enthusiasts, was renowned for his conservative views: he approved only of realist art painted before 1880. In 1899, he was elected to the Moscow City Duma as an advisor to the Tret'iakov Gallery. The last generation of more Western and less realist-oriented peredvizhniki breathed a sigh of relief when Tsvetkov left this post after six years. In a newspaper interview he explained that he would rather resign than stand by and watch the gallery buy works of "ugly decadence." (70)

Ivan's political views were just as conservative. He abhorred the revolutionary movement and was horrified by the 1881 murder of the Tsar-Liberator Alexander II, whom he adored. Tsvetkov believed that the Great Reforms Alexander II had enacted had been entirely successful, transforming Russia into the type of modern nation-state he desired. Alexander II, Tsvetkov explained in a letter to his parents, had done more for the Russian people than any other tsar, and he was shocked that more people did not mourn his passing: "this strange, taciturn, obtuse relation of the simple Moscow folk to the death of the tsar, who raised them from the state of no rights and slavery to complete human rights." (71) Within the spectrum of Russian politics, Ivan appears to have been closest to the centrist Octobrist Party.

Tsvetkov was angry at the common people's lack of reaction to the tsar's murder because he believed that individuals should adopt an activist agenda, albeit through legal means. In his own life Tsvetkov sought to fulfill this civic ideal. Between 1901 and 1904, Ivan served as a deputy for the Moscow City Duma as a representative from Moscow University. (72) He further identified himself with the activist new man when he later wrote about an 1874 meeting he had with Turgenev at the home of a composer they both knew. Ivan adored Turgenev, and this meeting was one of the highlights of his life. During the meeting he assured Turgenev, still smarting from his confrontation with Dobroliubov, that the young people of Russia loved him, and that they loved him especially for having created the character of Bazarov, whom they embraced as their own. (73) The nihilist radical Bazarov was a hero to the stockbroker Ivan Tsvetkov, an enemy of the revolutionary movement, precisely because of his opposition to gentry society and his personification of the new activist men of modest origins. Tsvetkov's rejection of the revolutionary movement also did not deter him from writing one of his brothers in the 1860s: "something evil overcomes me and I don't want to write any more. Indeed, if only so-called pravda-spravedlivost' (truth-justice) existed." This militant concept of truth was not only heralded by both the radical populist intelligentsia and the Bolsheviks--to the extent that it became the name of the main Soviet newspaper. It was also advocated by theologians and taught to popovichi by seminary teachers, so much so that popovichi of all generations and political orientations, including those who were not politically active, emphasized their commitment to it. (74)

In 1909, Ivan gave his house museum to the Moscow City Duma. At the time of his bequest, his collection consisted of 1,200 drawings and 300 paintings by 404 artists. It was appraised as priceless, and it was estimated that not less than one million rubles had been spent on it. The museum was opened to the public after Ivan's death in 1917, when it became "The State Tsvetkov Artistic Gallery." It was permanently closed in 1926 when the collection was moved to the larger Tret'iakov Gallery. (75) The house, on the banks of the Moscow River, is still standing today and is presently the home of a French diplomat. It is one of the major landmarks in downtown Moscow. It is not far from the Church of Christ the Savior, which was blown up on Stalin's orders in 1931 and rebuilt by the Moscow Patriarchate in the 1990s.

Smirnov: Liberal Physician and Provincial Historian

Like many prerevolutionary Russian professionals, Aleksandr Smirnov engaged in more than one career. Unlike Western Europeans, most Russian professionals defined themselves first and foremost as intelligentsia members rather than as members of a particular profession. Smirnov was a zemstvo doctor, writer, bibliographer, historian, and ethnographer. On the surface, he shared little with Dobroliubov and Tsvetkov apart from his clerical origin. Besides their professional and political differences, Smirnov was 18 years younger than Dobroliubov and 9 years younger than Tsvetkov. He was not a priest's son but the child of a lowly sacristan. He resided for his entire professional life not in one of the two capital cities but in his home province. Both Tsvetkov and Dobroliubov achieved national fame, Tsvetkov in his lifetime and Dobroliubov seemingly eternally, but Smirnov was known only in his native region. Yet, like them, Smirnov was both a product and a contributor to Russian modernity. He epitomized modern activism, as he utilized the professional opportunities created by the Great Reforms to improve the lives of the masses and to fortify his country by recording the history of his native province. Like his two predecessors, he was imbued with a moral agenda based on his rejection of noble leadership of the intelligentsia.

Smirnov displayed his fierce allegiance to his home province as soon as he left it. Wanting to receive a higher education, he enrolled in 1874 at Warsaw University, one of the only options available to him. Because he had received financial aid during his clerical education, Smirnov was obliged either to serve temporarily as a church or parish schoolteacher or to reimburse the Church the entire sum before he could receive his seminary documents. (76) Not wanting to delay his education, and unable to secure sufficient funds, he chose to enroll in an institution that allowed seminarians to register without presenting their school records. As soon as he arrived in Warsaw, he wrote home complaining of homesickness and of the Polish intelligentsia's hatred of Russians. Like Dobroliubov and Tsvetkov, he was not comfortable among non-Russians. His goal was to relocate as near as possible to his home in Vladimir province, especially after his 1875 marriage to the daughter of a Vladimir province sacristan. (77) By 1876, with his Warsaw University transcripts in hand, Aleksandr was able to transfer to Moscow University, where he remained until his graduation from the medical faculty in 1881.

Aleksandr not only chose a bride from his native estate but also associated primarily with popovichi. At Moscow University his popovich friends included former Vladimir seminarians who were from his native district of Pereslavl'. During university vacations they would travel home to Pereslavl' together. He also developed a close friendship with one of his professors at Moscow University, a fellow popovich from Vladimir who taught in the Medical Faculty. (78)

By returning to his home region, Smirnov was also able to assist his now widowed father with his troubled siblings, an alcoholic brother and a sister who bore two children out of wedlock and briefly ran away with a group of Gypsies. (79) Like Dobroliubov and Tsvetkov, Smirnov assumed the role of family patriarch once his parents died or became infirm.

