1 1 
 
 
 N \ 
 
 W
 
 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 A YEAR IN RUSSIA 
 
 WITH THE RUSSIANS IN MANCHURIA
 
 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND 
 STORIES 
 
 BY 
 I 
 
 MAURICE BARING 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A YEAR TN RUSSIA" ETC. 
 
 METHUEN & CO. 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 
 
 LONDON
 
 First Published in 1908
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 EVAN CHARTERIS
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO EVAN CHARTERIS 
 
 TVyfY DEAR EVAN, This book, which 
 L'-* you expressed a wish I should dedicate 
 to you, consists of short essays and stories dealing 
 entirely with Russian subjects. 
 
 These essays (which deal with Russia) are in 
 no sense political. I will not go so far as to 
 say they are uninteresting ; such modesty is, as 
 Bacon once pointed out, a gross form of boast- 
 ing ; besides which it is a mistake. If one 
 underrates one's wares one is taken at one's 
 word. I have found this out to my cost. 
 Once when I was competing in a Civil Service 
 Examination, and appeared as a candidate in 
 the German viva voce, the German examiner 
 asked me if I could speak German. 
 
 "Yes, a little," I answered modestly.
 
 viii RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 " Oh ! " said the examiner, " I will then wish 
 you good morning. I will no doubt have the 
 pleasure of seeing you again the next time 
 there is an examination." 
 
 The next time there was an examination and 
 I presented myself again to the German viva 
 voce examiner, who happened to be a different 
 man, when he asked me if I could speak 
 German, I replied thus 
 
 " Yes, I speak it as well as Bismarck spoke 
 it, and my written style combines the solidity 
 of Lessing's, the limpidity of Goethe's, and the 
 lightness of touch of Heine's, as you have no 
 doubt observed from my written papers." 
 
 " Then I need not trouble you any further," 
 said the examiner. This time I got full 
 marks. 
 
 In the last book I wrote, which was also 
 about Russia, there was a preface in which I 
 said that I had no political opinions and that my 
 only object was to give a record of things seen. 
 In spite of this Conservatives said my book 
 was a revolutionary pamphlet, and Liberals 
 English Liberals of course Russian Liberals
 
 IX 
 
 knew better declared it was an apology for 
 reaction. 1 What better proof could I have 
 had of its fundamental impartiality ? But im- 
 partiality is unpopular. People prefer to see 
 dogmatic opinions nailed like a flag to one side 
 or the other ; they cannot bear being told that 
 both sides are right and wrong. They do 
 not much like being told that one is quite 
 indifferent as to what people's political opinions 
 may be, because one is interested in them as 
 human beings. In saying that such impartiality 
 is unpopular, I have greatly understated the 
 question. If one takes an impartial view 
 of certain questions which inspire violent 
 partisanship ; if, for instance, one is opposed to 
 vivisection and at the same time one has no 
 sympathy with anti-vivisectionists if, for in- 
 stance, one believes in the innocence of Dreyfus, 
 and the Dreyfusards inspire one with disgust, 
 or if, as in this case, one sympathises with the 
 Russian Liberals and yet considers that their 
 apologists in England talk incredible nonsense 
 
 1 The book is at this moment forbidden by the Censorship 
 in Russia.
 
 x RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 it is almost impossible to get a hearing at all. 
 Both sides reject you, because you refuse not 
 to admit that there are weaknesses and a 
 certain measure of right on either side. The 
 partisan cannot bear this to be said. His side 
 must be altogether right, the other side must 
 be altogether wrong ; and if you venture to 
 say that such a view is exaggerated and incom- 
 plete, you are howled down. People, and 
 especially English people, are extraordinarily 
 sensitive on this score (curiously enough), 
 when a foreign country is in question. They 
 regard every foreign country as being divided 
 into two camps, the angels on one side, the 
 devils on the other. In Russia the angels are 
 all Revolutionaries, the devils are all Reaction- 
 aries. You, who have been in Russia, know 
 that this is not the case. People in Russia, 
 as elsewhere, are all made of the same stuff: 
 their opinions are largely due to circumstance. 
 But we English have a passion for meddling 
 with other people's business, without under- 
 standing what that business is. This is especi- 
 ally the case when any complex problem arises
 
 DEDICATION xi 
 
 in a foreign country, such as the Dreyfus 
 case or the Russian Revolution. Some people 
 call this our great traditional sympathy with 
 " nations rightly struggling to be free." Un- 
 fortunately such sympathy being generally 
 based on a total misapprehension of the ques- 
 tions at issue, very often does more harm than 
 good. For instance, when not long ago in the 
 House of Commons it was debated whether or 
 no the King should pay a visit to the Emperor 
 of Russia, and some one suggested that were 
 the visit to be cancelled the immense majority 
 of the Russian people would regard it as an 
 insult, and that the Russian peasants bore no 
 ill-will towards the Emperor, but rather com- 
 plained of the results of a system of govern- 
 ment, which in the last few years has undergone 
 and is still undergoing radical change when 
 such arguments were brought forward some 
 of the Labour Members nearly burst with 
 ironical cheers. Here, they thought, was the 
 voice of officialdom, Torydom, and hypocrisy 
 speaking. Now turn to the facts. When 
 Professor Kovolievski was elected a member
 
 xii RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 for the first Duma in the government of 
 Karkov as an advanced Liberal member, he 
 after his election asked some of his peasant 
 electors whether he was not right in supposing 
 that had he said anything offensive with regard 
 to the Emperor at his meetings, there would 
 have been no applause. 
 
 "We should not only not have applauded," 
 was the answer, "but we should have beaten 
 you to death." 
 
 And I am convinced that if any of our 
 Labour Members went to any Russian village 
 with an interpreter, and made speeches on 
 the subject of the Emperor of Russia, such as 
 they made in the House of Commons, they 
 would swiftly be lynched. This, of course, 
 does not mean that the Russian peasant is 
 averse to reform, or does not suffer from the 
 evil effects of bad government ; but it means 
 that he is a Russian, and that is a thing 
 which our enthusiastic Liberals entirely over- 
 look, and they overlook it because they do 
 not know what Russia is, or what a Russian 
 is. They are divorced from fact and soar in
 
 DEDICATION xiii 
 
 wide spaces of theory. And that is the 
 reason that although all my sympathies in 
 Russia are with the poor, and with any people 
 who contribute a mite towards the cause of 
 reform, the ignorance of English Liberals 
 on the subject makes me sick. 
 
 In this book you will not find, thank 
 Heaven, very much talk of politics. You 
 will find, on the other hand, truthful and 
 accurate records of real people, seen with the 
 naked eye, unobscured by prejudice and not 
 magnified by the spectacles of exaggeration. 
 Also some true stories. I hope it will amuse 
 you. 
 
 That is all I have to say about this book. 
 Books, like every other human thing, rarely 
 end by being what they were meant to be. 
 The books we dream of are magnificent, 
 interesting, exhaustive, bulky, but nevertheless 
 not too long. They glow in the imagination 
 like a living coal. The books we write are 
 scrappy, short, not sufficiently interesting, 
 and often appear to be too long in spite of 
 their brevity. So far from glowing, they
 
 xiv RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 resemble the ashes of an extinct cigar. Every 
 time one finishes a book one thinks the next 
 one will be better ; but this is an illusion. 
 This book is no exception to the melancholy 
 rule, but such as it is, it is yours, and, I 
 repeat once more, I hope you will like it. 
 
 M. B. 
 
 NORTH COTTAGE 
 London, 1908
 
 PREFACE 
 
 nr^HE essays and stories contained in this 
 book are reprinted for the greater part 
 from the Morning Post, by whose kind per- 
 mission I have been allowed to republish them 
 here. My thanks are also due to the Editor of 
 the Oxford and Cambridge Review for permission 
 to republish the article on Andreev's Life of 
 Man \ and to the Editor of that brilliant but too 
 short-lived periodical the Ne Plus Ultra (pub- 
 lished at Eton), for allowing me to make use 
 of a story called "The Amorphists," which 
 appeared in its columns. My thanks are due 
 to Mr. H. Belloc, who kindly read the proofs 
 of this book for me.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH i 
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 21 
 
 SKETCHES IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA : 
 
 1. THE RELIGION OF RUSSIAN PEASANTS . . 57 
 
 2. A CONVERSATION WITH A LANDOWNER . . 70 
 
 3. THE BIRTH OF THE BELL 80 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH : 
 
 1. ENGLISH LIBERALS IN RUSSIA .... 89 
 
 2. BYRON 96 
 
 MODERN LITERATURE IN RUSSIA 113 
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 122 
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 136 
 
 A DREAM IN THE DUMA 158 
 
 A ZEMSTVO REPORT 170 
 
 ANTI-SEMITISM IN RUSSIA 180 
 
 PRINCE OUROUSOV'S MEMOIRS 189 
 
 STORIES 
 
 POGROM 203 
 
 THE ANTICHRIST 214 
 
 "DIRGE IN MARRIAGE" 223 
 
 THE GOVERNOR'S NIECE 233 
 
 A POLICE OFFICER 243 
 
 THE AMORPHISTS 254 
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 264
 
 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND 
 STORIES 
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 
 
 T STARTED at night. The battle for a 
 *- place in the third-class carriage was fought 
 and won for me by a porter. A third-class 
 carriage in Russia is not at all uncomfortable 
 if you have a thick blanket, because every 
 passenger has a right to the whole length of a 
 seat. Three people can sit on the seat but 
 only one can lie on it. The other two lie in 
 berths above you or below you, as the case 
 may be. At the end of the seat is a passage, 
 and then there are further seats stretched 
 horizontally across the windows. The seats 
 are made of wood, and if you have a thick 
 blanket and a pillow they are quite as comfort- 
 able as any other bed. 
 
 The differences between railway carriages in
 
 2 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Russia and in England is that the Russian 
 carriage is broader and bigger. Every carriage 
 (whatever the class) is a corridor carriage. 
 The first class is divided into separate com- 
 partments, but in the second and third class 
 there is no partition and no doors dividing 
 the corridor from the seats occupied by the 
 passengers. 
 
 When you first step into the third - class 
 carriage it is like entering pandemonium. It 
 is almost dark, save for a feeble candle that 
 gutters peevishly over the door, and all the 
 inmates are yelling and throwing their boxes 
 and baskets and bundles about. This is only 
 the process of installation ; it all quiets down 
 presently, and everybody is seated with his 
 bed unfolded, if he has one, his luggage stowed 
 away, his provisions spread out, as if he had 
 been living there for years and meant to remain 
 there for many years to come. 
 
 This particular carnage was full. The 
 people in it were workmen going home for the 
 winter, peasants, merchants, and mechanics. 
 Opposite to my seat were two workmen 
 (painters), and next to them a peasant with a 
 big grey beard. Sitting by the farther window
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 3 
 
 was a well-dressed mechanic. The painter 
 lighted a candle and stuck it on a small 
 movable table that projected from my window ; 
 he produced a small bottle of vodka from his 
 pocket, a kettle for tea, and some cold sausage, 
 and general conversation began. The guard 
 came to tell the people who had come to see 
 their friends off there were numbers of them 
 in the carriage, and they were most of them 
 drunk to go. The guard looked at my ticket 
 for Vologda and asked me where I was ulti- 
 mately going to. I said " Viatka," upon which 
 the mechanic said: "So am I; we will go 
 together and get our tickets together at 
 Vologda." The painter and the mechanic 
 engaged in conversation, and it appeared that 
 they both came from Kronstadt. The painter 
 had worked there for twenty years, and he 
 cross-questioned the mechanic with evident 
 pleasure, winking at me every now and then. 
 The mechanic went into the next compartment 
 for a moment, and the painter then said to me 
 with glee : " He is lying ; he says he has 
 worked in Kronstadt, and he doesn't know 
 where such and such things are." The 
 mechanic came back. " Who is the Com-
 
 4 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 mandant at Kronstadt ? " asked the painter. 
 The mechanic evidently did not know, and 
 gave a name at random. The painter laughed 
 triumphantly and said that the Commandant 
 was some one else. Then the mechanic 
 volunteered further information to show his 
 knowledge of Kronstadt ; he talked of another 
 man who worked there, a tall man ; the painter 
 said that the man was short. The mechanic 
 said that he was employed in the manufacture 
 of shells. They talked of the disorders at 
 Kronstadt last year. The painter said that he 
 and his son lay among cabbages while the 
 fighting was going on. He added that the 
 matter had nearly ended in the total destruction 
 of Kronstadt. " God forbid," said the peasant 
 sitting next to me. No sympathy was ex- 
 pressed with the mutineers. The painter at 
 last told the mechanic that he had lived for 
 twenty years at Kronstadt, and that he, the 
 mechanic, was a liar. The mechanic protested 
 feebly. He was an obvious liar, but why he 
 told these lies I have no idea. Perhaps he 
 was not a mechanic at all. Possibly he was a 
 spy. He professed to be a native of a village 
 near Viatka, and declared that he had been
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 5 
 
 absent for six years (the next evening he said 
 twelve years). 
 
 From this question of disorders at Kronstadt 
 the talk veered, I forget how, to the topic of 
 the Duma. " Which Duma ? " some one asked ; 
 "the town Duma?" "No, the State Duma," 
 said the mechanic ; "it seems they are going 
 to have a new one." " Nothing will come of 
 it," said the painter; "people will not go" (he 
 meant the voters). " No, they won't go," said 
 the peasant, cutting the air with his hand (a 
 gesture common to nearly all Russians of that 
 class), " because they know now that it means 
 being put in prison." " Yes," said the painter, 
 "they are hanging everybody." And there 
 was a knowing chorus of "They won't go and 
 vote ; they know better." Then the mechanic 
 left his seat and sat down next to the painter 
 
 and said in a whisper : " The Government " 
 
 At that moment the guard came in ; the 
 mechanic stopped abruptly, and when the 
 guard went out the topic of conversation had 
 been already changed. I heard no further 
 mention of the Duma during the whole of the 
 rest of the journey to Vologda. The people 
 then began to prepare to go to sleep, except
 
 6 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 the peasant, who told me that he often went 
 three days together without sleep, but when he 
 did sleep it was a business to wake him. He 
 asked me if his bundle of clothes was in my 
 way. "We are a rough people," he said, "but 
 we know how not to get in the way. I am 
 not going far." I was just going to sleep when 
 I was wakened by a terrific noise in the next 
 compartment. Some one opened the door and 
 the following scraps of shouted dialogue were 
 audible. A voice : " Did you say I was drunk 
 or did you not ? " Second voice (obviously the 
 guard) : "I asked for your ticket." First 
 voice : " You said I was drunk. You are a 
 liar." Second voice : " You have no right to 
 say I am a liar. I asked for your ticket." 
 First voice : " You are a liar. You said I was 
 drunk. I will have you discharged." This 
 voice then recited a long story to the public in 
 general. The next day I ascertained that the 
 offended man was a lawyer, one of the 
 " bourgeoisie " (a workman explained to me), 
 and that the guard had, in the dark, asked him 
 for his ticket, and then as he made no sign of 
 life had pinched his foot ; this having proved 
 ineffectual, he said that the man was drunk,
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 7 
 
 whereupon the man started to his feet and 
 became wide awake in a moment. Eventually 
 a gendarme was brought in, a "protocol" was 
 drawn up in which both sides of the story were 
 written down, and there, I expect, the matter 
 will remain until the Day of Judgment. 
 
 I afterwards made the acquaintance of two 
 men in the next compartment ; they were dock 
 labourers and their business was to load ships 
 in Kronstadt. They were exactly like the 
 people whom Gorki describes. One of them 
 gave me a complete description of his mode of 
 life in summer and winter. In summer he 
 loaded ships ; in winter he went to a place near 
 Archangel and loaded carts with wood ; when 
 the spring came he went back, by water, to 
 St. Petersburg. He asked me what I was. I 
 said that I was an English correspondent. He 
 asked then what I travelled in. I said I was 
 not that kind of correspondent but a news- 
 paper correspondent. Here he called a third 
 friend, who was sitting near us, and said, 
 "Come and look; there is a correspondent 
 here. He is an English correspondent." The 
 friend came a man with a red beard and a 
 loose shirt with a pattern of flowers on it. "I
 
 8 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 don't know you," said the new man. " No ; 
 but let us make each other's acquaintance," I 
 said. " You can talk to him," explained the 
 dock labourer ; " we have been talking for 
 hours. Although he is plainly a man who has 
 received higher education." "As to whether 
 he has received higher or lower education we 
 don't know," said the friend, "because we 
 haven't yet asked him." Then he paused, 
 reflected, shook hands, and exclaimed: "Now 
 we know each other." " But," said the dock 
 labourer, "how do you print your articles? 
 Do you take a printing press with you when 
 you go, for instance, to the north like you are 
 doing now ? " I remarked that they were 
 printed in London, and that I did not have 
 to print them myself. " Please send me one," 
 he said ; " I will give you my address." " But 
 it's written in English," I answered. "You 
 can send me a translation in Russian," he 
 retorted. 
 
 "English ships come to Kronstadt, and we 
 load them. The men on board do not speak 
 Russian, but we understand each other. For 
 instance, we load, and their inspector comes. 
 We call him 'inspector' (I forget the Russian
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 9 
 
 word he used, but it was something like 
 skipador), they call him the ' Come on.' The 
 ' Come on ' comes, and he says ' That's no 
 good ' (niet dobro), he means not right (nie 
 harosho), and then we make it right. And 
 when their sailors come we ask them for 
 matches. When we have food, what we call 
 'coshevar,' they call it 'all right.' And when 
 we finish work, what we call ' shabash ' (it means 
 "all over"), they call 'Seven o'clock.' They 
 bring us matches that light on anything," and 
 here he produced a box of English matches 
 and lit a dozen of them just to show. " When 
 we are ragged, they say, ' No clothes, plenty 
 vodka,' and when we are well dressed, they 
 say, ' No plenty vodka, plenty clothes.' 
 Their vodka," he added, "is very good." 
 Then followed an elaborate comparison of 
 the wages and conditions of life of Russian 
 and English workmen. Another man joined 
 in, and being told about the correspondent, 
 said : "I would like to read your writings, 
 because we are a 'gray' people (i.e. a rough 
 people), and we read only the Pieterbourski 
 Listok, which is, so to speak, a 'black gang' 
 newspaper. Heaven knows what is happen-
 
 io RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 ing in Russia. They are hanging, shooting 
 and bayoneting every one." And he went 
 away. The dock labourer went on for hours 
 talking about the "Come on," the " All right," 
 and the " Seven o'clock." 
 
 Then I went back to my berth and slept, till 
 the dock labourer came and fetched me and 
 said that I had to see the soldiers. I went 
 into the next compartment, and there were two 
 soldiers ; one was dressed up, that is to say he 
 had put on spectacles and a pocket-handkerchief 
 over his head, and was giving an exhibition 
 of mimicry, of recruits crying as they left home, 
 of mothers-in-law, and other stock jokes. It 
 was funny, and it ended in general singing. 
 A sailor came to look on. He was a non- 
 commissioned officer, and he told me in great 
 detail how the Sveaborg mutiny had been put 
 down. He said that the loyal sailors had been 
 given 150 roubles (,15) a-piece to fight. I 
 think he must have been exaggerating. At 
 the same time he expressed no sympathy with 
 the mutineers. He said that rights were all 
 very well for countries like that of the Finns. 
 But in Russia they only meant disorders, and 
 as long as the disorders lasted Russia would be
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH n 
 
 a feeble country. He had much wanted to go 
 to the war, but had not been able to do so. 
 In fact, he was thoroughly loyal and bien 
 pensant. 
 
 We arrived at Vologda Station some time 
 in the evening. The station was crowded with 
 peasants. While I was watching the crowd 
 a drunken peasant entered and asked every- 
 body *to give him ten kopecks. Then he 
 caught sight of me and said that he was quite 
 certain I would give him ten kopecks. I did, 
 and he danced a kind of wild dance and finally 
 collapsed on the floor. A man was watching 
 these proceedings, a fairly respectably dressed 
 man in a pea-jacket. He entered into con- 
 versation with me, and said that he had just 
 come back from Manchuria, where he had 
 been employed at Mukden Station. " In spite 
 of which," he added, " I have not yet received 
 a medal." I said that I had also been in 
 Manchuria. He said he lived twenty versts 
 up the line, and came to the station to look 
 at the people it was so amusing. " Have you 
 any acquaintances here ? " he asked. I said 
 "No." "Then let us go and have tea." I 
 was willing, and we went to the tea-shop,
 
 12 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 which was exactly opposite the station. 
 " Here," said the man, " we will talk of what 
 was, of what is, and of what is to be." As 
 we were walking in a policeman who was 
 standing by the door whispered in my ear, 
 " I shouldn't go in there with that gentleman." 
 "Why?" I asked. "Well, he's not quite 
 reliable," he answered in the softest of 
 whispers. "How?" I asked. "Well, he 
 killed a man yesterday and then robbed him," 
 said the policeman. So then I hurriedly 
 expressed my regret to my acquaintance, and 
 said that I must at all costs return to the 
 station. " The policeman has been lying to 
 you," said the man. " It's a lie ; it's only 
 because I haven't got a passport." (This was 
 not exactly a recommendation in itself.) I 
 went into the first-class waiting-room. The 
 man came and sat down next to me, and now 
 that I examined his face I saw that he had 
 the expression and the stamp of countenance 
 of a born thief. One of the waiters came and 
 told him to go, and he flatly refused, and the 
 waiter made a low bow to him. Then gently 
 but firmly I advised him to go away, as it 
 might lead to trouble. He finally said : "All
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 13 
 
 right, but we shall meet in the train, in liberty." 
 He went away, but he sent an accomplice, who 
 stood behind my chair, and who also had the 
 expression of a thief. 
 
 After waiting for several hours I approached 
 the train for Yaroslav. Just as I was getting 
 in a small boy came up to me and said in a 
 whisper, " The policeman sent me to tell you 
 that the man is a well-known thief, that he 
 robs people every day, and that he gets into 
 the train, even into the first-class carriages, 
 and robs people, and he is after you now." I 
 entered a first-class carriage and told the guard 
 there was a thief about. I had not been there 
 long before the accomplice arrived and began 
 walking up and down the corridor. But the 
 guard, I am happy to say, turned him out 
 instantly, and I saw nothing more of the thief 
 and of his accomplice. 
 
 A railway company director, or rather a man 
 who was arranging the purchase of a line, got 
 into the carriage and began at once to harangue 
 against the Government and say that the way 
 in which it had changed the election law was a 
 piece of insolence and would only make every- 
 body more radical, Then he told me that life
 
 14 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 in Yaroslav was simply intolerable owing to 
 the manner in which all newspapers and all 
 free discussion had been stopped. We arrived 
 at Yaroslav on the next morning. I went on 
 to Moscow in a third-class carriage. The train 
 stopped at every small station, and there was 
 a constant flow of people coming and going. 
 An old gentleman of the middle class sat 
 opposite to me for a time, and read a news- 
 paper in an audible whisper. Whenever he 
 came to some doings of the Government he 
 said, " Disgraceful, disgraceful ! " 
 
 Later on in the day a boy of seventeen got 
 into the train. He carried a large box. I was 
 reading a book by Gogol, and had put it down 
 for a moment on the seat. He took it up and 
 said, " I very much like reading books." I 
 asked him how he had learnt. He said he 
 had been at school for one year, and had then 
 learnt at home. He could not stay at school 
 as he was the only son, his father was dead, 
 and he had to look after his small sisters ; he 
 was a stone quarrier and life was very hard. 
 He loved reading. In winter the moujiks 
 came to him and he read aloud to them. His 
 favourite book was called Ivan Mazeppa.
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 15 
 
 What that work may be I do not know. I 
 gave him my Gogol. I have never seen any 
 one so pleased. He began to read it at the 
 end then and there, and said it would last for 
 several evenings. When he got out he said, 
 " I will never forget you," and he took out of 
 his pocket a lot of sunflower seeds and gave 
 them to me. As we neared Moscow the 
 carriage got fuller and fuller. Two peasants 
 had no railway tickets. One of them asked 
 me if I would lend my ticket to him to show 
 the guard. I said, " With pleasure, only my 
 ticket is for Moscow and yours is for the next 
 station." When the guard came one of the 
 peasants gave him 30 kopecks. "That is very 
 little for two of you," the guard said. They 
 had been travelling nearly all the way from 
 Yaroslav ; but finally he let them be. We 
 arrived at Moscow in the evening-. 
 
 O 
 
 While talking with a person who had had a 
 lot to do with the workmen in Moscow, I was 
 told that they had been much demoralised by 
 the extreme Revolutionary Party, and that now 
 they preferred doing nothing and living at the 
 expense of others to working. " The other 
 night," my informant told me, "a friend of
 
 1 6 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 mine, a hospital nurse, was waked at midnight 
 by two workmen whom she knew well, and 
 had always known to be most respectable men. 
 ' What do you want ? ' she asked. ' We have 
 come for Brownings,' they said (Colt pistols). 
 ' I haven't any Brownings,' she said. 'Are 
 you not afraid some other hooligans might 
 come and rob you ? ' they asked. ' No,' she 
 answered ; ' but what do you want Brownings 
 for ? ' ' We are going out expropriating' they 
 said, as quietly as if they had remarked that 
 they were going to their dinner. She then 
 argued with them until four in the morning, 
 and saw that in any case they did not go out 
 expropriating on that night." But this word 
 " expropriation " put into vogue by the revolu- 
 tionaries, has had a disastrous effect on the 
 working classes, who think they have only to 
 stretch out their hands and take by right any- 
 body else's property. 
 
 I travelled back to St. Petersburg in a 
 third-class carriage, which was full of recruits. 
 " They sang all the way (as Jowett said about 
 the poetical but undisciplined undergraduate 
 whom he drove home from a dinner party) bad 
 songs, very bad songs." Not quite all the
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 17 
 
 way, however. They were like schoolboys 
 going to a private school, putting on extra 
 assurance. In the railway carriage there was 
 a Zemstvo " Feldsher," a hospital assistant 
 who had been all through the war. We talked 
 of the war, and while we were discussing, a 
 young peasant who was in the carriage joined 
 in and startled us by his sensible and acute 
 observations on the war. " There's a man," 
 said the Feldsher to me, " who has a good 
 head. And it is sheer natural cleverness. 
 That's what a lot of the young peasants are 
 like. And what will become of him ? If only 
 these people could be developed ! " A little 
 later I began to read a small book. " Are you 
 reading Lermontov ? " asked the Feldsher. 
 " No," I answered, " I am reading Shakespeare's 
 Sonnets." "Ah," he said with a sigh, "you 
 are evidently not a married man, but perhaps 
 you are engaged to be married ? " 
 
 Just as I was preparing to sleep, the guard 
 came and began to search the corners and the 
 floor of the carriage with a candle as if he had 
 dropped a pin or a penny. He explained that 
 there were twelve recruits in the carriage, but 
 that an extra man had got in with them and
 
 1 8 RUSSIAN 7 ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 that he was looking for him. He then went 
 away. Thereupon one of the recruits explained 
 to me that the man was under one of the seats 
 and hidden by boxes, as he wished to go to 
 St. Petersburg without a ticket. I went to 
 sleep. But the guard came back and turned 
 me carefully over to see if I was the missing 
 man. Then he began to look again in the 
 most unlikely places for a man to be hid. He 
 gave up the search twice, but the hidden man 
 could not resist putting out his head to see 
 what was happening, and before he could get it 
 back the guard coming in at that moment caught 
 sight of him. The man was turned out, but 
 he got into the train again, and the next morn- 
 ing it was discovered that he had stolen one of 
 the recruits' boxes and some article of property 
 from nearly everybody in the carriage, including 
 hats and coats. This he had done while the 
 recruits slept, since when they stopped singing 
 and went to sleep they slept soundly. Later in 
 the night a huge and old peasant entered the train 
 and crept under the seat opposite to me. The 
 guard did not notice him, and after the tickets 
 had been collected from the passengers who 
 got in at that station the man crept out, and
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE NORTH 19 
 
 lay down on one of the higher berths. He 
 remained there nearly all night, but at one of 
 the stations the guard said : " Is there no one 
 for this station ? " and looking at the peasant, 
 added : " Where are you for, old man ? " The 
 man mumbled in pretended sleep. " Where is 
 your ticket ? " asked the guard. No answer. 
 At last when the question had been repeated 
 thrice, he said : " I am a poor, little, old man." 
 "You haven't got a ticket," said the guard. 
 " Get out, devil, you might lose me my place 
 and I a married man. Devil ! Devil ! Devil ! " 
 " It is on account of my extreme poverty," said 
 the old man, and he was turned out. 
 
 The next morning I had a long conversation 
 with the young peasant who, the Feldsher said, 
 had brains. I asked him, among other things, 
 if he thought the Government was right in 
 relying on what it calls the innate and funda- 
 mental conservatism of the great mass of the 
 Russian people. " If the Government says 
 that the whole of the peasantry is Conservative 
 it lies," he said. "It is true that a great part 
 of the people is rough uneducated but there 
 are many who know. The war opened our 
 eyes. You see, the Russian peasant is ac-
 
 20 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 customed to be told by the authorities that a 
 glass (taking up my tumbler) is a man, and to 
 believe it. The Army is on the side of the 
 Government. At least it is really on the side 
 of the people, but it feels itself helpless. The 
 soldiers are afraid of being punished. If they 
 could act together like they did at Kharkov 
 this summer (a regiment mutinied there and all 
 the troops sent to quell the mutiny joined the 
 mutineers) all would be over in a day and 
 the Government will never yield except to force. 
 There is nothing to be done." And we talked 
 of other things. The recruits joined in the 
 conversation, and I offered a small meat patty 
 to one of them, who said : " No, thank you. 
 I am greatly satisfied with you as it is, without 
 your giving me a meat patty." 
 
