It was at this store that I was first given a copy of Jaan Kross’ The Czar’s Madman (Keisri hull). At that age, I didn’t see much connection between the history of czars and the nation of Estonia. Still, that title and the mysterious art of the cover—someone in a field gazing at a statue by a fallen chair with a tall church spire in the distance—felt like a cerebral portal into a specific niche of the Estonian story. Years later, I found a statue of Kross himself near the store, holding a book. I took it as a sign to revisit the aforementioned story.
The narrative concerns Timotheus von Bock, a nobleman who makes a grave error. Having been invited by Czar Alexander I to provide an honest appraisal of the empire’s failings, von Bock submits a critique that verges on being a radical indictment. In response, the Czar effectively erases von Bock (you can see the historical parallels with the author’s era in late ‘70s Estonia) by declaring him a “madman.” Madness is a convenient label here. It allows the state to dismiss the critique and send von Bock away. This dynamic illustrates the terrifyingly arbitrary nature of ruin. Von Bock was a hero of the Napoleonic Wars, a man of great social standing and personal wealth. Nonetheless, Kross demonstrates that his status isn’t as fixed as it seems. “What does this all have to do with Estonia, though?” you might wonder. Well, Kross filters this history through the diary of Jakob Mättik, the brother of von Bock’s wife, Eeva. Eeva, born a serf, was purchased and liberated by von Bock so he could marry her. In a way, as much as we can see genuine love, it appears like a social experiment, to show that an Estonian peasant (and maybe even her brother) could be educated into a person of high culture. All of this was an affront to the Baltic German nobility, who viewed the division between the powerful Baltic Germans and the “undeutsch” Estonian peasantry as a divine or biological necessity. Jakob’s perspective is very intriguing because he represents the emergence of Estonian intellectuals. These happen to be Estonians with the literacy skills to document a transformation, the identity of Estonians, and the ruin of their masters, as precarious as the whole transformation is.
The heaviest part of the book has to be the period after von Bock’s release from the Schlüsselburg fortress. He returns to his estate at Võisiku, but he’s not really a free man. Even in the tranquil Estonian countryside, he is watched.
The novel also highlights a specific Estonian strategy for survival: that is, keeping a record of what’s taken place. The hefty literary and archival traditions of Estonians are proof of that.
Without giving everything away, there’s something to be gleaned about the fragility of survival in any era of transition. Von Bock believed that his shared history with the Czar, their vow of truth, offered him a shield. He was wrong. This precariousness mirrors the contemporary anxiety of volatile economic and political times. We often operate under the illusion that our professional and social standing is the result of a stable meritocracy. In reality, we’re sometimes one administrative whim, one “restructuring,” or one public misstep away from a total loss of status. The reasons for which people are cast out of their livelihoods today are obviously different, but in a way, the coldness of it has remained.
The novel also highlights a specific Estonian strategy for survival: that is, keeping a record of what’s taken place. The hefty literary and archival traditions of Estonians are proof of that. Jakob Mättik writes in secret. This is a form of resistance that Kross himself understood on a personal level. For a nation that has spent centuries under foreign rule, the ability to maintain an internal, private history is a maintenance of one’s humanity and freedom.
Returning to the text after so long, it all became clear. Kross was doing for his readers what Jakob did for von Bock. He was documenting the 20th century experience of the Gulag and the secret police while masquerading as a writer of historical fiction.