During his university years in the 1870s, Smirnov became a member of a populist kruzhok in Moscow and began to write for populist publications. In 1878 he began to publish articles on rural conditions in Vladimir, as well as a few short stories. The heroes of these stories were either peasants or, like most popovich writers, who also displayed a modern fascination with themselves, popovichi. Like Dobroliubov, Smirnov claimed that he did not idealize the peasantry and criticized others for not portraying peasant life realistically. In 1891, he even wrote a friend and fellow Vladimir populist, who was himself the son of a peasant, accusing him of idealizing the peasantry by neglecting to report the negative sides of peasant life that they both knew existed. The particular populism of popovichi writers was noted by prerevolutionary literary critics, who often accepted popovichi's assertions that they alone, having been raised in villages by their fathers, the moral leaders of the folk, knew what the peasants needed. (80)

Politically, Smirnov was a reformer rather than a revolutionary. In 1881, he opposed the student uprising following the assassination of the tsar. Nor was he moved by the translated excerpts of Das Kapital he read. He was critical of the results of the Great Reforms but never appeared to waver from his liberal belief that the solution to the plight of the peasantry lay in enlightenment rather than in insurrection. In 1891, he aligned himself further against the revolutionary movement by opposing the mass student uprisings. In 1897, he was elected to the Vladimir City Duma and served on it for the next 20 years. Within the spectrum of early 20th-century Russian politics, his orientation was closest to the noble-dominated Constitutional Democratic (Kadet) Party, which he never joined. During the liberation movement in 1906, Smirnov believed the autocracy should allow the greater participation

of society in ruling the country and placed his hopes in the newly formed Duma. He feared revolution from below and felt these fears were vindicated during the violence of the 1905-7 Revolution. In the summer of 1907, he wrote a friend that the peasants were quiet only because they were busy harvesting. He warned his friend that once the harvest was complete, the peasantry would show its "brutality." He enthusiastically welcomed the February Revolution, writing in a local Vladimir newspaper: "At last the desires of all, which have been waited for impatiently, have been realized in Russia.... The new government, replacing the old, has set about energetically to free Russia." During the months of dual power that followed, he supported the Provisional Government against the soviets. (81)

Despite Smirnov's liberal politics, he shared some of the disaffection Dobroliubov and Tsvetkov harbored toward Russia's ruling class. On the 50th anniversary of the Vladimir Noble Assembly, he published two articles in the provincial gazette in which he stated that the nobility as an estate was self-destructing due to its idleness and lack of goals. In 1909, he published a favorable review of a story by the popovich writer Sergei Elpat'evskii that caricatured a noble zemstvo activist. Instead of attending to his zemstvo responsibilities, the main character is busy attending balls, and he tries to use his position for personal gain. Smirnov applauded Elpat'evskii's portrayal, stating that the story realistically depicted noble zemstvo activists in Vladimir. (82) He also expressed hostility toward the nobility's Western orientation. In an angry letter to a leading journal denouncing an 1887 law that restricted access to gymnasia for the children of taxed estates, he argued that this new legislation was a tragedy for Russian scholarship because it would lead only to the promotion of French and German culture. (83)

In 1882, Smirnov moved to a village in his native province of Vladimir to serve the peasantry as a zemstvo doctor. His zemstvo activities were not limited to medicine: in 1885, he organized the building of a local zemstvo school. In his published autobiography, Smirnov recalled that during these years he lived among "the simple, kind, still untouched Russian narod," betraying more than a hint of the idealization of the peasantry for which he criticized others. (84) As a doctor, he played an active role in the new civic professional organizations that proliferated following the Great Reforms. In 1881, a national medical journal published the first of his many scholarly articles; and in 1885, he was an active participant in the first conference of zemstvo doctors held in Vladimir province. In 1889, he moved to the capital of Vladimir province, where he replaced a fellow popovich as head of the Vladimir Province Sanitary Commission, a position he held until 1914. As head of this commission, Smirnov effectively governed zemstvo medicine for the entire province, studied the living conditions of peasants and workers in the province, and worked toward enforcing existing laws to improve unjust living and working conditions. In 1895, he contributed to a new journal, Vrachebnaia khronika Vladimirskoi gubernii, which was shut down by the government in 1900. (85)

Smirnov also expressed his populism through the inclusive, democratic, and anti-elitist approach he took in his bibliographic work. He first became interested in compiling bibliographies in the late 1870s after meeting a provincial bookseller in the home of a Moscow family whose son he was tutoring. Smirnov assisted him in a long-term project, assembling a bio-bibliographical index of Russian literature from 1777 to 1877. This ambitious undertaking included over 2,000 writers, scholars, artists, public activists, composers, actors, and travelers. Smirnov was specifically interested in minor figures. He believed that one could compile the history of a culture only by including every individual who created that culture, no matter how seemingly insignificant his contribution. Smirnov and his partner ultimately abandoned this project, in part because of insufficient funding and in part because the concept was preempted by the publication of Semen Vengerov's six-volume bio-bibliographical dictionary of Russian writers and scholars. (86)

The proliferation of bio-bibliographical works in late imperial Russia was inherently connected to the emergence of a modern understanding of the self. Throughout history, interest in ego-documents has been accompanied by a parallel interest in biographies. (87) Russia was not an exception. As attention to the actions of individuals increased, biographies suddenly emerged alongside autobiographies as standard publications. In the late 1880s, Smirnov began to publish biographies of national figures such as Chernyshevskii and Turgenev. Between 1897 and 1918, he published several collections of the personal and professional letters of various figures, displaying a moralist interest in both the internal and external workings of the self.

