If the duty on imported tea were greatly diminished, as well as the excise on sugar, a great step towards sobriety would thereby be assured. People who are indifferent to the moral condition of Russia assure me that this would cause too heavy a loss of Government revenue. They may be right, but I should suppose that any temporary loss of revenue would soon be made up by the increased demand for tea and sugar, which would undoubtedly be immense, both articles being so important to our people's comfort. Still less doubt could there be about the moral advantage. Temperance has, it is agreed, an enormously beneficial effect.
Those who want to see this for themselves and to study this question thoroughly, should go especially to Plotsk in our Polish provinces, and visit there our Old Catholics called "Mariavites" and their bishops. It cannot be sufficiently well known that since this noble religious movement began in the year 1871 (when the Pope's infallibility was proclaimed), 200,000 people have become Mariavites, thanks to the efforts and example of their bishops and priests, and that all the congregation is composed of absolute teetotallers. A leading and curious characteristic of Bishop Kovalsky's parish is that they are all absolute teetotallers—materially very poor, but rich in faith and energy. Each of them joyfully brings to the Church his hard-earned contribution, with the result that the community is well provided with churches, schools, workshops, etc.
Try to understand by this example what voluntary efforts, personal sacrifices and teetotalism may do. Since these lines were written, God has takenpity upon us, and on the declaration of War, our noble and courageous Emperor came to our rescue by ordering the closing of the vodka bars and the total prohibition of alcohol. From all the reports, this measure, drastic though it was, has elicited not the complaints, but rather the blessings of the entire country. A curious fact is also traceable to this wise legislation in many parts of Russia: the village banks have never been in better funds than now, while crime has enormously diminished, and family life flourishes.
Reforms in Russia, even of the greatest magnitude, are sometimes carried out with miraculous rapidity.
As a great many people, even in England, well know, the liberation of forty-eight millions of Serfs—half of whom suddenly became freeholders—was actually introduced (19 February, 1862) after two years working out.
The abolition of the village Commune (in many respects resembling the Indian Communal System) has been abolished in still shorter time. It worked fairly well, I am told, before the emancipation, but ceased to do so after the great Reform.
The complete abolition of the Traffic in drink was effected in two days, all over Russia, by the Emperor's order, and at this very moment, in spite of the war and our bewildering expenditure in self-defence, for which Russia never thought of preparing herself, our Minister of Public Instruction, Count Ignatieff, is elaborating another gigantic reform—the execution of which will prove that he is a true son of his celebrated father. The latter, Count Nicolas Ignatieff, our former Ambassador inTurkey, and later Minister of Interior, was well known in the world for his grand schemes and ideas.
At this moment, whilst I am writing this (August, 1916) the intention is to introduce in the whole of our large country,generalcompulsory education, and ten additional universities. And we Russians firmly believe in the realisation of measures of such gigantic proportions, when they are urgently needed by our people.
With us, what may seem almost incredible becomes perfectly real when guided by one concentrated and intelligent power.
My Embarrassment—A Spy—I Am Easily Taken In—A Demand for Fifty Pounds—A Threat—I Defy the Blackmailer—A Warning—Gladstone's Refusal to Meet Gambetta—My Husband's Dilemma—Russian Views on Duelling—Kinglake Challenges an Emperor—My Brother's Views—Kinglake's Charm—The Value of an Englishman—The Dogger Bank Incident
I once heard an after-dinner speaker refer to his remarks as "long pauses bridged by a poverty of thought." I find that a volume of reminiscences is in danger of becoming a sheaf of inconsequences bound by unpardonable egotism. I seem long since to have exhausted what I regard as a reasonable number of I's; and then again, there are so many things that I want to say that bear no reasonable relation to each other.
My position is that of the young man at a dinner party who was boiling over with eagerness to tell a shooting story. He waited impatiently for the conversation to develop in such a direction as would enable him to drag it in. Dessert arrived, and still no opening. In sheer desperation he stamped loudly on the floor beneath the table. "What was that? Sounded like a gun. Talking of guns, etc.," and he secured his opening.
If I appear inconsequent, my readers must remember that young man's shooting story and forgive me.
For some reason that I have never quite been able to understand, people seem to think that I am endowed with great wealth. If they only knew how money hates me. The moment I take it into my hands it runs and runs away from me with frightened speed. But all this does not prevent people from convincing themselves not only that I am possessed of great riches, but that I am so stupid as not to know what to do with them.
Sometimes this state of affairs is extremely tiresome. I recall one incident that should be a lesson to others as it has been a lesson to me. One day a card was brought to me bearing the name
GRETCHEN ——Aus Riga.
I asked myself: is that Gretchen going to complain to me of her Faust? Have I to chastise that captivatingmangeur de Coeurs? But the fact that my visitor was from Riga, and thus a compatriot of mine to a great extent, prevailed upon my doubts, and I received my young lady, who by the way was not particularly young and not exactly a fashionable lady, was not only terribly lean, but angular and wretched in appearance. This killed my hesitation, and I eagerly tried to find out what she wanted and what I could do, and who recommended her to me. "Nobody," she said. "I never heard your name, but by mere chance saw it in theCourt Guide." She wanted some remunerative work, as remunerative as possible. I already had a secretary, but engaged my "Gretchen" as an extra reader. She seemed pleased, and I was in hopesthat I should also be pleased with that new alliance. My new reader was certainly not stupid, and always wanted to have some messages for my friends, wanting to know everything about everybody. Always being busy and short of time I could not satisfy that curious fancy of my "Gretchen." She said she knew nobody in England, except myself. I tried to help her, advising her to start a little boarding-house, especially as I was going to Scotland for a fortnight to stay with Lady Mary Nisbet-Hamilton. Besides, a new plan suggested itself to me; I thought that whilst "Gretchen" was looking for her rooms and furniture, she might live in my rooms at the hotel during my absence. May I now say that no plan could be more foolish and dangerous than mine turned out to be.
Scotland is a wonderfully hospitable and kind part of the world, and oh! how beautiful, and I was naturally captivated and prolonged my visit. On returning to my hotel I found "Gretchen" much less angular and less melancholy. The little cottage was found, the furniture bought, and she still wanted only a little more help. Upon this we parted, to my great satisfaction. But something perfectly unexpected happened to me a few weeks later. "My Gretchen" returned to me and said that she decidedly wanted more help, not less than £50 (fifty). At that time, my pocket being empty, I looked at her sternly and said: "But you are mad, this is out of the question," "No," said she, "you shall give me this money. In fact I can compel you to do so. Do you know that I can sell your correspondence to an editor or a publisher?You forgot to lock your drawers and I have taken a copy of all letters addressed to you." I confess I was appalled.
