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The Bell, No. 209, December 1, 1865 (Part I); No. 210, December 15, 1865 (Part II). Her- zen wrote this essay in answer to criticism from radical democratic (young emigres and Bakunin), "court liberal" (Chicherin), and conservative (M. P. Pogodin) circles. It covers not just 1865, but the line taken by The Bell during the past few years. To those on his left and right, Herzen declares his unchanged views on Russia's path toward liberation. He saw the period that began in 1862 as one of harsh reprisals, the corruption of Rus­sian journalism, and the movement of a confused society to the right. Herzen defends his complex attitude toward Alexander II, and affirms his faith in the powerful legacy of the peasant commune. Bakunin was not satisfied with the tone of this document, noting that Herzen still felt sad about the decline of Russian liberalism and his disappointed hopes in the tsar. According to Bakunin, what was needed was an end to the commune and a popular uprising (Let 4:283).

As the Year Comes to an End [1865]

I

We are surviving the year 1865, as we survived 1863 and 1864.

After delirium tremens lasting two years, the tedious period of recovery has come—slow, concealed, with continuing flashes of heat and the return of delirious episodes. A clear turning point, in which the old doctors be­lieved, did not happen, but the attacks of rage have apparently weakened, and, taking everything into account, things are not getting worse.

For us, it's even demonstrably better.

Since last spring our ringing has again begun to reach Russia, has again begun to rouse some people and upset others. We are being scolded more often, more people are writing to us, and we have more and more corre­spondence and readers. And we are traveling along our very same path and have no intention at all of changing it, that is, the path itself—we do not answer for the tone and the coverage, because they depend on events and not on us, and we have said this many times.¹

To travel one's own path under the circumstances under which we trav­eled for the past three years was difficult, and we would never say—given the prevailing confusion of ideas and passions, and the streams rushing in opposite directions—that we were not from time to time carried to one side, but we were not dislodged from the main line either by the frenzied abuse of independent or government-supported enemies, or by the advice of stub­born friends.

The Bell has remained what it was, has remained itself; it represented the same line of thought and did not represent any coterie. Abandoned by almost everyone, it did not rush either into the patriotic camp or toward the democratic alarmists. [. . .]

We know and see that our enemies followed a different road and took nine-tenths of our friends with them. What we do not know or see is whether the Russian reading public, the only people for whom we write, will follow them for very long. We were unable to follow our enemies along the path of bloody and crude patriotism; to the extent that this will cool down and resistance grow to The Moscow Gazette and Muravyov's actions, to that extent readers will return to us.

That personally strong people and lively talents, full of youthful fresh­ness, not only can but should overtake us—we not only know this but re­joice in it, like any person who has cleared a path and takes pleasure when people walk further along it.² However, we do not know and seriously doubt that public opinion in Russia has outstripped our propaganda. [. . .]

Neither abstract thought, nor far-off ideals, nor logical severity, nor a sharp consistency, in and of themselves, will help the work of everyday propaganda, if they are unable to grasp close-range ideals, today's strivings, and the doubts of the masses. The town square and the club, the audito­riums and every sort of gathering differ from the closed circle of school friends, in that the former pay attention while the latter were engaged in study, or were supposed to be studying.

It wasn't easy to follow from afar the changing stream of opinions, es­pecially from a public so young, unbridled, and only partly free. We trusted our instinct, and steered as best we could through the dark and stormy night between opposing beacons, even losing our ballast.