After he returned to live in Vladimir, Smirnov focused on writing about or publishing local personages. In 1893, he started to contribute actively to the local Vladimir press, and he eventually published several hundred articles in the many Vladimir newspapers that proliferated as Russia's provinces began to modernize. (88) As has been recently noted, European preoccupation with local history at the turn of the 20th century was not just a defensive response to the political, economic, and cultural standardization of modernity; it was also a modern attempt on the part of citizens to internalize the abstract world of the nation at a time when social and economic progress increasingly linked localities to the nation. (89) This attempt to reconcile locality and nationhood is evident in Smirnov's introduction to the bio-bibliographical dictionary he compiled of Vladimir province professionals, which was the first such dictionary for a Russian province ever published: "it is necessary so as to clearly designate all of our, that is our province's, spiritual wealth, which has contributed intellectually to the enlightenment of Russia." (90) For late imperial intelligenty seeking to construct a Russian national identity, the local level was a natural starting point. By developing a local as well as a historical consciousness, they were venerating not only their nation but also themselves. (91)

The fusion of local and national identities in Vladimir province culminated in 1898 when Smirnov co-founded the Vladimir Scholarly Archival Commission, a voluntary organization devoted to the preservation and study of local history. Such voluntary associations, which proliferated in late imperial Russia, have been linked to the emergence of a Russian civil society. (92) Between 1884 and 1917, these commissions, which resembled the Heimat museums founded in Germany during the same time period, were formed in 42 Russian provinces. Their mission grew out of the enlightened bureaucrats' reform-era interest in gathering local statistical information. Once these materials had been gathered, it was necessary to create local archives to preserve them. Although the initiative for such commissions came from the state, by the 1890s they were financed primarily by charity and organized by local activists who volunteered their time. The commissions also decided whom to honor with monuments. In addition, the Vladimir commission also published 18 volumes of a periodical, which Smirnov co-edited between 1899 and 1918. Articles in the journal ranged from the findings of archeological expeditions to the history of "societal" movements in Vladimir from the Decembrists to 1900. In 1906, Smirnov became the curator of the Vladimir Ethnographic Museum and administered its library and museum. During the same year, he hosted a regional conference in Vladimir of scholarly archival commissions from nearby provinces,; and in 1908, he attended in Petersburg the first of several national conventions of these commissions held between 1908 and 1914. (93) Like Tsvetkov, and to a lesser extent Dobroliubov in his youth, Smirnov was dedicated to preserving--and helping others preserve--Russian culture.

Many of the members of the Vladimir Scholarly Archival Commission and the contributors to its publications were either popovichi or priests. In late imperial Russia, most provincial religious and secular learned circles were interconnected, particularly those that were not dominated by the nobility. The thematic division of the subjects covered in the commission's publications did not split along clerical or lay affiliation: a history of peasant education in Vladimir province was written by a priest; and Smirnov's work included biographies and obituaries of clergymen, histories of monasteries, an index to the local diocesan newspaper, the editing of priests' autobiographies, and a volume on early 19th-century odes written by seminarians. Over half the individuals he chose to include in his five-volume bio-bibliographical dictionary of prominent Vladimir professionals were popovichi or clergymen. (94) Smirnov defined the intelligentsia differently from noble intelligenty, who rarely included clergymen. In an 1882 letter to a friend, he described the society in the village where be worked as consisting of the "expected personages: the rural priest, the teacher, the medical attendant, the forest ranger--here we have all the various intelligenty." (95) Because Smirnov often worked throughout his adult life with either members of his native estate or fellow popovichi, with whom, as we have seen, he also socialized, he does not appear to have experienced the indignation and obstacles in his professional life that Dobroliubov and Tsvetkov suffered.

Smirnov remained a pious parishioner throughout his life. In his letters to his father, Smirnov, who regularly attended church, wrote about his faith that God would listen to his prayers and declared that he strove to emulate the Church's teachings. (96) His only daughter married a priest, as was also the case with the daughter of Ivan Dobroliubov, one of Nikolai's brothers. He always remained active in local church affairs, and in 1917 he participated in a successful campaign to persuade the Holy Synod to replace the reactionary bishop of Vladimir, who had been appointed by Rasputin. As a popovich, he felt that he had both a right and a responsibility to improve the daily lives of the parish clergy: his unpublished memoirs are devoted almost exclusively to chronicling internal clerical problems. (97)

In March 1918, nine months before Smirnov's death from pneumonia, the Bolshevik regime closed the Vladimir Scholarly Archival Commission. In May of that year, he co-founded a committee to save local monuments and collect archival materials. After his death, his legacy of service to his province lived on: one of his fellow archival commission members--a graduate of Vladimir Seminary--founded the State Archive of Vladimir Province, based in part on the multitude of materials Smirnov had collected. Smirnov's legacy on the national level was assured after the Revolution by the rise of his former pupil, Iu. I. Masanov, who became one of the most renowned Soviet bibliographers. Writing about Smirnov in 1948, Masanov, the son of a peasant, praised his "endless energy and industriousness." (98) In post-Soviet Vladimir, local ethnographic conferences have been held in his name. His family's fate was less fortunate. His only son, a medical student, was killed at the front during World War I. His only daughter never bore any children; and her husband, a priest, was, like other clergymen, a prime target for the Bolshevik regime. He was first arrested in 1920 and apparently died in a labor camp in 1938, where his body was eaten by dogs. (99)

Dobroliubov, Tsvetkov, and Smirnov were each confident that the professional endeavors they diligently pursued would save their beloved nation. They were modern men who individually chose their own activist paths. Yet their modern use of choice also included choosing not to assimilate into the noble-dominated culture they entered. Instead, they affiliated themselves with Russian clerical estate culture. Due to the schism between Western and Eastern Christianity and the structure of national churches in Orthodox Christianity, this culture defined itself in opposition to Western Europe, with which, of the Russian social estate groups, the Russian nobility was most strongly associated. The affiliation of Dobroliubov, Tsvetkov, and Smirnov with the clergy was epitomized by the close ties they maintained to their clerical families, their opposition to the clergy's nemesis the nobility, and their commitment to the Russian nation. Dobroliubov expressed his commitment to Russian national culture, despite his international socialism, through his populist belief in the Russian peasantry and the value of its folklore. Tsvetkov was devoted to collecting and preserving Russian drawings. Smirnov combined both Dobroliubov's populism, including in his case, direct service to the peasantry as a zemstvo doctor, with Tsvetkov's passion for conserving Russian cultural artifacts. These three popovichi demonstrate how educated Russians could define themselves simultaneously in traditional and modern terms. But rather than being simply an example of Russia's incomplete modernization, this finding fits within recent research on the persistence of traditional religious belief among modern educated Europeans. It also challenges the binary opposition of religious and secular, a divide that lies at the heart of the discourse of modernity articulated in the works of influential scholars such as Benedict Anderson and Ernest Gellner. (100)