This happened in the years 1878-1880, I don't remember which, when I was in the midst of a tremendous political agitation. With my answer I generally returned letters which might be taken as political documents, still my drafts could serve as a clue to many important discussions, and then I remembered that I did not return Bishop Strossmeyer's letter to Mr. Gladstone, as I wanted to discuss it verbally at our first meeting.
Yes, I was terribly served for my imprudence. However, trying to look perfectly calm, I said: "Very well, sell my correspondence, sell your copies to whom you like, but I cannot give you the money you require, and I forbid you ever to come to me again. Sell me to whomsoever you like, be it a statesman or a publisher."
A few years later a friend of mine was interested to find out what had become of her and her boarding-house, but there she heard that my Gretchen had left England and many debts behind her. We then understood that I simply had been in the hands of a spy. But have I not been cruelly punished for being young and stupid? Alas! stupidity is very often a great luxury for which one pays dearly. I was still in deep mourning, and somehow personal questions affected me very little.
I hope that this strange experience will be understood by some of my indulgent readers, and may at the same time serve as a warning especially to thoughtless, confiding Russians.
I remember dear Kinglake once annoying me by referring to John Bright as "only" a Quaker. I had for Bright a great admiration, and before I had finished I think poor dear "Eothen" became convinced of the fact.
My first meeting with Bright was in the late eighties. I was as carried away as were my two brothers, Nicolas and Alexander Kiréeff, by the movement of the Old Catholics and the idea of Universal Peace (even before The Hague Conference). Great was my joy when one day the visit was announced to me of the famous John Bright, whose name was not only known, but also revered in Russia. We naturally began talking on the mission of "The Friends" to Russia, their reception by the Emperor Nicolas, and the Crimean War.
"After all," said I frankly, "in spite of all her sacrifices in the year '54, England has gained but little; just a monument in Pall Mall inscribed 'Crimea' to remind the world of a costly struggle."
Our interview lasted about two hours. He talked away and I remained a patient listener. I confess I fancied that as I said nothing, the conversation would be quite to his liking! And I suppose it was, for meeting a friend of mine shortly afterwards, he remarked: "I saw O.K. the other day. I was very much struck by her. She is the very picture of health and strength. She will never grow old."
Nothing more! Was it not dreadful? Are you smiling?
Our position in Finland offers sometimes amusing experiences. I remember my poor husband's trouble at Helsingfors. At that time he was attachedto the Grand Duke Nicolas (father of the present Grand Duke), who was always very kind to him. In meeting his chief at Helsingfors he was invited to come to lunch on the same day. At the appointed time, having put on all his decorations and the appropriate uniform, he went out into the street and tried to get a cab. He saw many vacant vehicles one after the other, and made desperate signs to make them stop, all in vain. Not even the policeman seemed to understand what the poor General tried to explain. Will you believe it!—Novikoff entirely missed his appointment because they all pretended that they could not understand a word of Russian. I confess my husband's distress amused me, but his helplessness seemed so incredible that I only saw its funny side at the time—whilst in reality it certainly possessed also a very serious side.
It was always pleasing and interesting to me to feel and to know that my old friend Kinglake and my dear brother Alexander, though they did not then know each other personally, were linked together by a common opinion on a subject they both took very deeply to heart: the subject of duels. Kinglake could never pardon the Duke of Wellington the abolition of duelling in the British Army.
Personally, having always felt very strongly against every kind of violence or bloodshed, I found his point of view very difficult to understand, and often tried to investigate more profoundly the ethics of the question.
"Do you really mean," I said to Kinglake one day, "that it is right and justifiable for people toattack each other, sometimes for the flimsiest reasons, as is so often done in Germany, just for the fun of the thing—while the tragic little game, as often as not, ends in the death of one of the combatants?"
"That is so," said Kinglake seriously; "but the possibility of a duel ennobles the spirit of a country, is an education in manners, and results in the development of a kind of moralmuscle."
The anecdote, by the way, is well known that Kinglake once sent a challenge, went off to Boulogne where the duel was to take place, waited there for days in vain, and, his adversary having failed to appear or to make any sort of response, returned to London in disgust. The point of this story, however, has never been revealed, and after so many years I think I can hardly be accused of indiscretion if I tell my readers the interesting detail that the adversary to whom Kinglake had sent his unanswered challenge was no less a personage than Louis Napoleon, afterwards the Emperor Napoleon III! I have this from Abraham Hayward, a very indiscreet friend of Kinglake's, who never appreciated the importance of the Oriental saying: "Speech is silver and silence is gold." For my part, I have often regretted having said too much, and never deplored having said too little.
But to return to the serious aspect of the question. My brother, though he always strongly condemned the frivolity and light-mindedness with which the practice of duelling is treated in Germany, held the view that duels were an indispensable necessity where questions of honour are concerned.
"Can you imagine," he said to me one day in reply to a remonstrance in this connection, "that I could, for instance, allow some madman to attack with impunity your good name or that of our mother? How could I hesitate for a moment to send him a challenge?"
"But you yourself say 'a madman,'" I protested. "A madman is not responsible for his actions."
"The line between madness and sanity," answered my brother, "is a very difficult one to determine. The punishment of certain misdeeds is necessary, not only for the culprit himself, but as a deterrent and precautionary measure, without which no civilised society can long exist in safety."
My brother, indeed, was exceedingly keen on this subject, and really became quite an authority on the question of duelling. Not long before his death, when he was already very ill, General Mikoulin, who was publishing a book in this connection, came and asked my brother to give him some of his views, which he did at some length.
"Why can we not publish your thoughts ourselves?" I protested, when Mikoulin had left the room; "why should you give them to someone else?"
My brother smiled sadly.
"Is it not all the same?" he asked. "As long as these views are propagated, what matter under whose name? Mikoulin is a staff-general, and I am sure he will do it well."
Mikoulin, by the way, who published the book entirely according to what my brother had told him, was killed the other day, after many brilliant deeds. It seems to me that some of the opinions mybrother at various times expressed on this favourite theme, may be of interest to English readers. I will quote from some of his letters and articles.
"The question of duels in military circles," he once wrote, "has been thoroughly investigated and placed in its true position by the firm, guiding hand of our late beloved Emperor Alexander III, always so sensitive in matters of personal honour, and so keen for the preservation of peace.
"The matter is by no means an easy one to deal with, the more so as few people have the courage to discuss it with frankness and sincerity, preferring rather to 'run with the hare and hunt with the hounds,' in an indefinite desire to appear both ultra-humane and ultra-chivalrous!
"Duels have always existed, still exist, and will continue always to exist, whatever may be said against them and whatever measures may be taken to do away with them. I will even go so far as to say that they must exist, as long as the moral status of society does not rise above its present level, as long as our culture does not grow broader."
"Is it not strange that no one will deny my right, revolver in hand, to defend my watch or my money against the assaults of a burglar? Why then am I to be denied the right to defend my honour in the same fashion? Besides, in defending my honour, I am defending society—for indeed it would be unthinkable to live in a world where honour could find no defender!
