Alexander Pushkin

Based on Wikipedia: Alexander Pushkin

The Duel That Killed Russia's Greatest Poet

On a frozen January afternoon in 1837, beside the Black River near Saint Petersburg, Alexander Pushkin raised his pistol at a French officer who had been publicly pursuing his wife. The rules of their "barrier duel" were simple but brutal: the two men would walk toward each other from an agreed distance, firing whenever they chose. Whoever shot first had to stand still and wait for the return fire.

The Frenchman, Georges d'Anthès, fired first. The bullet struck Pushkin in the hip and tore through his abdomen. Pushkin fell into the snow, then somehow steadied himself enough to wound d'Anthès in the arm. Two days later, Russia's most celebrated poet was dead from peritonitis. He was thirty-seven years old.

But to understand why that duel matters—why Russians still visit Pushkin's grave, why his words shaped the very language they speak—we need to go back to the beginning. And that beginning involves an African prince, the Ottoman slave trade, and the court of Peter the Great.

An African Ancestor in the Russian Court

Pushkin's most unusual inheritance came through his mother's side. His great-grandfather was Abram Petrovich Gannibal, a man born around 1696 in Central Africa, in the region that borders Lake Chad in what is now Cameroon. As a young boy, Abram was kidnapped and taken to Constantinople—present-day Istanbul—where he was given as a gift to the Ottoman Sultan.

From the Sultan's palace, Abram's journey took another extraordinary turn. He was transferred to Russia as a gift for Peter the Great, the reformist tsar who was busy dragging his country into the modern era. Peter didn't treat Abram as a slave. He raised him as a godson in the imperial household, gave him an education, and eventually sent him to France to study military engineering.

Abram returned to Russia as a skilled engineer and rose through the ranks to become Général en Chief—the third-highest military rank in the empire. He built sea forts and canals, governed cities, and founded a family line that would produce Russia's greatest literary genius.

This ancestry mattered deeply to Pushkin. He wrote about his great-grandfather, explored questions of identity and belonging throughout his work, and seemed to draw energy from being an outsider even within the Russian nobility. His features showed traces of his African heritage, and he carried himself with a pride that his critics sometimes called arrogance.

A French-Speaking Russian Discovers His Language

Pushkin was born in Moscow in 1799 into the Russian nobility. His father belonged to an old aristocratic family with roots reaching back to the twelfth century. This sounds impressive, but the practical reality was that young Alexander spent most of his childhood with nursemaids and French tutors. Until the age of ten, he spoke mostly French.

This was entirely normal for Russian aristocrats of the era. French was the language of culture, diplomacy, and refined society. Russian was what you spoke to servants.

And it was precisely through servants that Pushkin discovered his native tongue. He learned Russian from the household serfs and especially from his nanny, Arina Rodionovna. She told him folk tales and legends, sang him songs, and gave him something his sophisticated French tutors could not: an ear for the rhythms, textures, and emotional depths of Russian as it was actually spoken by ordinary people.

Pushkin loved Arina more than he loved his own mother. This wasn't unusual for aristocratic children of his era, who often had distant relationships with their biological parents. But the bond left its mark on his poetry, which would blend the elegance of European literary forms with the raw vitality of Russian folk tradition.

The Lyceum and the Birth of a Literary Star

At age twelve, Pushkin entered the Imperial Lyceum at Tsarskoye Selo, near Saint Petersburg. This was no ordinary school. It was the first graduating class of a new institution designed to educate the sons of Russia's elite for government service. The students lived on the grounds of the imperial palace itself.

One of Pushkin's teachers was a man named David de Boudry—the younger brother of Jean-Paul Marat, the radical journalist of the French Revolution. Through Boudry and other influences, Pushkin absorbed the ideas of the French Enlightenment. Voltaire became his intellectual hero, a writer he later described as "the first to follow the new road, and to bring the lamp of philosophy into the dark archives of history."