Even so, the seemingly smooth integration of popovichi's "alternative intelligentsia" into secular professions and movements would not have been possible if the ethos of educated nobles was completely antithetical to the value system of popovichi. The union of the two groups was possible because both types brought from their native estate a strong service tradition, and because many of the Western ideas that noble intelligenty used to fashion themselves were also shaped by Christianity. For example, earlier generations of noble intelligenty derived their moralism from German Romanticism, a movement steeped in Christianity. (101) Unlike nobles, with the exception of the Slavophiles, however, popovichi were conscious of the fact that they were drawing on religious, or at least clerical, traditions, and, most significantly, they perceived those traditions as rooted in Russian national culture. They saw themselves as relatively immune to Western influences, and in an age of increasing nationalism this empowered them. It also provided a continuity of morals and ideas over generations. Particular Western ideas fell in and out of fashion in Russia, whereas clerical models, defined by tradition, were at least perceived as stable. As a result, popovichi were not particularly preoccupied with Russia's relationship to the West. Because Russian nobles, by contrast, defined themselves vis-a-vis Western Europe, the question of Russia's relationship to Europe has thus been assumed to be one of the major issues, if not the major issue, occupying the Russian intelligentsia. For popovichi, the major issue was not "Russia and the West" but Russian traditional culture versus Russian noble culture (although the latter was representative of the West in their eyes). Nevertheless, it is significant that popovichi viewed their nation's primary competition, and its primary dilemma, as internal rather than external. Unlike the Westernizers or even the Slavophiles, with whom they could erroneously be grouped, popovichi did not believe Russia was any better or any worse than West European nations. They were patriotic--believing, in keeping with the Romantic tradition, that Russia was as distinct a nation as all others. In the modern age of nationalism, the ability of popovichi to perceive themselves as unalienated and to derive their activism from Russian ideas motivated them above and beyond the inspiration Russia's nobles drew from Western thought.

The particular ethos of the Russian intelligentsia was shaped by both nobles and popovichi, but it was also shaped by the conflict and interaction between the two groups, producing a single fragmented intelligentsia while retaining two separate intelligentsia lineages. Despite claims by leading members of the intelligentsia that it was the most universalistic of groups because of its "all-class" or "above-estate" consciousness, on the eve of the fateful events of 1917 the intelligentsia was riddled with the same complexities and divisions that plagued the rest of Russia. (102) The emergence of a civil society and a middle class was thwarted not only by conflicts between ethnic groups or between the have-nots and the haves; it was also impeded by a struggle among educated Russians over who would lead the nation, based not only on political differences but on an immutable feature some of them clung to: social origin. The retention by popovichi of their native estate culture raises the broader question of how historians define national cultures. Usually this query has been answered by citing binary models of "high" or educated culture, and popular or mass culture. But can a nation have more than one educated cultural tradition, based on the same ethnicity?

As evident from their choice of three different political orientations, the overarching values that Dobroliubov, Tsvetkov, and Smirnov tended to adhere to--anti-aristocratism, utilitarianism, asceticism, populism, industriousness, nationalism, justice, activism, and moralism--intersected with explicitly formulated political boundaries. These values also intersect antimaterialist and anti-pluralist genres of discourse. Yet, despite assertions to the contrary, there was no causal connection between popovichi's contribution to intelligentsia ethos and a specifically Russian illiberal revolution. (103) This is evident in the biographies of Tsvetkov and Smirnov. Class struggle, part of their anti-aristocratism, is an integral part of modern politics, as is nationalism, just as the Enlightenment idea of progress, imbedded in the desire of all three men to save Russia, has been linked to both Western democracy and to Stalinism. (104) The February Revolution, when people of all classes chose their own destiny through their actions in Petrograd, at the front, and in the countryside, represents the spirit of modern activism that linked the three men more than the events of the following October. For some of the minority of popovichi who lost their religious belief, the February Revolution did not go far enough. Popovichi who became professional revolutionaries were only the most extreme manifestation of a general modern trend toward secular utopianism, which led in a number of countries besides Russia to the triumph of authoritarian designs.

Dept. of History

Arizona State University

P.O. Box 874302

Tempe, AZ 85287-4302 USA

laurie.manchester@asu.edu

(1) I employ the colloquial term "popovichi" because it was the term these men used to refer to themselves. While it literally refers to all priests' sons, I use it to denote specifically those clerical sons (of priests, deacons, or sacristans) who left the clergy. This is in keeping with its broader definition of a "person originating from the clerical zvanie [rank]" and with its 19thcentury usage. See D. N. Ushakov, ed., Tolkovyi slovar' russkogo iazyka (Moscow: Sovetskaia entsiklopediia, 1939), 590. For the quantitative contribution of popovichi to particular professions, see Laurie Manchester, "Secular Ascetics: The Mentality of Orthodox Clergymen's Sons in Late Imperial Russia" (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1995), 463-73.

(2) For a fruitful discussion of the uses and misuses of the ubiquitous term "modernity," see Frederick Cooper, Colonialism in Question: Theory, Knowledge, History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 113-49. In this study I understand modernity as a construct or representation describing aspects of the post-enlightenment era, including new practices and ways of thinking. I use the terra "modernization" to refer to a tangible economic and technological process that can occur at any time and brings about urbanization and industrialization. Modernity affects people's consciousness, whereas modernization affects people's daily lives, and one can occur without the other. For the pivotal role of the "new aristocracy" in 16th-century England as agents of change, see Liah Greenfeld, Nationalism: Five Roads to Modernity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), 44-51. For the similar role Jews have played in modern history, see Yuri Slezkine, The Jewish Century (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004).