ALEXANDER KIRÉEFFALEXANDER KIRÉEFF
"Does it not seem strange and illogical to admit the defence of one's minor worldly goods and to forbid that of the most precious of all treasures?We who believe in duels attack nobody—we only defend ourselves against attack. Let no one attack us, and we shall be as silent as deep waters, as unobtrusive as grass. The priceless treasure of our honour may be, in the opinion of others, an illusion, an abstract nothing that has no set value on markets and exchanges—but to us, it is precious. Leave us in peace. We do not ask you to abandon your utilitarianism, your financial materialism, we do not in fact interfere withyourideals, cannot you let us abide, unmolested, byours?
"It is obvious, of course, that while defending duelling as a system, I do not for a moment deny the many undesirable factors that cannot be prevented from occasionally creeping into it. The ideal duel would be one in which the combatants would take upon themselves the defence not of personal, but of public and social interests and rights. Such a high level is, of course, hard to attain, but the element of personal revenge can nevertheless be considerably diminished.
"We hear on all sides that duelling is no better than murder, that duellists are brainless and thoughtless, that none but a fool could, in our enlightened age, mistake such a mad, meaningless savagery for chivalry. Poor duels, and poor irresponsible duellists! Were Pouschkin and Lermontoff, those victims of offended honour, really such fools? And Bentham, and the great socialist Lassalle himself? No—on certain conditions, duels are inevitable, and not one of my opponents in this matter will ever produce or invent anything better to take their place."
After quoting these passages from various of mybrother's private letters and articles, I insist upon adding that I have never seen a man more courteous, polite and universally esteemed than he. Two of our old generals—General Fock and General Smirnoff—who distinguished themselves by their courage in the Japanese war, quarrelled and found no one better able to arbitrate between them than Alexander Kiréeff. Their confidence in him was unlimited, but he understood that the question was of vital importance, and that a duel was unavoidable. Both combatants asked him to be present at the duel, and to see that the Russian duelling laws were strictly adhered to, which he did. General Smirnoff was wounded, but both recognised that my brother did all he could to bring about a reconciliation. If he failed, it only showed that certain tragic elements in life will take place in spite of all our efforts to prevent them.
I may add that my brother, equipped as he was with his chivalrous code of honour, was also an expert fencer, so distinguished indeed that, at a public fencing competition at Naples open to the whole of Europe, he carried off the first prize—a gold sword of honour. But I am glad to say that never once did he engage in a duel.
Apart from being in favour of duelling, Kinglake was, although in himself essentially a man of peace, all for war; it thinned out populations, just as duelling kept up a better tone in society. I, on the other hand, the daughter of a man who earned the St. George's Cross on the battlefield, the sister of two soldiers, and the wife of another, was always dreaming of peace.
My own idea is that no generation that has suffered a great war ever wants another. That is left for following generations who cannot conceive the horrors of what they themselves have not experienced.
Whenever I was absent from England I always received from Kinglake a weekly letter. I remember his once complaining that writing to a lady through the poste restante was like trying to kiss a nun through a double grating. Sometimes he would imitate the "little language" of the great satirist Swift, calling himself "poor dear me," and referring to me as "my dear miss." Thereby hangs a story.
On one occasion at dinner Hayward told a characteristic anecdote which, although it seemed to amuse the other ladies present, caused me considerable embarrassment. Kinglake afterwards said to me: "I thought you were a hardened married woman; I shall henceforth call you 'miss.'"
He was a very sweet, lovable man, old in years but a youth in heart. His letters were full of gaiety and persiflage.
Once he wrote to me:
"Hayward can pardon you having an ambassador or two at yourfeet, but to find the way to yourheart, obstructed by a crowd of astronomers, Russ-expansionists, metaphysicians, theologians, translators, historians, poets—this is more than I can endure."
He was never tired of rallying me about my callers and friends, insisting that I was agrande dameto whom all the really great in the land came tomake obeisance. Once when staying at Sidmouth he wrote:
"Mrs. Grundy has a small house there, but she does not know me by sight. If Madame Novikoff were to come, the astonished little town, dazzled first by her, would find itself invaded by theologians, bishops, ambassadors of deceased emperors, and an ex-Prime Minister."
When he gave me his photograph, and I gave him mine, he referred to the transaction as "an exchange between the personified months of May and November."
On one occasionThe Timesinserted, to Kinglake's great indignation, a statement that I had been obliged to leave England. Shortly afterwards Chinery, the editor, happened to seat himself at the same table with Kinglake at the Athenæum Club. Kinglake immediately rose and moved to another part of the room.
"So unlike me," was his comment; "but somehow a savagery as of youth came over me in my ancient days; it was like being twenty years old again."
Later, however, he discovered that Froude had been indirectly responsible for the paragraph, and Kinglake immediately found means of conveying to Chinery his regrets.
Poor dear "Eothen's" mind was powerful and bright to his last day. I called on him frequently during his last days, and it was not until the end, which came on January 2nd, 1891, that I realised the extent of my loss.
For one thing there is, in the Englishman's eyes,nothing more sacred on earth than the person and property of an Englishman. It would be well if some of our Russian officials would follow the example of their English friends. It is a praiseworthy and unquestioned fact that all Englishmen at home and abroad are penetrated by a personal sense of their duty towards each other. Everything English must be defended and encouraged, every Englishman must be helped and protected. Such patrioticesprit de corpsand solidarity makes one sometimes feel quite envious, and indeed I have often noticed the very natural smile of incredulous surprise with which English people regard the so-frequently-met-with indifference shown by certain Russian officials towards Russian affairs.
An amusing example comes to my mind in connection with Lord Napier of Ettrick, a former British Ambassador at Petrograd, and a great friend of mine. Lord Napier called on me one day, and greeted me with a humorous glance. "I have just been to see your Governor-General," he said, smiling. "What funny people there are in the world! I went on business about some Englishman who came to me a few days ago with a complaint against a Russian. I was too busy to occupy myself with the matter, so thought I would hand it over to the local authorities. The Governor-General, however, didn't give me time to say much—before I had explained anything, he interrupted me with the warmest assurances that I need have no fears whatever,—that the Russians would be punished, and the Englishman given full satisfaction for whatever offence he may have suffered."
"I considered it my duty," continued Lord Napier, "to make it quite clear to the Governor-General that I knew nothing about the rights of the matter and that it was necessary to look into the facts. After all, the Englishman might be in the wrong, or the whole thing might be an invention! But really, I had the greatest difficulty in persuading our friend to consider such a possibility! Is not my impartiality praiseworthy? Are you not pleased?" and Lord Napier smiled questioningly. We both laughed, and I thought it best to treat the incident as a good joke—but actually, I confess that its humour by no means appealed to me!