 The theft which had taken place in the night 
 was discussed from every point of view. " We 
 took pity on him and we hid him," they said, 
 " and he robbed us." They spoke of it without 
 any kind of bitterness or grievance, and nobody 
 said, " I told you so." Then we arrived at 
 St. Petersburg.
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 
 
 ON the way to Ribinsk my carriage was 
 occupied by a party of workmen, in- 
 cluding a carpenter and a wheelwright, who 
 were going to work on somebody's property 
 in the government of Tver ; they did not 
 know whose property, and they did not know 
 whither they were going. They were under 
 the authority of an old man who came and 
 talked to me, because, he said, the company 
 of the youths who were with him was tedious. 
 He told me a great many things, but as he was 
 hoarse and the train made a rattling noise, I 
 could not hear a word he said. There were 
 also in the carriage two Tartars and a small 
 boy about thirteen years old, who had a 
 domineering character and put himself in 
 charge of the carriage. The discomfort of 
 travelling third class in Russia does not con- 
 sist in the accommodation, but in the fact that
 
 22 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 one is constantly waked during the night by 
 passengers coming in and by the guard asking 
 for one's ticket. The small boy with the 
 domineering character he wore an old mili- 
 tary cap on the back of his head as a sign of 
 strength of purpose contributed in no small 
 degree to the general discomfort. He ap- 
 parently was in no need of sleep, and he went 
 from passenger to passenger telling them where 
 they would have to change and where they 
 would have to get out, and offering to open 
 the window if needed. I had a primitive 
 candlestick made of a candle stuck into a 
 bottle ; it fell on my head just as I went to 
 sleep, so I put it on the floor and went to 
 sleep again. But the small boy came and 
 waked me and told me that my bottle was on 
 the floor, and that he had put it back again. 
 I thanked him, but directly he was out of sight 
 I put it back again on the floor, and before long 
 he came back, waked me a second time, and 
 told me that my candlestick had again fallen 
 down. This time I told him, not without 
 emphasis, to leave it alone, and I went to 
 sleep again. But the little boy was not 
 defeated ; he waked me again with the in-
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 23 
 
 formation that a printed advertisement had 
 fallen out of the book I had been reading, 
 on to the floor. This time I told him that 
 if he waked me again I should throw him out 
 of the window. 
 
 Later in the night a tidy-looking man of the 
 middle class entered the carriage with his wife. 
 They began to chatter, and to complain of the 
 length of the benches, the officious boy' with 
 the domineering character lending them his 
 sympathy and advice. This went on till one 
 of the Tartars could bear it no longer, and he 
 cried out in a loud voice that if they wanted 
 beds six yards long they had better not travel 
 in a train, and that they were making everybody 
 else's sleep impossible. I blessed that Tartar 
 unawares, and after that there was peace. 
 
 The comfort of travelling third class in Russia 
 is that there is always tea to be had. One 
 would need the pen of Charles Lamb to sing 
 the praises of Russian tea. The difference 
 between our tea and Russian tea is not that 
 Russian tea is weaker or that it has lemon in 
 it. I have heard Englishmen say sometimes : 
 " I don't want any of your exquisite Russian 
 tea ; I want a good cup of strong tea." This
 
 24 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 is as if you were to say : " I don't want any 
 of your soft German music ; I want some nice 
 loud English music." It is a question of kind ; 
 not of degree. You can have tea in Russia as 
 strong as you like. The difference is not in 
 the strength, but in the flavour and in the fact 
 that it is always made with boiling water, and 
 is always fresh. But if you put a piece of 
 lemon into a strong cup of Ceylon tea and 
 think that the result is Russian tea you are 
 mistaken. Russian tea is an exquisitely re- 
 freshing drink, and I sometimes wonder whether 
 tea in England in the eighteenth century, 
 the tea sung of by Pope and of which Dr. 
 Johnson drank thirty-six cups running, was 
 not probably identical with Russian tea. It 
 certainly was not Ceylon tea. 
 
 Towards ten o'clock in the morning we 
 arrived at Ribinsk, and there I embarked on 
 a steamer to go down the Volga as far as 
 Nijni- Novgorod. I took a first-class ticket 
 and received a clean deck cabin, containing a 
 leather sofa (with no blankets or sheets) and 
 a washing-stand with a fountain tap. We 
 started at two o'clock in the afternoon. There 
 were few passengers on board. The Volga
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 25 
 
 was not what I had expected it would be like 
 (what place is ?). I had imagined a vast 
 expanse of water in an illimitable plain, instead 
 of which there was a broad, brown river, with 
 green shelving though not steep banks, wooded 
 with birch trees and fir trees and many kinds 
 of shrubs ; sometimes the banks consisted of 
 sloping pastures and sometimes of cornfields. 
 In the evening we arrived at Yaroslav, an 
 extraordinarily picturesque little city on the 
 top of a steep bank. All day long the sky 
 had been grey and heavy with long piled-up 
 clouds, but the sun as it set made for itself a 
 thin strip of gold beneath the grey masses, and 
 when it had sunk the masses themselves glinted 
 like armour, and the strip beneath became a 
 stretch of pure and luminous twilight. In the 
 twilight the town was seen at its best. I went 
 ashore and walked about the streets of the quiet 
 city : a sleepy town, with trees and grass every- 
 where (the trees very dark in the twilight) ; the 
 houses low, two-storeyed, and all painted white, 
 with pale green roofs as white as ghosts in the 
 dusk, ornamented with pilasters and Eighteenth- 
 century and Empire arches and arcades. Every 
 now and then one came across a church with
 
 26 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 the remains of the sunset making the gilt 
 minarets glisten. The whole was a symphony 
 in dark green, white and lilac (the sky was 
 lilac by now). The shops were all shut, the 
 houses shuttered, the passers-by few. The 
 grass grows thick on the cobble-stones. I 
 wandered about thinking how well Vernon 
 Lee would seize on the "genius loci" of this 
 sleepy city, dreaming in the lilac July twilight, 
 with its alternate vistas of luminous white houses 
 and dark glooms of trees. How she would 
 extract the spirit of the place, and find the 
 exact note in other places with which it cor- 
 responded, whether in Gascony, or Tuscany, 
 or Bavaria ; and I reflected that all I could 
 do would be to say I had seen Yaroslav I 
 had walked about in it, and that it was a 
 picturesque city. 
 
 We left Yaroslav at eleven at night. In the 
 dining-room of the steamer I had left a Tauch- 
 nitz volume called Fraulein Schmidt and Mr. 
 Anstruther, by the author of Elizabeth and her 
 German Garden. I was looking forward to 
 reading this before going to sleep ; but this 
 was not to be. The volume had disappeared. 
 The next morning the matter was explained.
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 27 
 
 There was a family travelling in the steamer, 
 consisting of a mother, a daughter, and a son. 
 The mother was very young-looking, although 
 both the daughter and son were grown up ; 
 they had found the book and thought (I 
 suppose) it had been left behind, or that it 
 belonged to the public library. This book 
 occupied them for the rest of the journey. 
 They talked of nothing else. The mother 
 had read it before. The daughter must have 
 sat up late reading it, because she handed it 
 over to the son early in the morning. They 
 all thought it intensely amusing and interesting, 
 but they evidently disagreed about it. These 
 are the things, by the way, which ought to 
 please an author. An author is delighted 
 with a few neatly-turned " cliches " in a literary 
 journal, turned out machine-made from the 
 brains of literary men who have lost all their 
 freshness of palate and can no more enjoy a 
 book than a tea-taster can enjoy a cup of tea ; 
 but the reward really worth getting is the 
 passionate interest of the man in the street, of 
 a family, for instance, on a steamer between 
 Yaroslav and Nijni-Novgorod. What they 
 disagreed about was the character of the
 
 28 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 heroine. The girl loathed her. The mother 
 faintly tolerated her. The son liked her. The 
 girl's argument was clear and forcible. She 
 said she thought that Fraulein Schmidt was 
 an egotist and fundamentally intolerant, and 
 that she looked down on humanity from a 
 pedestal of superiority. She said she felt the 
 same thing about Elizabeth ; Elizabeth and 
 Fraulein Schmidt, she argued, enlisted your 
 understanding, your sense of amusement in a 
 most subtle way, in describing the pain of 
 being interrupted in some delicious occupation 
 by a dreadful bore. The girl said that all 
 these descriptions of bores amused her im- 
 mensely, but they made her sympathise with 
 the bore. She preferred them to Elizabeth and 
 to Fraulein Schmidt. She felt sure Elizabeth 
 and Fraulein Schmidt had no conception of 
 how trying she probably was to the poor 
 bores. Fraulein Schmidt had infinite tolerance 
 for clever and charming people like Professor 
 Martens and her father, but of the people like 
 the stepmother she never gave one a glimpse 
 of the good side. 
 
 Now the daughter argued that these people 
 always have a good side. The son said they
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 29 
 
 did not, that they were described just as they 
 were. The daughter said she had studied 
 music in Berlin and Leipzig, and had lived 
 in three German families, and that she had 
 often endured a great deal from people exactly 
 like Fraulein Schmidt's stepmother ; but she 
 had always found that they were at the same 
 time pathetic in their kindness at times. Frau- 
 lein Schmidt never gave you a hint of a kind 
 side. She merely said these people starved 
 the soul which was nonsense ; nobody, she 
 added, starves one's soul, one does that oneself. 
 The mother said that Fraulein Schmidt prob- 
 ably understood the good side of the boring 
 people, and did not mention it because it is not 
 so amusing to describe. The daughter answered 
 that it was interesting, if not amusing, and often 
 touching. Fraulein Schmidt thought herself 
 superior to everybody, because she read 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 The son said that as far as he got he 
 thought that the people described were just 
 like those whom he had known at Heidelberg ; 
 that Fraulein Schmidt was charming and Mr. 
 Anstruther loathsome. "Yes," said the girl, 
 "but she makes him loathsome on purpose.
 
 30 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 One wonders how Rose-Marie could ever have 
 liked him for one second. She flatters herself, 
 too, by being careful to let us know the old 
 man thought she was like Hebe. She was 
 evidently not a bit like Hebe." And so the 
 discussion continued without end. 
 
 We reached Nijni - Novgorod the next 
 morning at eight. I took a cab. " Drive," 
 I said, "to the best hotel." "There is the 
 Hotel Rossia at the top of the town and the 
 Hotel Petersburg at the bottom," the cabman 
 answered. "Which is the best?" I asked. 
 "The Hotel Rossia is the best at the top of 
 the town," he answered, "and the Hotel 
 Petersburg is the best at the bottom." 
 "Which is the most central?" I asked. 
 " The Rossia is the most central at the top 
 and the Petersburg is the most central at the 
 bottom." "Which is nearest the Fair?" 
 "They are neither near the Fair." "Are 
 there no hotels near the Fair?" "There are 
 no hotels near the Fair in the town." 
 
 We drove to the Rossia, a long way, up a 
 very steep hill past the Kremlin : a hill like 
 Windsor Hill, only twice as long. The 
 Kremlin is like Windsor, supposing the out-
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 31 
 
 side walls of Windsor had never been restored 
 and the Castle were taken away. When we 
 got to the hotel the cabman said: "This part 
 of the town is deserted in summer ; nobody 
 lives here ; everybody lives near the Fair." 
 " But I said I wanted to be in the Fair," I 
 answered. "Oh!" he answered, "of course 
 if you want to be in the Fair there are plenty 
 of hotels in the Fair." So we drove down 
 again, right into the lower part of the town, 
 and thence across a large wooden bridge into 
 the Fair. 
 
 Nijni- Novgorod occupies both sides of the 
 Volga. On one side there is a steep hill, a 
 Kremlin, and a town covering the hill till it 
 reaches the quays and extending along them ; 
 on the other side is a huge plain, and the Fair. 
 The hill part of the town is wooded and green ; 
 the Fair is a town in itself, and during the 
 Fair period the whole business of life, shops, 
 including hotels, theatres, banks, baths, post, 
 exchange, restaurants, is transferred thither. 
 The shops are one-storeyed, and occupy square 
 blocks, which they intersect in parallel lines. 
 They are of every description and quality, 
 ranging from the supply of the needs of the
 
 32 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 extremely rich to those of the extremely poor. 
 I found a room in a hotel. The hotels were 
 crowded just then, although I was told that the 
 Fair had never been so empty. It had not 
 been open long, and merchants were still 
 arriving daily with their goods. The centre 
 of the Fair is a house called the " Glavnii 
 Dom," the principal house ; here the post and 
 the police are concentrated and the most 
 important shops Faberge", for instance. 
 There is, of course, a large quantity of dealers 
 in furs and skins ; I bought nothing, in spite 
 of great temptation, except a blanket and a 
 clothes brush. The blankets are dear. Star 
 sapphires, on the other hand, seemed to be as 
 cheap as dirt. But perhaps this is always the 
 case everywhere. I never quite understood 
 when the people had their meals here. The 
 restaurants, of which there is a large quantity, 
 seemed to be empty all day ; they were 
 certainly full all night. Perhaps the people 
 did not eat during the daytime. In every 
 restaurant there was a theatrical performance, 
 which began at nine o'clock in the evening and 
 went on until four o'clock the next morning, 
 with few interruptions ; it consisted mostly of
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 33 
 
 singing and dancing. Politically the place was 
 as quiet as possible, but, contrary to my 
 expectations, it is what is called a " Pro- 
 gressist " place. 
 
 The newspapers are all Liberal, and Pro- 
 gressist "candidates" were expected to get in 
 at the next elections. I saw a newspaper 
 editor who complained of the new system the 
 Government have adopted of inflicting fines, 
 right and left, on newspapers. His newspaper, 
 which is the chief Nijni daily, was fined 1000 
 roubles (,100) for having printed a leading 
 article against capital punishment in general. 
 He showed me the article and I read it. It 
 was certainly abstract. He said that he 
 expected Liberal members to be returned for 
 Nijni, although an immense amount of pressure 
 would no doubt be exerted to prevent such a 
 thing happening. 
 
 I left Nijni on Saturday the loth. What 
 surprised and struck me most about the Fair 
 was the great size of it. One hears of the 
 Fair of Nijni, and one pictures to oneself a 
 quantity of small booths in a market-place. 
 One does not realise at least I did not that 
 the Fair is a large town consisting entirely of 
 3
 
 34 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 shops, hotels, and restaurants. The most im- 
 portant merchandise that passes hands at the 
 Fair consists of furs. But there are goods of 
 every variety ; second-hand books, tea and 
 silks from China, gems from the Urals, and 
 " art nouveau " furniture. There are also old 
 curiosity shops rich in old Church vestments, 
 stiff copes and jewelled chasubles, which would 
 be found most useful by those people who like 
 to furnish their drawing-rooms entirely with 
 objects diverted from their proper use ; that is 
 to say, with cigarette ash trays made of 
 Venetian wells and teapots made out of 
 musical instruments and old book bindings. 
 Nijni during the Fair is almost entirely in- 
 habited by merchants merchants of every 
 kind and description. The majority of them 
 wear loose Russian shirts and top-boots. I 
 noticed that at Nijni it did not in the least 
 signify how untidily one was dressed ; however 
 untidy one looked one was sure of being 
 treated with respect, because slovenliness at 
 Nijni does not necessarily imply poverty, and 
 the people of the place justly reason that 
 however sordid one's exterior appearance may 
 be there is no knowing but that one may be a
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 35 
 
 millionaire. Another thing which struck me 
 here, a thing which has struck me in several 
 other places, was the way in which people 
 determine your nationality by your clothes. 
 And while they paid no attention to degree in 
 the matter of clothes at Nijni, as to whether 
 they were shabby or new, they paid a great 
 deal of attention to kind. For instance, the 
 day I arrived I was wearing an ordinary 
 English straw hat. This headgear caused 
 quite a sensation amongst the sellers of 
 Astrakan fur. They crowded round me, crying 
 out, "Vairy nice, vairy cheap, Engleesh." I 
 bought a different kind of hat, a white yachting 
 cap, and loose silk Russian shirt, such as the 
 merchants wore. 
 
 That evening I went to a restaurant at 
 which there was a musical performance. I 
 fell into conversation with a young merchant 
 sitting at the next table, and he said to me 
 after we had had some conversation, "You 
 are, I suppose, from the Caucasus." I said 
 " No." We talked of other things, the Far 
 East among other topics. He then exclaimed : 
 " You are, I suppose, from the Far East." I 
 again said " No," and we again talked of other
 
 36 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 things. He had some friends with him who 
 joined in the conversation, and they were 
 consumed with curiosity as to whence I had 
 come, and I told them they could guess. 
 They guessed various places, such as Arch- 
 angel, Irkutsk, Warsaw, and Saghalien, and 
 at last one of them cried out with joy : " I 
 know what place you belong to ; you are a 
 native of Nijni." They went away triumphant. 
 Their place was taken by a very old merchant, 
 a rugged, grey - headed, bearded, peasant 
 merchant. He contemplated the singing and 
 dancing which was taking place on the stage 
 for some time, and then he said to me, " Don't 
 you wish you were twenty years younger?" 
 I said I did, but I did not think that I should 
 in that case be better equipped for this 
 particular kind of entertainment, as I should 
 be only twelve years old. " Impossible," said 
 the old man indignantly. "You are quite 
 bald, and bear every sign of old age." 
 
 I left Nijni on the wrong steamer that is 
 to say, by a line I did not mean to patronise 
 because I knew it was the worst. There was 
 no help for it, because my passport was not 
 ready in time. I took a first-class cabin on
 
 37 
 
 a big steamer full of children with their nurses 
 and parents. The children ran about the cabin 
 all day long without stopping. Children, I 
 notice, are the same all over the world ; they 
 play the same games : they make the same 
 noise. In this case there were five sisters and 
 a small brother. What reminded me much of 
 all children in general and of my own experi- 
 ence as a child in particular was that the boy 
 suddenly began to howl because his sisters 
 wouldn't let him play with them ; and he cried 
 out, " I want to play too," and the sisters, 
 when the matter was finally brought before an 
 arbitration court of parents, who were playing 
 cards, said that the boy made all games impos- 
 sible. Also there were three nurses in the 
 cabin, who, whatever the children did, told 
 them not to do it, and every now and then one 
 heard familiar phrases such as " Don't sit on 
 the oilcloth with your bare legs," " Don't lean 
 out of the window with that cold of yours." 
 The passengers on the boat were uninteresting. 
 There was a couple who spoke bad French 
 to each other out of refinement, but who re- 
 lapsed into Russian when they had really 
 something interesting to say. There was
 
 38 
 
 a student who played the pianoforte with 
 astonishing facility and amazing execution ; 
 there were the elder sisters of the small children, 
 who also played the pianoforte in exactly the 
 same way as young people play it in England 
 that is to say, with convulsive jerks over the 
 difficult passages and uninterrupted insistence 
 on the loud pedal and a foolish bass. The 
 grown-up members of the party played " Vindt " 
 all day. 
 
 When we arrived at Kazan I got out to 
 look at the town. It also possesses a Kremlin 
 with white walls and crenelated towers and old 
 churches, a museum which contains the most 
 uninteresting and heterogeneous collection of 
 objects imaginable, and a large monastery. 
 It is the most stagnant-looking city I have 
 ever seen. 
 
 The Volga beyond Nijni is considerably 
 broader. It is never less than 1200 yards in 
 breadth, and from Nijni onwards, on the right 
 bank of the river, there is a range of lofty hills, 
 mostly wooded, but sometimes rocky and 
 grassy, which go sheer down into the river. 
 The left bank is flat, and consists of green 
 meadows. Below Kazan it is joined by the
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 39 
 
 river Kama, and becomes a mighty river, 
 never less than three-quarters of a mile in 
 breadth. These facts could be derived quite 
 easily and more abundantly from a handbook 
 of geography. "What does the Volga look 
 like ? " is the question, I suppose, people wish 
 to have answered. My answer to that is that 
 in various parts of its course the Volga reminds 
 me of almost every river I have ever seen, 
 from the Dart to the Liao-he and from the 
 Neckar to the Nile. Below Kazan its aspect 
 is gloomy and sombre, a great stretch of broad 
 brown waters, a wooded mountainous bank on 
 one side, a monotonous plain on the other. But 
 if the weather is fine and it was gloriously fine 
 after we reached Kazan the effects of light on 
 the great expanse of water are miraculous. 
 It is at dawn that one sees the magic of these 
 waters ; at dawn and at sunset that the great 
 broad expanse, turning to gold or to silver 
 according as the sky is crimson, mauve, or 
 rosy and grey, has a mystery and majesty of 
 its own. We met other steamers on the way, 
 but during the whole voyage from Nijni to 
 Astrakan we only passed two small sailing 
 boats.
 
 40 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 I got out at Samara, and spent the night at 
 a hotel. The next day I embarked again 
 for Astrakan, after having explored the town, 
 in which I failed to find an object of interest. 
 From Samara to Saratov the hills on the right 
 bank of the river diminish in size, and instead 
 of descending sheer into the river they slope 
 away from it, and as the hills diminish the 
 vegetation grows more scanty. The left bank 
 is flat and monotonous as before. From 
 Samara to Saratov I travelled third class, to 
 see what it was like on board the steamer. 
 There are on the steamer four official classes 
 and an unofficial fifth class. The third class 
 have a general cabin on the lower deck with 
 two tiers of bunks. The fourth class have a 
 kind of enclosure, which contains one large 
 broad board on which they encamp. The 
 fourth class contains the " steerage " passengers. 
 It is indescribably dirty. The fifth class is 
 composed of still dirtier and still poorer people, 
 who lie about on boxes, bales, or on whatever 
 vacant space they can find on the lower deck. 
 They lie for the most part like corpses, in 
 a profound slumber, generally face downwards, 
 flat upon the floor. The third class is respect-
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 41 
 
 able and decently clean ; it has, moreover, one 
 immense advantage some permanently open 
 windows. In the first class there was among 
 the company a great aversion to draughts. 
 They had not what some one once called " La 
 passion des Anglais pour les courants d'air." 
 In the third class there was no such prejudice. 
 The passengers were various. There were 
 two students, some merchants, twenty Cossacks 
 going home on leave, a policeman, a public 
 servant, several peasants, and a priest. 
 
 On the bunk just over mine sprawled a large 
 bearded Cossack, who at once asked me where 
 I was going, my occupation, my country, and 
 my name. I answered more or less in the 
 words of the song that 
 
 " My name it is Jack Rover, 
 From over the hills I come ; 
 I get my living on the ups and downs ; " 
 
 in fact, that I was a newspaper correspondent 
 and an Englishman. I then lay down on my 
 bunk. Another Cossack from the other side 
 of the cabin called out at the top of his voice 
 to the man who was over me : " Who is that 
 man ? " " He is a foreigner." " Is he travel- 
 ling with goods ? " " No, he is just travelling,
 
 42 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 nothing more." " Where does he come from ? " 
 " I don't know." Then, looking down at 
 me from his bunk, the Cossack who was above 
 me said, " Thou art quite bald, little father. 
 Is it illness that did it or nature ? " " Nature," 
 I answered. " Should'st try an ointment," he 
 said. " I have tried many and strong oint- 
 ments," I said, " including onion, tar and par- 
 affin, none of which were of any avail. There is 
 nothing to be done." " No," said the Cossack, 
 with a sigh. " There is nothing to be done. 
 It is God's business." 
 
 There is no particular discomfort in travel- 
 ling third class on the steamer. The bunks 
 are, with the aid of blankets, as comfortable 
 as those in the first class. One can obtain 
 the same food, and there is plenty of fresh air. 
 Nevertheless, if one only travels thus for a 
 day and a night it is indescribably fatiguing, 
 because one has to change and readjust one's 
 hours. For at the first streak of dawn the 
 people begin to talk, and by sunrise they have 
 washed and are having tea. It is not as if 
 they went to bed earlier. For all day long 
 they talk and they go to sleep quite late, about 
 eleven. But they have the blessed gift pos-
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 43 
 
 sessed by Napoleon and Sarah Bernhardt of 
 snatching half-hours or five minutes of sleep 
 whenever they feel in need of it. If one travels 
 like this for several days running, one gets 
 used to it, of course, and one also acquires 
 the habit of snatching sleep at odd moments 
 during the daytime, but if one travels like this 
 for a day or two the result is, as I have said 
 before, extreme bodily fatigue. 
 
 The public servant, who had a small post 
 in some provincial town, came and talked to 
 me. He asked me if Shaliapin, the famous 
 singer, had sung at Nijni. Shaliapin, he added, 
 was his master. " I have," he said, "a magni- 
 ficent bass voice." "Are you fond of music?" 
 I asked. " Fond of music ! " he cried. " When 
 I hear music I am like a wild animal. I go 
 mad." "Do you mean to go on the stage?" 
 I asked. " Yes," he said, " when I have 
 learnt enough. In the meantime I am a public 
 servant I am in the Government service." 
 " That, I suppose, you find tedious," I said. 
 " It is more than tedious, it is disgusting," and 
 he began to abuse the Government. I said 
 there was a great difference between the 
 Russia of to-day and the Russia of four years
 
 44 
 
 ago. "There is no difference at all," he said; 
 " we have obtained absolutely nothing except 
 paper promises." I said : "I am not talking 
 of what the Government has done or failed to 
 do ; I am talking of the general aspect of 
 things, of Russian life as it strikes a foreigner. 
 I was here three or four years ago, and I am 
 struck by the great difference between then 
 and now. Had I met you then you would 
 not have talked politics with me ; there were 
 no politics to talk." " That is true," he 
 answered, "we have now a political life." 
 
 Here one of the Cossacks asked him who 
 he was. " I am a famous singer," he answered. 
 " I have sung at the Merchants' Club at the 
 
 district town of A . I am a pupil of 
 
 Shaliapin, who is the king of basses and is 
 well known throughout the whole civilised 
 world, and who has sung in America. He is 
 a Russian. Think of that." The Cossack 
 seemed impressed. The singer got out at 
 one of the stations ; perhaps one day he will 
 be as well known as Shaliapin ; perhaps, on 
 the other hand, he has merely been called and 
 will not be chosen. 
 
 The people in the cabin had their meals at
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 45 
 
 different times of the day, the chief meal con- 
 sisting of tea, which took place twice a day. 
 Every time we stopped at a place a flood of 
 beggars invaded our cabin asking for alms. 
 The interesting point is that they received 
 them. They were never sent empty away, 
 and were invariably given either some coppers, 
 some bread, or some melon. I am sure there 
 is no country in the world where people give 
 so readily to the poor as in Russia. One 
 has only to walk about the streets in any 
 Russian town to notice this fact. Here in 
 the third-class saloon it especially struck me. 
 I did not see one single beggar turned away 
 without a gift of some kind. One little boy 
 was given a piece of bread and a large slice of 
 water-melon. 
 
 At the many small stations at which we 
 called on the banks of the river there were 
 crowds of itinerant vendors who sold various 
 descriptions of food hot pies, fried fish, 
 gigantic water-melons, apples, red currants, 
 and cucumbers. The whole duration of each 
 stop at any of these places was occupied by 
 the unloading and loading of the steamer with 
 goods. This is done by a horde of creatures
 
 46 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 in red and blue shirts called loaders, who have 
 a kind of ledge strapped on to their backs 
 which enables them to support enormous loads. 
 Like big gnomes, during the whole of the stop, 
 they are seen scurrying from the hold of the 
 steamer to the wooden quay and back again 
 to the steamer. On the quay itself, either 
 placidly looking on and munching sunflower 
 seeds or else wildly gesticulating over a bargain 
 at a booth, a motley herd of passengers and 
 inhabitants of the place is swarming : many- 
 coloured, bright, ragged, and squalid, like the 
 crowds depicted in a sacred picture waiting for 
 a miracle or a parable under the burning sky 
 of Palestine. 
 
 Samara and Saratov have not the features 
 which characterise the towns of the Upper 
 Volga. They have no Kremlin, no remains 
 of a fortress dominating the town and enclosed 
 in old walls. Saratov is a collection of wooden 
 houses which look as if they had been made 
 by a Swiss artisan for the Earl's Court 
 Exhibition and exposed on the side of a 
 steep hill. 
 
 Between Saratov and Tzaritsin the character 
 of the river changes altogether, the vegetation
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 47 
 
 begins to dwindle, the great hills on the right 
 bank of the river diminish, and the farther one 
 travels south the lower they become. The 
 left bank is flat, monotonous, and green as 
 before. The river itself broadens, and in some 
 places it is several kilometres wide. You get 
 the impression that you are travelling on a large 
 lake or on a sea rather than on a river. The 
 farther south one travels the greater is the 
 beauty of the river. It is a solemn, majestic 
 river ; one understands its having been the 
 mother and inspirer of a quantity of poetry, 
 of folk-song and folk-lore ; and one under- 
 stands, too, how appropriate the deep octaves, 
 the broad slow-dying notes and echoes of the 
 Volga songs are to these great melancholy 
 spaces of shining water. Every day on the 
 steamer between Saratov and Astrakan I 
 awoke at dawn and went out on to the deck 
 to sniff the freshness and to watch the process 
 of daybreak. The soft, grey sky trembled into 
 a delicate tint of lilac, and over the far-off 
 banks of the river, which were distant enough 
 to have the appearance of a range of violet 
 hills, came the first blush of dawn, and then a 
 deeper rose, while the whole upper sky was
 
 48 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 washed with a clean daffodil colour, which was 
 reflected in silver on the blue water. And 
 then the sun rose a huge red ball of fire, 
 casting golden scales beneath him on to the 
 water. 
 
 Towards noon, perhaps, the sky will be piled 
 with white clouds, and the river looks like an 
 immense hard glass, reflecting in unruffled 
 detail every curve and shadow of the cloudland, 
 and the small motionless trees of the banks 
 which in the sunless heat are as unreal as a 
 mirage. Later in the afternoon the water 
 seems to grow more and more luminous ; the 
 sensation of some kind of enchantment, of 
 something wizard-like and unreal increases, 
 and one would not be surprised to catch sight 
 of the walls of Tristram's Castle in the air, the 
 wizard walls to which he promised to bring 
 Iseult the castle built of the stuff of which 
 rainbows are made, of fire, dew, and the colours 
 of the morning. But with the sunset this 
 feeling of unreality and enchantment ceases 
 and gives way ; the nearer bank stands out in 
 sharp outline, intensely real between purple 
 skies and grey waters, and over the farther 
 bank hangs the intense blue of woody distances.
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 49 
 
 Between Tzaritsin and Astrakan the character 
 of the river changes yet again. The hills on 
 the right bank vanish altogether ; both the 
 banks are flat now unlimited steppes possess- 
 ing scant vegetation and culminating in steep 
 banks of yellow sand. It was here that the 
 river reminded me of the Nile. 
 