(3) On popovichi as an alternative intelligentsia, see Laurie Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons: Clergy, Intelligentsia, and the Emergence of Modern Selfhood in Revolutionary Russia (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, forthcoming 2008).

(4) Recent scholarship on the Russian intelligentsia has returned to the prerevolutionary Russian intelligentsia's understanding of itself as a group above any specific political agenda. For one example that includes an excellent discussion of the evolution and historiographical treatment of the term, see Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter, Social Identity in Imperial Russia (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1997), 86-96. On the Russian intelligentsia as a "nascent civil society," see Vladimir C. Nahirny, The Russian Intelligentsia: From Torment to Silence (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1983).

(5) Fritz Ringer, The Decline of the German Mandarins: The German Academic Community, 1890-1933 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969).

(6) See the essays in Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger, eds., The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983).

(7) "Vazhnost' sviashchennogo sana," Khristianskie chteniia, no. 4 (1843): 109-10.

(8) For a discussion of these terms, see Jonathan D. Sarna, American Judaism: A History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), 220-24.

(9) For a discussion of how reversion to traditional culture can be an act of revolutionary deviance, see E. P. Thompson, Customs in Common: Studies in Traditional Popular Culture (New York: Penguin, 1993), 9-10. For the phenomenon of "revolution by tradition" within Christianity, see Michael Hill, The Religious Order: A Study of Virtuoso Religion and Its Legitimation in the Nineteenth- Century Church of England (London: Heinemann Educational, 1973), 3-4, 85-103.

(10) On social estate replicating face in the context of Russia's peasants, see Peter Kolchin, Unfree Labor: American Slavery and Russian Serfdom (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1987), 8,170-71, 187. On the Russian Orthodox clergy as an "other," see Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons, chaps. 1 and 3. For other examples of historians who equate class with face, see Louis Chevalier, Labaring Classes and Dangerous Classes in Paris during the First Half of the Nineteenth Century, trans. Frank Jellinek (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1981); Paul Freedman, Images of the Medieval Peasant (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999), 300-2; and Eugen Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of Rural France, 1870-1914 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1976), chap. 1.

(11) Stephen Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), 7, 9. For religion as a "cultural defense," see Jose Casanova, "Beyond European and American Exceptionalisms: Toward a Global Perspective," in Predicting Religion: Christian, Secular, and Alternative Futures, ed. G race Davie, Paul Heelas, and Linda Woodhead (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2003), 25. Whereas Greenblatt defines self-fashioning as the opposite of a clan or caste identity, the use of the term "collective self" by recent anthropologists for the modern era is evidence of a new trend toward describing what could be termed collective self-fashioning, something that this study, in a sense, employs. For the collective self, see Michael Herzfeld, "The European Self: Rethinking an Attitude," in The Idea of Europe: From Antiquity to the European Union, ed. Anthony Pagden (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 139-70.

(12) For the term "proximate other," see Jonathan Z. Smith, "What a Difference a Difference Makes," in "To See Ourselves as Others See Us": Christians, Jews, and "Others" in Late Antiquity, ed. Jacob Neusmer and Ernest Frerichs (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1985), 47.

(13) On revolutionaries as patricides, see Slezkine, The Jewish Century, 66, 96, 363. On radical nobles rejecting their pasts, see Andrew Wachtel, The Battle for Childhood: Creation of a Russian Myth (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1990), 92-96. On popovichi's lack of alienation, see Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons.

(14) The classic work on intelligentsia alienation is Martin Malia, "What Is the Intelligentsia?" in The Russian Intelligentsia, ed. Richard Pipes (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970), 1-18.

(15) I have documented the common ethos based on a shared clerical heritage of this "alternative intelligentsia" in previous publications. Unlike this article, which focuses in depth on the professional writings of three popovichi, my previous work explored the self-fashioning of hundreds of popovichi in their personal texts. For the first publication of my study, see Laurie Manchester, "The Secularization of the Search for Salvation: The Self-Fashioning of Orthodox Clergymen's Sons in Late Imperial Russia," Slavic Review 57, 1 (1998): 50-76. 16 Laurie Manchester, "Harbingers of Modernity, Bearers of Tradition: Popovichi as a Model Intelligentsia Self in Revolutionary Russia," Jahrbucher fur Geschichte Osteuropas 50, 3 (2002): 321-44.

(17) Franco Venturi, Roots of Revolution: A History of the Populist and Socialist Movements in Nineteenth-Century Russia, trans. Francis Haskell (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960), 187; D. N. Ovsianiko-Kulikovskii, Istoriia russkoi literatury XIX veka, 5 vols. (Moscow: Mir, 1908-10), 3: 205; Isaiah Berlin, Russian Thinkers (London: Penguin, 1979), 275.

(18) Andrzej Walicki, A History of Russian Thought: From the Enlightenment to Marxism (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1979), 202; M. Yovchuk, "The Philosophical and Socio-Political Views of N. A. Dobroliubov," in N. A. Dobroliubov, Selected Philosophical Essays (Moscow: Foreign Language Publishing House, 1956), v; Nikolai Aleksandrovich Dobroliubov v portretakh, illiustratsiiakh, dokumentakh (Leningrad: Prosveshchenie, Leningradskoe otdelenie, 1969), 239.

(19) The most comprehensive accounts of his life and work in English are Fred Weinstein, "Nihilism and Death: A Study of the Life of N. A. Dobroliubov" (Ph.D. diss., University of California at Berkeley, 1962); and Evgenii Lampert, Sons against Fathers: Studies in Russian Radicalism and Revolution (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965), 226-71. The major accounts in Russian are A. M. Skabichevskii, N. A. Dobroliubov, ego zhizn' i literaturnaia deiatel'nost' (St. Petersburg: F. Pavlenkov, 1901); V. S. Kruzhkov, Mirovozzrenie N. A. Dobroliubova (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo politicheskoi literatury, 1950); S. A. Reiser, Letopis' zhizni i deiatel'nosti N. A. Dobroliubova (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo kul'turno-prosvetitel'noi literatury, 1953).