Let me draw a parallel: A few years ago a woman of doubtful nationality was arrested by the Russian authorities in Warsaw. She immediately wailed out that she was of British extraction, and made a theatrical appeal "to the English nation," through the medium of some English newspaper correspondent.
Without making the smallest attempt at investigating the circumstances, the whole of Great Britain was up in arms and astir with anger and indignation. Excited meetings and demonstrations followed through the length and breadth of the land, while the newspapers filled their columns with foolish unfounded libels on Russia. The whole agitation only ended with the official report of the British Consul in Warsaw, announcing the Emperor's pardon, by which the originator of all this agitation was allowed to return to her country.
It is indeed a happy fact that no Englishman or Englishwoman need ever fear to travel in anycountry where there exists a British Embassy or Consulate. Every British subject knows that wherever he may be, there is someone who can, in case of need, protect and defend him, and that once he has announced his nationality he has nothing more to fear.
All this only makes one repeat the wish that our Russian officials might somehow be induced to show more interest in their fellow-countrymen, and, in their international relations, to follow closely and fearlessly the admirable example of our great ally England.
It appeared to us Russians that England was always on the look out for something to magnify into an international incident. As I write, I am reminded of another incident where the sacredness of the person of British subjects was demonstrated. This was the Dogger Bank affair. Although the circumstances are well known, I will recapitulate them.
Russia was at war with Japan, and her Baltic Fleet was on the way to the Far East. On the night of October 21st-22nd, 1904, fifty British trawlers, manned by some five hundred men, were engaged in fishing on the Dogger Bank. The first division of the Baltic Fleet passed them, the second division turned their searchlights upon the fishing boats. The officers in charge imagined that they saw torpedo boats approaching. They immediately opened fire on the trawlers with quick-firing guns, and in the course of twenty minutes had fired some three hundred shots. Their gunnery was not very good, however, as fortunately only six of the boats were hit, one being sunk. Two fishermen werekilled, and four wounded. The Russian fleet then steamed away to the south.
Unfortunately the officers of this scratch fleet seemed to have been suffering from nerves, but that did not, I think, justify the outcry raised in this country.
I wrote to the Press, drawing attention to a similar mistake that had occurred in 1890, in which the position had been reversed. It was on the occasion of the joint international forces that were being sent from Tientsin to Peking at the time of the Boxer Revolt. About midnight on June 4 a body of Russian sailors were returning on foot from their work. Some English sailors, believing them to be Boxers, opened fire from the railway carriages. Before the mistake had been discovered two Russians had been killed and several others wounded. Vice-Admiral Seymour, who was in command of the British forces, hastened to send an official letter of regret, which was immediately accepted, and there the matter ended. There was no outcry in the Russian Press—we understood and accepted the Englishman's word.
England's Sympathy with the Nihilists—Cabinet Ministers' Indiscretion—Mr. Gladstone's Incredulity—I Prove My Words—Mr. Gladstone's Action—A Strange Confusion—A Reformed Nihilist—His Significant Admission—The Nihilist's Regret—The Death of Revolutionary Russia—The Greatness of the Future—The Reckless, Impulsive Russian—The Russian Refugees at Buenos Ayres—They Crave for a Priest
Once upon a time the newspapers in Great Britain devoted quite a considerable space to Nihilism, almost invariably writing of it with considerable sympathy and very little insight. If the editors, in whose papers many "illuminating" articles appeared, were to imagine those self-same articles written to-day in Russian newspapers with the single alteration of the word "Nihilism" into "Sinn Feinism," they would understand something of the feelings their articles aroused in the hearts of Russians.
As an illustration of the fascination that the internal affairs of Russia seemed to possess for Englishmen, I may tell a little story which at the time caused me and other Russians no little annoyance. There was a paper that used to reach me more or less regularly entitledFree Russia. It was the organ of the English Society of Russian Freedom, and its amiable object was "to destroy the RussianGovernment." In other words, it was Nihilistic. I believe the publication started in the autumn of 1893. As soon as I discovered its purpose I used to drop it into the waste-paper basket without a second thought. One day, however, I happened to glance at the title page, on which I found were printed the names of the General Committee of the Friends of Russian Freedom, and to my astonishment I found there the names of the Rt. Hon. Arthur Ackland, M.P., and the Rt. Hon. G. J. Shaw-Lefevre, M.P. (who became Lord Eversley), and Mr. Thomas Burt, M.P. The two first-named were members of Mr. Gladstone's Ministry.
CHURCH BUILT BY ALEXANDER NOVIKOFF ON HIS FATHER'S GRAVE AT NOVO-ALEXANDROFKACHURCH BUILT BY ALEXANDER NOVIKOFF ON HIS FATHER'S GRAVE AT NOVO-ALEXANDROFKA
By a curious chance, on the day of my discovery Lady Spencer was holding a reception, and there I saw Mr. Gladstone. I am afraid rather impetuously I burst into reproaches at the conduct of two of his ministers. He was incredulous, and asked me to send him proofs. I promised that I would, but alas! I found the waste-paper basket had been cleared, and the paper destroyed. This was the next morning. What was I to do? It was a miserable, foggy day. I hate London fogs, but I was determined to convince Mr. Gladstone. I therefore went into the City, and anyone who goes into the City on a foggy day must be either a lunatic or a patriot, I told myself. The only redeeming feature of that uncomfortable morning was that I proved conclusively that the circulation ofFree Russiamust be a very small one. I had two hours' hard work before at last I ran a copy to earth. Returning home I wrote to Mr. Gladstone in great triumph, and the result was that I received a letter from him which showed his uncompromising disapproval. He wrote:
"It appears to me that a minister in our country has no title to belong to a Political Society in another. Let him look to his own affairs—here, at any rate, these give us enough, and more than enough, to do."
Mr. Gladstone went on to say that his colleagues, Mr. Lefevre and Mr. Ackland, were of his opinion, and that he did not propose to worry about Mr. Burt unless I wished it, as he was not a minister.
I fancy there must have been a disapproving look in Mr. Gladstone's eye, and a stern note in his voice when he interviewed his ministers.
Oh dear, if English people had only refrained from directing that vast fund of sympathy which they undoubtedly possess towards Nihilists and men whose sole object is destruction and what the Germans call 'frightfulness'! I once said, and I believe it to be true, that as a rule the only thing known in England about Russians is that they take lemon with their tea.
There were some, even, who went to the length of asserting, always taking good care to add that their information came from unimpeachable sources, that "Panslavism and Nihilism went hand in hand." Imagine the astonishment of the British Imperialists if they were told on the best authority that "Imperialism and Sinn Feinism went hand in hand!"
