The Ukrainian Radishchev

When I came across Byloe (The Past), a journal dedicated to the history of the revolutionary movement in Russia, an article about Semen Oleinychuk drew my attention.

The journal was founded in 1900 by Vladimir Burtsev and published in London and Paris. From January 1906 it was published in St. Petersburg and featured articles on the history of the social movement, starting from the 18th century until the revolutionary events of 1905-07. The April 1906 issue contains an article about Semen Oleinychuk (Oliinychuk), whose name has long been shrouded in mystery.

There is little information about the man who was dubbed “the Ukrainian Radishchev” by his contemporaries. Oleinychuk was a convinced enlightener and an ardent advocate of freedom for the Ukrainian nation. The journal paints a portrait of a unique, intriguing, romantic, and tragic personality. The article was written on the basis of a file stored in the archives of the Third Department.

In the fall of 1849 the unusual attention of an unknown traveler drew the attention of the Russian police. He lived on the left bank of the Dnipro River in Mykilska Slobidka, Oster povit (county), Chernihiv gubernia (at the time left-bank Kyiv belonged to this gubernia). During a search of his home they found his unfinished manuscript and books. The 158-page- long manuscript was entitled A Historical Narrative of the Native Population of Trans-Dnipro Little Russia, i.e., Kyiv, Kamianets-Podilsky, and Zhytomyr-Volhynia Gubernias, about Their Life. Oleinychuk was arrested and sent with this material evidence to Dimitrii Bibikov, Governor-General of Kyiv, Volyn, and Podillia gubernias.

Bibikov ordered a special assignment official to “consider the papers and books found during the search of freeman Semen Oleinychuk and reveal the true essence and purpose of his compositions as well as his lifestyle and actions.”

After he received the investigator’s finding on Nov. 10, 1849, Bibikov reported to the chief gendarme Orlov: “It is my duty to inform Your Excellency and present for your kind consideration a copy of the report submitted to me in this matter-I am honored to add that because this man professed numerous thoughts that are contrary to the current order of things, by interacting with the common people he may adversely affect their mentality, especially during his current residence in manors in this land...-[therefore] exile him to a remote gubernia and place him in conditions that would preclude any interaction he may have with peasants.”

However, when Count Orlov read the report, he had other thoughts about the arrested man. The cause of his fears was, in addition to Oleinychuk’s rebellious thinking, his potential to spread religious propaganda during his sojourns in Catholic monasteries. A report was prepared for the tsar.

The report ended with the following words: “...in my opinion, Oleinychuk should be imprisoned in the Solovky monastery because if he shares his thoughts and concepts, he may be harmful anywhere, primarily to lower-class people with whom he will inevitably have interaction.”

There was still the ultimate instance, which was the will of the emperor. It was disclosed on Nov. 25, 1849. “His Excellency orders Oleinychuk to be imprisoned in the Schlisselburg Fortress.” Oleinychuk then disappeared from the territory of Kyiv gubernia.

Occasionally, we remember legends and stories about people who seem to have vanished into thin air. There were many prisoners of uncertain status who spent years in fortresses and prisons, then dying in utter anonymity. Memories of these people faded away as if they had never existed. The same thing happened to Oleinychuk.

In the Schlisselburg Fortress he was held in the most severe conditions and his last name was known only to Ioannikii Trotsky, the commandant. On Dec. 17 Trotsky reported that Oleinychuk had arrived at the fortress and was incarcerated in secret chamber No. 11.

Who was this person that was arrested so suddenly in 1849, after which all traces of him vanished? Semen Oleinychuk was born in 1798 in the county of Vinnytsia, Podil gubernia, into a family of peasants owned by a landlord named Sobeshchansky.

In 1818 fate intervened. Unbeknownst to the landlord, Oleinychuk’s father sent his son to the Vinnytsia gymnasium-an inconceivable act at the time. One can only imagine how wise and bold the young man’s father was. Oleinychuk studied at the gymnasium until 1824 and received the kind of education that a serf was least supposed to have. He even studied foreign languages: French, Latin, and Polish. Education opened his eyes to the essence of serfdom. Curious by nature, the young man began thinking how he could free himself and his fellow Ukrainians from bondage.

By 1824 Oleinychuk had probably completed his studies at the gymnasium and was brought back to his landlord’s estate. Sobeshchansky reacted in the traditional way: for his defiance he sent him to the army. One cannot help remembering the lot that befell Taras Shevchenko, our national poet of genius.

