As is well known, people have always criticized those in power. Laws punishing “lèse-majesté” existed as far back as ancient Rome. The Russian Empire’s legislation also included such offenses.
Shortly before the 1917 Revolution, for example, according to the Criminal Code, the following was considered an offense against the Crown:
― verbal insults and desecration of the image of the Emperor, Empress, or heir apparent, with the punishment varying depending on whether the desecration was intended to incite disrespect toward the aforementioned persons or not;
― the creation, possession, distribution, or public display of offensive writings and images;
― the same acts directed against members of the Imperial Family;
― public defamation (verbal or written) of the memory of the deceased predecessors of the reigning emperor.
However, committing the aforementioned acts out of foolishness, ignorance, or while intoxicated resulted in a reduced sentence. Of course, thanks to both truthful and false reports, the police regularly recorded and investigated crimes of this kind. There are quite a few such cases in the Kharkiv Regional State Archives.
Thanks to them, we can learn who criticized the authorities in our lands a little over 100 years ago, what words they used, and what the public sentiment was like at that time.
All right, let’s get started.
Marfa Stepanovna Kovalenko, a peasant woman from the Uzin volost in the Vasylkiv district, who was apparently a very loving mother-in-law, filed a complaint against her son-in-law in Kharkiv on January 3, 1915. She stated that, while occasionally traveling from Kyiv to Kharkiv to visit her daughter, Anna Ivanovna Kovalenko (née Menzhinskaya), she had repeatedly witnessed rather rude and offensive treatment of the portrait of His Imperial Majesty Emperor Nicholas Alexandrovich and his family. According to Marfa Stepanovna, her son-in-law, Ivan Grigoryevich Menzhinsky:
― He repeatedly forbade his wife, Anna Menzhinskaya, from buying calendars featuring a portrait of the Emperor and his Imperial Family;
― From a cross-shaped calendar he (Menzhinsky) owned, he cut out the portrait of the imperial family and made a lampshade out of it, which he uses to light his apartment;
― On November 23, 1914, during the Emperor’s visit to the city of Kharkiv, Menzhinsky expressed his displeasure that the Emperor had not driven down the street where he was standing, and allowed himself to remark: “Look at little Nikolai—he didn’t even drive past where I was standing.”
― During Kovalenko’s stay with the Menzhinskys in March 1914, Menzhinsky, having stepped out into the courtyard one day and noticing that it was raining, said: “And Nikolashka is sitting there in his warm chambers, and the rain can’t get him wet…”
After receiving the tip, Savelyev, an assistant bailiff in the 1st Precinct of the city of Kharkiv, forwarded it to the police chief, who in turn forwarded it to the governor of Kharkiv.
In the winter of 1916, Maria Stepanovna Zaitseva, a woman of the middle class, appeared at the office of the bailiff of the 3rd district of the city of Kharkiv and stated that “during her employment as a maid at the private Orlovskaya Gymnasium, where an Austrian subject named Joseph Vokurka also worked, the latter would, during conversations, curse the government and denounce the Russian army, saying that ‘all Russians are fools,’ and also expressed his intention to dress up in a general’s uniform, go out, and kill the tsar.”
The police later determined that Vokurka was Czech and, at the invitation of Raisa Yakovlevna Orlovskaya, the principal of a private high school, performed menial tasks at the school, helping the servants carry firewood, for which he received no pay — he merely had a place to eat.
The police also found no evidence to support the accusation. However, Iosif Vokurka was nevertheless placed in pretrial detention.
At that time, reports were also filed by clergy loyal to the government.
For example, in March 1915, Father Ioann Grevezirsky, the priest of the Shulikino settlement in the Starobelsk District, driven by patriotic sentiments, reported one of his parishioners to the authorities.
It turned out that Grigory Burlak, a 34-year-old peasant from the village of Shulikina and a private in the 116th Reserve Infantry Regiment, had spoken words that were terribly seditious for those times against the government and the army.
I think that these days, if someone calls the head of state a “mutt” and expresses their outrage over social issues, nothing will happen. But a little over 100 years ago, things were different.