What a calumny! What are the tenets of Panslavism? Religion, autocracy, and nationality. These three motives, according to us, are not only united but indissoluble. They form the very essence of our creed, of our life. In fact we are the opposite pole to the Nihilists, who hate every idea of God,who detest autocracy and despise nationality! The hostility between these two lies in their nature. There can be no compromise between them. The Russian people abhor the Nihilists, who are perfectly aware of that feeling.
I am told that some years ago a judge offered a Nihilist the alternative of being left to Lynch Law, upon which the prisoner fell on his knees and implored to be punished by the existing Russian laws. All the Russians who deserve that name, who are devoted to their Church and their country, are particularly devoted to the present Emperor. They trust, they love him; they appreciate his noble and generous qualities, his extreme kindness, and his self-sacrifice. Anything done to injure him injures the whole of Russia. It needs, in truth, no effort on the part of the Panslavists to be devoted to Nicholas II. I have seen it stated that the peasants, disappointed with not receiving a new distribution of land at the last coronation, form a fertile ground for Nihilism. This is not the case. The Nihilists have long ago given up the hope of spreading their diabolical doctrines among the rural classes. If they got hold of a few peasants—thank God! very few indeed—those "Converts" of theirs have abandoned their plough and have been perverted in some public school only by a semblance of science. It is a fatal tendency, which is to be deplored and deprecated in all the public establishments in Russia as well as in foreign countries, that very young people, even children, are allowed to discuss and twaddle on politics, instead of studying their grammars and their geography! With that tendencymistakes and false doctrines are unavoidable; any mischievous teacher may easily take hold of them and turn them into flexible tools.
People are misinformed about the hardships of compulsory military service, which gives every year, even in time of peace, a contingent of about 830,000, which is much below the number required by the Army.
Russia has never shown herself anxious to fight. In fact she has had fewer wars than her neighbours. From the Crimean War in 1855 till the year 1877 she fought only one serious war with a European Power. In the course of this time France had two—in 1859 with Austria, in 1870 with Germany; Prussia two—in 1866 with Austria, in 1870 with France; Austria two—in 1859 with France, in 1866 with Germany. So there is no actual ground for pitying the Russian soldiers more than any other. Of course, every soldier risks being killed. That is not, however, the speciality of my countrymen alone. All the great European countries, even Great Britain herself has been forced to sacrifice her ideals victim to emergency.
People often talk of the difficulty of an autocratic Government in crushing revolutions. Is this really so? Are the years of '48 and '49 meaningless or forgotten? Surely not in France, not in Germany, not in Austria, or Italy! The form of government has nothing to do with plots and assassinations. The prototype of a constitutional monarch was undoubtedly Louis Philippe, who during his eighteen years' reign had to face eighteen attempts directed against his life. The Emperor Louis Napoleon hadabout ten; and the President of the United States, even his life is not unassailable. The assassination of Lincoln and McKinley are full of meaning.
There is an old English saying, "Set a thief to catch a thief." I would say, "Learn from an ex-Nihilist what Nihilism really means." In 1888 Mr. Leon Tikhomirov, an able author and accomplished scholar, who had been led into Nihilism, in a pamphlet entitledWhy I have Ceased to be a Revolutionist, publicly recanted his former faith. This act on the part of one of its most prominent and active members spread something like dismay in the Nihilist camp. "A great misfortune has befallen us, brethren, a very great one," was the beginning of an open letter addressed by a contemporary Nihilist to his political co-religionists. "Yes, a great misfortune," he exclaims again, with Russian frankness at the conclusion of his epistle. From the Nihilistic point of view the event referred to was undoubtedly a very great loss, a most serious "misfortune."
I did not then know Mr. Tikhomirov personally, but he has since become a great friend of mine. Alter leaving the Kertch Gymnasium with the gold medal, he entered a Russian university, where he took a foolish part in one of the students' riots, and in the propaganda. Four years' prison life was the result of those follies.
The pamphlet which contains his confession is notable for its tone of extreme honesty and sincerity. In all Christian charity we are bound to sympathise with him who repents. "Do not strike a man on the ground" is a good proverb which should have apractical application. In Mr. Tikhomirov the Nihilist party had a talented, cultivated and probably sincere member, who sacrificed his material interests and prospects in life in order to be true to his convictions.
At that time his idea, unfortunately, was that the only possible evolution for Russia was—Revolution. In that direction he worked and wrote for several years. The first edition ofLa Russie Politique et Socialebelongs to that lamentable period of his career. But the success which attended that mistaken book has not prevented its author from retracing his steps in an opposite and more worthy direction, with the result shown in his pamphletWhy I have Ceased to be a Revolutionist. The unreserved sincerity of this publication is remarkable. To speak out one's mind needs much moral courage, especially when one knows that all who sympathise are far away, and that one is surrounded by people who are only too ready to impute the meanest and most despicable motives. Mr. Leon Tikhomirov, however, faced that risk.
The sketch of his moral convalescence is worth study. Whilst pondering over his psychological diagnosis, one involuntarily recalls Shakespeare's—
Yes, indeed, none are so surely caught, when they are caught,As wit turned fool!
But, fortunately, the wit is now restored. In order to render Mr. Tikhomirov full justice, it would be necessary to translate every line of his pamphlet; short of that, where I cannot give the words in full, I shall endeavour to carry the spirit.
"I look upon my past with disgust," says he, and this is not surprising when the details of that past are examined. He is not influenced by any expectation of the future. Having left the revolutionary party his only object now is to promote, by legitimate means, the cause of true progress; the conviction that he has been right in abandoning his former faith is only strengthened by the reproaches now heaped upon him by his former associates.... "When I was twenty," says he, "I used to write revolutionary programmes. If twenty years later I were unable to write something better, I should really have a very poor opinion of myself."
Still, that transition, from folly to wisdom, was not accomplished without struggle and hesitation. Mr. Tikhomirov frankly admits how hard it was for him to acknowledge that he was utterly wrong; that, in clinging to his theories, he held a dead body which could not be revived! He hesitated to bury it, in spite of its obvious lifelessness.
"About the year 1880," Mr. Tikhomirov continues, "I, and not I alone, began to feel that our party was becoming torpid, was daily losing more and more of its vital force, which had at first seemed so great. The following year I began wondering how it was that Russia was healthy and full of life, while the revolutionary movement, that very movement which, according to our ideas, was the very manifestation of national growth, was withering and decaying. This obvious contradiction reduced me to a morbid despair. I went abroad with the sole object of publishing my recollections of the events through which I had lived. Since then, all theremains of the old organisations have perished, all, all have tumbled down! Reality has given me startling lessons. One consoling hope, however, remains. I deemed it possible to rebuild our party, while remaining within it. Oh, what a self-delusion that was! In reality it was I who enslaved myself, who was prevented from thinking, from meditating, as I ought to have done! Still the strokes fell too heavily; their weight became intolerable. I felt we were on a wrong track, and urged Lopatine and the other members of our party to search for some new paths. On finding that they would not, or could not, follow my advice, in 1884 I wrote to say that I had ceased to belong to their party, and withdrew their right to use my name. Thus ended my co-operation with all their circles and organisations."