(20) Andrew Field, Nabokov: His Life in Art (Boston: Little, Brown, 1967), 19.

(21) Otdel rukopisei Rossiiskoi natsional'noi biblioteki (OR RNB) f. 255, op. 1, d. 73, 1.1, 3.

(22) N. G. Chernyshevskii, ed., Materialy dlia biografii N. A. Dobroliubova sobrannye v 1861-1862 godakh (Moscow: K. T. Soldatenkov, 1890), 6-17 (N. A. Dobroliubov to Dobroliubovs, 6 August 1853, 23 August 1853, 6 September 1853); N. A. Dobroliubov, Sobranie sochinenii (hereafter SS), 9 vols. (Moscow, 1961-64), 8:450-53 (diary entry from 15 March 1853). On other clerical parents, see Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons, chap. 6.

(23) N.A. Dobroliubov, "Organicheskoe razvitie cheloveka v sviazi sego umstvennoi i nravstvennoi deiatel'nost'iu," SS, 2: 428-56. On the meaning of asceticism as clarified by church representatives, see "Asketizm," Pravoslavnaia bogoslovskaia entsiklopediia, ed. Aleksandr Lopukhin, 12 vols. (St. Petersburg: Strannik, 1900-10), 2: 53-74.

(24) N. A. Dobroliubov, "Mysli svetskogo cheloveka o knige 'Opisanie sel'skogo dukhovenstva,'" SS, 4: 405-9; Dobroliubov, "Zagranichnye preniia: O polozhenii russkogo dukhovenstva," Sochineniia N. A. Dobroliubova, 5th ed. (St. Petersburg: I. N. Sorokhodov, 1896), 3: 245; B. P. Koz'min, "Voskreshii Belinskii, iz neizdannogo literaturnogo naslediia N. A. Dobroliubova," Literaturnoe nasledstvo 57, 3 (1951): 11.

(25) N. A. Dobroliubov, Izbrannye filosofskie sochineniia (Moscow: Gospolitizdat, 1945), 1: 344-45; Dobroliubov, "Otets Aleksandr Gavatsii i ego propovedi," SS, 7: 93-125, esp. 93, 119, 125. For socializing with clergymen, see Reiser, Letopis', 102-3; and Materialy, 422 (N. A. Dobroliubov to A. P. Zlatovratskii, 3 April 1858).

(26) Dobroliubov, Dnevniki, 1851-1859, ed. Valer'ian Polianskii, 2nd ed. (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Vsesoiuznogo obshchestva politkatorzhan i ssyl'no-poselentsev, 1932), 104-5.

(27) T. P. Vinogradova, Nizhegorodskaia intelligentsiia vokrug N. A. Dobroliubova (Nizhnii Novgorod: Volga-Viatskoe knizhnoe izdatel'stvo, 1992), 44-49.

(28) Berlin, Russian Thinkers, 227; N. A. Dobroliubov, "Robert Oven i ego popytki obshchestvennykh reform," SS, 4: 7-47.

(29) N. A. Dobroliubov, "Pervye gody tsarstvovaniia Petra Velikogo," SS, 3: 7-131, esp. 109; Dobroliubov, "Organicheskoe razvitie cheloveka," 428-56; Dobroliubov, "O znachenii avtoriteta v vospitanii (mysli po povodu 'voprosov zhizni' g. Pirogova)," SS, 1: 493-514; Walicki, A History of Russian Thought, 195-96, 204. On the anti-noble discourse of popovichi and clergymen, see Laurie Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons, chap. 2.

(30) N. A. Dobroliubov, "Chto takoe oblomovshchina?" SS, 4: 314-18, 336-37.

(31) N. A. Dobroliubov, "Literaturnye melochi proshlogo goda," SS, 4: 72-78, 91-103; Dobroliubov, "Chto takoe oblomovshchina?" 307-43.

(32) N.A. Dobroliubov, "Kogda zhe pridet nastoiashchii den'?" SS, 6: 96-140; Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons, chap. 2.

(33) N.A. Dobroliubov, "Raznye sochineniia S. Aksakova," SS, 4: 177; Rufus W. Mathewson, Jr., The Positive Hero in Russian Literature (New York: Columbia University Press, 1958), 68; P. V. Annenkov, Literaturnye vaspominaniia (St. Petersburg: M. M. Stasiulevich, 1909), 517-18; N. G. Chernyshevskii, Polnoe sobranie sachinenii, ed. V. Ia. Kirpotina, 16 vols. (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1939-53), 14: 378 (N. G. Chernyshevkii to N. A. Dobroliubov, 1860); A. I. Gertsen [Herzen], "Lishnie liudi i zhelcheviki," Sabranie sochinenii, 30 vols. (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo Akademii nauk SSSR, 1954-66), 14: 317-34.

(34) Herzen quoted in Irina Paperno, Chernyshevsky and the Age of Realism: A Study in the Semiotics of Behavior (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1988), 97.

(35) Lambert, Sons against Fathers, 245, 254.

(36) I. Ia. Ivanov-Razumnik, Istariia russkoi obshchestvennoi mysli, 2 vols. (St. Petersburg: M. M. Stasiulevich, 1908), 2: 40, 45.

(37) N.A. Dobroliubov, "Cherty dlia kharakteristiki russkogo prostonarod'ia," SS, 6: 237.

(38) Lambert, Sons against Fathers, 259-60.

(39) Dobroliubov, "Cherty dlia kharakteristiki," 272.

(40) D. I. Pisarev, "Realisty," Sochineniia, 4 vols. (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo khu dozhestvennoi literatury, 1956), 3: 35.