However, having tasted freedom, Oleinychuk fled. He managed to obtain papers attesting to his nobiliary status from a nobleman named Sorochynsky and left in search of the truth.

After obtaining the necessary documents and converting to Roman Catholicism, Oleinychuk took up a teaching position in a Roman Catholic parish. Then he moved to Pochaiv Monastery and from there to a Carmelite monastery in Volhynia gubernia. Later, he lived at another monastery in Mohyliv gubernia. However, his attempt to find protection from serfdom and Orthodoxy in the Catholic faith and nobility failed to bring him comfort. In 1833 Oleinychuk reverted to Orthodoxy and was appointed parish teacher in the educational district of Orshany County in Belarus. He kept this position until 1839.

After a long period of vacillation (and perhaps spurred by his love for his native land) Oleinychuk returned to the county of Vinnytsia and surrendered to his landlord. He was quickly arrested and committed for trial. There is some mystery here because there was a lack of understanding between the landlord Sobeshchansky, Oleinychuk, and the court. Sobeshchansky did not insist on convicting his serf, and the Podil court issued a decision on April 5, 1843, to release Oleinychuk on the grounds that the accused had a tendency to imbecility. In 1849 Oleinychuk declared that he had never suffered from imbecility or madness and that the testimonies to this effect were false.

When he was released by the court in 1845, Oleinychuk finally received his official release documents from his landlord. However, his old wish to be freed from bondage did not bring him joy because serfdom still existed in Ukraine. He had to protest, persuade, and fight. The restless Ukrainian set out on a journey to a number of cities, villages, and monasteries. In addition to Podil, Volhynia, and Kyiv gubernias, he visited Nizhyn, Hlukhiv, Chernihiv, Orel, Tula, Novgorod, Moscow, and even St. Petersburg.

“Filled with impressions on my way through Russia and Little Russia and having a good knowledge of the history of Little Russia and Poland, I decided to undertake their description,” wrote Oleinychuk. There is a close parallel here with Radishchev. “I looked around and my soul was pierced by the sufferings of humanity.”

Oleinychuk began to write secretly in Vinnytsia: “Because they have begun keeping an eye on me and suspect that I am doing something illegal at night, I, for fear of being brought to account, gathered my books and various draft notes, left my place of residence, and set out on another journey. I went from Podil to Kyiv gubernia and visited Kyiv, but I was afraid to settle there with my creation. I found a place in Mykilska Slobidka on the other bank of the Dnipro, which was conveniently located and away from curious eyes and the police. This is where I intended to get down to writing, finish the book, and, after seeking counsel with more knowledgeable people, put it into circulation.” At this point he was arrested.

What was the guilt of this “terrible state criminal”? There was no guilt at all. His manuscripts were found to contain harmful thoughts-that was it. He was not guilty but he could become guilty in the future. Oleinychuk was punished for what he could do rather than for what he had actually done. We know how this works. By his total rejection of serfdom Oleinychuk was indeed a match for Radishchev.

Oleinychuk’s book is of great interest to a historian researching Ukrainian social and economic thought. The manuscript consists of pieces written in various literary genres-there are factual accounts, addresses to readers, and historical references. Sometimes the author employs the conversational format, at other times inserting into his writings songs and fairy tales as narrated by lira (var. of the hurdy-gurdy — Ed.) players and vagabonds. Oleinychuk depicts the condition of the Ukrainian people in the late 1840s with stunning vividness.

Below are fragments from the first pages of his unfinished work:

“Who could think and believe that the Russian people or the natives of Trans-Dnipro Little Russia in the middle of the 19th century, a time of prosperity for the Russian empire and during the successful rule of Nicholas I, would dare to say that they are being tormented by inner sufferings and that the pain is already reaching their heart? Who would express their sorrow through his historical words that a great, unprecedented evil has emerged in the Russian land, the kind of evil not found anywhere in the chronicles of nations. This evil is that invaders, the Liakhs and the Jews, have so firmly bound us native Little Russians, the autochthonous people of our land, with our own Russian ropes that we are being flogged severely and not allowed to cry. Though we have gotten accustomed to ropes from time immemorial, before they were at least Polish, Jewish, and Tatar ropes and did not seem so burdensome and tight on us as our Russian ones, which are wound around us more tightly. We may not even open our mouths when we want to say something.”