There is in Mr. Tikhomirov's narrative a sincerity and truthfulness which appeal to our best nature. He is not melodramatic, he does not strain after theatrical effects, but he compels his reader to feel for him, almost to share his sorrow. But let us listen again to his own voice.
"Meditating upon recent events, I wrote in my diary of March, '86—'Yes, I am definitely convinced now that revolutionary Russia—taken as a serious intelligent party—does not exist. Revolutionists still exist, and may make some noise. But it is not a storm, only ripples on the surface of a sea. Since last year one fact seems to me perfectly obvious. All our hopes have to depend henceforth on Russia, on the Russian people. As to our revolutionists, hardly anything may be expected of them. I came to the conclusion that it was absolutely necessary toarrange my life so as to serve Russia according to my own instinct, independently of any party. The Nihilist party, I now see too well, can only injure Russia. My common sense and my will might remain dormant, but once they awoke I had to obey them. If my former friends could leave their graves and come to life again, I would spare no effort to induce them to follow me, and then with them, or quite alone, I would take the path which I now feel to be the true one."
Mr. Tikhomirov has much sinned, but he has also loved much. Even in his revolutionary epoch, Russia was still precious to him, and he was always ready to die for her unity. In that respect, to his credit be it said, he was not a model Nihilist, whose creed it is to despise such "obsolete notions" as patriotism. How much freedom of thought was tolerated in those circles can be seen from the following incident. In an article intended by Mr. Tikhomirov for the Revolutionary Journal,The Popular Will, among many truisms he wrote: "Russia is in a normal state, while the revolutionary party is collapsing—a fact which can only be explained by some mistakes in the programme of our party." And again: "If terrorism is recommended to a country, the vitality of that country must be very doubtful." At these sentiments, Mr. Tikhomirov's comrades—the other editors of the paper were thunderstruck, and peremptorily declined to admit them into their columns.
This schism was the dawn of Mr. Tikhomirov's salvation. His better self rapidly developed. He soon recognised that the less a country at large isdesirous of revolution, the more compelled are revolutionists to resort to terrorism. Thus the weaker the cause, the stronger the necessity for terrorism, which obviously was a criminal paradox. Further on, Mr. Tikhomirov says: "I have not given up my ideas of social justice, but they take a clearer, a more harmonious shape; riots, revolts, destruction, are all the morbid results of the social crisis which now traverses Europe. These things are not easily introduced into Russia. That disease has not yet reached her; nor can revolutionary movements, however temporarily pernicious, divert Russia from the path of her historical development.
"Political murders (says he) produced a certain commotion in the Russian Government so long as it believed that it had to deal with a strong threatening power. The moment it was realised how wretchedly small was that handful of men who resorted to murder merely because of their weakness and inability to undertake something on a larger scale—since that moment the Russian Government shows no signs of any kind of anxiety. It determined upon a strong system, which it unflinchingly carries out. Of course the life of the Emperor and of his different officials is spoilt by the perpetual expectation of danger, but in spite of this the Government will certainly never make any concessions to the Terrorist. A legal Government recognised by the whole country naturally objects to subordinate itself to whims....
"The Russian Emperor has not usurped his power. That power was solemnly conferred upon his ancestors by an overwhelming majority of the Russian people, who have never since shown theremotest desire to withdraw that power from the Romanoff dynasty. The law of the country recognises her Emperor as one above any kind of responsibility, and the Church of the country invests him with the title of her temporal head.
"Ten years of hard struggle have proved beyond possible doubt that all the revolutionists may well perish, one after the other; but Russia was dead against supporting them. The life of a Terrorist is a terrible one; it is that of a hunted wolf in momentary expectation of death. He suffers perpetual alarm from detectives, has to use false passports, to live in hiding, to resort to dynamite, to meditate murder.... Such a life necessitates the abandonment of all matters of most vital interest. All ties of affection under such circumstances are torture. Study is out of the question. Everybody, except the few ringleaders, has to be deceived. An enemy is suspected on all sides. No, the best among us, had they lived long enough to see the results obtained, would not have failed to give up such a struggle. We committed a terrible crime in demoralising Russian youth. One of our revolutionary chiefs—himself already doomed—to whom I expressed my present views as frankly as I am now doing, urged me to save our younger generation, and to exhort them to give up premature meddling with politics, and instead to prepare themselves for a useful life by hard study."
What good advice! "Think, observe, learn; do not trust words and shallow theories. That is what I now say to the inexperienced youth," says Mr. Tikhomirov. "I am utterly indignant," hecontinues, "when I hear remarks of the following kind: 'Let them make riots. Of course it is foolish, but what does it matter? There is not much weight in all these fellows, and a riot is still a protest.' For my part, I now look upon these things quite differently."
After explaining at some length the stern duties of the rising generation, after earnestly entreating them to form their character and their principles, to study hard, to avoid the influence of political charlatans who simply exploit their ignorance, Mr. Tikhomirov goes on to say that "Russia has a great past, but a still greater future." He is, however, not blind to our shortcomings, of which a very serious one among our youths is their want of prudent resistance to mischievous influences. Their want of thought makes them accept every new political aphorism, however absurd.
"As soon as the universities are quiet for eight or nine months," he continues, "pressure is put upon the young students to make some absurd demonstration, some riots, something, and they listen to such instigations. Our censors are not infallible; but censorship is an institution whose importance is exaggerated. The principal mistake lies in ourselves. We Russians have an unlimited confidence in every new theory, in every hypothesis, no matter how superficial, how foolish. The so-called 'Intelligenzia' are far inferior in common sense and practical questions to the simple Russian peasant, who possesses few notions, few facts, but whose mental faculties and sound judgment have not been spoilt. The fantastic element, deplorablydeveloped in our middle classes, reaches its zenith amongst our revolutionists. What young revolutionists repeat now I, alas! used to think several years ago. Russia would immensely gain if her young people, instead of meddling with politics, resolved to spend some five or six years on a regular course of lectures and in studying their own country, her present position, and her history. Hundreds of Russian undergraduates perish merely thanks to evil influences from without."
This, unfortunately, is only too true. Such instigators have neither pity nor judgment. Any kind of riot equally serves their purpose, provided it makes mischief and commits foolish reckless boys. Mr. Tikhomirov, describing the difference between the students of 1840 and 1860, shows how superior were those of the former year. Their aspirations were much higher. He relates an anecdote which is charmingly characteristic: "Some undergraduates of the old school were engaged in an animated discussion one day when dinner was announced. 'How can you disturb us?' reproachfully exclaimed one of the orators, who afterwards became a celebrated Russian writer. 'We are just settling the existence (das Sein) of God, and you summon us to ... dinner.'"
