T. Binyon - Pushkin

The ceremonial opening of the new school took place on 19 October 1811. It began with a service in the palace church, to whose choir access could be gained over the arch, through the school library. The priest then proceeded to the Lycée, where he sprinkled the pupils and the establishment with holy water. Between two columns in the school hall had been placed a table covered with a red cloth with a gold fringe. On it lay the imperial charter of the Lycée. The boys lined up in three ranks on one side of the table with their teachers facing them on the other. The guests – senior officials from St Petersburg and their wives – occupied chairs in the body of the hall. When all were present the emperor, the empress, the dowager empress, Grand Duke Constantine and Grand Duchess Anna (Alexander’s brother and sister) were invited in by Razumovsky and took their places in the front row.

The school charter was now read by Martynov. This was followed by a speech from the director, Malinovsky, whose indistinct utterance soon lost the audience’s attention. It was regained, however, by Aleksandr Kunitsyn, the young teacher of moral and political science, although he purported to address the boys, rather than the audience. ‘Leaving the embraces of your parents, you step beneath the roof of this sacred temple of learning,’ he began, and went on, in a rhetoric full of fervent patriotism, to inspire them with the duties of the citizen and soldier. ‘In these deserted forests, which once resounded to victorious Russian arms, you will learn of the glorious deeds of heroes, overcoming enemy armies. On these rolling plains you will be shown the blazing footsteps of your ancestors, who strove to defend the tsar and the Fatherland – surrounded by examples of virtue, will you not burn with an ardent love for it, will you not prepare yourselves to serve the Fatherland?’ 13 Alexander was so pleased with this speech that he decorated Kunitsyn with the Vladimir Cross. The pupils were now called up one by one and introduced to the emperor, who, after a short speech in return, invited the empresses to inspect the Lycée. They returned to watch the lycéens eating their dinner. The dowager empress approached little Kornilov, one of the youngest boys, and, putting her hand on his shoulder, asked him whether the soup was good. ‘Oui, monsieur,’ he replied, earning himself a smile from royalty and a nickname from his fellows. 14 In the evening, by the light of the lampions placed round the building and of the illuminated shield bearing the imperial arms which flickered on the balcony, the boys had a snowball fight: winter had come early that year. The next day Malinovsky made known a number of regulations he had received from the Minister of Education. * The most significant, as far as the boys were concerned, and which caused several to break into tears, was that they would not be permitted to leave the Lycée throughout the six years of their education. Even their vacation – the month of July – would have to be spent at the school. Parents and relatives would be allowed to visit them only on Sundays or other holidays.

The school day began at six, when a bell awoke the pupils. After prayers there were lessons from seven to nine. Breakfast – tea and white rolls – was followed by a walk, lessons from ten to twelve, another walk, and dinner at one: three courses – four on special occasions – accompanied, to begin with, by half a glass of porter, but, as Pushchin remarks, ‘this English system was later done away with. We contented ourselves with native kvas or water.’ 15 From two to three there was drawing or calligraphy, lessons from three to five, tea, a third walk, and preparation or extra tuition until the bell rang for supper – two courses – at half past eight. After supper the boys were free for recreation until evening prayers at ten, followed by bed. On Wednesdays and Saturdays there were fencing or dancing lessons in the evening, from six until supper-time.

Several servants, each responsible for a number of boys, looked after the domestic side of school life. Prokofev was a retired sergeant, who had served in the army under Catherine. The Pole Leonty Kemersky, though dishonest, was a favourite, since he had set up a tuck-shop, where the boys could buy sweets, drink coffee or chocolate, or even – strictly against the school rules – a glass of liqueur. Young Konstantin Sazonov looked after Pushkin. Much to the astonishment of the school, on 18 March 1816 the police turned up and arrested him on suspicion of half a dozen murders committed in or around Tsarskoe Selo, to which he promptly confessed. A few weeks later, when in the Lycée sickbay under the care of the genial Dr Peschl, Pushkin composed an epigram:

On the morrow, with a penny candle,

I will appear before the holy icon:

My friend! I am still alive,

Though was once beneath death’s sickle:

Sazonov was my servant

And Peschl – my physician. 16

Vasily Malinovsky was forty-six when he became director of the Lycée. He was an odd choice, since he had no previous experience in education. He had been a diplomat, but had held no post since 1801. While with the embassy in London, he had published A Discourse on Peace and War , which anticipated Woodrow Wilson in suggesting that peace could be maintained by the establishment of a league of nations. And in 1802, like others at this time, he had put forward a project for the emancipation of the serfs – a reform which was only put into effect in 1861. He carried his liberal idealism into his new post, being responsible for the ban on corporal punishment. But his tenure was short-lived: he died, after a sudden illness, in March 1814. His death was followed by the period called by Pushkin ‘anarchy’, and by Pushchin ‘the interregnum’, 17 when the school had no director. It was governed sometimes by a committee of the teachers, sometimes by a succession of individual teachers, each abruptly appointed as temporary director by Razumovsky and as abruptly dismissed after some disagreement or minor scandal.

Anarchy came to an end in March 1816, when the forty-year-old Egor Antonovich Engelhardt became the school’s director. Born in Riga and of German-Italian parentage, Engelhardt enjoyed the patronage of Alexander, and on occasion was to make use of this to the school’s advantage. Unlike Malinovsky, he had some qualifications for the post, having been the director of the St Petersburg Pedagogic Institute. But whereas Malinovsky’s aim had been to form virtuous individuals, imbued with high civic ideals, ‘Engelhardt was chiefly concerned with turning his charges into “ des cavaliers galants et des chevaliers servants”. ’ 18 Indeed, the social life of the pupils outside the walls of the Lycée – absent before – was one of Engelhardt’s main concerns. He entertained them at his house in the evenings, took them for walks and drives in the neighbourhood, organized picnics and skating parties, providing, on all these occasions, feminine company from his own family or from those of friends and acquaintances in Tsarskoe Selo: ‘In a word, our director understood that forbidden fruit can be a dangerous attraction, and that freedom, guided by an experienced hand, can preserve youth from many mistakes,’ wrote Pushchin sagely. 19

Above all he was concerned to establish ‘amical relations’ between himself and the lycéens, guiding himself by the maxim that ‘only through a heartfelt sympathy with the joys and sorrows of one’s pupils can one win their love’. 20 Many succumbed to his wooing; for some he became a surrogate father, and the correspondence between himself and a number of former pupils, lasting in some cases until his death in 1862, testifies to the sincere affection in which he was held. Others, however, held themselves aloof. Among these was Pushkin. ‘Why Pushkin rejected all the attentions of the director and his wife remains an unsolved mystery for me,’ wrote Pushchin forty years later. 21