 Tzaritsin itself is a great trade centre ; the 
 best caviare and the best water-melons are 
 to be obtained here. Most of the third-class 
 passengers got out at Tzaritsin. I was amused 
 by the process, which I watched on shore, of 
 a huge block of stone being hauled up a hill 
 by a gang of workmen. The spectacle was so 
 utterly unlike anything one sees in other 
 countries. Pieces of rock are also hauled up 
 hills in other lands, but the manner in which 
 it is done is entirely different. Seven men 
 were hauling the rope ; they were ragged, 
 dirty, and dressed in red and blue shirts, 
 stained and dusty, while their tufts of yellow 
 hair stuck out of their tattered peaked caps. 
 By the block of stone stood the leader of the 
 gang. Then suddenly, when he thought the 
 time had come, he intoned a chant, a solo, 
 about fifteen notes, which might have been 
 4
 
 50 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 written in the Scotch scale (the scale of 
 G major without the F sharp), plaintive and 
 unexpected ; then he beat time with a wave 
 of his left hand, and at the fourth beat the 
 whole gang chimed in, continuing the melody 
 in parts and hauling as they sang, and then 
 abruptly ending on the dominant. Then after 
 a short pause the leader again intoned his solo 
 and the chorus again made harmonies to the 
 plaintive melody, and this was repeated till 
 the block of stone was hauled up the hill. 
 
 What I should like to know is when people 
 of a country leave off singing natural folk-song 
 tunes like " Ca' the Yowes," for instance, and 
 when they begin to substitute for them the reper- 
 toire of the music-hall, How much education 
 and progress is necessary to effect the change ? 
 I wonder whether in a hundred years' time 
 Russian song will have disappeared as it exists 
 now, and whether its place will be taken by 
 the music-hall refrains of London. This is not 
 meant to be said in dispraise of music-halls. 
 I appreciate and immensely enjoy music-hall 
 tunes, especially the tunes of the stately music- 
 halls of England. I think the English people 
 have a genius, which other countries try in
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 51 
 
 vain to imitate, for creating catching, rhythmical 
 tune mixed with broad and sometimes inspired 
 farce, and their achievements in this province 
 have certainly added to the gaiety of nations, 
 but I am for rendering to Caesar the things 
 that are Caesar's. The music-hall tune is a 
 thing of the town, and songs like the " Bonnie 
 Banks of Loch Lomond," " Come o'er the Sea, 
 Charlie," " Ca' the Yowes," "Dans le jardin 
 de mon pere," and the songs of the Volga are 
 things of the country, and I think it is melan- 
 choly that the latter should disappear and that 
 their place should be usurped entirely by the 
 town-mouse and his music. But perhaps this 
 does not happen. 
 
 The climate, when Tzaritsin is passed, grows 
 hotter and hotter, and the breeze made by the 
 steamer only increases the heat. The moon 
 rises and for a while the sky is still tinged with 
 the stain of the sunset in the west, and the 
 water is luminous with a living whiteness. 
 Then, rapidly, because the twilight does not 
 last long here, comes the darkness and with 
 it something strange and wonderful. One is 
 aware of an extraordinary fragrance in the air. 
 It is not merely the sweetness of summer night.
 
 52 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 It is a pungent and aromatic incense which 
 pervades the whole atmosphere ; warm and 
 delicious and filled with the whole essence of 
 summer. It is intoxicating and comes over 
 one like a great wave, a breath of Elysium ; a 
 message, as it were, from the great white fields. 
 And the night with its web of stars, and the 
 dark waters, and the thin line of the far-off 
 banks, make one once more lose all sense of 
 reality. One has reached another world, the 
 nether-world perhaps ; one breathes " The scent 
 of alien meadows far away," and one feels as 
 if one were sailing down the river of oblivion 
 to the harbours of Proserpine. And this 
 wonderful sweetness comes, I ascertained, from 
 the new-mown hay, the mowing of which takes 
 place late here. The hay lies in great masses 
 over the steppes, embalming the midnight air 
 and turning the world into paradise. 
 
 In reaching Astrakan one is plunged into 
 the atmosphere of the East. On the quays 
 there is an infinite quantity of booths contain- 
 ing every kind of fruit and a coloured herd 
 of people living in the dust and the dirt ; 
 splendidly squalid, noisy as parrots, and busy 
 doing nothing, like wasps. The railway to
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 53 
 
 Astrakan is not yet finished, so one is obliged 
 to return to Tzaritsin by steamer if one wishes 
 to get back to the centre of Russia. I pursued 
 this course ; and from Tzaritsin took the train 
 for Tambov. The train started from Tzaritsin 
 at two o'clock in the morning ; I arrived at the 
 station at midnight, and at this hour the station 
 was crammed with people. Imagine a huge 
 high waiting-room with three tables d'hote 
 parallel to each other in the centre of it ; at 
 one end of the hall a buffet ; on the sides of it 
 under the windows are tables and long seats 
 padded with leather, partitioned off and forming 
 open cubicles. These seats are always occupied, 
 and the occupants go to bed on them, wrapped 
 up in blankets, and propped up by pillows, 
 bags, rugs, baskets, kettles, and other impedi- 
 menta. The whole of this refreshment hall is 
 filled with sleeping figures. There are people 
 lying asleep on the window sills and others 
 on chairs placed together. Some merely lay 
 their heads on the table d'hote, and fall into 
 a profound slumber. It is like the scene in 
 "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood," when 
 sleep overtook the inhabitants of the castle. 
 There are a bookstall and a newspaper kiosk.
 
 54 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 The bookstall contains as usual the works 
 of Jerome K. Jerome and Conan Doyle, some 
 translations of French novels, some political 
 pamphlets, a translation of John Morley's 
 Compromise, and an essay on Ruskin a strange 
 medley of literary food. At the newspaper 
 kiosk the newsvendor is so busily engrossed 
 in reading out a story which had just appeared 
 in the newspapers of how a saintly peasant 
 killed a baby because he thought it was the 
 Antichrist, that it is impossible to get him 
 to pay any attention to one. He is reading 
 out the story to an audience consisting of the 
 policeman, one of the porters, and a kind of 
 sub-guard. The story is, indeed, a curious 
 one, and has caused a considerable stir ; and 
 I intend to relate it at a future date. 1 
 
 The journey to Tambov was long ; in my 
 carriage was a railway official who drank tea, 
 ate apples, and sighed over the political con- 
 dition of the country. Everything was as bad 
 as could be. " It is a heavy business," he said, 
 "living in Russia now." Then, after some 
 reflection, he added: "But, perhaps in other 
 countries, in England for instance, people 
 
 1 See page 214.
 
 DOWN THE VOLGA 55 
 
 sometimes find fault with the Government." 
 I told him they did little else. He then took 
 a large roll out of a basket, and, after he had 
 been munching it for some time, he said : " After 
 all there is no country in the world where such 
 good bread can be got as this." And this 
 seemed to console him greatly. 
 
 The sunflower season has arrived. Sun- 
 flowers are grown in great quantities in Russia, 
 not for ornamental or decorative purposes but 
 for utilitarian purposes. They are grown for 
 the oil that is in them ; but besides being 
 useful in many ways they form an article of 
 food. You pick the head of the sunflower and 
 eat the seeds. You bite the seed, spit out the 
 husk, and eat the kernel, which is white and 
 tastes of sunflower. Considerable skill is 
 needed when cracking the husk and spitting 
 it out to leave the kernel intact. This habit 
 is universal among the lower classes in Russia. 
 It occupies a human being like smoking, and 
 it is a pleasant adjunct to contemplation. It 
 is also conducive to untidiness. Nothing is 
 so untidy in the world as a room or a platform 
 littered with sunflower seeds. All platforms 
 in Russia are thus littered at this time of year.
 
 56 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 When I was on the steamer at Tzaritsin one 
 of the Cossacks approached me with this 
 question, which seemed startling : " Do you 
 chew seeds ? " At first I was at a loss to think 
 what he meant, but I soon remembered the 
 sunflower, and when I had answered in the 
 affirmative he produced a great handful of 
 dried seeds and offered them to me. I had to 
 change three times on the way to my destina- 
 tion, which was the environs of Tambov. 
 During one of the journeys the carriage, a kind 
 of first-class saloon carriage, was occupied by a 
 cashier carrying money, and he had with him 
 two gendarmes with loaded rifles so as to 
 guard him, since assaults on cashiers with the 
 object of robbery are not becoming less frequent. 
 On the small lines the first-class carriages are 
 often saloon carriages in which any seat makes 
 into a bed. When I arrived at my destination 
 I found the country looking intensely green 
 after a wet summer ; the weather was boiling 
 hot and the nights had the softness and the 
 sweetness that should belong to the month 
 of June.
 
 SKETCHES IN CENTRAL AND 
 SOUTH RUSSIA 
 
 I 
 THE RELIGION OF RUSSIAN PEASANTS 
 
 THE contrast which strikes the traveller 
 who travels directly from Central to 
 Little Russia (which is in the South) is not 
 unlike that of which a traveller would be aware 
 if he went straight from Cambridgeshire or 
 Norfolk to South Devon or Normandy. The 
 season in both places is doing the same thing. 
 The vegetation in the one place is not startingly 
 behindhand or ahead of the vegetation in the 
 other place ; autumn in both places has reached 
 the same stage ; only in each place it has 
 reached that stage in a different manner. In 
 Central Russia there is a bite in the morning- 
 air, a smell of smoke, of damp leaves, of moist 
 brown earth, and a haze hangs before the 
 
 57
 
 58 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 tattered trees, which are generously splashed 
 with crimson and gold. In Little Russia the 
 pageant of decay is just as far advanced ; but 
 little green remains in the yellow and golden 
 woods ; everything is hot and dry ; there is no 
 sharpness in the air and no moistness in the 
 earth ; summer instead of being conquered by 
 the invading cold seems to be dying like a 
 decadent Roman emperor of excess of splen- 
 dour and softness and opulence. The contrast 
 in the habitations of man is sharper still. In 
 Central Russia the peasant's house is built of 
 logs and roofed with straw or iron according 
 to the means of the inhabitant. The villages 
 are monotonously and uniformly brown, colour- 
 less, and sullen ; in the South the houses are 
 white or pale green ; these are surrounded with 
 orchards and fruit trees ; they often possess the 
 luxury of glass verandahs ; there is something 
 well-to-do and smiling about them, something 
 which recalls the whitewashed, straw-thatched 
 cottages of South Devon, or the farms in 
 Normandy, and all the delicious things which 
 the French language conveys and suggests 
 better than any other, since it is lighter ; for 
 in a few words, such as
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 59 
 
 "Dans le jardin de mon pere 
 Les lilas ont fleuri." 
 
 It conjures up endless vistas of joyousness, 
 gaiety, and sunshine. 
 
 When people generalise about the intense 
 misery of the Russian peasants, the squalor in 
 which they live, they should remember that 
 Russia is a large country ; that it possesses 
 a north, a south, an east, and a west, and that 
 what is true about one place is quite untrue 
 about another. So that in one village the 
 peasants may be starving for want of bread, 
 and a hundred miles to the north or south you 
 may find a village where the peasants have 
 spent 300,000 roubles (,30,000) in building 
 an enormous church, which is the case in the 
 village of Lamki, government of Tambov, and 
 there the church stands, towering and immense, 
 built entirely by the voluntary contributions of 
 peasants, to witness if I lie. 
 
 Tennyson, I think, says something about the 
 North being dark and tender and true, and the 
 South false and fickle. I asked a Little Russian 
 gentleman what the main differences were 
 between Little Russians and Big Russians, 
 and he said the Little Russians were more
 
 60 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 decent people but far lazier than the Big 
 Russians ; that the Little Russian was so lazy 
 that he would say to his wife : " Little wife, 
 say ' woa ' to my horse ; I have a pain in my 
 tongue." 
 
 On the other hand, I asked a Muscovite 
 who lived in Little Russia, who told me that 
 he infinitely preferred to deal with Big Russians, 
 but that the Little Russians were perhaps 
 cleverer, though they would pretend to be 
 stupid out of laziness. On the score of indol- 
 ence everybody seemed to be agreed. Indeed, 
 it is difficult to imagine any great burst of 
 energy in a country where the sun is so hot in 
 October and the air so mild and so heavily 
 charged with sunny indolence. 
 
 The country in the government of Kharkov 
 was in distress owing to the want of rain ; 
 special services were being held in the village 
 square praying for rain, because if the drought 
 continues next year's harvest will be ruined, and 
 it is impossible at the present moment to sow. 
 The dryness of the autumn in the government 
 of Kharkov, which was threatening distress 
 and disaster for the future, was in the meantime 
 adding to the beauty of the present. The
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 61 
 
 woods were harmonies in many-coloured golds ; 
 the nights were not yet cold, and every evening 
 the sun sank in a cloudless halo of golden dust, 
 making the yellow trees shine like the banners 
 in a cathedral, as though they were the trophies 
 of a triumphant conqueror instead of the last 
 tattered remnants of the robe of a dying king. 
 The little farms painted pale green are clean 
 inside as they are outside. The walls are 
 painted red and blue ; the furniture is neatly 
 arranged, and no poultry live in the living- 
 room. Contrary to my expectations the inhabit- 
 ants, instead of being dressed in their gloriously 
 picturesque South Russian costumes, are far 
 less striking to look at than the inhabitants of 
 Central Russia, and they looked as if they had 
 ordered their clothes from Birmingham or 
 Manchester. The reason of this is the preva- 
 lence of large factories in this region, which 
 spread education, civilisation, and the shirt and 
 collars^f the " intelligent " middle class. Every 
 now and then, however, you see something 
 which appeals more strongly to that which is 
 primeval in you than to that which is progres- 
 sive ; a thing which may distress the theorising 
 Socialist spirit in you, if you possess it, and
 
 62 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 please that which in you hankers towards 
 Homer, Puss in Boots, and the elementary 
 needs of the human heart. I saw just such 
 a thing. It was a blind beggar. He was 
 sitting on a hill in front of a church, and he 
 was playing an instrument called a " lira," 
 that is to say, a lyre. But the lyre was not 
 what you imagine when you think of pictures 
 of the lyre of Orpheus or of Apollo. It 
 was a wooden instrument shaped exactly like 
 a violin. It had three strings, which were 
 tuned with pegs like a violin, but it was played 
 by fingering wooden keys, like those of a large 
 concertina and by at the same time turning 
 a handle which protruded from the base of the 
 violin. The musician said he could play any 
 kind of music, sad, joyous, and sacred, and he 
 gave examples of all three of the various styles ; 
 they were to my ear indistinguishable in kind ; 
 they appeared to me all tinged with the same 
 quick and deliciously plaintive melancholy, and 
 the kind of music made by this instrument 
 instantly suggested that which Schubert has 
 rendered in the accompaniment of a song called 
 " Der Leiermann " : the plaintive comfortable 
 noise of the very first organ-grinders. But
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 63 
 
 what I wondered at the time was this. Is the 
 instrument, the sound of which Schubert renders 
 in his song " Der Leiermann," this very identical 
 "lyre" which my blind beggar was playing in 
 the village Giebko, government of Kharkov ? 
 Or is Schubert just imitating the noise of the 
 earliest portable grinding organs, whose music 
 is made by wind proceeding from a bellows 
 into a small box and thence into pipes, and 
 whose principle of construction is exactly the 
 same, though the scale is different, as that of 
 the organ in St. Paul's Cathedral? In any 
 case the noise made by this "lyre" was the 
 same in kind as the noise which Schubert 
 imitates in the accompaniment of his song 
 " Der Leiermann." I afterwards ascertained 
 that this instrument is called Leierkasten in 
 Germany, Vielle in France, and Hurdy-gurdy 
 in English, and that my blind beggar must 
 have been identical with Schubert's Leier- 
 mann. 
 
 Another slight episode which gave me food 
 for reflection happened in the train on a small 
 line between the town of Kharkov and a neigh- 
 bouring village. I was going to the town of 
 Kharkov for the day ; it was only half an hour's
 
 64 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 journey. I was in a third-class carriage ; there 
 were not many passengers, and most of them 
 were railway guards off duty, two peasants, a 
 soldier, and a monk. The monk had no sooner 
 entered the carriage than he began a theological 
 discussion. Now, as soon as the train started, 
 although I was sitting quite close, I could not 
 unfortunately follow the intricacies of his argu- 
 ment for the noise made by the train, but when- 
 ever the train stopped at a station his words 
 were plain. And the drift of the matter was 
 this : that all the passengers in the carriage were 
 uniting to express to him in forcible language 
 that priests in general, and monks still more 
 (and himself in particular), were lazy, worthless, 
 good-for-nothing scoundrels, and deceivers into 
 the bargain. The soldier said, and his words 
 received universal approval, that every one who 
 was not a born fool knew that there was one 
 God, the same for everybody, and that all men 
 were equal before Him, and that consequently 
 there could be only one real religious faith 
 (namely, a belief in God), and that all the rest 
 was the invention of priests. By " the rest " 
 it subsequently became plain that he meant the 
 Devil and the tenets of the Orthodox Church
 
 65 
 
 in general and of any other Churches. The 
 monk, on the other hand, said that the Devil 
 was . intensely real, and that every man was 
 followed by angels, who were constantly fight- 
 ing the Devil for the soul of the man. Now, 
 the soldier, and three guards off duty who were 
 taking part in this discussion, starting from the 
 premise that there is only one God, one faith 
 which consists in the belief in this one God, 
 and that all priests are liars, worried the 
 monk with questions and attacked him in every 
 possible manner. They accused him of begging 
 in the first place ; they would be ashamed of 
 doing such a thing, they said. Then the 
 soldier asked him if he had seen the Devil. 
 The monk said, "Yes, often." "Where is 
 he?" said the soldier. "It would be most 
 interesting to see him." 
 
 Then when the monk stood up for the 
 Orthodox faith the soldier said : " You say it 
 is the only faith. You lie, because I have been 
 told there are any number of other Churches, 
 and each of them says its faith is the true one. 
 For instance, the Jews have an entirely differ- 
 ent faith, and this proves that all priests are 
 liars ; because God is the same for everybody." 
 5
 
 66 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 At last the monk said that everybody 
 attacked him and nobody stuck up for him, 
 and he retired into another corner of the 
 carriage, followed by the soldier, who went on 
 with the argument, and afterwards repeated 
 his main thesis to me separately, namely, that 
 all priests were deceivers, because God is the 
 same for everybody. Therefore there could 
 be only one religious belief were it not for the 
 lies of priests. But what struck me in this 
 matter is a thing which has repeatedly struck 
 me among Russians of the lower class, namely, 
 their broad common sense in religious matters. 
 " Mysticism," Mr. Chesterton once wrote, 
 " was with Carlyle as with all its genuine 
 professors only a transcendent form of 
 common sense. Mysticism and common 
 sense alike consist in a sense of the 
 dominance of certain truths which cannot be 
 formally demonstrated." Now the Russians 
 of the lower class seem to me often the 
 genuine professors of mysticism, because their 
 mysticism is simply common sense. And it 
 is this very fact which seems to me to lead 
 people astray when they discuss the religion 
 of the Russian peasant. For instance, you
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 67 
 
 often hear people bewail the superstition of the 
 peasant which makes him devote so much 
 attention to paper and wooden images. 
 Again, I have read in an English book on 
 the Russian peasant that the peasant's habit 
 of perpetually crossing himself, his respect 
 for images, and his prayers are purely 
 mechanical and therefore meaningless, because 
 they are often interrupted by, or simultaneous 
 with, jokes, laughter, and the business of life. 
 Now this union of the practice of the outward 
 signs of religion with the business of every- 
 day life, this interruption of a prayer by a 
 conversation, this sign of the cross made 
 before a theft seem to me all to derive from 
 the broad common sense which is at the root 
 of their belief, and which, as Mr. Chesterton 
 says, is synonymous with mysticism. 
 
 Because if your belief in God is solid and 
 based on great rocks of common sense it is 
 not extraordinary that your outward expression 
 of your allegiance to the great fact should be 
 mechanical. For instance, if you are the 
 loyal subject of the King, you mechanically 
 take off your hat when he drives past you in 
 the street or when you see the colours of his
 
 68 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Army go by, and nobody says, if at that 
 moment you happen to be whistling a comic 
 song or thinking of the North Pole, that 
 your action is hypocritical, insincere, or 
 meaningless. But it is exactly the same 1n 
 the case of the peasants ; the outward 
 expression of their religion is as mechanical 
 as possible, but it is mechanical because their 
 religious feeling is true and right and not 
 because it is insincere and false. 
 
 I will end by telling two stories which 
 exemplify the common sense which lies at the 
 root of the Russian peasant's religion. The 
 first story happened at Kharbin. It was 
 Easter, and the soldiers wanted Mass said 
 for them. There were two priests. One 
 priest had been engaged by some officers and 
 the second priest was drunk. A soldier was 
 relating these facts, and some asked: "Well, 
 did you have to go without your Mass ? " 
 "Oh, no," said the soldier, "we went to the 
 priest who was drunk and we pulled him out 
 of bed, and we said : ' Say Mass, you devil ' 
 (and a lot more uncomplimentary expressions), 
 and he said Mass." This story shows that 
 the soldiers regarded the priest partly as an
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 69 
 
 instrument to say Mass and partly as a man. 
 They differentiated between the two, and the 
 instrument had to perform its divine office 
 whatever happened to the man, whose good 
 or bad qualities had nothing to do with the 
 case. This seems to me gloriously sensible. 
 
 The second story happened somewhere 
 down in this government. A Socialist 
 arrived in a village to convert the inhabitants 
 to Socialism. He wanted to prove that all 
 men were equal and that the Government 
 authorities had no right to their authority. 
 Consequently he thought he would begin by 
 disproving the existence of God, because if 
 he proved that there was no God, it would 
 naturally follow that there should be no 
 Emperor and no policemen. So he took a 
 holy image, and said: "There is no God, 
 and I will prove it immediately. I will spit 
 upon this image and break it to bits, and if 
 there is a God he will send fire from heaven 
 and kill me, and if there is no God nothing 
 will happen to me at all." Then he took the 
 image and spat upon it and broke it to bits, 
 and he said to the peasants: "You see God 
 has not killed me." "No," said the peasants,
 
 70 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 "God has not killed you, but we will," and 
 they killed him. And thus an act was 
 committed which was one of common sense 
 or of mysticism. 
 
 II 
 A CONVERSATION WITH A LANDOWNER 
 
 IN a small wooden house at the edge of a 
 large wood, and within a stone's-throw of 
 a river which floods the whole of the 
 neighbouring meadows in the spring-time, 
 
 lives Feodor Petrovitch X . He is what 
 
 is called in Russia a small landowner. He 
 is a Moderate Liberal. That is to say, for 
 twenty years he has -groaned and lamented 
 at the foolish proceedings of the Russian 
 Government, which he used to accuse of 
 criminal levity. He is in favour of a policy 
 of common sense. Therefore, in the rapid 
 course of recent events he has veered, like 
 many others, slightly to the Right ; although 
 he still calls himself a Constitutional Democrat. 
 And this is not because his faith in the exist- 
 ing Government has increased or that his 
 ideal, which consists in the carrying out of
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 71 
 
 certain drastic reforms, has diminished, but 
 because he is dissatisfied with the conduct of 
 the Opposition. Nevertheless, he means to 
 vote for the Constitutional Democrats at the 
 coming election. He is a short, dark, middle- 
 aged man, not scrupulously shaven, with a 
 brown glittering eye and a great flow of talk. 
 He has immense practical knowledge of 
 farming, machinery, and manufactories. At 
 the same time he likes talking literature and 
 politics, and his opinions are worth listening 
 to except when he tells shooting stories ; in 
 this region he is given to such gross exaggera- 
 tion that many people cease to pay attention 
 to what he says on other subjects which 
 excite his interest but not his imagination. 
 
 I was drinking tea with him the other after- 
 noon and talking over the Anglo- Russian 
 Agreement. " This is the only sensible 
 thing," he said, "which the Russian Govern- 
 ment has done for the last forty years." And 
 then the conversation veered on to the plays 
 in Moscow and the latest productions in the 
 world of literature. 
 
 Here I wish to make a long parenthesis. 
 One of the most striking features among
 
 72 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 educated Russians of all classes, whether 
 landowners, doctors, lawyers, or officials, is 
 the prevalence of what is called " culture." 
 We consider "culture" as a luxury some- 
 thing extra, a pleasant appendage to 
 education. The Russians consider culture 
 and education to be synonymous and 
 "culture" to be indispensable. In their 
 eyes what they call a " cultured " and we 
 call an educated man must possess a certain 
 wide general knowledge. He must be able 
 to talk authoritatively on literature, science, 
 and the arts, the European stage, etc. He 
 is positively ashamed if he is caught ignorant 
 of some one like Sudermann or Finsen or 
 Grieg. I have often seen Russians amazed 
 and aghast at the " unculturedness " of English- 
 men who have taken their degree at a 
 University. This is not surprising consider- 
 ing that for two or three generations boys in 
 England no longer receive any kind of 
 instruction at schools. To the educated 
 Russian, a certain wide layer of general 
 knowledge is considered absolutely indispens- 
 able. He is ashamed to be without it. You 
 meet with extraordinary examples of this very
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 73 
 
 often. For instance, I once knew a Cossack 
 officer who was well known for the rows he 
 made in restaurants, for letting off pistols at 
 odd moments, and for fighting duels. He 
 was what is called in Russia a "skandalist " 
 (a row-maker). This same man, I afterwards 
 found out, had written a most valuable work 
 on the differential calculus, and was one of 
 the most brilliant of modern mathematicians. 
 Now this indispensable " culture " has its good 
 sides, but it has its bad sides also. It is often 
 exaggerated in Russia just as ignorance is 
 exaggerated in England. In many cases what 
 is called " culture " and what is considered to 
 be indispensable, is not culture at all, but a 
 terribly superficial smattering of thin-spread 
 information, possessing which its owner con- 
 siders he has the right and even the duty of 
 pronouncing an arbitrary and final judgment 
 on a subject of which he knows nothing. I 
 once knew an official employed in business in 
 Moscow who was perfectly aghast because he 
 discovered I knew nothing, that I had not 
 even the shadow of pretence to any kind or 
 sort of knowledge of natural science, that I 
 was ignorant and not ashamed of being
 
 74 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 ignorant, of the elementary principles of 
 dynamics. This same official, secure of his 
 position in what he considered a universal 
 field of " culture," told me that Browning's 
 " Ring and the Book " was an old-fashioned, 
 milk-and-water poem, rather like one of 
 Trollope's novels, and that Browning was a 
 writer who was all sound and no sense, a 
 victim to a fatal fluency and an incredible 
 facility of expression. The result, therefore, 
 of this culture is that in some cases it makes 
 the man genuinely many sided and widely 
 appreciative, and in others, as in the case I 
 have just quoted, it leads him to express 
 opinions of the kind which the French call 
 saugrenu. 
 
 To go back to Feodor Petrovitch. He is 
 saturated with so-called "culture." In his case 
 it is in many respects not superficial at all. 
 He knows exactly how to manage a starch 
 factory, not only how to manage it, but how 
 every part of the machine is made and worked. 
 He has practical knowledge of agriculture ; he 
 is an excellent economist. Besides this he has 
 travelled and understands English, German, 
 and French ; he is well acquainted with
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 75 
 
 Dickens, Thackeray, Shakespeare, and Mrs. 
 Humphry Ward, with Beaumarchais and Ibsen, 
 and, of course, it goes without saying, after 
 what I have related, that a thorough knowledge 
 of the Russian classics is an absolutely indis- 
 pensable part of "culture." I happened to 
 mention to Feodor Petrovitch that a discussion 
 had lately been raging in the Morning Post 
 as to the comparative merits of modern and 
 ancient literature and I asked him on what 
 side the balance of opinion would fall if a 
 similar discussion were to be held in Russia. 
 " Russian literature at the present moment," 
 he said, " is leaping along with the force of a 
 strong stream, but it is impossible to point to 
 any one author of the younger generation who 
 is worthy to take his place side by side with 
 the older giants." "But," I asked, "with 
 regard to those same giants, is the general 
 opinion the same as what it was thirty years 
 ago ? For instance, do the younger genera- 
 tion admire Tolstoi, Tourgenieff, Gogol, and 
 Dostoievski as much as their fathers did, or 
 are there people who cannot read Gogol and 
 Tourgenieff just as in England there are 
 people who cannot read Dickens and
 
 76 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Thackeray?" "The younger generation," he 
 answered, " have read all the classics ; they 
 find no difficulty in doing that, and of course 
 it is difficult to generalise on subjects which are, 
 after all, matters of taste ; but I think you will 
 find many Russians not only of the young 
 generation who on reading or re-reading 
 Tourgenieff are acutely disappointed." " I 
 have just read an interesting and admirably- 
 written article in an English newspaper," I 
 answered, "in which it is said that as a 
 psychologist pure and simple Tourgenieff is 
 superior to Tolstoi that he is a writer for 
 the aristocracy of taste, not for the general 
 public, and that not to know him is not to have 
 penetrated into the best society. The author 
 quotes Renan and George Sand to back him 
 up, and says, moreover, that his artistic form 
 is superior to that of Tolstoi, Daudet, and even 
 Flaubert." 
 