What Mr. Tikhomirov says about the duties of a citizen may be endorsed by every wise patriot. "From the question of culture I now pass to that of autocracy. Whatever constitutes a man's general views, the moment he proclaims himself as opposed to the Tsar he belongs to the welcome set, he is 'one of ours.'"
This reminds one of the Irishman who, on landing in America, declared: "I do not know what is the form of government here, but I am against it."
Let Mr. Tikhomirov, however, continue his own story:
"If you point out the unreasonableness of this view, if you convict him of extreme ignorance, you are met with the protest, how can a man be cultivated as long as there exists in Russia an Autocrat! Unfortunately, such views may be sincere. To my great regret, at one time I used to share them myself. But now what pain they give me! In the first place, no form of government is able to prevent intellectual culture when the people are sincerely anxious to acquire it. Besides, let us refer to history. Were not Peter the Great and the Great Catherine Autocrats? Was it not in the Emperor Nicholas's time that the present social ideas originated? Is there any republic in the world which has carried out such great reforms as those of Alexander II? I regard autocracy in Russia as the result of our history, which cannot and ought not to be abolished so long as tens of millions desire nothing else. I deem unjust, unwise and useless the presumption to interfere with the wishes of a great nation. Every Russian desiring to carry out reforms should do so under the shelter of the autocratic power. Has autocracy prevented Poushkin, Gogol, Tolstoy, etc. etc., from developing the greatest possible progress in literature?
"For argument's sake, suppose that some Russian Emperor consented to impose limits upon his powers. Such concession would be only apparent, not real.At the slightest hint an enormous majority of the people would disperse the handful of men who ventured to restrict the unlimited power of their Tsar. What every country needs above all is a strong and stable Government, which firmly carries out its programme. Russia needs this even more than any other country. The parliamentary system, although it has some good sides, has proved itself most unsatisfactory—a fact which our critics of autocracy should keep firmly in mind. Unfortunately, our young generation behave in a way to drive a rational statesman mad. One day they take part in a Polish insurrection: another day they try to organise a reign of terror. Like true fanatics, they display a passionate energy, a remarkable self-sacrifice. It is simply deplorable!"
Mr. Tikhomirov insists over and over again upon the necessity for sound learning and right thinking. In a footnote he still further develops this idea. Insisting upon the evils of half-culture: "I do not mean," he explains, "the small amount of information—a peasant is still less informed—but it is the manner of foolishly adopting anything said by others—on faith, without reflection—which is so fatal. It is the want of mental discipline which I lament."
Mr. Tikhomirov's sketch is of great psychological interest. It throws a true light on Russian nature. Russians, unfortunately, are too impulsive, not to be often misled—which, of course, is deplorable. With all this there lies in their heart of hearts a deep affection for their country, their Church, their traditions, their customs, their language—in fact,everything Russian. To them "ubi bene, ibi patria," is a faulty phrase; there is no place where they can be happy when they are banished, when they are anathematised by their native land. Certain feelings are stronger than arguments.
I may be perhaps allowed to quote a case in point. Some years ago a colony of Russian refugees whose life, for some political reason or other, became uncomfortable in Russia, emigrated to Buenos Ayres. They deemed it would be quite easy to acclimatise themselves anywhere. Little by little, however, they discovered, with acute pain, that their soul craved for their former faith. At last they appealed to the representative of the Russian Government, begging him to secure for them a Russian Greek Orthodox priest, offering to build a church and to provide all the necessary means for supporting the clergy. The Russian Government did not hesitate to acquiesce. The Reverend Father Ivanoff, a brilliant theological student, sympathising also with the request, hurried across the seas to undertake this novel duty.
Yes! It is easy sometimes to be an absentee, but it must be intolerable to feel oneself a renegade! From this reproach Mr. Tikhomirov is now rescued. "There is more joy over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine just men who need no repentance." The Russian authorities, however, were not at once convinced of the genuineness of Mr. Tikhomirov's recantation. But when all the official documents supported his statements, he was allowed to return to Russia at once.
Our Convict System—Misunderstood in England—Siberia, an Emigration Field—A Lax Discipline—Capt. Wiggins' Opinion—A Land of Stoicism—My Experiences as a Prison Visitor—Divine Literature—Helen Voronoff's Work—A Russian Heroine—Her Descriptions of Prison Life
To the Englishman the word "Siberia" seems to possess a significance so sinister as to make death appear almost a luxury; but imprisonment and the conditions under which the prisoners live are entirely comparative. To condemn a gourmet to live on roast beef and cabbage would be a punishment much greater than to sentence a farm labourer to live on porridge and black bread.
In England our "atrocious convict system" has been a subject for much comment. I think very few people in England have any conception of what Siberia really is.
Some, I have no doubt, who speak most freely about it, would be in some difficulty if they were asked to describe where it is. As a matter of fact it is the northern half of the Continent of Asia, greater in area than the whole of Europe. The north is almost uninhabitable, but we do not send our criminals to the north, but to the fertile south.It is mostly in the fertile south that our present colonies exist. We used to send to the quicksilver mines only the worst criminals and murderers, with whom I do not think even English people would have much sympathy.
After all, would a man prefer to work in a quicksilver mine or to be hanged? Another very important point is that transportation to Siberia does not necessarily involve imprisonment. In some cases the convicts are turned loose to look after themselves, and are allowed to go whither they will, provided they do not attempt to return to European Russia. Moreover, the families of the convicts used also to be transported at the expense of the Government—which was, of course, a great consolation to them. But now the whole system of transportation to Siberia has been abolished.
We wish to do with them just what England strove to do with her criminals in the first half of last century—get rid of them. They are undesirable citizens, and as all good government is the greatest good to the greatest number, the best thing that can happen is to get the criminal population away from the non-criminal, so that one does not contaminate the other.
In the old days the English convict was compelled to work under the penalty of "the cat" or the gallows. On the other hand, the Russian convict is sent into Siberia, and there he can do what he chooses, short of actual crime. As a matter of fact, in Russia there is a strong feeling in certain quarters that our convicts have too much liberty.
Let me bring the matter nearer home. Supposeinstead of being sent to Portland and shut up in a grim and gloomy building, English prisoners were sent to the extreme north of Scotland and given their liberty, and told they must not come further south than a certain point, is there any question as to which of the two they would choose?
If English people could be persuaded to regard Siberia as a huge field for emigration, they would understand things much better, and in sending our convicts there we serve a double purpose—that is to say, we get rid of them, and we are colonising the country that an Englishman has described as "offering unique advantages to a young man with a small capital."
The proportion of prisoners sent to Siberia per annum is about one in every five thousand of the population, not a very high average I think. In England and Wales, I believe, the average is vastly higher.