(41) B. F. Egorov, N. A. Dobroliubov: Sobiratel' i issledovatel' narodnogo tvorchestva Nizhegorodskoi gubernu (Gor'kii: Gor'kovskoe knizhnoe izdatel'stvo, 1956), 29, 33.

(42) Dobroliubov, "Cherty dlia kharakteristiki," 241-42, 267, 272, 278, 281-83, 285.

(43) N.A. Dobroliubov, "Zabitye liudi," SS, 7: 274.

(44) For a discussion of whether Dobroliubov should be regarded as a populist, see Philip Pomper, The Russian Revolutionary Intelligentsia (New York: Crowell, 1970), 77.

(45) Dobroliubov, "Kogda zhe pridet," 101, 139-40; Dobroliubov, "Cherty dlia kharakteristiki," 228, 283.

(46) Avdot'ia Panaeva, Vospominaniia, 1824-1870, 4th ed. (Moscow: Akademiia, 1933), 418, 431.

(47) N.A. Tatarinova-Ostrovskaia, "Vospominaniia: Otryvki," in N. A. Dobroliubov v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia literatura, 1986), 238; Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons, chap. 1.

(48) Materialy, 618-20, 635 (N. A. Dobroliubov to P. O. L--skii, 12 June 1861; Dobroliubov to B. N. I., 5 September 1861; Dobroliubov to A. A. Kostrova, 4 May 1861).

(49) Ivan Ianzhul, I. E. Tsvetkov (St. Petersburg: Elektro-Tipografiia N. Ia. Stoikovoi, 1911), 1.

(50) Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi arkhiv literatury i isskustva (RGALI) f. 904, op. 1, d. 53, 1. 6, l. 7 ob., ll .9-9 ob., l. 10 ob. (I. E. Tsvetkov to Tsvetkovs, 1863).

(51) Ibid., d. 35, ll. 9-11 (Tsvetkov's memoir, 1909).

(52) Ibid., d. 32, ll. 2-3.

(53) Ibid., d. 54, ll. 3, 4.

(54) Ibid., d. 16, ll. 13 ob., 14.

(55) Ibid., d. 35, ll. 16 ob.-19 (Tsvetkov's memoir, 1909); G. I. Shchetinina, "Alfavitnye spiski studentov kak istoricheskii istochnik: Sostav universitetskogo studentchestva v kontse XIX nachale XX veka," Istoriia SSSR, no. 15 (1979): 118.

(56) RGALI f. 904, op. 1, d. 16, l. 15 (Tsvetkov's diary, 1866).

(57) Ibid., d. 14, ll. 1-84 (Tsvetkov's reading notes on published histories of Moscow University, 1900s).

(58) Ianzhul, Tsvetkov, 1. For a discussion of the different images associated with the two cities, see Richard A. Wortman, "Moscow and Petersburg: The Problem of Political Center in Tsarist Russia, 1881-1914," in Rites of Power: Symbolism, Ritual, and Politics since the Middle Ages, ed. Sean Wilentz (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1985), 244-71.

(59) RGALI f. 904, op. 1, d. 35, ll. 21-22 (Tsvetkov's memoir, 1909).

(60) Ianzhul, Tsvetkov, 2.

(61) RGALI f. 904, op. 1, d. 55, l. 2 (I. E. Tsvetkov to L. E. Tsvetkova, 11 June 1877).

(62) Ibid., d. 57, l. 97, l. 55 (I. E. Tsvetkov to P. E. Tsvetkov, 8 July 1890, 12 December 1876).

(63) Ibid., d. 32, 1.3.

(64) Ibid., d. 170 (T. N. Tsvetkova to I. E. Tsvetkov, late 1880s). On his financial assistance to his family, see ibid., d. 345, l. 1-1 ob. (Fr. Emel'ian Tsvetkov's will); and ibid., d. 53, l .48 (I. E. Tsvetkov to Tsvetkovs, 1880).

(65) Ibid., d. 57, l. 97.

(66) Ibid., d. 52, l. 2 ob. (I. E. Tsvetkov to N. P. Tsvetkov, 1910).

(67) Ibid., d. 32, ll. 2-3.

(68) Ibid., d. 169, l. 115 (N. P. Tsvetkova-Lebedeva to I. E. Tsvetkov, 22 December 1912).

(69) Ianzhul, Tsvetkov, 16.

(70) I. S. Zil'bershtein, "Vospominaniia I. E. Tsvetkova, 1874," Literaturnoe nasledstvo 76 (1967): 415-16; Elizabeth Valkenier, Russian Realist Art: The State and Society. The Peredvizhniki and Their Tradition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989), 128-30.

(71) RGALI f. 904, op. 1, d. 53, ll. 52-53 (I. E. Tsvetkov to Tsvetkovs, 2 March 1881).

(72) Ibid., d. 210 (affidavit of city duma election).

(73) I. E. Tsvetkov, "Vstrecha s I. S. Turgenevym," Literaturnoe nasledstvo 76 (1967): 419-22.

(74) RGALI f. 904, op. 1, d. 54, l. 16 (I. E. Tsvetkov to A. E. Tsvetkov, 186?); Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons, chaps. 2, 5, and 7.

(75) Zil'bershtein, "Vospominaniia I. E. Tsvetkova, 1874," 415.

(76) Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi istoricheskii arkhiv (RGIA) f. 796, op. 96, d. 41, ll. 31-31 ob. (Synodal decrees, 1871).

(77) A. D. Tel'charov, "Aleksandr Vasil'evich Smirnov--k istorii kul'turnoi zhizni russ koi provintsii kontse XIX v.-nachala XX v." (Candidate of Sciences diss., Moscow State University, 1976), 28-29.

(78) Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Vladimirskoi oblasti (GAVO) f. 410, op. l, d. 432, l. 4-4 ob. (unsigned 1914 biography of A. V. Smirnov published in Staryi Vlalimirets); Tel'charov, "Aleksandr Vasil'evich Smirnov," 30.

(79) GAVO f. 622, op. 2, d. 713, ll. 11, 25, 27, 59, 67, 80, 83, 102, 123-25, 129, 288 (V. A. Smirnov to A. V. Smirnov, 1879-98).