Another teacher, Alexander Kunitsyn, introduced Pushkin to Kantian philosophy and liberal individualism. These ideas about personal freedom and the limits of government authority would shape Pushkin's political thinking—and get him into serious trouble.

By the time Pushkin graduated, he had already published his first poem at fifteen and was recognized as a genuine talent by the Russian literary establishment. He was brilliant, charming, impulsive, and convinced of his own importance. He plunged into the intellectual youth culture of Saint Petersburg, which was then the capital of the empire, and began to write poems that combined lyrical beauty with pointed political commentary.

Exile for Poetry

In 1820, Pushkin published his first long poem, "Ruslan and Ludmila." It caused a sensation, partly for its literary innovations and partly for what readers considered its scandalous subject matter. But it was another poem entirely that changed the course of his life.

"Ode to Liberty" was a direct challenge to autocratic power. When copies of the poem circulated among young military officers who were plotting against the tsar, Pushkin became a marked man. Emperor Alexander I had him transferred out of the capital—a form of internal exile that would define the next several years of his life.

Pushkin traveled to the Caucasus, to Crimea, to Bessarabia. In Chișinău, he joined the Filiki Eteria, a secret society dedicated to overthrowing Ottoman rule in Greece and establishing an independent Greek state. When the Greek Revolution broke out, Pushkin kept a diary recording the events of the uprising. The Romantic era's enthusiasm for national liberation movements had found a willing convert.

He wrote "The Prisoner of the Caucasus" and "The Fountain of Bakhchisaray," poems that brought him acclaim even as he remained banished from the centers of Russian cultural life. In 1823, he moved to Odessa, where he promptly clashed with local authorities again. The government's patience ran out. They sent him to his mother's rural estate at Mikhailovskoye, near Pskov, essentially placing him under house arrest.

Genius in Isolation

The years at Mikhailovskoye, from 1824 to 1826, were simultaneously the most restricted and the most productive of Pushkin's life.

Cut off from society, unable to publish freely, watched by the emperor's political police, Pushkin wrote. He worked on "Eugene Onegin," the novel in verse that many consider his masterpiece. He composed love poems dedicated to Elizaveta Vorontsova, the wife of the regional governor. And he wrote his most famous play, "Boris Godunov," a historical drama about power, legitimacy, and the false pretenders who arise when political order breaks down.

The play couldn't be published for five years. Even when it finally appeared in print, an uncensored version wasn't staged until 2007—one hundred and seventy years after Pushkin's death.

During this period, Pushkin also wrote "To***," a poem traditionally believed to be dedicated to a woman named Anna Kern. But scholars have argued about its true subject for generations. Some believe the poem was actually written for a serf named Olga Kalashnikova. Others claim it was meant for the Empress herself. Still others argue it was dedicated to Tatyana Larina, a fictional character from Pushkin's own "Eugene Onegin."

That scholars still debate a poem's dedication nearly two centuries later tells you something about Pushkin's hold on Russian culture. Every detail of his life and work has been examined, argued over, and treasured.

The Decembrist Shadow

In December 1825, while Pushkin remained stranded at Mikhailovskoye, a group of military officers attempted to overthrow the government. The Decembrist Uprising, as it came to be known, was a response to the sudden death of Emperor Alexander I and confusion over who would succeed him. The rebels wanted constitutional government and the abolition of serfdom.

Many of the Decembrists were Pushkin's friends and fellow writers. They shared his belief in political freedom. But they hadn't trusted him enough to include him in their conspiracy. As one contemporary noted, Pushkin "had a big mouth" and was known to be impulsive and egotistical.

The uprising failed. The new emperor, Nicholas I, crushed the rebellion and executed or exiled its leaders. When authorities searched the belongings of the arrested conspirators, they found copies of Pushkin's "Ode to Liberty." The poet was summoned to Moscow.