 "When the writer said that Tourgenieff was 
 not for the general public, he meant, of course, 
 the English or the French general public," 
 said Feodor Petrovitch. "In Russia his 
 novels are read by every schoolboy ; they are 
 generally the first grown-up books to be read
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 77 
 
 by young boys and girls at school. We have 
 all read Tourgenieff in our youth, and we have 
 all come under his spell as a writer. But to 
 many of us, and certainly to me when I read 
 him now, much of the glamour has gone. The 
 beauty of style remains. And first and fore- 
 most, I consider Tourgenieff to be a poet. 
 The books of his which give me the most 
 pleasure are The Poems in Prose, The Sports- 
 meris Sketches, and Spring Waters. These 
 works seem to me incomparable for their 
 harmony and many-sided beauty. Besides 
 being a poet Tourgenieff was a chronicler of 
 his time ; but he has always seemed to be 
 more a chronicler of the atmosphere of the 
 epoch he deals with than a portrait painter of 
 the human beings that crowded it I mean 
 a portrait painter like Velasquez and not a 
 writer of romans a clef. Of course, his 
 characters are living, but to me they are living 
 as the characters in Trollope's novels are 
 living. They are people who* existed in an 
 imaginary world, and that imaginary world 
 has the atmosphere of the Sixties. But with 
 Tolstoi the case is different ; he gives you the 
 human beings who did actually exist. You
 
 78 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 know that what he described happened. I do 
 not mean to say that he was a photographer, 
 but an artist of the calibre of Velasquez ; he 
 recreated a world and made the human beings 
 which he put into it breathe and live and speak 
 as they actually did in real life. Tourgenieff's 
 novels at their best are novels. One knows 
 quite well that Smoke never happened. On 
 the other hand, we know that the doings and 
 sayings of Pierre, and Levin, and Natasha, and 
 Dolly are as true as the doings of Dr. Johnson 
 and Pepys, or as true as the sayings and doings 
 of any of our acquaintances. For this reason, 
 I don't care a fig for Tourgenieff's psychology. 
 "When my contemporaries and I," Feodor 
 Petrovitch added, "first read the novels of 
 Tourgenieff we were carried off our feet by 
 the skill and magic of a new and great artist. 
 To us it was all new. When I read him now, 
 I admire Poems in Prose and The Sportsmen's 
 Sketches as much as I used to do, and I 
 am still enchanted by his incomparable style. 
 But the matter seems hopelessly old-fashioned. 
 Just that which seemed so new and so daring 
 seems to me now like mahogany furniture, 
 crinolines, Octave Feuillet, the Second Empire,
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 79 
 
 and all that is what you call ' Early Victorian.' 
 And nine-tenths of his characters seem to me 
 to be cliches. We know all that. We have got 
 beyond it. What we shall never get beyond 
 is the poet in Tourgenieff, his apprehension 
 of certain shades and values of beauty in 
 nature and life, and his expression of it in 
 matchless prose. In this respect he seems 
 to me indeed superior to Flaubert and the 
 French in that Tourgenieff is a poet ; but on 
 the other hand I find Madame Bovary infinitely 
 more interesting than Virgin Soil or Smoke 
 on account of its relation to real life, which 
 seems to me far closer ; the Frenchman's work 
 is, I think, more vital, more real, and more 
 true. Virgin Soil is, I think, a collection of 
 conventional characters, or rather caricatures 
 who bear really no relation to the period 
 represented. And hence I consider Dostoi- 
 evski so infinitely superior to Tourgenieff. 
 In his book called Devils he gives you a 
 picture of the same epoch ; the surroundings 
 he invents are as fantastic as a picture thrown 
 on the screen by a magic lantern ; but the 
 human beings, the naked souls of which he 
 lays bare to you, how poignantly and terribly
 
 8o RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 real they are ! Tolstoi shows you life as it is, 
 Tourgenieff life as one can imagine it, only he 
 imagines it with the genius and skill of an 
 artist ; but Dostoievski leads you^ as Virgil 
 lead Dante, through the smoky regions which 
 lie between the real and the unreal, regions 
 which we all know ; and although he was not 
 a stylist, not an artist like Tourgenieff, yet in 
 laying bare the human soul and revealing all 
 its darkness and all its light he was without an 
 equal. Of course, as I said, it is absurd to 
 generalise on such things, which are matters 
 of taste, but I am sure you will find many 
 Russians who think that Tourgenieff is old- 
 fashioned as a novelist, though immortal as 
 a poet, and very few who would place him 
 above Tolstoi or Dostoievski." 
 
 Then he went on to talk of other things. 
 
 Ill 
 THE BIRTH OF THE BELL 
 
 WHEN I arrived at the village of A , 
 in the government of Tambov, after 
 an endless journey in a train which went three 
 miles an hour and stopped for an indeterminate
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 81 
 
 period, never less than an hour and a half, at 
 every station, I found a large crowd at the 
 station gathered round a pillar of smoke and 
 flame. One's first impression was, of course, 
 that a village fire was going on. Fires in 
 Russian villages are common occurrences in 
 the summer, and this is not surprising since the 
 majority of the houses are thatched with straw. 
 The houses are in close proximity one to 
 another, and the ground is littered with straw. 
 Moreover, to set fire to one's neighbour's house 
 is a common form of paying off a score. But 
 it was not a fire that was in progress. It was 
 the casting of a bell which was to take place. 
 The ceremony was fixed for four o'clock in the 
 afternoon with due solemnity and with religious 
 rites, and I was invited to be present. 
 
 " Heute muss die Glocke werden " 
 
 wrote Schiller in his famous poem, and here 
 the words were appropriate. To-day the bell 
 was to be. It was a blazing hot day. The 
 air was dry, the ground was dry, everything 
 was dry, and the great column of smoke mixed 
 with flame issuing from the furnace added to 
 the heat. The furnace had been made exactly 
 6
 
 82 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 opposite to the church. The church was a 
 stone building with a Doric portico consisting 
 of four red columns, a white pediment, a circular 
 pale green roof, and a Byzantine minaret. The 
 village consisted of wooden log-built cottages 
 thatched with straw dotted over a rolling plain. 
 The plain was variegated with woods oak 
 trees and birch being their principal trees 
 and stretched out infinitely into the blue 
 distance. Before the bell was to be cast a 
 Te Deum was to be sung. 
 
 It was Wednesday, the day of the bazaar. 
 The bazaar in the village is the mart, where 
 the buying and selling of meat, provisions, 
 fruit, melons, fish, hardware, ironmongery, 
 china, and books are conducted. This takes 
 place once a week on Wednesdays, and 
 peasants flock in from the neighbouring 
 villages to buy their provisions. But this 
 afternoon the bazaar was deserted. The 
 whole population of the village was gathered 
 together on the dry brown grassy square in front 
 of the church to take part in the ceremony. 
 At four o'clock two priests and a deacon, 
 followed by a choir consisting of two men 
 in their Sunday clothes, and by bearers of
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 83 
 
 gilt banners, walked in procession out of the 
 church. They were dressed in stiff robes of 
 green and gold, and as they walked they 
 intoned a plain song. An old card table with 
 its stained green cloth was placed and opened 
 on the ground opposite and not far from the 
 church, and on this two lighted tapers were 
 set together with a bowl of holy water. The 
 peasants gathered round in a semicircle with 
 bare heads and joined in the service, making 
 countless genuflexions and signs of the cross, 
 and joining in the song with their deep bass 
 voices. When I said the peasants I should 
 have said half of them. The other half were 
 gathered in a dense crowd round the furnace, 
 which was built of bricks and open on both 
 sides to the east and to the west, and fed with 
 wooden fuel. The men in charge of the 
 proceeding stood on both sides of it and 
 stirred the molten metal it contained with two 
 enormous poles. On the southern side of the 
 furnace was a channel through which the 
 molten metal when released was to flow into 
 the cast of the bell. The crowd which was 
 assembled here was already struggling to have 
 and to hold a good place for the spectacle
 
 84 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 of the release of the metal when the solemn 
 moment should arrive. Three policemen were 
 endeavouring to cope with the crowd ; that 
 is to say, one police officer, one police sergeant, 
 and one common policeman. They were 
 trying with all their might to keep back the 
 crowd, so that when the metal was released 
 a disaster should not happen ; but their efforts 
 were in vain, because the crowd was large, and 
 when they pressed back a small portion of it 
 they made a dent in it which caused the 
 remaining part of it to bulge out ; and it was 
 the kind of crowd so intensely typical of 
 Russia on which no words, whether of 
 command, entreaty, or threat, made the 
 smallest impression. The only way to keep 
 it back was by pressing on it with the body 
 and outstretched arms, and that only kept back 
 a tiny portion of it. In the meantime the 
 Te Deum went on and on ; and many things 
 and persons were prayed for besides the bell 
 which was about to be born. At one moment 
 I obtained a place from which I had a com- 
 manding view of the furnace, but I was soon 
 oozed out of it by the ever-increasing crowd of 
 men, women, and children.
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 85 
 
 The aspect of the whole thing was something 
 between a sacred picture and a scene in a 
 Wagner opera. The tall peasants with red 
 shirts, long hair and beards, stirring the furnace 
 with long poles, looked the persons in the epic 
 of the Niebelungen as we see it performed on 
 the stage to the strains of a complicated orches- 
 tration. There was Wotan in a blue shirt, 
 with a spear ; and Alberic, with a grimy face 
 and a hammer, was meddling with the furnace, 
 and Siegfried, in leather boots and sheepskin, 
 was smoking a cigarette and waving an 
 enormous hammer, while Mimi, whining and 
 disagreeable as usual, was having his head 
 smacked. On the other hand, the peasants 
 who were listening and taking part in the Te 
 Deum were like the figures of a sacred picture 
 women with red and white Eastern head- 
 dresses, bearded men, listening as though a 
 miracle were about to be performed, and bare- 
 footed children with straw coloured hair and blue 
 eyes running about everywhere. Towards six 
 o'clock the Te Deum at last came to an end, 
 and the whole crowd moved and swayed around 
 the furnace. A Russian crowd is like a large 
 tough sponge. Nothing seems to make any
 
 86 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 effect on it. It absorbs the newcomers who 
 dive into it, and you can pull it this way and 
 press it that way, but there it remains, indis- 
 soluble, passive, and obstinate. Perhaps the 
 same is true of the Russian nation ; I think it 
 is certainly true of the Russian character, in 
 which as fundamental qualities there are so 
 much apparent weakness and softness, so 
 much obvious elasticity and malleability, and 
 so much hidden passive resistance. 
 
 I asked a peasant who was sitting by a 
 railing under the church when the ceremony 
 would begin. "Ask them," he answered, 
 " they will tell you, but they won't tell us." 
 With the help of the policeman I managed to 
 squeeze a way through the mass of struggling 
 humanity to a place in the first row. I was 
 told that the critical moment was approaching, 
 and was asked to throw a piece of silver into 
 the furnace, so that the bell might have a 
 tuneful sound. I threw a silver rouble into 
 the furnace, and then the men who were in 
 charge of the casting said that the critical 
 moment had come. On each side of the small 
 channel they fixed metal screens and placed a 
 large screen facing it. Then the man in charge
 
 IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH RUSSIA 87 
 
 said in a loud matter-of-fact tone : " Now, let 
 us pray to God." The peasants all uncovered 
 themselves and made a sign of the cross, and 
 a moment was spent in silent prayer. This 
 prayer was especially for the success of the 
 operation which was to take place immediately, 
 namely, the release of the molten metal, since 
 two hours had already been spent in praying 
 for the bell. At this moment the excitement 
 of the crowd reached such a pitch that they 
 pushed themselves right up to the channel, and 
 the efforts of the policemen, who were pouring 
 down with perspiration and stretching out in 
 vain, like the ghosts in Virgil, their futile arms, 
 were pathetic. One man, however, not a 
 policeman, waved a big stick and threatened 
 to beat everybody back if they did not make 
 way. Then at last the culminating moment 
 arrived, the metal was released, and it poured 
 down the narrow channel which had been 
 prepared for it, and over which two logs placed 
 crosswise formed an arch, surmounted by a 
 yachting cap for ornament. It caused a huge 
 yellow sheet of flame to flare up for a moment 
 in front of the iron screen facing the channel. 
 The women in the crowd shrieked. Those
 
 88 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 who were in front made a desperate effort to 
 get back, and those who were at the back made 
 a desperate effort to get forward, and I was 
 carried right through and beyond the crowd in 
 the struggle. 
 
 And the bell was born. I hope the silver 
 rouble which I threw into it, and which now 
 forms a part of it, will sweeten its utterance, 
 and that it may never have to sound the alarm 
 which signifies battle, murder, and sudden 
 death.
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH DIMITRI 
 NIKOLAIEVITCH 
 
 I 
 ENGLISH LIBERALS IN RUSSIA 
 
 "\1( THILE you were away," said Dimitri 
 
 V V Nikolaievitch A , " I had several 
 
 long conversations with a young Englishman 
 who had come over here to have a glimpse of 
 the Revolution and to express his sympathy 
 with the oppressed. He was an ardent Liberal, 
 and he had a fine doctrinaire spirit, so that 
 although he was considerably disappointed with 
 what he saw, or, rather, with what he did not 
 see, his theories on Russian politics were un- 
 shaken by the facts he observed. And he 
 remained entrenched within them as in the 
 walls of a strong fortress. He interested me 
 greatly, first, because he proved to me that a 
 pet theory of mine was wrong, that no English-
 
 90 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 man is a Liberal, and, secondly, he showed me 
 how difficult it must be for people living in 
 England, and unacquainted with Russian life, 
 to form a correct estimate of what is going on 
 here. 
 
 "He talked with burning indignation of the 
 Bureaucrats and with hope of the dawn of 
 liberty in Russia, and the awakening giant and 
 the ferociousness of Ministers, and when I said 
 that the only difference between the Kadet 
 reformers and the Bureaucrats was that the 
 Bureaucrats formed part of the Civil Service 
 and the Kadet reformers did not, although 
 some of them have done so in the past, he did 
 not understand what I meant. And yet the 
 matter is one which any Englishman who can 
 understand Bernard Shaw's play, John Bulls 
 Other Island, ought to be able to grasp. In 
 John Bull's Other Island, Bernard Shaw has 
 shown exactly how an English Liberal fails to 
 understand the Irish question. Now, an 
 English Liberal misunderstands the Russian 
 question in exactly the same way as he mis- 
 understands the Irish question. He comes to 
 Russia bursting with indignation, and burning 
 with enthusiasm for the cause of liberty, and he
 
 DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH 91 
 
 meets with polite sympathy from the Russians 
 who, while they respect the trend and the 
 violence of his opinions, inwardly smile at his 
 misapprehension, his complete inability to 
 comprehend the nature of the case. The 
 Liberal then goes back to England and writes 
 a book in which in lurid colours he paints the 
 distress of the distressful country, and in which 
 he confuses utterly the evils arising from 
 a complicated, antiquated, and incompetent 
 system of administration with those due to 
 original sin. 
 
 " I mean that in his book he is capable of 
 saying, ' Russia is such a terrible country that 
 if a convict fells a warder he is flogged.' He 
 talks of the bloodthirsty Bureaucrats and the 
 iron-fisted Governors, and then of the Russian 
 Liberals as if they belonged to an entirely 
 different race of people, as if, for instance, they 
 possessed the qualities, and those only, which 
 are special to the admirable British middle- 
 class. Now, just think of this question of 
 Bureaucracy for a moment. To talk of the 
 bloodthirsty race of Bureaucrats is absurd. 
 Nine-tenths of educated Russians are Bureau- 
 crats, and the majority of these Bureaucrats
 
 92 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 are probably Liberals and would vote for the 
 Kadets unless it were too inconvenient. Some 
 of the higher officials among these same Bureau- 
 crats have often admittedly been excellent men ; 
 in any case there is no difference of kind be- 
 tween the Russian who is a high official or a 
 small public servant and the Russian who is 
 a doctor, a lawyer, a political agitator, a novelist, 
 an actor, or an anarchist. 
 
 "Where, then, is the mischief? The mis- 
 chief is in the system, and the misunderstanding 
 arises from a misuse of words, which in its turn 
 is caused by a disinclination to think clearly. 
 When people say Bureaucracy they mean 
 Autocracy. Russia is governed by the auto 
 cratic system, and an Autocracy, unless, as 
 happens every now and then in the course of 
 centuries, the autocrat is a man of genius like 
 Peter the Great, Cromwell, or Napoleon, means 
 this, that the country governed by an autocrat 
 is governed in reality by a mass of officials, 
 who claim that they are directly responsible 
 to the monarch, and who are at the same time 
 considered to be responsible to the monarch's 
 Ministers. They end by being responsible to 
 nobody, since the people who are set beneath
 
 DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH 93 
 
 them can complain of them to those who are in 
 authority over them, and therefore not one of 
 them, from the lowest telegraph clerk to the 
 Prime Minister, is sure of his position, because 
 the Prime Minister can be sent away at a 
 moment's notice, according to the Sovereign's 
 whim. The result of this is that the individual 
 counts for nothing, and the better the Bureau- 
 crat the more hopeless his position, since 
 there is no guarantee for the laws being en-, 
 forced, and when a people sees that sometimes 
 the laws are enforced, and at others they are 
 not, according to circumstances, and according 
 to the nature and rank of the persons they 
 affect, they become less inclined to obey the 
 laws. Therefore, what Russia is suffering from 
 is not want of liberty, but want of law. In 
 Russia we have the licence of the Press, and 
 the power of suppressing newspapers. What 
 we want is order. Now, lots of Russians argue 
 that the autocratic system and its attendant 
 lawlessness are simply the inevitable result of 
 the Russian character, out of which it has 
 grown. I should be more inclined to believe 
 this if exactly the same system had not existed 
 in France and been subsequently destroyed,
 
 94 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 and if the autocratic system in Russia were a 
 very ancient instead of a comparatively modern 
 institution borrowed from Germany by an 
 eccentric man of genius who forced it on a 
 backward and ignorant people. I mean Peter 
 the Great. 
 
 "Again, many Russians argue thus: 'In 
 England, in spite of all their Habeas Corpus, 
 Bills of Right, etc., officials do lawless things 
 in Egypt, and innocent people are put in prison 
 for mutilating horses.' This argument seems 
 to me fallacious. The point being not that the 
 Habeas Corpus is an infallible guarantee 
 against lawlessness in England, but that were 
 there no Habeas Corpus in England things 
 would be much worse than they are at present. 
 There was once a French priest who, when he 
 heard the Republic abused for all its vices and 
 faults, answered : ' Tout de meme si les institu- 
 tions liberates disparaissaient, nous les regret- 
 trions.' And I consider that if by any chance 
 Liberal Institutions were established in Russia 
 we should not groan beneath them. So you 
 see I am not a Liberal but a radical. I am in 
 favour of radical change. In spite of that, the 
 sympathy of Liberals in other countries, even
 
 DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH 95 
 
 that of the Bishop of Hereford, fails either to 
 move, to console, or to encourage me. 
 
 " At the beginning of the French Revolution 
 the English Liberals felt much sympathy with 
 the French Reformers, and a sword of honour 
 was sent by the French tribunes to the 
 ' citoyens ' who were then Ministers in 
 England ; but when the French Revolution 
 moved onwards towards its logical close, the 
 disgust of the English Liberals knew no 
 bounds, and Burke made his disapprobation 
 immortal in burning prose. Therefore, when 
 the revolutionaries here begin to get the upper 
 hand I shall advise them to pause before 
 sending a sword of honour to ' Citoyen ' 
 Hereford, 'Citoyen' Jaures, and 'Citoyen' 
 Keir Hardy, lest when all Russia is in flames 
 and the rentes have sunk to nothing and the 
 red flag flies from the Winter Palace, the 
 Bishop from the pulpit, M. Jaures in the Cham- 
 ber of Deputies, and Mr. Keir Hardy in the 
 House of Commons, rise to point out safe- 
 guarding themselves with conjunctions as is the 
 habit of political speakers that although 
 nobody sympathises more than they do with 
 Liberal ideas, nevertheless, to repudiate foreign
 
 96 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 loans, and to cut off Professor Milioukov's 
 head, and to throw all the Kadets and the 
 moderate Liberals and even the more moderate 
 Socialists into the Neva, is going too far, and 
 for such actions they cannot overstate their 
 deprecation." 
 
 II 
 BYRON 
 
 LAST night I went to see my old friend 
 Dimitri Nikolaievitch A . I found 
 
 him, as usual, in the little den which he shares 
 with a bullfinch, a lizard, and a fox terrier on 
 the sixth floor of a huge sordid barrack. As 
 usual, he was smoking, and there was a lack 
 of buttons on his coat. 
 
 "So you've come to talk politics," he said, 
 "and I am not going to talk politics with you. 
 I am going to talk literature with you a far 
 more interesting subject. No Russian knows 
 anything about politics or really cares about 
 politics ; we are an artistic (I mean artistic, not 
 aesthetic) nation ; we have been forced to take 
 notice of politics because our Government went 
 just beyond the limit of incapacity and general
 
 DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH 97 
 
 idiocy that a nation can stand ; but that does 
 not make our political ideas any the more 
 interesting. Whereas our ideas on literature 
 are really interesting, because all the defects 
 of our nature, owing to which we are such bad 
 politicians, help to make us good judges of 
 literature. We have neither the sublime and 
 contented ignorance of the British, nor the 
 Chinese Wall-like narrow-mindedness of the 
 French, nor the complicated misapprehension 
 of the Teutons ; we are absolutely open- 
 minded and catholic ; we can understand and 
 assimilate everything and anything ; there is 
 no hard bar in our nature ; it is all plastic, 
 pliant, and receptive. There is nothing we 
 cannot appreciate ; a Frenchman even an 
 extremely clever Frenchman like M. Bourget 
 cannot possibly appreciate either the humour 
 or the style or the point of a Scotch writer of 
 genius such as Stevenson or the works of 
 Jacobs or a book like the Diary of a 
 Nobody. We can ; that's the difference. 
 That is why our politicians are so bad and 
 our non-politicians so intelligent." " That is all 
 very well," I answered, "but I have to write 
 political letters to my newspaper and I want 
 7
 
 98 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 your views people in England prefer politics 
 to literature." " I quite understand that," 
 answered Dimitri Nikolaievitch, " but for all 
 that I refuse to talk politics to-day. I am 
 going to talk to you about Byron, a subject 
 which few Englishmen are interested in, I 
 believe, and if what I say won't do for a 
 political letter send it to the literary page of 
 your newspaper. In the Morning Post, which 
 I take in in the hope of seeing my name 
 mentioned now and then, I noticed that one 
 of the most delightful of English writers, Mr. 
 Andrew Lang, lately raised the question as to 
 who was 'right about Byron, his detractors or 
 the people who praised him. Now, it is an 
 odd thing, which I have noticed, that people 
 accept their likes and dislikes about most 
 things with decent resignation. If they don't 
 like chicken or roast beef or Mozart's music, 
 or Rembrandt's pictures, or Homer's verse, 
 they say so and pass on. Not so with 
 Shakespeare and Byron. These two authors 
 have the effect which a red rag has on a bull 
 on the people who dislike them. If a man 
 dislikes Shakespeare he feels it incumbent on 
 himself to proclaim the fact on the housetops,
 
 DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH 99 
 
 as though it were a great discovery, oblivious 
 of the fact that people and literature are like 
 a Seidlitz powder, the man must have the 
 complementary blue powder which when mixed 
 with the white powder of the book produces a 
 fizzing combustion in a glass of water. Count 
 Tolstoi being without the blue powder that 
 makes Shakespeare fizz for him has to write a 
 book in which he explains that Shakespeare 
 knows nothing of human nature and could not 
 draw a living character. This does not damage 
 Shakespeare's reputation as a playwright, but 
 it destroys Count Tolstoi's reputation as a 
 critic. Byron produces the same effect ; 
 people who dislike Byron get very angry if 
 one says that he is a great poet, and quote 
 you a long list of the errors in syntax which 
 are to be found in his works. Now, the 
 reason I want to talk about Byron is that 
 being a foreigner and living far off from the 
 literary fashions of London, far from the 
 catch-words and quarrels of cliques and 
 coteries, I am a much more impartial judge of 
 Byron than any Englishman can be. The 
 obvious retort to this is that foreigners admire 
 Byron because they cannot appreciate the
 
 loo RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 nicety, the lights and shades, the values of 
 the English language. In my case you will 
 admit the argument does not hold good ; to 
 a Russian who knows English from his child- 
 hood and has a knowledge and appreciation of 
 the world's literature, the manipulation of the 
 English language and the apprehension of its 
 values is child's play compared to the manipula- 
 tion of the Russian language. The argument 
 of a foreigner's inability to appreciate the 
 values of the language may be true of a 
 Frenchman or of a German ; it is not true of 
 an Italian critic such as Nencioni, who trans- 
 lated Browning, nor is it true of a Russian 
 critic such as myself, who has run to seed and 
 made a hash of life from having appreciated 
 literature and the arts wisely and too well, and 
 has, thank heavens, written nothing at all. 
 To go back to Byron, the mistake people 
 make with regard to him seems to me that 
 they judge him by a wrong standard. They 
 apply to him the standards which appertain to 
 other things. To judge Byron by the standard 
 of Tennyson is like criticising Michael Angelo 
 by the standard of Benvenuto Cellini. They 
 apply a magnifying glass to the picture, at
 
 DIMtTRt NIKOLAIEVITCH lot 
 
 which they should look from a distance of 
 several yards. They criticise a frieze as if it 
 were a carved cherry-stone. To this I reply 
 that other men such as Goethe judge him by 
 the standard of Shakespeare, and criticise him 
 with the finest discrimination and find him 
 good. 
 
 " Read all that Goethe says about Byron 
 in ' Eckerman,' not merely the oft-quoted 
 phrases of his being the greatest genius of the 
 nineteenth century, but all his obiter dicta 
 with regard to Byron, and you will be struck 
 by their profound wisdom and incredible 
 acuteness. 
 
 " But a better reply is to quote what is 
 perhaps the most hackneyed of hackneyed 
 Byronic quotations, two stanzas of which I 
 learned in the nursery, but which, I dare say, 
 you have never read 
 
 CXL 
 
 ' I see before me the Gladiator lie : 
 He leans upon his hand his manly brow 
 Consents to death, but conquers agony, 
 And his droop'd head sinks gradually low 
 And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow 
 From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
 
 102 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now 
 The arena swims around him ; he is gone, 
 Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who 
 won. 
 
 CXLI 
 
 He heard it, but he heeded not his eyes 
 Were with his heart, and that was far away ; 
 He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, 
 But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, 
 There were his young barbarians all at play, 
 There was their Dacian mother he, their sire, 
 Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday 
 All this rush'd with his blood Shall he expire, 
 And unavenged ? Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire ! ' 
 
 "By so doing I may be applying the wrong 
 test myself, since it is a commonplace of 
 criticism that Byron must be judged by the 
 whole and not by fragments ; but I maintain 
 that just as if some one were to examine a 
 limb hacked off a statue by Michael Angelo 
 or a horse's head from the Parthenon frieze he 
 would say the hand who wrought such a 
 fragment was a mighty hand ; so it is with 
 this short quotation ; it is impossible to read 
 it without being convinced that the man who 
 wrote it was more than a 'clever man.' He 
 was a poet. He was a great poet. Because 
 to have said
 
 103 
 
 'his eyes 
 Were with his heart, and that was far away,' 
 
 in this connection signifies that he had the gift 
 by the use of the simplest possible and most 
 ordinary words of piercing the heart and brain 
 with the divine stab which only great poetry 
 can inflict. 
 
 " Other poets can do other things. But 
 because Virgil and Keats touch you with a 
 wand that produces a ravishing enchantment, 
 because Shelley and Coleridge lift you into 
 unimagined heavens of light and music, because 
 Shakespeare takes your breath away by the 
 potent magic of his phrases, that does not 
 prove that Byron has not in his fashion 
 achieved what is generally accepted as being 
 one of the highest achievements of poetry : 
 that is to say, the achievement of making 
 style disappear and of knocking you on the 
 head with poetry made out of the language 
 of every day. 
 
 " Goethe is usually thought to be a great 
 poet. But Goethe's claim to greatness as a 
 poet rests on this achievement, on nothing 
 less and on nothing more. When he is at 
 his best, as in the first part of Faust and in a
 
 104 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 dozen lyrics, he gets beyond and above style 
 and writes 
 
 ' Ueber alien Gipfeln ist Ruh,' 
 
 or 
 
 ' Mein Ruh ist bin,' 
 
 or 
 
 ' Wer nie sein Brot mit Thranen ass,' 
 
 or 
 
 ' Von wem Ich's habe, dass sag Ich Euch nicht,' 
 
 or 
 
 ' Denkt Ihr an mich ein Augenblickchen nur,' 
 or 
 
 'Es war ein Konig in Thule,' 
 or 
 
 ' Heiss mich nicht reden, heiss mich schweigen,' 
 
 and the world agrees that when he writes like 
 this he is 'grand comme le monde.' Nobody 
 disputes the fact because he wrote masses and 
 masses of inferior work. The point is that 
 only a very great poet could have written 
 
 ' Ueber alien Gipfeln ist Ruh,' 
 
 and the rest. 
 
 " I maintain that only a great poet could have 
 written the ' Dying Gladiator ' ; that only a 
 great poet could have written the song that 
 begins 
 
 1 She walks in beauty like the night ; '
 
 DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH 105 
 
 and the song that ends 
 
 ' In silence and tears ; ' 
 the stanzas beginning 
 
 'The moon is up, and yet it is not night' 
 
 (not a bad line?) The stanzas on Waterloo 
 and Rome, or, to take a slighter instance, I 
 contend that only a great poet could have 
 written this little song 
 
 I 
 
 ' So we'll go no more a-roving 
 
 So late into the night, 
 Though the heart be still as loving 
 And the moon be still as bright. 
 
 II 
 
 For the sword outwears its sheath, 
 And the soul wears out the breast, 
 
 And the heart must pause to breathe, 
 And love itself have rest. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Though the night was made for loving, 
 
 And the day returns too soon, 
 Yet we'll go no more a-roving 
 
 By the light of the moon.' 
 
 " But to do justice to Byron one must take 
 a deep draught of his foaming beverage, and to
 
 io6 
 
 refresh your memory just listen to these 
 stanzas. Don't stop to pause and criticise 
 line by line, but drink the whole thing in at a 
 draught 
 
 CLXXXIII 
 
 ' It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded 
 Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill, 
 
 Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded, 
 Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still, 
 
 With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded 
 On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill 
 
 Upon the other, and the rosy sky 
 
 With one star sparkling through it like an eye. 
 
