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Herzen's style is both emphatic and interrogative, as he poses numer­ous questions, some genuine, others with the goal of rhetorically engaging his readers. One feels the presence of a masterful prosecutor, arguing his case before the court of public opinion, as well as an inspired preacher trying to get the faithful to sit up in their seats and pay close attention, be­cause the stakes were so high. To sustain a style whose essence was more oral than written, Herzen required "supporters, opponents, conversation­alists, and readers."⁶¹ The author's acceptance of multiple voices and of dialogue over monologue was already evident in his essay From the Other Shore, something that had impressed the otherwise skeptical Dostoevsky. In the process of gathering material for what eventually became the novel Demons, Dostoevsky found Herzen to be essential reading.⁶² His own pub­lication Diary of a Writer (i873-8i) carried on The Bell's practice of reacting to specific events in a passionately political, and yet still very literary voice.⁶³ Dostoevsky lacked Herzen's gift for irony, but took his sarcasm to a much higher level.

Herzen mistrusted oratory and rhetoric, but he understood the power of direct address and saved its impact for his public letters to the tsar and, on one famous occasion, to the empress (Doc. i9). In these letters he exer­cised considerable control over his style, muting any strong emotion except deep concern for the Russian people. His conservative foes criticized the brazen inappropriateness of unsolicited advice to the imperial family, while radicals resented the respectful tone and the implication that reform was preferable to revolution. For his first letter to Alexander II (Doc. 5), Herzen took as his epigraph an i823 poem of encouragement to the five-year-old Alexander Nikolaevich, who would likely assume the throne one day. This was hardly an innocent gesture, since the poet, Kondraty Ryleev, had taken part in the Decembrist rebellion two years later and died as one of the five martyrs of i826. Despite this provocative beginning, the letter itself is con­ciliatory in tone.⁶⁴

. . . there is one thing in common between your banner and mine— namely that love for the people about which we speak.

And in its name I am prepared to make a huge sacrifice. . . .

I am prepared to wait, to step back a bit, to speak about something else, as long as I have a real hope that you will do something for Russia.

Your majesty, grant freedom to the Russian word. . . .

Give land to the peasants. It already belongs to them. . . .

Hurry! Save the serf from future crimes, save him from the blood that he will have to spill. . . .

Your majesty, if these lines reach you, read them without malice, alone, and then think about them. You do not often get to hear the sincere voice of a free Russian man.

Ten years later, the letter of May 2, 1865 (Doc. 68), at first addressed the tsar with empathy on the death of the heir, Nikolay Alexandrovich; Herzen, after all, had ample experience of personal tragedy. After a few sentences, however, Herzen compares the tsar's loss to that of Polish families whose sons died in the 1863 rebellion. Alexander is praised for the emancipation, and then reminded of the sins he committed against his own and other peoples, for which he must atone.

Forgiveness is not needed for your innocent victims or the suf­fering martyrs. It is necessary for you. You cannot go forward in a humane way without an amnesty from them.

Sovereign, be worthy of it!

The following year saw a final letter to Alexander II (Doc. 84), prompted by the government's frenzied search for conspirators after Karakozov's at­tempt on the tsar's life.

. . . let them call me crazy and weak, but I am writing to you because it is so difficult for me to abandon the idea that you have been drawn by others to this . . . terrible injustice that is going on around you. . . .

In all likelihood this is my last letter to you, Sovereign. Read it. Only endless and agonizing grief about the destruction of youthful, fresh strength under the impure feet of profane old men . . . only this pain could make me stop you once more on the road and once more raise my voice.