A Complicated Freedom

The meeting between Pushkin and Emperor Nicholas I has become legendary, though no one knows exactly what was said. What we know is the result: Pushkin was released from exile.

But the freedom came with strings. Nicholas appointed Pushkin as Titular Counsel of the National Archives—a minor government position that kept him close and visible. The emperor personally reviewed everything Pushkin wanted to publish. Travel was restricted. The political poet who had once written odes to liberty was now, in effect, a pampered prisoner of the state.

How did Pushkin respond? He became a supporter of Nicholas I. Later critics have called this a betrayal of his principles, but the situation was more complicated. Pushkin seems to have genuinely believed that Nicholas could reform Russia from above, that the tsar's personality and power could accomplish what revolution had failed to achieve. There was also simple gratitude: the emperor had freed him from years of isolation.

Still, the tension never fully resolved. When Pushkin wrote a patriotic poem during the Polish uprising of 1830-1831, some Russian liberals turned against him. He was caught between worlds—too radical for conservatives, too accommodating for radicals, and too famous to ignore.

Love and Disaster

Around 1828, Pushkin met Natalia Goncharova. She was sixteen years old and considered one of the most beautiful women in Moscow. After two years of hesitation—Natalia's family wanted assurances that the government wouldn't persecute her libertarian suitor—she accepted his marriage proposal.

They became engaged in May 1830 but couldn't marry immediately. A cholera epidemic swept through Russia, delaying the ceremony until February 1831. The wedding took place in the Great Ascension Church on Bolshaya Nikitskaya Street in Moscow.

By all accounts, the marriage was largely happy. Pushkin and Natalia had four children: Maria, Alexander, Grigory, and Natalia. The couple became fixtures in court society, attending balls and functions regularly. But Natalia's beauty attracted constant attention, and Pushkin had what contemporaries described as a "highly jealous temperament."

Enter Georges d'Anthès. He was a French officer serving in the Russian Chevalier Guard Regiment, the adopted son of a Dutch diplomat named Jacob van Heeckeren. D'Anthès was handsome, charming, and seemingly obsessed with Natalia Goncharova.

By the autumn of 1836, rumors were circulating that Natalia was having an affair with the young Frenchman. Pushkin was furious. In November, he sent d'Anthès a challenge to a duel.

D'Anthès's adoptive father intervened, asking for a two-week delay. During this period, d'Anthès proposed to Natalia's sister, Ekaterina. The marriage went forward, but it solved nothing. D'Anthès continued pursuing Natalia in public, and rumor had it that he'd only married the sister to protect Natalia's reputation—not because he'd given up his pursuit.

In January 1837, Pushkin forced the issue. He sent a deliberately insulting letter to Heeckeren, knowing that the only possible response was a formal challenge. The duel was set.

The Black River

Pushkin tried to secure a second—the witness and advocate who traditionally accompanies a duellist and attempts to negotiate a peaceful resolution. He approached Arthur Magenis, an attaché at the British Consulate-General. Magenis considered the request but ultimately declined; by the time he received Pushkin's inquiry, d'Anthès's second had already refused any possibility of reconciliation.

The duel took place on January 27, 1837, on a snowy afternoon beside the Black River. Pushkin arrived without a formal second, a violation of dueling protocol that suggests either desperation or a complete disregard for his own safety.

The "barrier duel" rules were straightforward. Both men would walk toward each other from a set distance. Either could fire at any time, but whoever shot first had to stop and wait for the return shot.

D'Anthès fired first. The bullet struck Pushkin in the hip and penetrated his abdomen. He fell into the snow but managed to steady himself enough to fire back, wounding d'Anthès in the arm.

Two days later, at 2:45 in the afternoon on January 29, Pushkin died from peritonitis. He was buried in the grounds of Svyatogorsky monastery near Pskov, beside his mother.

At his wife's request, he was dressed in evening clothes for the coffin, not in the chamber-cadet uniform the emperor had provided. Even in death, there was tension between the private man and the public role the state wanted him to play.