 CLXXXIV 
 
 And thus they wander'd forth, and hand in hand, 
 Over the shining pebbles and the shells, 
 
 Glided along the smooth and harden'd sand, 
 And in the worn and wild receptacles 
 
 Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were plann'd 
 In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells, 
 
 They turned to rest ; and, each clasp'd by an arm, 
 
 Yielded to the deep twilight's purple charm. 
 
 CLXXXV 
 
 They look'd up to the sky, whose floating glow 
 Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright ; 
 
 They gazed upon the glittering sea below, 
 
 Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight ;
 
 DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH 107 
 
 They heard the waves splash, and the wind so low, 
 
 And saw each other's dark eyes darting light 
 Into each other and, beholding this, 
 Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss. 
 
 CLXXXVI 
 
 A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love, 
 
 And beauty, all concentrating like rays 
 Into one focus, kindled from above : 
 
 Such kisses as belong to early days 
 Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move, 
 
 And the blood's lava, and the pulse a blaze, 
 Each kiss a heart-quake for a kiss's strength, 
 I think, it must be reckoned by its length. 
 
 CLXXXVI I 
 
 By length I mean duration ; theirs endured 
 
 Heaven knows how long no doubt they never reckon'd ; 
 And if they had, they could not have secured 
 
 The sum of their sensations to a second : 
 They had not spoken ; but they felt allured, 
 
 As if their souls and lips each other beckon'd, 
 Which, being joined, like swarming bees they clung 
 Their hearts the flowers from whence the honey sprung. 
 
 CLXXXVIII 
 
 They were alone, but not alone as they 
 Who shut in chambers think it loneliness ; 
 
 The silent ocean, and the starlight bay, 
 
 The twilight glow, which momently grew less, 
 
 The voiceless -sands, and dropping caves, that lay 
 Around them, made them to each other press, 
 
 As if there were no life beneath the sky 
 
 Save theirs, and that their life could never die.
 
 CLXXXIX 
 
 They fear'd no eyes nor ears on that lone beach, 
 They felt no terrors from the night ; they were 
 
 All in all to each other : though their speech 
 
 Was broken words, they thought a language there ; 
 
 And all the burning tongues the passions teach 
 Found in one sigh the best interpreter 
 
 Of Nature's oracle first love that all 
 
 Which Eve has left her daughters since her fall. 
 
 CXC 
 
 Haidee spoke not of scruples, ask'd no vows 
 Nor offered any ; she had never heard 
 
 Of plight and promises to be a spouse 
 Or perils by a loving maid incurr'd ; 
 
 She was all which pure ignorance allows, 
 And flew to her young mate like a young bird ; 
 
 And never having dreamt of falsehood, she 
 
 Had not one word to say of constancy.' 
 
 " Isn't this poetry ? Wouldn't any of the 
 minor poets of to-day be surprised and pleased 
 to have found that they had written these 
 stanzas and those which follow until the passage 
 ends thus 
 
 cxcvi 
 
 'An infant when it gazes on the light, 
 
 A child the moment when it drains the breast, 
 A devotee when soars the Host in sight, 
 An Arab with a stranger for a guest,
 
 DIMITRI N1KOLAIEVITCH 109 
 
 A sailor when the prize has struck in fight, 
 
 A miser filling his most hoarded chest, 
 Feel rapture ; but not such true joy are reaping 
 As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping. 
 
 CXCVII 
 
 For there it lies, so tranquil, so beloved : 
 
 All that it hath of life with us is living ; 
 So gentle, stirless, helpless and unmoved, 
 
 And all unconscious of the joy 'tis giving ; 
 All it hath felt, inflicted, pass'd, and proved, 
 
 Hush'd into depths beyond the watcher's diving ; 
 There lies the thing we love, with all its errors 
 And all its charms, like death, without its terrors. 
 
 CXCVII I 
 
 The lady watch'd her lover and that hour 
 Of Love's, and Night's, and Ocean's solitude, 
 
 O'erflow'd her soul with their united power : 
 Amidst the barren sand and rocks so rude, 
 
 She and her wave-worn love had made their bower 
 Where nought upon their passion could intrude ; 
 
 And all the stars that crowded the blue space 
 
 Saw nothing happier than her glowing face.' 
 
 " The man who wrote this had the tre- 
 mendous driving force of passion, the ^weeping 
 vision, and the commanding utterance, the 
 swiftness, and the splendour which belongs only 
 to the gods and the Titans, and because Byron 
 does not sit on the tranquil mountain in the
 
 1 10 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 serene spaces with Virgil, Praxiteles, Racine, 
 Leopardi, Milton, Mozart, and Raphael, he is 
 none the less more than mortal. He may have 
 been cast out of the heaven of pure art ; but 
 the story of his divine downfall has been 
 written in the sky like a constellation and 
 hangs there forever ; a permanent comet. One 
 generation may forget him, being interested 
 in other and later appearances in the firmament 
 of poetry, but there will always be men to 
 look and to wonder in any generation. Of 
 such was your great scholar Arthur Strong, 
 who knew Russian as well as I do from having 
 learnt it out of a book, who was not only 
 perhaps the man of the widest and deepest 
 reading of our generation in Europe, but whose 
 power of appreciation was as delicate as a 
 microphone and as wide as the sea. He, alas ! 
 is now ' famous, calm, and dead ' ; and he 
 admired Byron because he considered him to 
 be an inspired poet and a writer of good verse. 
 'The French,' he once said to me, 'are like 
 the Persians, they stand no nonsense about 
 poetry. To them it is either good or bad 
 verse.' Opinions differ, and opinions of the 
 same man about the same thing differ under
 
 DIMITRI NIKOLAIEVITCH HI 
 
 the influence of time. For instance, Swin- 
 burne's blame of Byron has been recently 
 quoted ; but his praise of Byron in the first 
 volume of Essays and Studies is, to my 
 mind, the finest thing he ever wrote, and the 
 last word of what can be said in praise of 
 Byron. In that essay, in which he speaks of 
 Byron having ' the imperishable excellence 
 and sincerity and strength,' he was of the 
 opinion that Byron wrote good verse. Person- 
 ally I cannot think that the man who wrote the 
 following lines : 
 
 xxx 
 
 ' There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, 
 And mine were nothing, had I such to give ; 
 But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, 
 Which living waves where thou didst cease to live, 
 And saw around me the wide field revive 
 With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring 
 Come forth her work of gladness to contrive, 
 With all her reckless birds upon the wing, 
 I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring,' 
 
 or in another manner (of the meeting of the 
 Archangel and Lucifer) 
 
 ' And yet between his Darkness and his Brightness, 
 There passed a mutual glance of great politeness,' 
 
 wrote bad verse.
 
 ii2 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 " And to me he will always be what he 
 was to Goethe, to Shelley, and to Arthur 
 
 Strong 
 
 ' A beautiful and mighty thing of Light.' 
 
 " The phrase is Byron's."
 
 MODERN LITERATURE IN 
 RUSSIA 
 
 AT the beginning of last century there was 
 in Russia, as in most other countries, a 
 great wave of romanticism, which produced 
 Pouskin, Lermontov, and other poets. The 
 wave subsided, and no planets of great magni- 
 tude swam into the ken of the watchers of the 
 skies of Russian literature until the period of 
 the Crimean War. After the war and the 
 liberation of the serfs there came another 
 great movement, and a race of literary giants- 
 Tolstoi, Tourgenieff, Dostoievski was born. 
 It is a remarkable fact that the movements of 
 literary renascence in Russia have always 
 immediately followed movements of political 
 renascence and change. This second move- 
 ment subsided, and although the Russo- 
 Turkish War gave a kind of flip to the country 
 a general calm soon once more prevailed, which 
 8
 
 ii4 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 up till 1903 bore all the signs of stagnation. 
 The writer who gives the most faithful picture 
 of the general atmosphere of the period which 
 preceded the Russo-Japanese War is Anton 
 TchekofT. In a multitude of short stories, 
 some broadly humorous, others poignantly sad, 
 and in half a dozen plays (in writing which he 
 inaugurated a new epoch in the history of the 
 stage and was the poineer of a movement 
 which at one moment made itself felt in 
 London at the Court Theatre) he reflects the 
 frame of mind of educated Russia during this 
 period. It is a frame of mind of stagnation. 
 Its prevailing characteristic is the hopeless- 
 ness arising from the conviction that it is 
 no use trying to do anything in Russia ; 
 that on those who would like to work for pro- 
 gress and enlightenment, education and liberal- 
 ism in the larger non-political sense of the 
 word, the doors are shut, and that therefore 
 there is nothing to do but to play cards, drink 
 vodka, and while away the tedious hours as 
 best one can. It is not that Tchekoff de- 
 spaired in the least of the advent of the dawn, 
 only he felt he would not live to see it, and 
 that it would break upon another generation.
 
 MODERN LITERATURE IN RUSSIA 115 
 
 They would march prospering not from his presence ; 
 Songs shall inspirit them not from his lyre. 
 
 The dawn came quicker probably than he 
 expected. Tchekoffs last play was performed 
 in 1904, and he himself died soon after, while 
 the war was still going on. Then came the 
 bursting of the dam, and with the swift and 
 tumultuous events of the political movement, 
 with the granting of the freedom of the Press 
 and the inflooding of Russia with a light which 
 it had never before known, came a new literary 
 renascence. It is too soon as yet to discern 
 and to gauge what is the literary value of the 
 thick and turbulent mass of production which 
 has been poured out in Russia during the last 
 two years. But one thing is certain, namely, 
 that there is nothing stagnant in the new 
 phenomena. The writers of the younger 
 generation are still often pessimistic in the 
 extreme ; they dip their pencils in the " hues of 
 earthquake and eclipse," but it is the gloom of 
 the earthquake and not the monotonous grey- 
 ness of a sunless atmosphere. They shriek, 
 they vociferate and they anathematise, but 
 they do not say : " There is nothing to be 
 done. Let us sit down and play Vindt." It
 
 ii6 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 is true that this revolutionary outburst was 
 succeeded by weariness and apathy. It is true 
 that reaction was again in its turn as trium- 
 phant as it was in France during the reign 
 of Louis XVIIL, that the Liberal movement 
 suffered a great blow owing to the fact that a 
 considerable part of the population, namely, 
 the landed proprietors and all people of means, 
 who were until 1905 nearly all of them staunch 
 supporters of the Opposition, frightened by 
 the spectres of expropriation, revolution, and 
 anarchy and ruin, veered to the Right. It is 
 true that some people think that it will need 
 another war, a famine, an epidemic of cholera, 
 and several other disasters of the kind to set 
 the movement going again. But in spite of 
 this we shall never get back to the old stagna- 
 tion, because of the flood of light which has 
 been let into the country, and which cannot 
 now ever be driven out again. 
 
 The literature, for instance, cannot go back 
 to the time when there was no political life, 
 because there is a political life now. The 
 Reactionaries may have the best of it ; the 
 Liberals may discredit themselves and they 
 may fail again and again ; but all this consti-
 
 MODERN LITERATURE IN RUSSIA 117 
 
 tutes a thing called political life, and which is 
 reflected directly in the daily Press and in- 
 directly in the literature of the day. Therefore, 
 so far, whatever may be the discouragement 
 felt by political reformers, there is as yet no 
 trace of a note of apathy in the literature of 
 the day. The curious thing is that nearly all 
 the literature which is now appearing with 
 the exception of a small aesthetic school which 
 has plunged into mysticism, decadentism, and 
 many other isms has for its subject-matter 
 political events and political events only. 
 Prisons, police, Pogroms, meetings, elections, 
 parties, assassinations, bombs, revolutionaries, 
 reactionaries, anarchists, fanatics these are 
 the main elements of the new literature. 
 Another interesting point is that with all this 
 stock-in-trade of sensationalism the literature is 
 not sensational. If one compares it with 
 English or German books on the same subject 
 one thinks one is reading about a different 
 country. This is owing to the simple fact 
 that the Russians understand the people about 
 whom they are writing. They know that 
 humanity is not divided into two clearly 
 defined categories Liberals who are all saints
 
 ii8 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 and Conservatives who are all monsters. 
 They know that because a man is a policeman 
 he does not necessarily cease to be a human 
 being, or that because a man is a revolutionary 
 he does not necessarily become a superman, 
 endowed with the resistance of Prometheus, 
 the energy of Cromwell, the kindness of St. 
 John. These writers distinguish. Andreev, 
 for instance, writes a touching story of the 
 Governor of a town, who in a moment of riot 
 gives the order for firing on the crowd. He 
 then relates how this man knows he will be 
 killed, how every one else knows it, and how 
 slowly, deliberately, and helplessly he slides 
 into his doom. Kouprin, one of the most 
 talented writers of the younger generation, 
 tells a story which he says is a true one, of 
 how after one of the Jewish " Pogroms," when 
 a committee was sitting to organise relief for 
 those who had suffered, a deputation of thieves 
 arrives and addresses the President. The 
 thieves are burning with indignation because 
 they have been accused of having taken part 
 in the " Pogrom." They are wounded in their 
 most sensitive spot : their amour propre. 
 They cannot get over the fact that people such
 
 MODERN LITERATURE IN RUSSIA 119 
 
 as they thieves by profession, who take pride 
 in their art, whether it consist in pocketpicking, 
 or housebreaking should be confused with the 
 inglorious herd of hooligans ; and what is to 
 them the unkindest cut of all is that people 
 should have thought them capable of siding 
 with the police, since they say that the 
 "Pogroms" are the work of the police, and 
 that the police is but the instrument in the 
 hands of what Prince Ourousov once called the 
 "dark forces" which stand behind the Govern- 
 ment, and who make it so difficult for people 
 to govern Russia. 
 
 Again, the same author tells a story of a 
 revolutionary student who betrays his com- 
 panions because, when he is interviewed by 
 the police inspector he loses his nerve. He is 
 not otherwise a coward ; but he is afraid of 
 people. The police inspector, he says, was as 
 civil as a dentist to his comrades, but him he 
 hectored and bullied, feeling instinctively that 
 he would give way, and he did. He shoots 
 himself: he is not afraid of doing that. In 
 a letter he writes before killing himself he 
 explains that he is not in the least afraid of 
 death or of danger ; but that in the presence
 
 120 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 of people he loses his head, and he attributes 
 the fact to his having been soaked in the 
 atmosphere of the stagnant generation of his 
 parents, from whose influence he never escaped. 
 These writers afford us an infinite number of 
 sidelights on the subtleties, the contradictions, 
 the curious contrasts which the political events 
 bring to light in fact on human nature, which 
 is the same everywhere, but which under the 
 stress and pressure of untoward violence is 
 sharply revealed to us as though by lightning. 
 Then, of course, the very existence of con- 
 flicting parties, ideals, opinions and aims gives 
 the writer endless " copy " and an unbounded 
 field of dramatic material. 
 
 The Dreyfus case divided France into two 
 camps and split up families. Much more 
 powerful, then, must be the political question 
 in Russia, where it is not merely abstract but 
 concrete ; not merely platonic, but full of 
 living passion, where any day a Conservative 
 statesman may learn that his son or his 
 daughter has blown up one of his colleagues, 
 or a revolutionary girl may ascertain that her 
 betrothed has denounced her comrades to the 
 police. In this domain vistas are opened on to
 
 MODERN LITERATURE IN RUSSIA 121 
 
 endless " conflicts of wills," the most rewarding 
 stuff for drama. 
 
 All this does not make for stagnation, and 
 it is impossible to sum up the characteristics of 
 modern Russian literature better than in the 
 following words, which Kouprin puts into the 
 mouth of the student (in a story to which I 
 alluded above) who shot himself. He is 
 talking of the schoolboy of the present genera- 
 tion, and what he says of the schoolboy applies 
 equally well to the new generation, its literature, 
 and all that belongs to it. 
 
 " I am convinced that the schoolboy of the 
 sixth form to-day in the presence of all the 
 Kings of Europe, in any throne room you 
 please, would fiercely and clearly and even 
 somewhat rudely declare the claims of his 
 party. He is, it is true, almost absurd, this 
 premature schoolboy ; but there is in him a 
 sacred respect for his own joyful, proud, and 
 free ego, for that very thing which the spiritual 
 poverty and the cowardly morals of our parents 
 extirpated in us, who belong to the former 
 generation."
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 
 
 HAMLET in one of those pointed phrases 
 which appear to Count Tolstoy to be so 
 foreign to his character, and to the rest of the 
 world to be peculiarly in harmony with it, said 
 that players were "the abstracts and brief 
 chronicles of the time." It is certain that at 
 the present day in Russia the doings of the 
 Russian stage and of the players throw many 
 interesting sidelights on the present situation ; 
 in fact, Hamlet's remark is especially applicable 
 to Russia at the present day. Whatever one 
 may think of Russian politics at the present 
 moment, whether we are witnessing the slow 
 phases of a revolution, an evolution, or merely 
 a crisis, one thing is certain and that is that 
 the country is not in a normal condition, and 
 that the element of paradox which has always 
 existed in Russian life has now reached an 
 exaggerated point of intensity.
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 123 
 
 The country is still an autocracy in which 
 the Monarch is constantly declaring that his 
 autocratic sovereignty is to remain inviolate, 
 and at the same time that he is determined to 
 fulfil his promise that the people shall govern 
 themselves. The most important political 
 party is still outlawed. You may be hanged 
 for stealing three roubles (six shillings) ; for 
 shooting a student in a restaurant you receive 
 a year's imprisonment, and for arranging a 
 bomb explosion which fails to kill the Prime 
 Minister, but which does kill many other 
 people, you are let off with penal servitude, 
 and under no circumstances whatever can you 
 be handcuffed. This is not a normal situation, 
 and the people who are factors in such a situa- 
 tion cannot fail to be affected by it. Therefore 
 it is interesting to study as manifested on the 
 stage the " abstracts and brief chronicles " of 
 this extraordinary epoch. Such a study is 
 doubly interesting and valuable owing to the 
 peculiar nature of the Russian stage at the 
 present moment. 
 
 To explain why this is so I must state briefly 
 what are the chief characteristics of the 
 Russian stage. It differs entirely from the
 
 124 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 European stage in that it escaped the influence 
 of the modern French stage and the French 
 ideals of stagecraft, of the "well-made" play, 
 which produced the skill of Scribe, the 
 ingenuity of Sardou, the logic of Alexandre 
 Dumas fits, which left so deep an imprint on 
 the stage of all other European countries. 
 This tradition of stagecraft and these ideals 
 were absorbed by Henrik Ibsen, who, as soon 
 as he had made himself absolute master of all 
 tricks which this craft comprised, threw them 
 overboard and wrote plays in which he showed 
 how at a given moment Fate may deal to 
 mortals terrific blows arising from their deeds 
 in the past, and often what they considered to 
 be their good deeds the aforesaid blows 
 making themselves manifest in that by the 
 ordinary course and conversations of everyday 
 life. Ibsen was, therefore, the great reformer 
 of the modern stage ; and he not only cast 
 away the tricks of the French school, but he 
 wrote plays about human beings ruthlessly 
 and vividly portrayed instead of conventional 
 puppets. In France there was likewise a 
 revolt against the " well-made " play, and 
 dramatists of the naturalist school gave to the
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 125 
 
 public what they called "slices of life," which 
 in its turn produced a reaction towards romanti- 
 cism and artificial comedy. But in spite of the 
 various phases of Scribisme and naturalism, 
 and in spite of the fact that the Scribe- Sardou 
 tradition has been thrown to the winds, certain 
 ideals belonging to this school remain in the 
 modern French stage, namely, the necessity of 
 " situations," or of fundamental theses to be 
 worked out logically, which cause many 
 modern French plays to resemble mathematical 
 problems. The Russian stage differs entirely 
 from both the French and the Scandinavian. 
 The Sardou-Scribe school never reigned in 
 Russia, so that there was no necessity to 
 dethrone it, but apart from this significant fact 
 the Russian stage has just as little in common 
 with Ibsen, the French naturalist school, and 
 the modern French play a these as it has with 
 Sardou or Dumas fils. This is where the 
 difference lies. Ibsen shows us human beings 
 at a moment when Fate in the shape of the 
 inevitable result of their actions falls upon them 
 like a thunderbolt ; the French naturalist school 
 gave us slices of raw life, but slices of brutally 
 raw life so brutal as to be exaggerated,
 
 126 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 abnormal, and therefore unreal ; the modern 
 French play a these goes back for its machinery 
 to the old ideal of the well-made play ; that is 
 to say, the wine is new, but the skins are old. 
 
 The Russian stage simply aims at one thing 
 to depict everyday life ; not exclusively the 
 brutality of everyday life, nor the tremendous 
 catastrophes befalling human beings ; nor to 
 devise intricate problems and far-fetched cases 
 of conscience in which human beings might 
 possibly be entangled. It simply aims at pre- 
 senting glimpses of human beings as they really 
 are, and by means of such glimpses it opens out 
 avenues and vistas on to their lives. The 
 Russian stage, therefore is like the Russian 
 novel, realistic because it is a reflection of life, 
 and it is unlike the French naturalist novel or 
 naturalist play because these two things never 
 reproduced life as it is, but portions only of life 
 exaggerated and magnified by the fantastic 
 vision of men of talent who were sometimes 
 men of genius. The reflection of anybody 
 who has some experience of the stage, on 
 reading this will, I imagine, be the following : 
 The everyday life of ordinary human beings 
 can be reflected in a novel, but not on the
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 127 
 
 stage, which demands the observation of certain 
 conventions and the presence of certain cardinal 
 factors such as dramatic interest, the conflict of 
 wills, etc., which are indispensable to the acted 
 drama. Moreover, the public goes to the 
 theatre to be amused, and the faithful photo- 
 graphy of everyday life cannot be amusing ; 
 the public wishes to forget everyday life, and 
 to find on the stage that which in everyday life 
 is not predominant. Well, the Russian stage 
 has proved that these two contentions are not 
 necessarily true. Excellent plays can be 
 written on the basis of strong situations, but 
 the Russian playwrights have proved that 
 excellent plays can be written in which the 
 situations are neither more nor less dramatic 
 than those which occur every day before our 
 eyes among our immediate circle of acquaint- 
 ance. They have also proved another thing 
 that the public finds this kind of play interest- 
 ing in the extreme and flocks to see it ; and 
 this leads one to conclude that the secret of 
 the matter lies possibly in the fact that these 
 plays are true pictures of life, and not would-be 
 pictures of life which are in reality false, and 
 that the former cannot help being interesting,
 
 128 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 and the latter cannot help being tedious. I 
 believe that plays written about real life, in 
 which the characters live and behave as they 
 do in reality, would be not only interesting but 
 successful in any country. However that may 
 be, the fact remains that the modern Russian 
 play consists of a series of pictures of everyday 
 life faithfully depicted, without any research of 
 special theses or situations more theatrical than 
 those which everyday life abundantly affords, 
 and that these plays are successful. They 
 make money. A cosmopolitan traveller once 
 said to me that he could no longer sit through 
 a modern French play of the type of 
 Le Dddale or plays such as M. Bernstein 
 writes, because he found them so intolerably 
 artificial, and this was because he had seen 
 many Russian plays, of which the pre-eminent 
 characteristics were reality and naturalness. 
 This being so it is easy to understand that 
 Russian plays form an exceedingly interesting 
 commentary, an illuminating "abstract and 
 brief chronicle " of the Russian life of to- 
 day. 
 
 I will give a few instances taken from plays 
 which were being performed during the winter
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 129 
 
 season. 1 It must be remembered that there is 
 a censorship in Russia which is almost as 
 severe where politics are concerned as our 
 censor in England is severe when the public 
 morality is liable to be shocked. In spite of 
 this, politics, if not always mentioned outright, 
 permeate the Russian stage just as much as 
 they permeate Russian life, and in some cases 
 they are allowed to be mentioned outright, for 
 the Russian censorship acts in a way peculiarly 
 its own, or rather it acts just as our censorship 
 does when morals are concerned, in an utterly 
 illogical and incomprehensible fashion. There 
 is a play called Walls being performed at the 
 State-subventioned theatre in St. Petersburg. 
 This play would be forbidden in England, not 
 because it inculcates immorality, but because 
 certain facts are mentioned in it over which we 
 draw a veil in this century, but which Shake- 
 speare did not shrink from mentioning in the 
 days of Queen Elizabeth. That is by the way. 
 In this play we get among other things a 
 glimpse of the life of an old schoolmaster, who 
 has retired, and his wife ; they have a daughter 
 aged fifteen. These nice old parents feel that 
 
 1 1907. 
 9
 
 130 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 there is a gulf between them and their child. 
 The daughter conceals her movements. She 
 hides a portion of her life from her parents, 
 and this distresses them. We see the interior 
 of their home, and we see them waiting for 
 the daughter in anxiety when she is returning 
 late from one of the expeditions about which 
 she refuses to speak. The father is distressed 
 by the young generation. " In my time," he 
 says, " we were Liberals, and we worked for 
 the cause, but quietly ; now every one howls in 
 the street and there is no talent anywhere." 
 He looks at Hertzen's portrait, which is hang- 
 ing on the wall, and he says: "Where have 
 they got a man like him ? " At last the 
 daughter arrives, a charming, simple, natural 
 girl, pretty and attractive. They beg her to 
 say where she has been, and to be admitted 
 into her confidence. We, the public, know to 
 a man that she has been to something political, 
 socialistic or revolutionary ; we know that the 
 parents know, and that she knows that the 
 parents know, and that the parents know that 
 she knows that they know. In spite of this she 
 refuses to give any details. The father tells 
 her she is on a wrong tack. " It's all words,"
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 131 
 
 he says. " You don't understand, you can't 
 understand," she answers. Then after a while 
 she gives the following astounding explanation 
 of her ideals : " There are two loves a small 
 love and a great love. The small love is what 
 one feels for one's favourite chair, one's table, 
 one's father, one's mother ; the great love is 
 the love which Christ felt for the whole world, 
 for humanity, for man, for the people." The 
 father revolts at the idea of being compared to 
 a table, and she kisses and quiets him, but one 
 feels that, as far as she is concerned, she spoke 
 the truth. Therefore we are not surprised in 
 the last act when she tells a man who loves 
 her, and loves her in vain, that she is going for 
 good ; she has received orders and starts for 
 the South by the twelve o'clock train. Here 
 a^ain the whole audience knows that she is 
 
 o 
 
 going to obey the orders of the Revolutionary 
 Committee, probably to kill some one. We see 
 her leave the house. The parents are within 
 drinking tea ; we see them by the light of the 
 lamp through the window ; she has promised 
 to be back soon ; she is only going on a com- 
 mission to the next street, she says ; " she 
 casts one longing, lingering look behind ; " the
 
 132 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 man who is in love with her tries to keep her 
 back by force, but she tears herself away from 
 him and disappears into the night, and we see 
 the parents waiting and waiting, and opening 
 the window and listening for her return, and 
 the curtain falls. 
 
 This character of the daughter is a perfectly 
 faithful picture of a type that exists by the 
 score in Russia to-day, and this play, acted (it 
 sounds like a paradox) at the State-paid 
 Imperial Theatre throws a searchlight on to 
 the inner life of the throwers of bombs and the 
 killers of governors. It explains to us what 
 sort of people these are and why they do these 
 things, and the spectacle is most instructive. 
 
 There was another play being performed 
 this season l called Chaos, in which the hero is 
 the son of an aristocratic family who is a Social 
 Revolutionary. This play is far more stagy 
 and less original than Russian plays are 
 generally, but it also contains many interesting 
 sidelights on the situation. We see the young 
 wife of a high official gradually opening her 
 eyes to the political situation and gradually 
 becoming bitten with Liberal ideas, and finally 
 1 January 1907.
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 133 
 
 plunging into the whole thing. We see the 
 young Socialist's agony when the family receive 
 the news that their home in the country has 
 been burnt and they tell him that he must go 
 at once, and he cannot go because he is 
 " wanted " by his party in St. Petersburg. We 
 are shown the comic aspects also the family 
 in which every member takes in a newspaper 
 of a different shade of political opinion and is 
 quarrelling over the fact ; and a meeting of 
 students in the aristocratic home quarrelling 
 over Karl Marx and throwing their cigarettes 
 on the floor. We are shown, impartially, the 
 good points and the ridiculous points of both 
 parties. Altogether it is a most amusing play 
 "palpitating with actuality." 
 