(80) Tel'charov, "Aleksandr Vasil'evich Smirnov," 38; GAVO f. 622, op. l, d. 24 (Smirnov's unpublished story "Bezdel'niki," 1879); Institut russkoi literatury (Pushkinskii dom) (IRLI) f. 286, op. 1, d. 94, l. 2 (A. V. Smirnov to F. D. Nefedov, 12 March 1891); Manchester, Holy Fathers, Secular Sons, chap. 1. For a bibliography of Smirnov's publications, see S. A. Vengerov, ed., Kritikobiograficheskii slovar' russkikh pisatelei i uchenykh, 6 vols. (St. Petersburg: Semenovskaia tipografiia-literatura [I. Efrona], 1889-1904), 6: 194-98.

(81) A. V. Smirnov, "Iz arkhiva," Staryi Vladirairets, 29 Match 1917: 1; Tel'charov, "Aleksandr Vasil'evich Smirnov," 32, 40, 47, 97, 102-3, 120, 123, 156-57.

(82) A. V. Smirnov, "50-letnii iubilei Vladimirskogo sobraniia," Vladimirskie gubernskie vedamosti, no. 4 (26 January 1896); no. 5 (2 February 1896); Smirnov, "Skuka," Staryi Vladimirets, 11 January 1909.

(83) Unpublished letter by Smirnov submitted to Russkaia starina, quoted in Tel'charov, "Aleksandr Vasil'evich Smirnov," 72.

(84) A. V. Smirnov, "Avtobiografiia," in Vengerov, Kritikobiograficheskii slavar', 6: 193.

(85) Tel'charov, "Aleksandr Vasil'evich Smirnov," 78, 80-82.

(86) A. D. Tel'charov, Istoriia v cheloveke: A. V. Smirnov i ego vremia (Iaroslavl': Verkhne-Volzhskoe knizhnoe izdatel'stvo, 1990), 18-20; Smirnov, Portretnaia galereia urozhentsev i deiatelei Vladimirskoi gubernii (Vladimir: Tipografiia gubernskogo pravleniia, 1900), 1: 1.

(87) Peter Burke, "Representations of the Self from Petrarch to Descartes," in Rewriting the Self: Histories from the Renaissance to the Present, ed. Roy Porter (London: Routledge, 1997), 20-24.

(88) There were 16 Russian-language periodicals in the Russian empire in 1860; by 1900, there were 151. In 1908, there were 1,204 periodicals published in all the languages of the empire (Jeffrey Brooks, When Russia Learned to Read: Literacy and Popular Culture, 18611917 [Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1985], 12).

(89) Alon Confino, The Nation as a Local Metaphor: Wurttemberg, Imperial Germany, and National Memory, 1871-1918 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997), 98-99, 121-22, 144-45.

(90) A. V. Smirnov, Urozhentsy i deiateli Vladimirskoi gubernii, poluchivshie izvestnost' na razlichnykh poprishchakh obshchestvennoi pol'zy (Vladimir: Tipografiia gubernskogo pravleniia, 1898), 3: 1-2.

(91) For a discussion of the link between modernity and historical consciousness, see Susan A. Crane, Collecting and Historical Consciousness in Early Nineteenth-Century Germany (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2000), xii.

(92) Joseph Bradley, "Subjects into Citizens: Societies, Civil Society, and Autocracy in Tsarist Russia," American Historical Review 107, 4 (2002): 1094-1123.

(93) Tel'charov, Istoriia, 44-52; B. A. Doroshin, Istoriia Penzenskoi gubernskoi uchenoi arkhivnoi komissu (Penza: Penzenskii gosudarstvennyi pedagogicheskii universitet im. V. G. Belinskogo, 1998), 15-19, 106. On Heimat musuems, see Confino, The Nation as a Local Metaphor, 134-53. For a history of the Vladimir Ethnographic Museum, see Susan Nicole Smith, "Museum Practices and Notions of the Local in a Russian Provincial City, 18981935" (Ph.D. diss., University of Washington, 2003).

(94) T. G. Marinina, Trudy Vladimirskoi uchenoi arkhivnoi komissii za 1909-1918: Bibliograficheskii ukazatel' (Vladimir: Vladimirskaia oblastnaia nauchnaia biblioteka im. A. M. Gor'kogo, Otdel kraevedcheskoi bibliografii, 1994); Smirnov, Urozhentsy, vols. 1-5.

(95) GAVO f. 622, op. 2, d. 707, ll. 1-2 (A. V. Smirnov to A. V. Skalon, 24 April 1882).

(96) IRLI f. 286, op. 1, d.121, l. 1 (A. V. Smirnov to V. A. Smirnov, 25 March 1897); GAVO f. 622, op. 1, d. 12, l. 4 (A. V. Smirnov to V. A. Smirnov, 1892).

(97) GAVO f. 622, op. 1, d. 9.

(98) Iu. I. Masanov, "A. V. Smirnov," Sovetskaia bibliografiia, no. 5 (1948): 117.

(99) "Protoierei Nikolai Aleksandrovich Preobrazhenskii," Kovrovskii istoricheskii sbornik, no. 4 (2005): 51-54.

(100) Peter van der Veer, Religious Nationalism: Hindus and Muslims in India (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 12-18. For religious belief among educated modern Europeans, see Ruth Harris, Lourdes: Body and Spirit in the Secular Age (London: Allen Lane, 1999).

(101) M. H. Abrams, Natural Supernaturalism: Tradition and Revolution in Romantic Literature (New York: W. W. Norton, 1971).

(102) On the intelligentsia's self-definition, see Ivanov-Razumnik, Istoriia russkoi obshchestvennoi mysli, 1: 1-10.

(103) Nicholas Berdyaev, The Origin of Russian Communism, trans. R. M. French (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1960), 45-53.

(104) On the Enlightenment roots of Stalinism, see Stephen Kotkin, Magnetic Mountain: Stalinism as a Civilization (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 6-8, 19-21.
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