On May 23, while working in the fields, 26-year-old Porfiry Dmitrievich Kutitsky grew tired of his work and sat down to rest. When he was told to get back to work, he said, referring to the tsar:
That damn mutt, what an idiot—he should be killed. I would have killed him long ago for giving our master so much land.
The Kutitsky police detained him for two weeks.
Due to the hardships of war and economic problems, rumors were actively circulating among the population that Emperor Nicholas II and German Emperor Wilhelm had conspired to exterminate the people (this reminds me of something). Naturally, this did not go unnoticed by the police.
Here’s another telling story. In July 1915, Daniil Fedorovich Klein, a settler from the Friedental colony, visited blacksmith Ivan Krikunenko, who lived in the village of Skargovka, Novo-Borovskaya volost, Starobelsk District. When the conversation turned to the hostilities between Russia and Germany, Klein, a Russian subject, said: “… your tsar is no match for ours; your Russia will be ours anyway.”
This was immediately reported to the police, who launched an investigation.
Here’s another case that’s just as interesting.
In the spring of 1915, Vasily Brovko, a peasant from the village of Spevakovka in the Izyum volost who had served in the reserves, returned from the war and found work as a forester in the Izyum State Forest District. On March 12, he and three workers visited his colleagues, who lived nearby at the Izyum Forest Lodge. Brovko asked Isaac Gildebrandt and Johann Friese to let the workers stay the night, since his guardhouse was undergoing repairs. The German Mennonites responded by telling Brovko and the workers to “go to hell.” In response to Brovko’s remark, “You live in Russia and yet you curse the Russians,” the Russian subjects replied (if one replaces the profanities with the word “had”) as follows: “We’ve had enough of your Russia and of you; everyone’s had enough of your Russia.”
After that, Brovko went to Krupovich, the forester of the Izyum Forest District, and told him what had happened. Since Krupovich showed no reaction, Brovko said he would report the matter to the police. In response, the forester of the Izyum Forest District, in the presence of witnesses, threatened him, saying, “If you report this to the police, I’ll have you fired.”
A report was filed with the police after all, and they did not ignore the incident.
Many people today would probably be surprised to learn that the wives of soldiers—who, due to personal tragedies, had criticized the government and the head of state—were also the subject of denunciations, and the police opened cases against them.
In August 1915, the wife of a soldier serving in the army, Evdokia Fyodorovna Sviridova, had her nephew staying with her. Looking at a painting hanging in the house depicting the rulers of the Allied powers, he exclaimed, “How handsome they are!” to which Sviridova replied:
“Good for them, those idols—they demanded it, and now they’re sitting there—not a single one of those devils, while here at home seven people are suffering, and my husband is shedding blood.” Her nephew objected, pointing out that she “receives welfare and has already gotten more than 150 rubles.” Sviridova replied angrily, “I don’t give a damn about HIS money—let him give me back my husband.”
After Maria Fedorona Radchenkova, a peasant woman from the village of Zorinovka, had seen off her husband, who had been called up for military service, she went to visit the peasant Makar Vedmedev. Seeing portraits on the wall, she asked who they were.
After it was explained to her that these were the rulers of various countries, she declared in front of the assembled guests: “These aren’t kings—they’re devils.” When Peter Vedmedev explained that “Our sovereign is also depicted in the painting,” Radchenkova responded with profanity and added that “he just takes people, beats them, and clouds the light.”
These days, you often hear people say that everything used to be better. In my opinion, not much has changed over the past 100 years—except that there is now a bit more freedom of speech. Otherwise, half the country’s population would be facing legal charges. However, even though freedom and democracy reign in our time, stories that are completely inappropriate—those involving criticism of the government—were still left out of this article—for there is a limit to everything.
- About the military pilot school and the airfield in Kharkiv… - 04.11.2020
- Kharkiv Artisans and the 1887 Exhibition - 17.08.2020
- Nikanor Savich—A Political Career by Mistake - 13.07.2020