 I have seen Tchekoff s last play, The Cherry 
 Garden, either seven or eight times. It tells 
 in four pictures the whole story of the aristo- 
 cratic landed proprietor class in Russia. We 
 see a charming old and rather foolish aristo- 
 cratic landlord coming back to his country 
 house with his sister, a young and beautiful 
 married woman, after five years' absence. 
 Their affairs are in a shocking state, and a 
 neighbour of theirs, whose father was a serf,
 
 134 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 and who himself was a peasant, but who has 
 become a merchant and a millionaire, warns 
 them that unless they let their property and 
 allow it to be cut up into villas it will be sold 
 by auction. They tell him he does not under- 
 stand what he is talking about. The idea is 
 simply inconceivable to them. They say that 
 something will turn up and save them ; but it 
 does not, and the place and the beautiful cherry 
 garden are sold by auction, and bought by the 
 merchant whose father was their serf, and who 
 ran about barefoot in their village as a child ; 
 and they go away, and the shutters are shut, and 
 we hear the cherry garden being hewed down. 
 That is the whole subject of the play ; but I 
 know no play more poignant and more intensely 
 real. It has, I should add, the advantage of 
 being played by the company of the " Artistic 
 Theatre " of Moscow. The acting of this 
 company seems to me as superior to any other 
 acting I have ever seen as Shakespeare's plays 
 are superior to any other plays in verse. It is 
 simply in another class. They are now per- 
 forming Ibsen's great poetical play Brand so 
 magnificently that it would be worth while for 
 any stage lover to go to Moscow from London
 
 THE RUSSIAN STAGE 135 
 
 merely to see this performance. To see one of 
 the greatest of poetical plays played with in- 
 spiration by the chief actors, not only magni- 
 ficently but artistically staged and mounted, 
 and perfectly interpreted down to the smallest 
 part and the most trivial detail is very rare. 
 It is worth a pilgrimage just in the same way 
 as it is worth while going to Bayreuth to hear 
 Parsifal. And for the perfection of ensemble 
 in the interpretation and the inspiration of the 
 principal units, it surpasses anything which I 
 have seen at Bayreuth, or anywhere else.
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 1 
 
 I WAS once in a company of Russian 
 people, when a lady suddenly asked to 
 be explained what algebra meant. There 
 were several mathematicians present, but they, 
 perhaps because they were mathematicians, 
 were unable to give a satisfactory explanation. 
 I then said to the lady that algebra is to 
 arithmetic what Andreev's play The Life of 
 Man is to other plays. She immediately 
 understood the nature of algebra. Andreev's 
 play, The Life of Man, which was produced 
 for the first time last year in St. Petersburg, 
 and which is now being given at the Artistic 
 Theatre of Moscow, is written in the algebra 
 of art. Shakespeare wrote plays in which 
 Fate manifested its inexorable designs through 
 the passions of individual men ; for instance, 
 he showed us the fate of a man who was 
 1 The Life of Man, by Andreev.
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 137 
 
 warm-hearted, brave, simple and jealous 
 Othello ; of a man who was dreamy, am- 
 bitious, superstitious and hysterical Macbeth. 
 Moliere, on the other hand, synthesised into 
 a series of vital types the various aspects 
 of humanity, and showed us the misanthropy 
 of the whole human race in Le Misanthrope, 
 and the hypocrisy of all hypocrites in Tartuffe. 
 Andreev in his play represents neither types 
 nor individuals, but simply the algebraic 
 symbol of man. Not man the miser, or man 
 the infinitely complex Hamlet, but man the 
 quantity, man X, in face of fate the quantity Y. 
 
 His play is not a play but a morality, 
 such as those which were played in the Middle 
 Ages, without the buffoonery. It is a solemn 
 mystery and it is treated as such. The audience 
 do not applaud and the actors do not come 
 before the curtain. The persons of the plays 
 are puppets, the pictures shown are like a 
 series of rough woodcuts such as those in a 
 child's newspaper ; a penny plain and twopence 
 coloured. 
 
 I have seen the play mounted and played 
 with all the skill and subtlety which are at 
 the command of M. Stanislavski's company at
 
 138 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 the Artistic Theatre of Moscow. The acting 
 was superlative, and the mounting curious 
 and original ; nevertheless I will describe the 
 play as I saw it when it was given for the 
 first time at the small theatre of Madame 
 Komisarjevskaia at St. Petersburg ; because 
 there (although the acting was less excellent), 
 owing to the simplicity of the staging, the 
 poignancy and the macabre effect of the play 
 were to my mind even more forcibly brought 
 home, and the effect, if not more impressive, 
 was in closer harmony with the author's written 
 words. 
 
 The curtain goes up on a space of complete 
 darkness (in Moscow they gave you the 
 impression that you were looking into illimit- 
 able space), from which a figure in grey 
 emerges (in Moscow there was a vast shadow 
 behind him, shaped like that of Memnon's 
 statue) a grey figure with shrouded head 
 and only his mouth visible. This figure is 
 called in Russian " He." " He" is Fate, Life, 
 Destiny, what you will the Y quantity which 
 is inseparable from the X quantity Man. The 
 same thing as Alfred de Musset pictures in 
 his Nuil de Ddcembre, the presence which was
 
 139 
 
 always with him "qui me resemblait comme un 
 frere." 
 
 The grey figure speaks a prologue, the 
 beginning of which is as follows : " Behold 
 and listen, you who have come hither for 
 mirth and laughter. Here you shall see pass 
 before you the whole life of Man, with its dark 
 beginning and its dark end. Unborn hitherto 
 and mysteriously hid in the womb of time, 
 without thought, without feeling, without 
 knowledge of aught, he mysteriously breaks 
 through the barriers of nothingness and with 
 a cry heralds the beginning of his brief life. 
 In the night of oblivion a candle breaks into 
 flame lit by an unseen hand. It is the life 
 of Man. Look upon its flame it is the life 
 of Man. As soon as he is born he receives 
 the shape and the name of Man, and becomes 
 like unto all men who dwell upon the earth. 
 And their merciless fate becomes his fate, and 
 his merciless fate is the fate of all men. 
 Irresistibly compelled by Time, he passes 
 through the unchanging stages of human life, 
 from the depths to the heights, from the 
 heights to the depths. With darkened sight, 
 he shall never perceive the next step over
 
 140 
 
 which his uncertain foot is already raised ; 
 with obscured knowledge he shall never know 
 what the coming day, what the coming hour, 
 what the coming minute are to bring. And 
 in his blind ignorance, outworn by forebod- 
 ing and convulsed by hope and fear, sub- 
 missive he fulfils the iron circle of his 
 destiny." 
 
 The prologue, of which I have only quoted 
 a small part, is written in majestic prose, and 
 it recalls the chorus in Swinburne's " Atalanta 
 in Calydon " 
 
 " He weaves and is clothed with derision, 
 
 Sows and he shall not reap. 
 His life is a watch or a vision 
 Between a sleep and a sleep." 
 
 The grey figure relates the varying stages, 
 the changing vicissitudes of which the life of 
 Man is composed. He tells of the death of 
 Man, his return to nothingness, and he relates 
 how he himself, the mysterious figure, shall 
 ever be with Man, unseen and near, in his 
 hours of joy and of sorrow ; when he watches 
 and when he sleeps, when he prays and curses, 
 in his hours of gladness, when his free and 
 brave spirit leaps high, in his hours of down-
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 141 
 
 heartedness and anguish, when the spirit is 
 darkened with a mortal weariness and the 
 blood freezes in the heart ; in his hours of 
 triumph and defeat, in his hours of mighty 
 wrestling with the inevitable, he will be with 
 him. The prologue ends thus : " And you 
 who have come hither for mirth, you who 
 are allotted to death, look on and listen ; 
 here with its far-off and illusive echo shall pass 
 before you, with its sorrows and with its joys, 
 the short-spanned life of Man." 
 
 The first scene is called the birth of the 
 Man. The curtain rises on a dark room. A 
 group of old crones you cannot see them 
 distinctly like grey mice, are chattering in 
 the obscurity. They are talking of the child 
 that is to be born. Here are the first words 
 of their conversation 
 
 " I should like to know what will come to 
 our friend : a son or a daughter ? " 
 
 " Is it not all the same to us ? " 
 
 " I like little boys." 
 
 "And I like little girls. They always sit 
 at home and wait, when you go to them." 
 
 "And you like visiting?" 
 
 [The old women laugh low.
 
 142 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 "He knows." 
 
 "He knows." (A pause.) 
 
 " Our friend would like to have a little girl. 
 She says that boys are too boisterous and 
 enterprising, they run after danger when 
 they are little, and climb up high trees 
 and bathe in deep water. They often fall 
 into the water and get drowned. And when 
 they grow up they go to war and kill one 
 another." 
 
 " She thinks little girls don't get drowned. 
 But I have seen many drowned maidens, and 
 they were like all drowned people wet and 
 green." 
 
 "She thinks that little girls don't kill with 
 stones ! " 
 
 " Poor thing, it is going so hardly with her, 
 it is the sixteenth hour that we have been 
 here, and she has screamed the whole time. 
 At first she screamed loudly, so that her cry 
 made our ears sore, and then more gently, and 
 now she only moans." 
 
 "The doctor says she will die." 
 
 " No, the doctor says that the child will be 
 born dead, and that she will live." 
 
 " Why are they born ? it is so painful."
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 143 
 
 "And why do they die? that is still more 
 painful ! " 
 
 [ The old women laugh low. 
 
 " Yes, they are born and they die." 
 
 " And again they are born." 
 
 \They laugh. The low cry of the 
 suffering woman is heard. 
 
 11 It has begun once more." 
 
 " She has found her voice again, that is 
 good." 
 
 " That is good." 
 
 " Poor husband : he was in such a state 
 that he was funny to look upon. At first he 
 was glad and said that he wished for a boy, 
 he thought that his son would be a minister 
 or general, now he wishes for nothing, neither 
 for a boy or a girl, he only cries." 
 
 " When the pangs began he himself 
 writhed." 
 
 " They sent him to the chemist's to fetch 
 medicine. He drove for two hours by the 
 chemist's and could not remember what he 
 wanted. Then he returned." 
 
 The old crones continue to chatter and to 
 laugh their low, ghastly laugh, until, suddenly, 
 all becomes still, and the grey figure enters
 
 144 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 and says, " Be still. The Man is born." And 
 as he says this a candle which he bears in his 
 hand breaks into flame. The old women 
 disappear, and the father of the Man comes 
 in with the doctor. He says that he hates the 
 child for the pain it has caused his wife, but 
 when he hears that it is like him his heart 
 overflows with gladness, and he thanks Heaven 
 that his desire has been fulfilled, and he prays 
 God that his son may grow up strong and 
 healthy, intelligent and honest. Then come 
 the relations ; they are got up like puppets, 
 like penny, wooden, painted dolls. They 
 congratulate the father on the birth of his 
 child, each with a set phrase, they say all the 
 usual things. They leave no stereotype 
 commonplace unsaid. Here is an example 
 of their conversation 
 
 The Fat Lady speaks : " Allow me, dear 
 brother, to congratulate you on the birth 
 of your son." 
 
 Fat Gentleman : " Allow me, dear relation, 
 to most heartily congratulate you on the 
 birth of your son, an event which you have 
 been expecting for such a long time." 
 
 The others : " Allow us, dear relation, to
 
 145 
 
 congratulate you on the birth of your 
 son." 
 
 The Father-. "I thank you, I thank you; 
 you are all very good and kind people," etc. 
 
 A young Girl: "What will you call the 
 child, dear uncle ? I should like him to have 
 a pretty, poetical name ; so much depends on 
 the name of a man." 
 
 The Fat Lady : " I should like him to have 
 a simple and sensible name. People with 
 pretty names are always unsatisfactory and 
 rarely succeed in life." 
 
 The Fat Gentleman : " It seems to me, my 
 dear brother-in-law, that the child should be 
 called after some of its older relations ; that 
 prolongs and maintains the race." 
 
 The Father : " Yes, my wife and I often 
 thought about it but could not come to a 
 decision. The birth of a child gives rise 
 to so many new cares and anxieties." 
 
 Fat Lady : " It fills up life." 
 
 Fat Gentleman : "It gives a splendid purpose 
 to life. To educate a child, to cause him by 
 our guidance to avoid those faults into which 
 we ourselves fell, to strengthen his mind with 
 the riches of our own experience ; by so doing 
 
 10
 
 146 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 we create a better man, and slowly but surely 
 move towards the goal of our existence 
 perfection." 
 
 The Father : " I entirely agree with you, my 
 dear son-in-law ! " 
 
 Here the doctor enters and says, " Sir, your 
 wife is feeling very ill ; she wishes to see you." 
 The Man goes out. 
 
 The relations, after discussing whether the 
 mother will live or not, end by talking always 
 in set phrases of ordinary topics, the men 
 of whether smoking is harmful, the women 
 of how to remove grease stains from silk ; and 
 then the infant is heard crying and the curtain 
 falls. The second scene is called " Love and 
 Poverty." The Man is grown up. It is his 
 room. He is married. His room is quite 
 bare, the walls are damp but lit up with bright, 
 warm light. The grey figure is there ; a third 
 of the candle that he holds in his hands has 
 burnt down. The neighbours come into the 
 room. They are bright, cheerful puppets, and 
 they bring flowers and leaves and ribbons. 
 They talk of the Man and his wife. They 
 are so poor, the neighbours say, and so happy, 
 they sing and dance for joy. They are so
 
 147 
 
 good and kind. They leave flowers for the 
 Man and his wife, and a bottle of milk, 
 a piece of bread and a very cheap, strong 
 cigar. 
 
 They go, and they are followed by the wife 
 of the Man. She is young and pretty. She 
 tells of her poverty ; of how her husband is 
 a talented architect and cannot find work. 
 She prays Heaven to send her bread so that 
 her dear, good husband may not hunger ; she 
 prays that if her husband be cross to her, that 
 it may be forgotten. She goes out and the 
 figure in grey speaks and says, " She little 
 knows that her desire is already fulfilled ; that 
 two rich men are already seeking the Man 
 to give him work which shall bring him riches 
 and fame. Thus does fortune come to Man, 
 and thus does it go." Then the Man and his 
 wife return. The Man complains of his hunger 
 and fatigue. He is cross and irritable. The 
 wife's eyes fill with tears, and then immediately 
 he curses himself for his selfishness and his 
 thoughtlessness and kisses away her tears. 
 Hope rises triumphant in him, and turning 
 to the grey figure, whom, of course, he does 
 not see, he challenges Life and Fate : " Come
 
 148 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 out to battle," he cries, " I shall conquer," and 
 the wife of the Man applauds him. Then the 
 Man and his wife play at make believe. They 
 build castles in the air. They weave the 
 future out of rainbows. They imagine palaces 
 where they will live in Italy or in the North. 
 They find the milk and bread and flowers 
 brought by the neighbours. They eat it 
 greedily together, and the Man lights the 
 cigar, which tastes like heaven. They dance 
 for joy. They imagine they are in a great 
 palace giving a ball that the wife of the Man 
 is the queen of the ball. She puts the ribbons 
 and flowers in her hair, and they dance wildly 
 together, while the figure in grey looks on 
 indifferent, and the candle in his hands burns 
 brightly. 
 
 The next scene is called "The Ball in the 
 Man's House." It is a huge room with great 
 columns placed in a circle. Beyond the 
 columns all is shadow, and the room is 
 brilliant with cold, artificial light. Every- 
 thing in the house is rich and gilded. An 
 orchestra is playing ; three little black puppets, 
 one scraping the violin, one the 'cello, and 
 the third blowing the flute. They only play
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 
 
 149 
 
 one tune, a lively, monotonous and foolish 
 polka. 
 
 Under each column a guest is seated, stiff 
 and lifeless as a waxwork. They are old, 
 wrinkled, painted, bedaubed and ridiculous. 
 The women guests are dressed in silk, satins, 
 tinsel, and gaudy jewels ; the men are like 
 expensive, pompous dolls, some in uniform, 
 some covered with orders, others in black 
 and white clothes ; they are all quite 
 expressionless. 
 
 In the centre of the room young men and 
 girls are dancing the polka, and they dance 
 and disappear in and out of the columns. The
 
 ISO RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 figure in grey stands in one corner of the 
 room and two-thirds of his candle have been 
 consumed. The guests talk. Here is the 
 beginning of their conversation 
 
 " I must observe that it is a great honour 
 to be invited to the Man's ball." 
 
 "You may add that this honour is given to 
 extremely few. The whole town tried to get 
 asked ; very few were chosen. My husband, 
 my children and myself are all proud of the 
 honour the most highly-to-be-honoured Man 
 has paid us.' 1 
 
 " I am sorry for those who were not asked, 
 they will not be able to sleep all night for 
 envy ; and to-morrow they will invent calum- 
 nies about the tediousness of the Man's ball." 
 
 " They never saw such magnificence." 
 
 " You might add such extraordinary magnifi- 
 cence and luxury." 
 
 " And I say such enchanting and unceasing 
 amusement. If this is not amusing I should 
 like to know what is amusing ! " 
 
 " Stop ; it is useless arguing with people 
 who are tormented by envy. They will say 
 to you, that the chairs on which we are sitting 
 were not of gold at all."
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 151 
 
 "That they were the simplest wooden 
 chairs bought at a second-hand shop ! " 
 
 "That there was no electric light here, but 
 ordinary tallow candles. They will have the 
 face to deny that the pictures had such broad, 
 gold frames. I seem to hear the sound of 
 gold." 
 
 " You see its gleam ; that is enough, I 
 think." 
 
 " I seldom enjoyed music so much as at 
 the balls of the Man. It is divine music and 
 it lifts the soul into the higher spheres." 
 
 " I should hope that the music was good 
 considering what is paid for it ; you should 
 add that this is the best orchestra in the 
 town ; it plays on the greatest occasions." 
 
 " You hear this music long afterwards ; it 
 takes the soul captive. My children, when 
 they return from the balls of the Man, keep 
 on humming the music a long time after- 
 wards." 
 
 And they continue to talk in detail of the 
 splendour of the house of the Man, of his 
 riches, of his many rooms, his numerous 
 houses, his wonderfully appointed bathrooms, 
 and they all say in chorus
 
 152 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 " How rich ! " 
 
 " How splendid ! " 
 
 " How gorgeous ! " 
 
 " How rich ! " 
 
 The Man and his wife pass through the 
 ballroom. The Man has grown grey, but 
 still seems strong and full of life ; the wife is 
 still pretty. The Man is followed by his 
 friends and his enemies. His friends have 
 good countenances and his enemies look 
 horrible and evil. And as they pass the 
 guests vie with each other in praises of the 
 Man and his wife, with applause for the 
 friends and hisses for the enemies. When 
 they have passed through to supper, the 
 guests begin to grow anxious lest they have 
 been forgotten, and when at last they begin 
 to grow convinced of this, one of them says, 
 " I cannot understand, I must frankly own, 
 why we came to a house with such a reputa- 
 tion. One should choose one's acquaintances 
 more carefully." At that moment a man in 
 a gorgeous livery enters and announces that 
 the Man and his wife beg their honoured 
 guests to come to supper. 
 
 The guests all file off, saying in chorus,
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 153 
 
 " What a livery ! What music ! How 
 gorgeous ! How rich ! What an honour ! 
 What an honour ! " 
 
 The next scene is the misfortune of the 
 Man. He has lost his money, he has sold 
 all his possessions, even his books. His one 
 servant, an old woman, tells this, and how 
 there is nothing left in the large house but 
 rats ; and how a fresh misfortune had just 
 happened. The Man's child went for a walk, 
 and some wicked person threw a stone at 
 him and broke open his head, and now he is 
 lying sick and in danger of life. The doctor 
 comes and tells the anxious Man and his wife, 
 who are now old and worn (for the candle the 
 grey figure still holds in his hands is almost 
 burnt down to its socket), that their son is 
 asleep and will probably get better. The 
 Man looks at his drawing-table. " Look," he 
 says to his wife, " I began to draw this when 
 our boy was still well ; I stopped at this line 
 and thought ' I will rest and go on later.' 
 Look what a simple and quiet line ! And 
 yet it is terrible to look upon, for it may be 
 the last line which I drew when my boy was 
 still alive." Then he finds his son's toys on
 
 154 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 the table ; their presence there used to make 
 his work easier. They were bought in the 
 days of the Man's poverty ; a little wooden 
 horse without a tail, and a squeaking clown. 
 The Man remembers how he used to talk to 
 his little boy playing with the gee-gee. 
 " Where are you galloping to, gee-gee ? " 
 " Over the hills and far away, papa, to kill 
 the dragon because I'm a knight." Then the 
 Man and his wife kneel and pray that their 
 son may not die. Anything else, but not that. 
 The mother says, " Let my son live." And 
 the Man's prayer is as follows : 
 
 " See, I pray to Thee, I bend my aged 
 knees ; I grovel in the dust before Thee, I 
 kiss Thy earth. Perhaps I have offended 
 Thee : if so, then forgive. It is true I was 
 hard, envious, exacting : I often blamed 
 myself; wilt Thou forgive me? If such is 
 Thy will, punish me, only leave me my son ; 
 leave him, I pray Thee. I do not ask for 
 mercy nor for pity, but only for justice. 
 Wicked men tried to kill him those who 
 offend Thee with their works and make Thy 
 earth hideous. Wicked, pitiless ruffians ! who 
 throw stones from behind corners, from behind
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 155 
 
 a corner, the ruffians ! Do not let them 
 accomplish their evil work. Staunch the 
 blood ; give back life to my son who is so 
 good. Thou didst take everything from me, 
 but did I ever pray as a suppliant : ' Give me 
 back my riches, give me back my friends, 
 give me back my talent ' ? No, never ; even 
 for my talent I never prayed. And Thou 
 knowest what talent is it is greater than life. 
 4 Perhaps it must be so,' methought, and I 
 bore everything I bore everything. But now 
 I pray on my knees, in the dust, kissing the 
 earth, let my son live ! give my son back his 
 life. I kiss Thy earth." 
 
 And then the wife goes to see after the 
 child, and the Man falls to sleep on the sofa 
 and dreams happy dreams of his boy. 
 
 And the grey figure speaks and says even 
 now, while the Man is dreaming happily, his 
 son has died. The Man awakes and his wife 
 returns, and he asks if his son is dead, and 
 she answers "Yes." The wife falls at the 
 Man's feet and cries bitterly, and the Man 
 turns to the grey figure and curses his life 
 and the day when he was born. 
 
 The fifth and last scene is the death of the
 
 156 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Man. It is in an underground cellar where 
 drunkards are laughing and raving. The 
 Man sits apart and alone with his head buried 
 in his hands. His wife is dead, his house is 
 empty ; there is nowhere for him to go, he is 
 utterly alone and he is dying, for the candle 
 in the hands of the grey figure has almost 
 burnt out. The old crones who appeared in 
 the first scene of all return once more ; they 
 talk and they repeat the set phrases of the 
 guests at the Man's ball: "How rich! How 
 gorgeous ! " They dance round the Man to 
 the tune of the foolish polka which was played 
 at his ball. "Do you remember?" they 
 whisper. "You are going to die. Do you 
 remember ? 'How rich ! How q-orgeous ! ' " 
 
 o o 
 
 The dance of the crones grows wilder and 
 swifter, and at last the Man raises himself and 
 cries, "Where is my sword and my shield? 
 I am disarmed help ! Be cur . . ." and he 
 falls on a chair and dies. The candle in the 
 hands of the grey figure goes out. The grey 
 figure says, " Be still ! The Man is dead." 
 The crones sing and dance round the dead 
 Man to the sound of the foolish polka, but at 
 last all grows dark and there is silence.
 
 A RUSSIAN MYSTERY PLAY 157 
 
 This play might have been written eight 
 hundred years ago. And whatever happens 
 to the world, as long as men exist, it will be 
 understood. It could be played in Chinese 
 without losing one jot of its import or its 
 message ; it is outside of time and place, 
 independent of man's fleeting customs and 
 various manners, for it merely repeats the 
 cry of pain uttered in sublime accents by the 
 Hebrew poet, and re-echoed by all suffering 
 singers in all times and countries, from 
 Aeschylus to Leopardi. But it only shows 
 one side of the mysterious medal ; there is 
 another, a shining side which other poets have 
 seen and sung : Dante, Goethe, and Shelley, 
 for instance, in his "high and passionate" 
 " Adonais," when he says 
 
 " Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, 
 Stains the white radiance of eternity."
 
 A DREAM IN THE DUMA 
 
 IN the following paper I have attempted to 
 transplant the facts and atmosphere of 
 recent Russian history into English surround- 
 ings : to imagine the Russian Revolution 
 happening in England. 
 
 Two or three days ago, while I was listening 
 to a Ministerial explanation in the Duma, I 
 fell asleep and dreamt a strange dream which 
 I will now relate. 
 
 I dreamt I was in a third-class carriage in 
 England on the South- Western line ; the train 
 was evidently going to London, and we were 
 somewhere between Cobham and Surbiton. 
 In the carriage there was a mixed collection 
 of persons. A clerk going up to the City, 
 two workmen, a gay man in flannels with a 
 straw hat, an elderly man with grey hair and 
 
 spectacles, a young lady wearing a cotton 
 
 158
 
 A DREAM IN THE DUMA 159 
 
 blouse and a .straw hat, carrying a hamper 
 with flowers sticking out of it, a middle-aged 
 man who looked like a commercial traveller, 
 and a young mechanic. 
 
 "The Morning Post out again to-day," said 
 the mechanic to the workman. 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! " said the workman. 
 
 "Under its own name?" asked the elderly 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Yes," said the mechanic, "they fixed it up 
 with Scotland Yard." 
 
 "Why was it stopped?" asked the young 
 man in flannels. 
 
 "In the personal column there was a para- 
 graph," said the mechanic, " saying as Lord 
 Kitchener was living like at Buckingham Palace 
 which he was and at Scotland Yard they 
 said as this was an instigation like to kill him." 
 
 " I suppose they're sure to kill him some 
 time," said the young man in flannels. 
 
 "Yes," said the commercial traveller, 
 " they'll probably shoot him in the back ; 
 cowards and swine I call 'em. If only we 
 had a strong Government they'd all be 'ung." 
 
 " I suppose you think that is less cowardly 
 than shooting down the workmen in Man-
 
 160 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 chester," said the young lady in great 
 indignation. 
 
 " 'Ere, 'ere," said the workman. 
 
 "Got what they jolly well deserved," said 
 the commercial traveller. "In what other 
 country would they stand workmen making 
 barricades in the street and trying to kidnap 
 the Governor, I should like to know." 
 
 "It was Admiral Fisher's fault," said the 
 young lady; "directly he was made Governor 
 of Manchester he made such a tactless speech ; 
 on purpose, of course, to incite the people to 
 rise." 
 
 "He simply said he wasn't going to have 
 any nonsense, and he meant to keep order in 
 the town," said the commercial traveller. 
 
 "Provocation! Provocation!" said the 
 workman and the young lady in chorus. 
 
 "The people in Manchester ought to have 
 waited for Parliament to be summoned," said 
 the old gentleman, who was reading the 
 Standard. 
 
 " Wait, wait, wait ; that's all everybody has 
 to tell us," said the young man. "We got 
 very little from the first Parliament, and now 
 they're going to dissolve this one, I suppose."
 
 A DREAM IN THE DUMA 161 
 
 "Who?" I asked. 
 
 "Why, the Government, of course," said the 
 young man. 
 
 "Excuse me," I said. "I am a stranger 
 and I don't quite understand. I don't know 
 what's been happening in this country." 
 
 "Well," said the old man, "I suppose you 
 know that two years ago after the disastrous 
 war in South Africa, and the disorders and the 
 general strike which followed it, the Govern- 
 ment, acting under the advice of Sir Ernest 
 Cassel, the Prime Minister, decided to re- 
 establish the old liberties granted by the 
 Magna Charta and to summon a Parliament 
 a thing which had not occurred since the 
 
 o 
 
 days of Oliver Cromwell. A manifesto was 
 issued in this sense, promising that henceforth 
 no new laws should be passed without the 
 consent of the people, and that a Parliament 
 would shortly be summoned. This was taken 
 by the whole population to mean that the 
 autocratic powers of the Monarch were to be 
 limited, and that the Government would 
 henceforward be constitutional. In the 
 meantime no laws were promulgated, but the 
 newspapers for the first time for three hundred
 
 1 62 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 years began to write what they pleased ; all 
 the Jews in the East End were massacred by 
 hooligans at the instigation of the Jacobites ; 
 many of the University dons were sent to the 
 Hebrides, and some of them to the Isle of Man 
 and New Zealand ; the administration of the 
 country continued to be in the hands of the 
 military governors instituted by Cromwell and 
 confirmed by Charles IL, and everything went 
 jogging on until January, and since there was 
 to be a Parliament general elections had to be 
 held. The task of making an electoral law 
 was entrusted to an official belonging to the 
 Board of Trade, who devised a law according 
 to which the labouring class should elect a 
 member of their class for each borough, and 
 besides this should have a vote in the election 
 of the remaining representatives of the borough. 
 This was done because the Government 
 believed that the labouring classes were 
 fundamentally loyal and would prove Con- 
 servative. The result of the elections was 
 a triumphant majority for the Liberals, who 
 were represented by the flower of the English 
 gentry, among them being Lord Lansdowne, 
 Lord Wemyss, and also by the most eminent
 
 A DREAM IN THE DUMA 163 
 
 names of the Bar, science and literature, such 
 as Asquith, Haldane, Morley, Butcher, and 
 Sir Charles Dilke. Whereas among the 
 gentry only six Jacobites were returned. 
 
 41 The Liberals, who were nicknamed the 
 C. B.'s, owing to one of their leaders' names 
 being Campbell-Bannerman, were practically 
 led by Mr. Balfour, who was not allowed to 
 stand for Parliament by the Government for 
 having edited the Fortnightly Review during 
 some months previous to the elections. The 
 labouring class returned fifteen Jacobite 
 peasants and one hundred men who professed 
 to belong to no party, but who as soon as 
 Parliament was opened formed themselves 
 into a Radical group called the Labour Party ; 
 there were also about fifty Irishmen and 
 Scotchmen, who formed separate groups. 
 The Parliament as soon as it met demanded 
 a responsible Minister, and, the Government 
 refusing, passed a vote of censure on the 
 Ministers ; Cassel had resigned before Parlia- 
 ment met and been succeeded by Sir Thomas 
 (afterwards) Lord Sanderson, and Lord 
 Methuen was appointed Minister of the 
 Interior. The Government being unwilling
 
 1 64 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 to yield on the subject of responsible Ministry, 
 dissolved Parliament, and declared that a 
 general election should be ,held in five months' 
 time. But the C.B.'s regarded the sudden 
 dissolution as unconstitutional, and published 
 an address in which they advocated passive 
 resistance. For this they were disenfranchised. 
 Sir Thomas Sanderson resigned and was made 
 a Peer, and Lord Methuen was made Prime 
 Minister. As disorders were feared, London 
 and all the large towns were placed under 
 martial law. All the newspapers except the 
 Times were suppressed, but the Morning Post, 
 Standard, and Daily News were ultimately 
 allowed to appear on certain conditions ; and 
 the provincial Governors were given powers 
 to hang people within forty-eight hours without 
 trial. On the other hand the revolutionary 
 element enormously increased. Oxford and 
 Cambridge were closed, and the under- 
 graduates devoted their leisure to blowing up 
 officials and soldiers with dynamite. From 
 two to three hundred high officials perished in 
 this manner, besides nearly all the rank and 
 file of the police in Dublin, Belfast, Cork and 
 Edinburgh. Before the next elections were
 
 A DREAM IN THE DUMA 165 
 
 held the Government took measures by which 
 it hoped to obtain a moderate Conservative 
 result, and a majority composed of men who 
 considered Mr. Balfour's policy too advanced. 
 They disenfranchised therefore the most 
 educated portion of the lower class and 
 ostracised the Liberals ; the election was 
 therefore held under double pressure, under 
 that of the Government on the one hand and 
 that of the revolutionaries on the other. The 
 Socialist Party was allowed greater liberty than 
 the Liberal Party, although the system of 
 excluding any individual who was superior in 
 any sort of way to his fellow - beings was 
 rigorously adopted as regards the Socialists 
 as well as regards the Liberals. At the time 
 of the dissolution of the first Parliament many 
 people, and among some who had great 
 influence at Court, maintained that it would 
 be a good thing to form a Ministry either of 
 the C.B.'s or of leading men of the country 
 gentry, such as the Duke of Devonshire. 
 This latter possibility was taken into con- 
 sideration and pourparlers took place between 
 the Prime Minister and the Duke ; but the 
 Duke refused to take office unless guarantees
 
 166 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 for the adoption of a thoroughly Liberal 
 regime were given. As regards the C. B.'s 
 the Government said they were a set of 
 doctrinaires, that Mr. Balfour was a Jesuit, 
 and that it was impossible to expect that a 
 man who had written a defence of philosophic 
 doubt and spent many hours on the golf links 
 could possibly be capable of administrative 
 work. The same argument was applied to 
 Mr. Haldane and Mr. Morley ; these men, it 
 was said, were philosophers and men of letters, 
 and could not be called statesmen. They were 
 without experience. 
 