To give some idea of the lack of constraint on the liberty of the convict, I will give some particulars of escapes.
On one occasion, when a census was taken of the convicts in Tobolsk, out of some fifty thousand exiles only about thirty-four thousand could be found.
At Tomsk, five thousand were missing out of thirty thousand.
There is one very serious drawback to our system, that is our method of pitchforking convicts into Siberia without arranging for their occupation, and the result is that a large number of them refuse to take to honest labour, and become good-for-nothings.Siberia is not a holiday resort. No one could possibly regard it as challenging the Riviera, for instance; its primary object is to rid European Russia of her criminal population, and in this it succeeds.
The redoubtable Captain Wiggins has described the convicts in Siberia as "a happy, rollicking, joyous community—well clad, well fed, and well cared for."
I do not propose to comment on this, but shall leave the matter between the British Public and the shade of Captain Wiggins. Some may be inclined to recall a passage from Sir Thomas Browne which runs (I quote from memory), "There be those who would credit the relations of mariners."
In the past there has been a tendency in England to look for archangelic qualities in her neighbours, and she has been a little hurt at not finding them. Once when writing to me in 1876, Mr. Gladstone said:
"The history of nations is a melancholy chapter, that is, the history of their Governments. I am sorrowfully of opinion that, though virtue of splendid quality dwells in high regions with individuals, it is chiefly to be found on a large scale with the masses; and the history of nations is one of the most immoral parts of human history."
I have heard it stated of Mr. Gladstone that he was too true a gentleman to be a good politician. Upon that I will venture no comment beyond saying that I am convinced that he never did anything in his life actuated by any other idea than that it was right.
The same morality that applies in private life never has and probably never will apply to Governments, and to expect perfection in relation to the treatment of prisoners in Siberia, or of Chinese labour in South Africa, is out of the question.
I cannot do better than quote here what I said in my introduction toSiberia As It Is, by Harry de Windt:
"To form a proper opinion of the Russian prisons, it is necessary to possess, what English people certainly do not possess, some knowledge of the ordinary conditions of life in our country. A preface to any book on Russia ought, in fact, to be somewhat of an introduction into the penetralia of our innermost existence. But in giving real facts about our country, I have the feeling of printing advertisements about ourselves—to us Russians a very antipathetic work indeed.
"Russia is, over a great extent, a land of stoicism, fortified by Christianity—not a bad basis for the formation of character, after all, but it is a hard school. Our country life is an important study. It is full of self-denial, of hardships, of privations. Indeed, in some parts peasant life is so hard that we, the so-called upper classes, could scarcely endure it.
"Landed proprietors are generally in close intercourse with their ex-serfs. The latter, though now perfectly free and themselves landowners, from the fact that their former masters have at heart their welfare, naïvely think that the latter are still under obligation to furnish help when needed. This somewhat amusing relationship is generally accepted good-naturedly by the ex-masters, though very oftenit involves great material sacrifices. We could all give our personal experiences of village life, and I, for one, venture to do so, though there are many others better qualified.
"To visit the sick and the poor is a common duty recognised by a great many in our country, although the discharge of this duty sometimes is rather an ordeal. How overcrowded and dark are their dwellings! How poor their daily food! (The only approach to the condition that I know of in the United Kingdom is in the poverty-stricken districts of Ireland and in some corners of the East End of London.) Yet those who lead that rough life seem strong and happy, on the whole. They will make merry jokes, and after a long day's heavy work, from sunrise to sunset, return home from the fields, singing and dancing.
"Injudicious and indiscriminate charity would do harm here as elsewhere. In illustration of this, I will mention the following from my own experience:
"My son, when appointed Zemski Natchalnik (Zemski chief), built a church over his father's grave and founded two schools for training male and female teachers on our Tamboff estate.
"The principal local representatives of the Church and the chiefs of our local school inspectors were invited to discuss the programme of the teaching and management of these schools—one for boarders, future primary school teachers, with a class for daily pupils of the parish. They used to be almost free of charge before the emancipation of the serfs. So were both my son's schools. But now—since they depend on the Holy Synod—education hasto be paid for. The yearly Seminarian's fee for board, dress and education is £10 yearly. The girls' (future school mistresses) fee is £8—but they will soon be increased. All our schools for the people are, and have always been, free of charge.
"The educational scheme met with almost unanimous approval, but when the boarding arrangements came to be discussed, with suggestions about 'light mattresses and pillows,' they were met by a general outburst of disapproval.
"'Here you are wrong. Why should you spoil them, and make them unfit for their usual life, by accustoming them to unnecessary luxuries? The utmost you should provide, as a comfort for peasant boys, is some straw, and a plain bench to sleep on. Nothing more.' I may add, that this stoic simplicity partly accounts for their bravery.
"It may perhaps interest my readers to know that there is such a thirst for learning amongst our peasant children that candidates come in overwhelming numbers, and this happens to all our educational institutions—they are overcrowded to the last degree. The population increases more quickly than church and school accommodation for it. That inconvenience is also noticeable with regard to the children of our prisoners. But to people accustomed to a very hard life, would it be a punishment if, instead of suffering discomfort for their crimes, they were surrounded with what to them would appear extreme luxury? Where is one to draw the line between necessaries and luxuries? A prison ought to be a punishment, not a reward for crimes.
"In visiting the prisons I have heard the remark that some of the convicts would not have committed their misdeeds had they possessed at home half the comforts provided in the prisons, though, of course, the privation of every liberty is already a terrible punishment. They also know that whilst they are away, good care is taken of their children. I remember a female prisoner, who had to suffer a year's punishment for theft and smuggling, whose looks of distress and misery forcibly struck me. Knowing that she was near the end of her term, I asked how it was that she did not look happier.
"'I am pining for my boy; I feel sure he is dead. I wrote to him twice, but he never replied,' answered she, sobbing. 'He was taken up as a beggar and a vagabond by the Beggars' Committee.'
"'Well,' said I, 'since you can tell me where he may be found, I will go and see him at once, and you shall know the exact truth about him. Wait patiently till I come back.'
"Off I went to the 'Beggars' Institution,' which is a branch of the prisons, though geographically a great distance away, and had the boy brought to me. He looked clean and healthy.
"'Your mother sends you her blessing,' I began; 'she is in good health, but grieves that you never answered her letters. Have they not reached you?'
"'Oh yes, they have, but I cannot write. I began learning here, and can only write O's and pothooks.'
"As I always provide myself with writing materials on visiting the prisons, and am always ready in deserving cases to write letters, dictated tome by illiterate prisoners, I offered my services to the little beggar boy.
"He seemed radiant. 'Yes, tell her that I am very well fed here, three times every day. Food plentiful.'
"'What else?' asked I. 'Would you not like to see your mother? Don't you go to church every Sunday, and don't you pray for her?'