The Founder of Modern Russian Literature

What makes Pushkin so important? Why do Russians consider him not just a great poet but the founder of their modern literature?

Before Pushkin, educated Russians wrote in French or in a highly artificial literary Russian that bore little resemblance to spoken language. Pushkin changed that. Drawing on his childhood exposure to Russian folk speech and combining it with the formal techniques of European poetry, he created a literary language that was both elegant and natural.

"Eugene Onegin," his novel in verse, was serialized between 1825 and 1832. It's a story about a bored aristocrat, a provincial young woman who loves him, and the tragic consequences of emotional blindness. But beyond its plot, it's a technical marvel—a work that uses a unique stanza form Pushkin invented, allowing for shifts between narrative, dialogue, and authorial commentary. The literary critic Vladimir Nabokov spent years translating it into English, filling multiple volumes with annotations that trace its influences and innovations.

"Boris Godunov" pioneered Russian historical drama, examining how power corrupts and how pretenders exploit political chaos. "The Bronze Horseman" meditates on the relationship between individual suffering and state power, using the famous equestrian statue of Peter the Great as its central symbol. "The Stone Guest" retells the Don Juan legend with psychological depth.

Pushkin also wrote short stories that helped establish Russian realism. His cycle "The Tales of the Late Ivan Petrovich Belkin" demonstrated how fiction could capture ordinary life with precision and concision. The story "The Stationmaster" in particular showed how to create fully realized characters from the lower classes, treating their lives with the same seriousness previously reserved for aristocrats.

Echoes

In 1831, Pushkin met Nikolai Gogol, another foundational figure of Russian literature. Pushkin supported the younger writer, featuring Gogol's stories in a magazine called The Contemporary that Pushkin founded in 1836. The relationship between the two men was one of mentor and protégé, and Gogol's later masterpieces—"Dead Souls," "The Overcoat"—grew in the literary soil Pushkin had prepared.

The short play "Mozart and Salieri" became the inspiration for Peter Shaffer's "Amadeus" and provided the libretto, almost word for word, for Rimsky-Korsakov's opera of the same name. The theme—jealousy of genius, the suspicion that brilliance is unfair—resonated with audiences because Pushkin understood those feelings from the inside.

His descendants scattered across the globe. Through his daughter Natalia, who married into European nobility, Pushkin's bloodline connects to the British royal family. His great-great-granddaughter Nadejda married an uncle of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. Today, Pushkin's descendants live in the United Kingdom, the Czech Republic, Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg, and the United States.

But his most lasting descendants are his words. The Russian language itself bears his imprint. When Russians speak and write today, they use patterns and possibilities that Pushkin opened up two centuries ago. He didn't just write great literature; he helped create the medium in which Russian literature could exist.

The Dream and the Reality

There's a fascinating detail from Dostoevsky's novel "The Idiot." A character suggests that d'Anthès's fatal shot might have been accidental—that the bullet struck so low that the Frenchman must have been aiming higher, at the chest or head. "Nobody aims where that bullet hit," the character says. "That means it probably hit Pushkin by chance, a fluke."

Whether this is forensic insight or wishful thinking, we can't know. But the observation captures something essential about how Russians have processed Pushkin's death. It seems too arbitrary, too meaningless, that the greatest poet should die in a petty quarrel over rumors of adultery. Surely there must be some larger significance, some cosmic injustice, some hidden pattern.

But that's how life works sometimes. Genius doesn't protect you from jealousy, pride, or a bullet in the abdomen on a frozen afternoon. Pushkin lived intensely, loved passionately, wrote brilliantly, and died young because he couldn't walk away from a fight about his wife's honor.

His last home is now a museum. His grave still receives visitors. And his language—that extraordinary fusion of folk rhythms and formal elegance—remains the foundation on which all Russian literature is built.