 "Mr. Winston Churchill, also a C.B., was 
 said to be a Socialist at heart, and Mr. Belloc, 
 a member of the Labour Party, had to leave the 
 country to avoid arrest and emigrated to Russia, 
 where he gave lectures on English literature. 
 
 "The result of the second General Election 
 proved to be a great disappointment to the 
 Government. Mr. Balfour and Mr. Morley 
 stood as candidates for London, but a week 
 before their election Mr. Balfour was dis- 
 qualified on the grounds that he had only 
 spent nine months of the preceding year in 
 London and Mr. Morley was also disqualified,
 
 A DREAM IN THE DUMA 167 
 
 because there had appeared in the Spectator^ 
 a newspaper to which he had been a leading 
 contributor, a letter from an officer of the 6oth 
 Rifles, stating that the policy of the Govern- 
 ment was revolutionising the Army. He was, 
 however, shortly afterwards made a Peer and 
 took his seat in the House of Lords. In spite 
 of the persecution of the Liberals all the big 
 towns returned Liberal members ; Professor 
 Butcher was returned for Cambridge, and 
 Mr. Strachan Davidson for Oxford, and in all 
 90 Liberals were returned, 100 Socialists, 100 
 members belonging to the Labour Party, 60 
 Irishmen, 30 Jacobites, and 30 Conservatives. 
 The Government brought forward a programme 
 of elaborate reforms, which, however, eschewed 
 Ministerial responsibility, and it was soon clear 
 that the Liberals were dancing on a tight-rope 
 over an abyss, and had to depend for support 
 either on the Conservatives or on the Socialists. 
 Shorn of all that constituted their strongest 
 elements, their position was pitiable, and they 
 had among them no statesman strong enough 
 to build bricks out of straw, to dominate the 
 situation and force his will on the Assembly. 
 That was the position the day after Parliament
 
 1 68 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 was opened. During two months, however, 
 the Centre managed to obtain a working 
 majority, but last week they were defeated 
 by the alliance of the Jacobites and the 
 Socialists. And we are told that we may 
 expect a dissolution any minute, although it 
 is, perhaps, to the influence of the Government 
 for Parliament to continue its existence, since 
 it is too weak to prove a serious danger. 
 That is the situation at present." 
 
 " Lord Lansdowne's country house, Bo wood, 
 was burnt yesterday," said the young man in 
 flannels, looking up from his newspaper. 
 
 "Yes," said the commercial traveller, "and 
 houses are being burned and looted in the 
 Midlands every day ; that comes of having a 
 weak Government." 
 
 "Three policemen were shot at Leeds by 
 a youth seventeen years old," continued the 
 young man, "and the foreman of the ironworks 
 at Wolverhampton was stabbed." 
 
 " How cruel of the Government," said the 
 young lady, "to force people to do such things!" 
 
 " Lord Althorp has been asked to leave the 
 Turf Club by the Jacobites," said the young man. 
 
 " Why ? " said the young lady.
 
 A DREAM IN THE DUMA 169 
 
 " Because of his principles," said the young 
 man. 
 
 "Why," said the young lady, "he's a C.B., 
 that is to say, almost a Jacobite." 
 
 "The C.B.'s are a Liberal Party based on 
 sound democratic and constitutional principles," 
 said the old man, much ruffled. 
 
 " Hear, hear," said the clerk. 
 
 "The C.B.'s are a set of revolutionary liars 
 paid by the Jews and the Germans," said the 
 commercial traveller. 
 
 "The C.B.'s ain't no good," said the 
 workman. " They're in a funk of the 
 Government." 
 
 " They've become Conservative," said the 
 mechanic. 
 
 "Yes, Jacobite," said the young lady. 
 
 At that moment the train stopped. From 
 one of the first-class carriages a gentleman in 
 uniform got down. 
 
 " Lord Kitchener," said the young man, 
 looking out of the window. 
 
 The young lady got out, carrying her hamper 
 with her. As she walked past the General she 
 took something from it and flung it at him. 
 There was a terrific explosion, and I woke up .
 
 A ZEMSTVO REPORT 
 
 TH E Zemstvo report of a large district in the 
 centre of Russia for the year 1907, the 
 district of Morshansk, government of Tambov, 
 is in the highest degree illuminating as to the 
 difficulties and the problems with which Russian 
 administrators and reformers are beset at the 
 present moment. Before proceeding to an 
 analysis of the report it will perhaps be as 
 well to remind the reader of what the Zemstvo 
 consists. The Zemstvo is a County Council 
 consisting of about thirty-two members, of 
 which twelve represent the nobility (practically 
 the large landowner class), twelve the peasants, 
 and six the city or cities of the district, one 
 the clergy, and one the official class. To repre- 
 sent the nobility a candidate must possess 
 a certain quantity of land (in the district I am 
 speaking of, about 500 acres). Each member 
 is elected by his class. This County Council 
 
 170
 
 A ZEMSTVO REPORT 171 
 
 has in its hands the management of nearly all 
 the primary schools, the public health depart- 
 ment, the support and management of the 
 roads and means of communication, and various 
 small but important matters connected with 
 farming and agriculture, besides the organisa- 
 tion of the county post. To pay for all this 
 the Zemstvo has the right to levy taxes on the 
 land. The Council elects a Standing Board 
 of four members including the chairman, which 
 carries on the business from one yearly meeting 
 of the Council to the next, and is elected for 
 three years. The Council also sends repre- 
 sentatives to another Zemstvo Council repre- 
 senting the whole province, which is managed 
 on similar lines. 
 
 The Board in the report in question starts 
 by saying that the most salient fact in the 
 present state of the Zemstvo in the district of 
 Morshansk for the past year is a want of funds, 
 owing to the fact that the taxes due both from 
 peasants and landowners by which the Zemstvo 
 is supported are no longer forthcoming. The 
 taxes are not forthcoming because neither the 
 peasants nor the landowners are willing to pay 
 them, this unwillingness being in some cases
 
 172 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 a matter of principle and in others the result 
 of the peculiar psychology of the Russian 
 landed class at the present time. The peasantry 
 is neither sufficiently developed nor does it 
 possess the requisite knowledge to form con- 
 ceptions of principle with regard to the pay- 
 ment or the non-payment of taxes consciously. 
 Conceptions of this kind, however, obviously 
 exist, and they have reached the mass of 
 the peasantry in the form of ready-made watch- 
 words or party cries. These watchwords have 
 the characteristic of releasing the peasantry 
 from some kind of moral tie or obligation ; it 
 is not therefore surprising that being sown 
 broadcast among the masses at a time of 
 popular excitement they are eagerly absorbed. 
 In the Daily Press stress was laid on the 
 significance of not paying the Zemstvo taxes. 
 The idea was spread among the peasants that 
 the Zemstvo of the present day is an aristocratic 
 institution, which draws on the resources of 
 the peasant without giving him anything in 
 return. Such was the elementary philosophy 
 which was absorbed by the peasants. And 
 now, although the cry against paying the 
 Zemstvo taxes is no longer heard, doubt and
 
 A ZEMSTVO REPORT 173 
 
 confusion have been instilled into the peasant 
 as to what is truth, and in what the Zemstvo 
 taxes in reality consist, as to whether they are 
 simply a "squeeze" or a matter of public 
 necessity and local interest. Such a question 
 can only be settled by an inspection of figures 
 and facts, but before going into these it is 
 necessary to say a few words with regard to 
 the non-payment of taxes by the landowners. 
 The landowners were not so much actuated in 
 this case by a principle as by a feeling of alarm 
 resulting from the horrors of the Agrarian 
 agitation. At one moment it seemed as if the 
 end of private property had come, and that the 
 only course left was to liquidate one's affairs 
 and to flee from one's burning house, and if 
 such was the case the landowner said to him- 
 self, "What is the use of paying taxes when 
 my house is on fire, and I am lucky if I get off 
 with my life?" In the places where, as in this 
 district, there were no such violent incidents, 
 a cooler argument obtained, namely, "If the 
 peasants were not paying, why should we pay ? " 
 Some landowners, an infinite minority it is true, 
 went so far in the organs of a reactionary 
 character as to invert and apply the simple
 
 174 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 party-cry of the peasants, speaking thus : " The 
 Zemstvo is simply a peasants' institution draw- 
 ing on the resources of the large landowners, 
 and is incompatible with State interests ; let it 
 therefore be abolished." Thus the Zemstvo 
 in its effort to satisfy the universally recognised 
 needs of the population found itself between 
 Scylla and Charybdis. Let us now return to 
 the question, which is more important, of the 
 boycotting of the Zemstvo by the peasants. 
 If the Zemstvo is an aristocratic institution 
 which would therefore deserve to be boycotted 
 by the people, it should above all and before 
 all consider its own class interests and satisfy 
 them at the cost of the Zemstvo funds, 
 otherwise the accusation is meaningless. A 
 glance at the balance-sheet subjoined will 
 satisfy the reader as to whether this is the case 
 or not. 
 
 Total estimated expenses for 1907-8 : 243,504 
 roubles 60 kopecks (,24,350, 53.) divided as 
 follows : 
 
 i. Public health, 61,429 roubles 54 kop. 
 (^"6142, 95.), or more than 25 per cent, of the 
 total estimate.
 
 A ZEMSTVO REPORT 175 
 
 2. Education, 52,682 roubles (^5268), or 
 quarter of the total. 
 
 3. Share in the expenses of Government 
 institutions, 41,204 roubles 7 kop. (,4120), 
 1 7 per cent, of the total. 
 
 4. Paying off of debts, 36,777 roubles 60 
 kop. (^3677), 15 per cent, of the total. 
 
 5. Costs of the Zemstvo Administration, 
 25,554 roubles 58 kop., more than 10 per cent, 
 of the total. 
 
 6. Roads and means of communication, 9816 
 roubles 90 kop. (^981), or 4 per cent, of the 
 total. 
 
 7. Relief and other funds, 9807 roubles 21 
 kop. (^980), or 4 per cent, of the total. 
 
 8. Old age pensions, widows, orphans, etc., 
 3296 roubles 80 kop. (^329), or i per cent. 
 
 9. Veterinary department, 2150 roubles 
 (^215), or less than i percent. 
 
 10. Various, 1768 roubles (,176), or less 
 than i per cent. 
 
 From the above figures it will be seen that 
 one-fourth of the whole expenses is devoted to 
 the support of hospitals, doctors, accoucheurs, 
 nurses ; and these hospitals are exclusively
 
 i;6 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 devoted to the peasants, who are relieved free 
 of charge. Another fourth of the whole amount 
 is devoted to the support of teachers and 
 schools, in which the peasants' children, and 
 peasants' children alone, are educated. 
 
 In fact, 75 per cent, of the total expenses 
 are devoted by the Zemstvo to the needs of 
 the peasants, and 25 per cent, to the needs of 
 the population at large, but not exclusively to 
 any special class. The charge, therefore, of 
 the Zemstvo being in this district an aristocratic 
 institution falls to the ground. It might be 
 said that although the Zemstvo devotes 75 
 per cent, of its expenses to the needs of the 
 peasantry it does not give as much as it receives 
 from them. But the Zemstvo for this district 
 should receive out of the Zemstvo taxes paid 
 by the peasants for 1907 86,000 roubles (the 
 rest being paid by the landowners), and it 
 returns them 1 5 per cent, of the expenses, that 
 is to say, 182,000 roubles. In other words, 
 the peasant receives for every rouble he pays 
 2 roubles 12 kopecks worth of medical aid, 
 education, etc. There is another argument 
 which has likewise become a catchword and 
 is used as a party-cry against the Zemstvo,
 
 A ZEMSTVO REPORT 177 
 
 namely, that the peasants are overburdened 
 by Zemstvo taxation and are not in a state 
 to be able to pay additional Zemstvo taxes. 
 Besides the Zemstvo taxes, the following is 
 a complete list of the total taxes paid by the 
 peasants : 
 
 1. State land tax, about 43,000 roubles 
 (4000). 
 
 2. Canton rates (a Canton is an administra- 
 tive unit consisting of several villages), 89,000 
 roubles (8000). 
 
 3. Village rates, 84,000 roubles (^8000). 
 
 4. Compulsory insurance, 91,000 roubles 
 (9000). 
 
 Total, 307,000 roubles (,30,000). 
 
 The Zemstvo taxes form, therefore, one- 
 sixth of the total taxation, but the Zemstvo 
 Board does not consider the peasants to be 
 overtaxed for the following reason : During 
 1906 the total amount spent by the peasants 
 in the district on alcohol was 1,800,000 roubles 
 (.180,000). The population of the district 
 amounts to 300,000 ; this means 6 roubles 
 a head, or over 36 roubles a farm (there being 
 
 12
 
 i;8 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 40,000 farms in the district), and as the total 
 taxation amounts in round figures to 500,000 
 roubles (.50,000) the amount of taxes paid by 
 each farm is 12 roubles 50 kopecks. 
 
 If a farm can pay a yearly voluntary tax in 
 alcohol of 36 roubles it is absurd to speak of 
 its being overtaxed by a yearly payment of 
 12 roubles 50 kopecks, and still more absurd 
 to talk of the burden of the Zemstvo tax, which 
 amounts to 2 roubles 1 5 kopecks per farm. 
 
 This is the gist of the Zemstvo report of 
 this district for 1907. At first sight two con- 
 clusions might be drawn from it: (i) that 
 the political agitators and the Liberal Press in 
 general have been guilty of criminal folly in 
 urging the peasants to boycott the Zemstvo ; 
 (2) that it is useless to try and improve the 
 condition of peasants who refuse money for 
 the support of the means of bettering their 
 condition, and spend it on drink. Such con- 
 clusions would be too sweeping. Political 
 agitators have, indeed, done endless mischief 
 in advocating such futile and wicked measures 
 as, for instance, the boycotting of the Zemstvos, 
 and this testifies to their total lack of political 
 experience ; but the very existence of such
 
 A ZEMSTVO REPORT 179 
 
 a propaganda, and the very fact that the watch- 
 words quoted above can be accepted pre- 
 supposes a frame of mind which can only 
 result from the persistence of bad Government 
 and the constant putting off of reform. With 
 regard to the peasants and their drink, the 
 autocratic system is again to a certain degree 
 at the root of the matter, since so far from 
 discouraging drink among the peasants, it lives 
 upon it, the money spent on drink by the 
 peasant forming a substantial part of the State 
 revenue. 1 And in cases where the peasants have 
 demanded that the Government spirit store may 
 be closed in their village the local Government 
 Magistrate has refused them the permission to 
 do so. Moreover, it is sufficiently well known 
 that the autocratic system of Government 
 that is to say the old regime never of its own 
 accord took a single serious step to raise the 
 condition of the peasants by education, civilisa- 
 tion, and culture. On the contrary, it leant 
 with all its might against the closed door. 
 
 1 To abolish the State monopoly now a Peter the Great would 
 be needed. However difficult the task, there can be no doubt 
 that in the present circumstances the monopoly is a source of 
 unmixed evil.
 
 ANTI-SEMITISM IN RUSSIA 
 
 " I "HE fundamental error underlying the 
 X main theories of people who write with 
 indignation on the massacres of Jews in Russia 
 seems to me to contain in itself everything 
 which makes it difficult for Englishmen to 
 understand current events in Russia. The 
 error is that the Russian Government, which 
 such writers would be the first to proclaim 
 incompetent, imbecile, stupid, ineffectual, 
 purposeless, without a policy, shifting, dis- 
 tracted, fickle, wavering, unstable, weak, cor- 
 rupt, insolvent, dislocated, tottering, and 
 rotten to the core, should at the same time be 
 so competent, so united, so perfect a machine, 
 so drastically single-minded, so unfaltering in 
 design, and so masterly in execution that one 
 man in St. Petersburg can by pressing a button 
 have his anti-Semitic will carried out in the 
 smallest detail in any village of the immense 
 Russian Empire. The great error is to think
 
 ANTI-SEMITISM IN RUSSIA 181 
 
 that attacks on Jews or anything else which has 
 occurred in Russia during the last three years 
 has been the result of one policy conceived by 
 one master mind and executed by well-trained 
 and perfectly organised instruments responding 
 directly to that one mind. The truth is that 
 there has been no policy in Russia during the 
 last few years, but an ever-shifting mass of 
 contradictory currents. During the last three 
 years 1 it can be said that there has been no 
 Government at all ; nothing but the anarchy 
 resulting from civil war, a civil war which is 
 not fought in pitched battles as that which 
 was waged in England between the Cavaliers 
 and the Roundheads but carried on in the 
 ordinary course of everyday life by what are 
 termed peaceful citizens of the community, 
 during their everyday avocations, by every 
 means at their disposal. The anarchy resulting 
 from such a state of things is rendered doubly 
 anarchial because one of the sides in the con- 
 flict is recruited in some degree from the very 
 officials and public servants on whose service 
 the proper administration of the State depends. 
 But why, it will be asked, are the Jews 
 1 1904-7.
 
 1 82 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 killed ? First of all, at the root of the matter, 
 there is the following cause: In a country 
 which is as politically unripe and undeveloped 
 as other European countries were in the 
 sixteenth century, in a country which is at 
 the present moment engaged in fighting for 
 its Magna Charta, you are certain to find the 
 phenomena which acccompanied similar con- 
 ditions and processes in other countries. And 
 one of the phenomena inseparable from political 
 immaturity, in a country where the desire for 
 reform is struggling to get the upper hand, is a 
 prejudice against Jews and a desire to render 
 them responsible for the evils and disorders 
 which are the natural result of all processes of 
 change. It was so in England in the days 
 of King John. It was so in France at the 
 beginning of the French Revolution. With 
 the exception of the peasants, who follow 
 their own line, the whole of Russia, as well 
 as the whole of the administration, is a blend 
 like pepper and salt of a numerically large mass 
 of people without any political knowledge and 
 a strong Liberal enlightened but inexperi- 
 enced faction. In the administration, at all 
 events, the Liberal element is in the minority,
 
 ANTI-SEMITISM IN RUSSIA 183 
 
 since it has been drilled during ages by the 
 old regime to a system of prejudice and 
 reaction. The conflict which is being fought 
 at the present moment between the obscurantist 
 majority and the enlightened minority (beneath 
 which the proletariat seethes independently, 
 and from which the peasants hold aloof in 
 the special groove of their own particular 
 interests) is the cause of the present state of 
 anarchy. The one consoling element in the 
 situation is that revolutions have always been 
 carried out by influential or energetic minorities 
 who have finally rallied the people round them. 
 In the obscurantist element all political pre- 
 judices have strong roots. One of the strong- 
 est of these prejudices is the anti-Semite 
 prejudice, which all Europe shared in the 
 sixteenth century, deeds of violence being the 
 result, and which many countries still share at 
 the present day. Only in such countries now 
 (as in Hungary, for instance, where the natural 
 anti-Semitism is stronger than it is in Russia) 
 the Government is strong enough to quell it 
 and to prevent its finding its natural expression. 
 In Russia there is no government. In 
 Russia there is civil war. The civil war
 
 1 84 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 is being carried on between two parties, one 
 which desires reform and one which does not ; 
 one which is nationalistic, and one which is 
 not. The Jews form one of the most effective 
 and capable factors of the former. Therefore 
 it is scarcely surprising that the Nationalists 
 should attribute the whole evil to the Jews. 
 They wage war with equal violence against 
 all their opponents, all the "intellectuals," only 
 it is simpler to label the whole side as consist- 
 ing of Jews, and say that the whole revolution 
 and the whole desire for reform is the work of 
 the Jews. When these people therefore strike 
 a blow, the first people whom they attack are 
 the Jews. That is one reason why the Jews 
 are killed. 
 
 The Government depends for its existence, 
 as I have already said, on a multitude of instru- 
 ments steeped in prejudice and possessing no 
 political knowledge or experience ; one fact is 
 obvious to these people, namely, that they are 
 being violently attacked by a formidable 
 opponent, in which they know there is a con- 
 siderable Jewish element. When they see on 
 the other hand their own partisans attack 
 these enemies, and in attacking them massacre
 
 ANTI-SEMITISM IN RUSSIA 185 
 
 the Jews, it is scarcely likely that they will 
 interfere to prevent the massacre of the people 
 whom they rightly regard as playing the most 
 prominent part in blowing them up. The 
 attitude of the Central Government can only 
 have an indirect influence, since it is plain, at 
 the present moment, that there is not a Central 
 Government strong enough to impose its will 
 on its subordinates. If the Government were 
 capable and strong, it could, of course, prevent 
 the Jewish massacres, but if the Government 
 were capable and strong there would be no 
 revolution, and probably also no massacres to 
 prevent. Another point lies in the fact that 
 anti-Semitism in Russia is more artificial than 
 in other countries. The greatest anti-Semites 
 are men who have probably never seen a Jew 
 in their lives. In the middle-classes in Russia 
 the Jews assimilate themselves rapidly to the 
 rest of the population. Among the peasants 
 there are no Jews in the north and centre of 
 Russia at all, and it is where they do not exist 
 that the prejudice against them is strongest. 
 In a word, therefore, anti-Semitism in Russia 
 is the reflection of the present politically unculti- 
 vated condition of a great mass of people who
 
 1 86 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 are concerned in the administration of the 
 country. The massacres are the result not of 
 any individuals, but of the general state of 
 anarchy and civil war that exists at present in 
 Russia. 
 
 Here is a striking example of the powerless- 
 ness of individuals in the matter. When Count 
 Witte took office it is obvious by his acts that 
 he tried to come to terms with all parties. He 
 wished to restore order and to obtain a foreign 
 loan. It would therefore be childish to suppose 
 that he can have desired his administration to 
 start off with a series of Pogroms, or that he 
 would not have prevented it, had it been in his 
 power. 
 
 But now we come to the question of the 
 " Power" behind the throne which is supposed 
 to have organised these massacres. That such 
 a power or powers existed, apart from the 
 Government, working against it obscurely, is 
 a fact. In October 1905 this power consisted, 
 in practice, of a police officer of inferior rank 
 who carried on a work of printing Anti- Jewish 
 propaganda, in which Count Witte was violently 
 abused without the knowledge of his superiors 
 or his colleagues. It is also a fact that they
 
 ANTI-SEMITISM IN RUSSIA 187 
 
 encouraged anti- Jewish riots and attempted to 
 organise them by distributing printed proclama- 
 tions. But the existence of these powers would 
 not have been sufficient in themselves to cause 
 the massacres. Any one who was travelling in 
 Russia at that moment, as I was, and who is 
 impartial in the matter, will testify to the fact 
 that no organisation was necessary. There 
 existed a spontaneous counter-revolution against 
 the "strikers," as all the "intellectuals," and 
 not only the Jews, were then called. That the 
 officials and the police sympathised with this 
 counter-revolution is not surprising, since they 
 represent the thing against which the revolution 
 was being made. Neither General Trepoff nor 
 any one else could, however much he had wished, 
 have created this sporadic counter-revolution, nor 
 could any individual in the central administration 
 have prevented it. The counter-revolution was 
 the logical sequence and the indispensable at- 
 tendant factor of the revolution. Only the 
 officials who did sympathise with this counter- 
 revolution whenever massacres occurred, took 
 no steps to prevent them, knowing that their 
 inactivity would be approved, even if it was not 
 actually encouraged and directly instigated by
 
 1 88 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 the Dark Powers behind or alongside of the 
 Government, and knowing also that the Govern- 
 ment itself would be powerless to punish them. 
 They felt they were on the Right side and that, 
 whoever might be blamed, they would be 
 immune. 
 
 With regard to the Jewish massacres, which 
 took place in the south-west of Russia before 
 the revolutionary movement, there is more to 
 be said. The anti- Jewish riots there are mainly 
 the result of the special legislation to which the 
 Jews are subjected. But I will discuss this 
 matter in the next chapter.
 
 PRINCE OUROUSOV'S MEMOIRS 1 
 
 A SMALL book has lately been published 
 in Russia which perhaps throws more 
 light on the subject of the Russian Adminis- 
 tration and the causes of the troubles through 
 which Russia is at present going than any 
 other work which has appeared during the 
 last five years in Russia or elsewhere. This 
 book is a volume of Memoirs by Prince 
 Ourousov. Prince Ourousov took his degree 
 in the Moscow University in 1885, and after 
 being employed in the Zemstvo administration 
 in the government of Kalouga he was appointed 
 Vice-Governor of the province of Tambov in 
 1902; towards the end of May 1903, he 
 suddenly, and, as far as he was concerned, unex- 
 pectedly, received a telegram from the Ministry 
 of Home Affairs appointing him Governor of 
 
 1 Since this was written a translation of Prince Ourousov's 
 book has been published in English by Messrs. Harper & 
 
 Bros. 
 
 189
 
 Bessarabia. The volume which has now ap- 
 peared from his pen consists of a record of his 
 administrative rule in Bessarabia, which lasted 
 from 1903-4. It is a portion of a larger work 
 covering a period from 1872-1906, the publica- 
 tion of which Prince Ourousov has put off to a 
 later date. 
 
 Prince Ourousov writes in the preface that 
 he has been led to publish this section of his 
 Memoirs immediately by the rapid development 
 of political life in Russia ; he considers that 
 nothing which can throw any light on the 
 conditions of administrative life, the reform 
 and transformation of which are the main object 
 and task of the thinking population of Russia 
 at this moment, should be concealed, and in 
 publishing these recollections it is his object 
 to give an accurate account, derived from first- 
 hand knowledge, of those administrative pro- 
 ceedings with regard to which Prince Ourousov 
 states there prevails a completely wrong im- 
 pression, side by side with wild exaggerations. 
 The interest and importance of the book are 
 immense, and it is earnestly to be hoped that 
 the book will speedily be translated into 
 English, because it provides the exact kind of
 
 PRINCE OUROUSOV'S MEMOIRS 191 
 
 knowledge for which Englishmen are continually 
 asking in regard to Russia. 
 
 There are two questions which Englishmen 
 who are interested in Russian political life 
 are continually asking : first, " What is it all 
 about?" and, secondly, "Why are the Jews 
 killed in Russia ? " In connection with the 
 first question I have heard Englishmen, after 
 their first journey to Russia, ask questions such 
 as these : "What do the Liberals want? Do 
 they know themselves ? " On the other hand, 
 we have been flooded with books of all kinds 
 by Englishmen, by Russians, and by Germans, 
 who have obscured the Jewish and indeed every 
 other question in their zeal to prove that the 
 Central Government in Russia has for the last 
 five years combined the qualities which a Babu 
 journalist in India once attributed to Lord 
 Cromer : " The oiliness of a Chadband and the 
 malignity of a fiend." 
 
 This book of Prince Ourousov's throws a 
 flood of light on both these questions. It 
 shows, not by any enunciation of doctrinaire 
 principles or political theories but by a record 
 of facts, the causes of the evils of the present 
 administrative system, and it points out (by
 
 192 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 fact, and not by theory) where reform is needed, 
 why reform is needed, and how it can be 
 effected. It also provides the reader with a 
 clear idea of the Jewish question and its pos- 
 sible solution. Prince Ourousov was a member 
 of the first Duma. The speech he made in a 
 debate on the Jewish question not only made 
 a great stir in Russia and in Europe, but was 
 certainly the most statesmanlike utterance that 
 has proceeded from the lips of a member of the 
 Opposition since the struggle for constitutional 
 reform opened in 1905. Prince Ourousov's 
 plain speaking on this occasion won for him 
 the applause of the Liberals and the hatred of 
 the reactionaries. It must also be borne in 
 mind that Prince Ourousov was a member of 
 Count Witte's administration before the open- 
 ing of the first Duma, which he left owing to 
 his disgust at the proceedings of certain officials 
 connected with the Minister of the Interior. 
 He will not, therefore, be suspected of partiality 
 towards the autocratic re'gime and its scaffold- 
 ing of bureaucrats. It is, therefore, all the more 
 remarkable to find in this book no trace of 
 unfairness or exaggeration towards the repre- 
 sentatives of the old regime. The book is
 
 PRINCE OUROUSOV'S MEMOIRS 193 
 
 fair, luminous, and honest, and here at last we 
 have the truth about Russia unleavened by 
 political bias, unvarnished by cheap sensation- 
 alism, and not distorted by doctrinaire principles 
 and theory. Besides which the book is in 
 itself, and on account of the facts it records, 
 of surpassing interest and amusement to the 
 ordinary reader. 
 