“Without laws and the supreme authority granted by God, it would be difficult, or, one might say, even impossible, for humankind to live. Therefore, it is so much harder to live in a land where the rulers refuse to tolerate and obey this supreme authority. Rather, each one strives to be an absolute despot over others and defends himself alone before the law, while in the opinion of others he is an utter transgressor.”

“The fertile and universally abundant land of the Kyiv princes and their estates have been plundered and turned into an utter pasturage by the domestic and foreign scum driven by their unbridled passion for self-interest and rapaciousness.”

Naturally, Oleinychuk’s pronouncements reveal an anti-Catholic attitude, i.e., hatred of Poles, and anti-Semitism. But it should be remembered that these lines were written and based on material (stories, ballads, and reminiscences) from the 17th and 18th centuries, i.e., from the words of the people, who remembered the hardships during the period of the Ruin and Lithuanian, Polish, and Muscovite rule over the Ukrainian lands. The author is well aware that Ukrainians were once free, so in his perception serfdom is a form of not only economic exploitation but also national oppression.

“I know various stories from the history of Poland and Little Russia, and I have heard a lot from old commoners about the time of trouble in these lands. I write that serfdom imposed on our people is a departure from the previous condition of the peasants because in the past they were not sold as serfs.”

It is not improbable that Oleinychuk, who grew up in the vast and picturesque Ukrainian lands and was nurtured on stories of Cossack freedom, was offended by the mercenary and commercial spirit that in the 19th century gradually came to reign over the patriarchal city of Kyiv. Rich Polish landlords, such as the Potockis, Branickis, and Olizars, became the “fathers of the city,” and European industrial capital and banks were becoming more powerful. In any case, Oleinychuk remained an ardent and committed advocate of freedom for the Ukrainian peasantry and a true patriot of Ukraine.

“If you looked at the vast expanse of meadows and forests here, you would see a lot of cattle of all kinds and an abundance of sheep, cows, and horses. If you think that these are the herds of local people who are carrying all state burdens, such as paying taxes, sending their sons to the army to shed blood for the country, providing billets for military units, etc., then you would be wrong!

“This is the property of appointed landlords. Local people may not even let a gosling into the pasture, as it would trample the grass intended for their so-called “overseas” and “intelligent” horses. Local uneducated men may not go into a forest lest they be stripped and flogged by guards, even though they did not pick up a single mushroom or dry branch.”

“All schools, gymnasiums, lyceums, and universities without exception are filled with foreigners or children of local landlords. All boarding schools for women and institutes, such as those located in Kyiv and Poltava, are teeming with Polish, Jewish, German, and French girls. Very rarely one comes across our former Cossack girls-Khveskas, Hankas, Yavdokhas, and others, but they have been transformed into the fashionable foreign models of godlessness and obliviousness to any fasts.”

“They are opening banks to buy our serfs, and they are in possession of our lands and our people...If you tell a Pole, German, an Asian, or even a gypsy that they are owned by a Russian noble who can sell him or, as it often happens, exchange for a dog or a piece of livestock, they will spit in your eye, no matter who they are. Who are the people on both banks of the Dnipro when common people are not considered human and are being bought apiece just as civilized nations buy cattle?”

These are indeed bitter words from this courageous man of high self-esteem.

The sepulchral silence surrounding Oleinychuk’s name was broken only in July 1852. On July 27 the commandant of Schlisselburg Fortress reported to Count Orlov: “I am honored to report to Your Excellency that Semen Oleinychuk, a prisoner in the fortress under my command and a freed serf, died today of a prolonged ailment by the will of God.”

Nine years later serfdom was abolished.

On Aug. 1 Nicholas I received a report about Oleinychuk’s death, which cited the fact that he had been imprisoned on the highest order of His Excellency: “His Excellency ordered that the original report be read on Aug. 1, 1852.” That was it. It was as if Oleinychuk had never existed.

Later Bibikov submitted an inquiry to the Third Department about what he was supposed to do with the money (268.65 rubles) and the manuscript left by the late Oleinychuk. He received the following decision from Dubalt: “Send the manuscript to us and the money to the fortress.”

This is how the manuscript found its way to the Third Department. It is still a mystery how the editor of the journal Byloe obtained it.

Now it is up to Ukrainian historians to locate this work by Oleinychuk and assess its merits.

Svitlana Mushtenko is an art historian.