 When Prince Ourousov was appointed Gover- 
 nor of Bessarabia he says that he knew no 
 more about that province than he did of New 
 Zealand. The foreign newspapers had been 
 full of the Jewish Pogrom which had occurred 
 in Kishineff from 7th April to 9th April 1903. 
 They had openly accused the Russian Govern- 
 ment of having instigated the disorders, and a 
 letter was published in an English newspaper, 
 said to be written by Plehve, then Minister of 
 the Interior, to the Governor of Bessarabia, 
 von Raaben, containing clear hints not to 
 interfere with the doings of the anti- Jewish 
 rioters. I will quote Prince Ourousov's appre- 
 ciation of this letter later on. Before leaving 
 for Kishineff Prince Ourousov was received by 
 Plehve. The Minister's final injunction to him, 
 he says, was, word for word, the following : 
 13
 
 194 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 " I give you no advice and no directions. You 
 are entirely independent. Act as you please, 
 as long as the results are good. I will say only 
 one final word : Let us have as few speeches 
 as possible, and as little sentimental Hebro- 
 philism." These words, Prince Ourousov adds, 
 proved Plehve's perspicacity, since during his 
 Administration he made several speeches, and 
 he left Kishineff with the established reputation 
 of being a Hebrophil. 
 
 When Prince Ourousov arrived in Kishineff 
 he was met by his predecessor, General von 
 Raaben. In mentioning him Prince Ourousov 
 writes as follows : " I wish before all things in 
 the clearest possible manner to refute the ac- 
 cusations made against Raaben of complicity in 
 the Jewish Pogrom, and to explode the legend 
 of the letter which he is said to have received 
 on this subject from the Minister of the Interior. 
 Apart from the fact that Plehve insisted on 
 the peremptory dismissal of Raaben, it is im- 
 probable that the Minister would have relied 
 in such a case on a man whose gentleness and 
 straightness would have excluded all possibility 
 of his executing such a cruel, diabolical plan. 
 I do not mean to imply that I consider the
 
 PRINCE OUROUSOV'S MEMOIRS 195 
 
 Minister capable of having been the initiator 
 of the Pogrom. On the other hand, I think 
 that Plehve was too clever and too experienced 
 to have recourse to such means in his struggle 
 with the Jews, in spite of his hatred towards 
 them. But if Plehve might consider that 
 the Pogrom would have disagreeable conse- 
 quences for the Government, Raaben was 
 incapable, owing to his character and his 
 qualities, of organising and executing a massacre. 
 This is not only my own conviction, but it is 
 shared by all his fellow-workers, and by the local 
 representatives of the Jewish commune whose 
 opinion is of special weight." 
 
 Further on in the book Prince Ourousov 
 deals with the question of the origin of the 
 Kishineff Pogrom in 1903 in greater detail. 
 In the Pogrom of April 1903, forty-two Jews 
 were killed, and the survivors incurred material 
 damage amounting to at least a million roubles 
 (,100,000). What were its causes? Prince 
 Ourousov deals first with the theory that it was 
 directly initiated by the Minister of the Interior. 
 He disbelieves in this theory for two reasons : 
 first, that in the Department of the Secret 
 Police, to which he had access before going to
 
 196 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Kishineff, and in which he made a searching 
 investigation in all that related to Kishineff, 
 there was not a hint that the Administration 
 was inclined to consider desirable any anti- 
 Jewish riots whatever or even anti- Jewish 
 demonstrations. Moreover, at this moment 
 this Department was in charge of M. A. Lopou- 
 chin, who has become famous for having brought 
 to light the anti- Jewish propaganda of certain 
 police officials in the autumn of 1905, which 
 led to Pogroms, a man who was, and is, well 
 known for his straightness and his strong 
 Liberal bias. Secondly, Prince Ourousov does 
 not believe Plehve to have been capable of 
 such gross thoughtlessness as to place proof 
 of his complicity in the hands of a Governor 
 whom he scarcely knew, and whom he did not 
 trust. Raaben was, moreover, a gentleman ; 
 he paid little attention to his superiors, and 
 lived on excellent terms with the Jews, towards 
 whom he acted with great tolerance. More- 
 over, he was summarily dismissed on account 
 of the Pogrom, and was not rehabilitated in 
 the public service until after the death of 
 Plehve. 
 
 Prince Ourousov then considers the theory
 
 PRINCE OUROUSOV'S MEMOIRS 197 
 
 that the Pogrom was a sudden and irrepres- 
 sible outburst of long-suppressed fury, a pay- 
 ment of old scores, a movement of elemental 
 force and anger against the Jewish race. He 
 holds that this explanation is one-sided, untrue, 
 and entirely artificial. " It is impossible to 
 deny," he writes, "that in the governments 
 inhabited by the Jews, Jews will be more easily 
 the objects of assault and robbery than any 
 one else. And the chief causes of this are the 
 special laws which develop among the popula- 
 tion a special point of view with regard to the 
 Jews, namely, that they are citizens without 
 rights, and a dangerous element in the State. 
 One can admit that in certain cases questions 
 of race and religion cause the Jews to clash 
 with the rest of the population . . . there are 
 also complaints of Jewish exploitation, although 
 they far more often proceed from the outside 
 observers of this exploitation than from among 
 the people exploited. But all these reasons 
 are not sufficient to cause a Pogrom ; an 
 immediate cause is necessary for the explosion 
 of popular passions, and it has been impossible 
 to discover that immediate cause ; on the other 
 hand, in Kishineff in 1903 certain phenomena
 
 198 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 were observed. The daily Press played a large 
 part in preparing a suitable frame of mind for 
 a Pogrom among the population, and the 
 preponderant part was played by the local 
 newspaper of Kroushevan (the notorious anti- 
 Jewish agitator), and publications issued in 
 St. Petersburg of similar colour. These news- 
 papers were filled with accusations against 
 the Jews, and with facts and comments calcu- 
 lated to stir up popular passion. The authority 
 of Kroushevan, in the eyes of his readers, was 
 to a certain extent strengthened by the open 
 protection he received from the chief administra- 
 tive Department dealing with the Press, the 
 result of which made it impossible for the local 
 administration to moderate the anti-Jewish 
 ardour. (Prince Ourousov develops this point 
 at length, pointing out that complaints against 
 the violence of the local Press had no result. 
 The agitators were looked upon by the Press 
 authorities in St. Petersburg as patriots.) The 
 action of the police in Kishineff, as probably 
 in other places, where the Jewish population 
 preponderated, gave rise to the view that anti- 
 Jewish action was looked on with favour, and 
 the conviction became widely spread among
 
 PRINCE OUROUSOV'S MEMOIRS 199 
 
 the ignorant masses that there was no penalty 
 for hostile action against the Jews ; so much 
 so that the legend arose in Kishineff that 
 the Emperor had authorised a three days' 
 Pogrom in Kishineff, and early on the 
 morning of the third day of the disorders a 
 crowd of peasants was stopped by a police 
 officer ; they had come from a neighbouring 
 village in full consciousness of a duty to be 
 performed : to beat the Jews, by order of the 
 Emperor. I am especially anxious to under- 
 line this characteristic of the Kishineff Pogrom. 
 The chief motive of the rioters was neither 
 hatred nor revenge, but the fulfilment of such 
 action which in the opinion of some coincided 
 with the aims and desires of the Government, 
 and in the opinion of others was even authorised, 
 and finally in the eyes of the ignorant peasantry 
 was the fulfilment of the Imperial Word. 
 Therefore, in my opinion, it is impossible to 
 absolve the Central Administration from moral 
 responsibility in the Kishineff plunderings and 
 murders. I consider our Government guilty 
 on account of the patronage afforded to a 
 narrow Nationalist idea, on account of its short- 
 sighted and summary dealings towards the
 
 200 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 provinces inhabited by alien races, and on 
 account of the fact that this policy fostered 
 mutual hatred and distrust among the various 
 nationalities ; finally, because the central power 
 encouraged these brutal phenomena, which 
 disappear as soon as the Government openly 
 declares that Pogroms are a crime for which 
 the local administration will have to answer." 
 
 Prince Ourousov concludes, therefore, that 
 whereas the idea that Plehve had deliberately 
 organised anti- Jewish riots is a legend, never- 
 theless his Government cannot be absolved 
 from the suspicion that it exerted indirect in- 
 fluence on the riots through the action of minor 
 anti- Jewish-minded officials who knew that their 
 action would not meet with disapproval alone, 
 and by its constant refusal to check the violence 
 of the anti- Jewish Press. If one realises, there- 
 fore, that the Pogrom was not a natural and 
 fortuitous occurrence, it is morally not difficult to 
 say that it was effected "by order." But the 
 chief cause of the mischief which makes such riots 
 possible is the existence of the special legisla- 
 tion to which the Jews are subjected in Russia. 
 As long as one part of the population is legally 
 and civilly inferior to another part, the legally
 
 PRINCE OUROUSOV'S MEMOIRS 201 
 
 superior portion will always, especially if it 
 consists of uneducated peasants, think that it is 
 acting patriotically in ill-treating the legally 
 inferior portion. Moreover, the endless bother 
 incurred by every small official, owing to the 
 carrying out or the neglect of the innumerable 
 preventive regulations respecting the Jews, is 
 sufficient in itself to embitter the local officials 
 against the Jews. I have selected this portion 
 of Prince Ourousov's book out of many other 
 interesting things, and dwelt upon it at length, 
 because the question is still vital and actual. 
 
 Anti-Jewish riots occurred in Odessa in 
 August 1907. The violence of the anti- Jewish 
 Press and the reluctance of the central authorities 
 to keep it in check were as much features then 
 as they were in 1903. When a newly appointed 
 Governor-General declared in Odessa that he 
 was not afraid of protecting the Jews because 
 he considered them equal in the eyes of the law 
 to other citizens, he was considered to have 
 done an act of daring courage. Finally, it is 
 plain not only from Prince Ourousov's book, 
 but also from the experience of all capable 
 officials in Russia, that as soon as energetic 
 measures are taken against anti- Jewish agitators
 
 202 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 the riots cease. Only the sad fact remains 
 that, as Prince Ourousov points out, since 1903 
 there is not a high post in Russia which has 
 not changed hands : but the unfortunate thing 
 is that the changes have one and all been for 
 the worse ; for M. Stolypin, or whoever advises 
 him in these matters, lacks even a particle of 
 the quality which Napoleon possessed in the 
 highest degree : an eye for men. 1 The result 
 is that excellent Governors (among them 
 staunch Conservatives) have, been dismissed on 
 ridiculous pretexts, and have in some cases 
 been replaced by unamiable and incompetent 
 blunderers. 
 
 1 It should be said, in justice to M. Stolypin, that it is ex- 
 tremely difficult to find people to accept these posts. Those 
 who are capable of filling them competently refuse them.
 
 STORIES 
 
 POGROM 
 
 X. was a landowner who lived in 
 the south of Russia, not far from one 
 of the large manufacturing towns. He spent 
 the whole summer in a small country house, 
 about six miles from the town, with his wife 
 and children. Not far from the house, at 
 about a mile's distance, was a village which 
 was bigger than an ordinary village and less 
 big than an ordinary town. The greater part 
 of the population consisted of Jews ; they 
 were poor Jews mostly, some of them very 
 poor indeed. The Count and his wife knew 
 the people of the place well, and their relations 
 with the poor Jews were of the friendliest 
 description ; they were constantly employing 
 them to do small jobs, and their special 
 friends were the tailor and the bootmaker, 
 
 203
 
 204 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 whose shops were in the Jewish bazaar, the 
 poorest quarter of the place. The boot- 
 maker's name was Gertzel, and the tailor was 
 called Daniel. 
 
 When the Dreyfus case was drawing to 
 its close, the whole of this population was in 
 a great state of excitement, and the Countess 
 X. used every afternoon to go and give 
 Gertzel and Daniel the latest news. Just 
 before the result of the final court-martial at 
 Rennes was known, Countess X. received a 
 telegram from a friend of hers abroad saying 
 that Dreyfus had been acquitted. She went 
 post haste with the news to the village, and 
 soon the whole place was in a tumult of 
 thanksgiving and rejoicing. Next day, when 
 the authentic news of the verdict arrived, she 
 was obliged to go and tell the disappointing 
 news. 
 
 During all those summer months nothing 
 else had been discussed in this little place ; 
 and, as everywhere else, the world was split 
 up into two factions ; and in the Countess' 
 family, while she and her husband believed 
 violently in the innocence of Dreyfus, her 
 brother-in-law and her uncle were equally
 
 POGROM 205 
 
 firmly convinced of his guilt, and equally 
 violent in their affirmations of it. In the 
 village there was a strong orthodox faction 
 which earnestly longed for the death of the 
 traitor, and the Jewish populace cared more 
 for his acquittal than for their own affairs. 
 When Countess X. imparted to them the 
 disappointing verdict, they lamented bitterly : 
 all the more so on account of the false joy 
 they had experienced the day before. And 
 in the whole population there were no two 
 beings more downcast and upset by the result 
 than Gertzel and Daniel. 
 
 It was in the autumn of that year, shortly 
 after the result of the Dreyfus case became 
 known, that one morning Gertzel and Daniel 
 appeared in Countess X.'s garden and re- 
 quested to see her. 
 
 Gertzel was a thin, solidly built man, with 
 dark tangled hair and mild soft eyes. He 
 had a thick, untidy beard, a dirty loose shirt 
 with a torn collar. Daniel was smaller, and 
 younger ; he wore no beard, and his eyes 
 were penetrating and glistening ; he was 
 quiet and modest, and was passionately fond 
 of reading books,
 
 206 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 The Countess came out and asked them 
 whether they wanted work. 
 
 " No, it is not work that we want," said 
 Gertzel, "we want to know if we may bring 
 our furniture to-day, and put it in your 
 stables ? It will not take up very much 
 room," he added. 
 
 "Certainly you may," said the Countess; 
 " but why do you want to get rid of your 
 furniture ? Is it your feast day ? " 
 
 " No, it is very far from being our feast 
 day it is little enough a feast day," said 
 Gertzel; "but we want you in your kindness 
 to let us store our furniture in your stables 
 in the barn perhaps. It will take little room. 
 There are some chairs, a table, and the tools 
 and implements that are necessary for our 
 work. And Daniel has a lot of books he 
 would like to bring, too some of those which 
 your Brightness gave him, if your Brightness 
 remembers, last year." 
 
 "You may certainly bring your things," 
 said the Countess, " and put them in the 
 stables or in the barn or anywhere else 
 you please. But why do you want to do 
 this?"
 
 POGROM 207 
 
 "It is because," said Gertzel, "to-morrow 
 morning there will be a Pogrom." 
 
 " How a Pogrom ? " asked the Countess. 
 
 "A Pogrom," said Gertzel, "an ordinary 
 Pogrom. It has been arranged; the date is 
 fixed for to-morrow. It will be all right if 
 we may store our furniture in your barn ; and 
 if we may ask as much, we have several friends 
 who would like to do the same. For in that case 
 all will be well, and we shall incur no loss. We 
 cannot afford the loss this year : we are all poor 
 people ; we cannot afford to lose our property." 
 
 " But," said the Countess, " I don't under- 
 stand. Who is going to make this Pogrom ? 
 The people here?" 
 
 " God forbid ! " said Gertzel. " We are living 
 with all the people here in peace. They are 
 coming from O. (O. was the big manufacturing 
 town) and from A. (another town about fifty 
 miles distant). They are coming by train ; 
 they will arrive early to-morrow morning. 
 The Pogrom will take place in the morning ; 
 it will be all over by the evening, and they 
 will go back by the night train." 
 
 "But who?" the Countess asked, "and 
 what are they ? "
 
 208 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 " They say they have been sent ; some 
 people say it is the Tsar's orders ; others that 
 it is the Governor, but what does it matter? 
 In any case, they have been sent to make a 
 Pogrom." 
 
 "Surely," said the Countess, "if you 
 inform the police, measures will be taken to 
 prevent this. It is absurd! It can't possibly 
 happen ! " 
 
 " It must be," said Gertzel, and Daniel 
 nodded his head in agreement, and repeated : 
 " It must be : it is so decreed ! " 
 
 "It has all been arranged," said Gertzel. 
 "To-morrow there will be the Pogrom. Let 
 us bring our furniture to your barn, our 
 furniture and our friends' furniture, and all 
 will be well." 
 
 "It must be prevented ! " said the Countess, 
 " You must go to the police." 
 
 " It is useless," said Gertzel; "it cannot be 
 prevented ; it has been arranged for to- 
 morrow." 
 
 And no argument was of any avail ; they 
 merely repeated over and over again that the 
 Pogrom was to be, and they left, with tears 
 of gratitude in their eyes for having been
 
 POGROM 209 
 
 allowed to store their furniture in the Count's 
 stables. 
 
 The Countess went to her husband and 
 related what had happened. They sent for 
 Ivan, the moujik, who washed the plates, and 
 who, being a native of the place, would be 
 likely to know what was going on, and they 
 asked him if it were true that there was to be 
 a Pogrom. 
 
 "Yes, your Brightness," he said, "it is 
 quite true. There will be a Pogrom to- 
 morrow ; it has been arranged." 
 
 "Who has arranged it?" asked the 
 Countess. 
 
 "I cannot know," answered Ivan; "but it 
 has been arranged." 
 
 "You mean the people here?" asked the 
 Countess, "they will attack the Jews?" 
 
 " God forbid ! " said Ivan. " The Jews are 
 a nice people. We live with them in peace ; 
 but everything may happen. Sometimes an 
 orthodox Russian is worse than a Jew. But 
 the Jews were much offended by the last 
 Pogrom, and they have been giving false 
 evidence, and attributing to many people 
 crimes which they had not committed." 
 14
 
 210 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 "When was the last Pogrom?" asked the 
 Countess. 
 
 "It was in the spring," said Ivan, "when 
 your Brightness was away." 
 
 "And did they kill the Jews?" asked the 
 Count. 
 
 "God forbid!" Ivan answered. "They 
 sinned a little, and they destroyed some of the 
 Jews' property, but murder God forbid! they 
 were innocent of that ! " 
 
 "But who is going to do this?" asked the 
 Count. 
 
 "They will come from various places," said 
 Ivan. " They will come by the night train from 
 O. and A. They will arrive in the morning ; 
 there will be a Pogrom, and they will go 
 away." 
 
 " But who ? " asked the Count. 
 
 "Those who are sent," said Ivan. 
 
 "But who is sending them?" repeated the 
 Count. 
 
 " I cannot know," said Ivan. 
 
 " How do you know this is so ? " asked the 
 Countess. 
 
 "Everybody knows it," said Ivan "all 
 the morning carts have been arriving from
 
 POGROM 211 
 
 all the neighbouring villages just as when 
 there is a fair." 
 
 " What for ? " asked the Countess. 
 
 " To take away all that is left after the 
 Pogrom," said Ivan. "It is advantageous for 
 the peasants to get the property of the Jews 
 and to pay nothing at all for it." 
 
 " It must be prevented," said the Count. 
 
 Ivan smiled, and merely repeated that there 
 would be a Pogrom on the following day, for 
 so it had been arranged, and nothing more 
 could be got out of him. 
 
 The Count went and interviewed the local 
 police sergeant and spoke seriously to him 
 about the matter. The police sergeant 
 shrugged his shoulders and wrung his hands, 
 and said that he could do nothing ; what was 
 his authority in the place ? What could he 
 and two policemen do against the populace? 
 " If there is to be a Pogrom there will be a 
 Pogrom," he said. "We can do nothing. 
 We should only be killed too. There is 
 nothing to be done." 
 
 All day long Jews from the village who 
 knew the Count and the Countess came to 
 their house, bringing with them furniture and
 
 212 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 goods of every description, till the whole 
 stables were filled with them, and all day long 
 large creaking carts drove slowly into the 
 village from the neighbouring villages, bring- 
 ing the peasants who had come to bear off 
 the booty when the Pogrom should be over. 
 And they met and conversed with the Jews 
 in the friendliest manner possible, discussing 
 the Pogrom merely as an event of not very 
 considerable importance, but as a fact, such 
 as an eclipse or a feast day, about which there 
 could be no possible doubt, and no possible 
 change. 
 
 The Countess had a further interview with 
 Sasha, the cook, a peasant woman who was 
 also a native of the place ; but she, like Ivan, 
 merely repeated over and over again that the 
 Pogrom was fixed for the morrow, and that 
 it would be executed by people sent for the 
 purpose, who would come by train from the 
 various big towns. 
 
 The Count went once more to the police 
 sergeant, and told him to take some steps ; he 
 replied that he would do his best, but that he 
 was a married man, and the Count must have 
 pity on him, that there were no steps to be
 
 POGROM 213 
 
 taken that he could do nothing that nothing 
 could be done that nobody could do anything ! 
 
 The next morning, as soon as the Countess 
 awoke, Sasha the cook came into her room 
 and said 
 
 "There will be no Pogrom: it has been 
 put off!"
 
 THE ANTICHRIST 
 
 IN the village of X., which is in the 
 government of O., in Central Russia, 
 there were two men : one was called Michael 
 and the other was called Andrew. They were 
 both deeply religious and concerned with the 
 things of a world which is not this world. They 
 spent days and nights in reading the Scriptures 
 and in pondering over the meaning of difficult 
 texts. They had both resolved in their early 
 youth never to marry, for they considered that 
 the human race had something so radically 
 bad about it that the sooner it came to an end 
 the better. They decided, therefore, that it 
 was their duty not to prolong its existence. 
 But when they attained to early manhood the 
 parents of Andrew contracted an alliance for 
 him, and he was wedded to a girl named 
 Masha. Their union was not bles.sed with off- 
 spring, and Michael, who continued to lead a 
 
 214
 
 THE ANTICHRIST 215 
 
 solitary life, with rigorous fasting and uninter- 
 rupted meditation, said such was the will of 
 Providence. The young wife of Andrew did 
 not share the views of the mystic, and she 
 yearned to be the mother of a child. Unbe- 
 known to her husband, she sought one night 
 the Wise Woman of the village, who was 
 skilled in finding lost objects, and who was versed 
 in the properties of herbs, and knew the words of 
 power which cured the sick of dreadful disease. 
 
 Masha sought the Wise Woman in the night, 
 and told her her trouble. The Wise Woman 
 lit a candle, muttered a brief saying in which 
 the name of King David was mentioned, and 
 that of a darker Prince. She gave her a small 
 green herb, telling her to eat it on the first 
 moonless night in June, and that her wish 
 would be fulfilled. 
 
 Masha obeyed the Wise Woman's behest. 
 A year passed by and the wish of her heart 
 was granted. A son was born to her. And 
 Masha and Andrew greatly rejoiced over this. 
 But when Michael heard of it his spirit was 
 troubled. He consulted the Scriptures, and 
 the meaninor o f the event became clear to him. 
 
 O 
 
 He sought Andrew and said to him
 
 216 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 " This is the work of Satan. You have 
 dabbled in black magic, and you are in danger 
 of eternal perdition. Moreover, the truth has 
 been revealed to me the child which has been 
 born to you is none other than the Antichrist, 
 of which the Book of Revelation tells. And 
 that is why our poor country is distressful, 
 seething with trouble, sedition, and revolt, and 
 why our Sovereign is vexed, and why evil days 
 have fallen upon Russia, our Mother. We 
 must slay the Antichrist, and immediately the 
 dark cloud will be lifted from our land, and 
 peace and prosperity shall come to us once 
 more." 
 
 That night Michael convoked Andrew and 
 Masha to his house. It was a small, one- 
 storeyed, wooden cottage, thatched with straw. 
 It was swept and clean, and in one corner of 
 the room were many glittering images of the 
 Queen of Heaven and the Saints, before which 
 burned small red lights ; and besides this 
 Michael had erected a shrine on which more 
 than a dozen thin waxen tapers were burning. 
 Michael convoked Andrew and his wife to his 
 house, and the elders of the village also, and 
 they spent an hour in chanting and in prayer,
 
 THE ANTICHRIST 217 
 
 each holding a candle in his hand, but to the 
 priest he said no word of this matter, for he 
 did not trust him nor believe him to be 
 possessed of celestial grace. After they had 
 prayed for an hour, Michael said to Masha 
 
 " Go home and fetch your child." 
 
 Masha obeyed, and returned presently, bearing 
 the infant for whose advent she had so sorely 
 longed, and which in coming had been the 
 cause of such joy to her. Michael took the 
 infant and said 
 
 "In the body of this child is the power of 
 Satan : in the body of this child is the Antichrist 
 of whom the Scriptures tell this is the cause 
 of the misfortunes which have visited our dear 
 country, and vexed the spirit of our Lord and 
 Sovereign." 
 
 He then extinguished all the lights and the 
 tapers in the room : it was pitch dark, and no 
 sound was heard save the muttering of Michael's 
 continuous prayer. Masha trembled, for she 
 was afraid. Michael took the infant. It lay 
 quite still, for it was asleep. 
 
 And as Michael took the infant he said : 
 " We must exorcise the spirit and slay the 
 Antichrist, who has been born in this child
 
 2i8 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 to be the bane of Russia and to vex the heart 
 of our Sovereign ! " 
 
 And Michael bade the people who were 
 gathered together in the room there were 
 five men, the eldest in the village, and seven 
 women be prepared for the great event, and 
 he lifted his voice, and in a wailing whisper 
 he addressed the Evil Spirit. 
 
 " Evil Spirit," he said, " Antichrist, of whom 
 the Holy Scriptures tell, through the dark 
 dealings of our brother Andrew and his wife, 
 who have trafficked with Satan, thou hast 
 found a way into the body of this child, but it 
 is written that the troubles of Russia and of 
 our Sovereign shall be at their thickest at thy 
 advent, but shall diminish and pass away with 
 thy disappearance. Evil Spirit, I conjure thee, 
 leave the body of this child." 
 
 Then the infant cried plaintively, twice. 
 
 " Hark ! " said Michael, in a solemn voice, 
 " the spirit of the Antichrist is speaking. 
 Hark to the cry of Satan, who is leaving 
 the body of the child. Pray, pray with all 
 your might, and help me to slay the Anti- 
 christ." 
 
 And fear came upon everybody, nor durst
 
 THE ANTICHRIST 219 
 
 they utter in the stillness, but their spirits were 
 spellbound and seemed to be drawn, tense and 
 taut as stretched wires, in that effort of prayer 
 for the passing of the spirit of Satan and for 
 the slaying of the Antichrist. 
 
 The infant cried once again and then it 
 cried no more ! . . . 
 
 "The Antichrist has been slain," said 
 Michael, and a deeper stillness came on the 
 assembly. "The Antichrist," said Michael, 
 "must be buried." And he walked out of his 
 cottage into the yard where in a shed his 
 horse and cart were kept. He unloosed his 
 horse and said : " Whither the horse shall lead, 
 thither must we follow." 
 
 The horse trotted slowly down the deserted 
 street. That night there was neither moon 
 nor stars in the sky. Beyond the village was 
 a marshy plain. It was just before dawn, and 
 in the thick velvet darkness of the sky there 
 was a glow as of a living sapphire. They 
 reached the marsh, and there the horse stopped, 
 and began to browse. 
 
 " It is here that the Antichrist must be 
 buried," said Michael. And they buried the 
 infant by the reedy marsh. And all this time
 
 220 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 neither Andrew nor Masha, nor the elders, 
 nor the women who were there, spoke a single 
 word ; and when they had finished burying the 
 infant a breeze came from the east, and the 
 dawn, grey and chilly, trembled over the 
 horizon, and the wild ducks rose from the 
 marsh, uttered their cry, and flew away into 
 distance, seeking the fields. 
 
 The spell that had kept this assembly mute 
 and speechless vanished with the vanishing 
 darkness. The noises of life began : the 
 creaking of carts was heard from the village, 
 and the cocks were crowing. 
 
 Andrew and Masha looked at each other, 
 and a great fear came upon them, and indeed 
 upon all the assembly, for what they had done. 
 They did not speak, but returned severally to 
 their homes ; and Masha, when she reached 
 her home, too frightened to cry or even to 
 speak, sat motionless before the swinging 
 cradle which hung from the roof of her cottage, 
 and which was now empty. And Andrew 
 durst not look at her. Presently he left the 
 house and sought the dwelling of the priest. 
 The priest let him in, and there he found 
 Michael, who, likewise overcome with terror
 
 THE ANTICHRIST 221 
 
 and misgivings as to what had been done, had 
 come to tell the story. 
 
 The priest reported the whole matter to the 
 local policeman, who in his turn reported it to 
 the police captain of the district, and three 
 days afterwards Michael, Andrew, Masha, and 
 the others were locked up in the prison of 
 a neighbouring town, and a day after their 
 arrest an old woman of the village sought 
 out the police captain and asked to see him. 
 
 " I was present," she said to him, "at the 
 slaying of the Antichrist. I held the candle 
 in my hands myself when the evil spirit was 
 exorcised, and the cause of all Russia's trouble 
 was destroyed. They say the Tsar has given 
 money to the others for having destroyed his 
 enemy ; and I, who am poor and old, and who 
 was there also, have received nothing. Let 
 me receive my due. Give me the money that 
 the Tsar owes me, for I also helped to slay 
 the Antichrist." 
 
 This story is true. It happened last 
 September, and was recorded in the news- 
 papers, with many more details than I have 
 told. And at the station of Kozlov, as I have
 
 222 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 already related, in the government of Tambov, 
 between the hours of midnight and 2 a.m., a 
 railway guard told it to myself and a news- 
 vendor, and when he had finished telling it he 
 sighed and bewailed the blindness of his fellow- 
 creatures, the peasants of Russian villages, 
 who, as he wisely said, had so much kindness 
 in their hearts, but were often led through 
 their ignorance to do dreadful deeds.
 
 "DIRGE IN MARRIAGE 
 
 F^HE following story was told me by a 
 doctor. It happened in the village in 
 the government of Tambov. There was 
 a peasant called Vichareff who had three 
 daughters ; one of them was called Anoushka, 
 one Douniasha, and the third Natasha. Their 
 father was well off, but extraordinarily close- 
 fisted ; his thirst for land and his ambition to 
 accumulate were unlimited. He arranged an 
 advantageous match for his eldest daughter, 
 Douniasha, and was exerting all his wits to find 
 a husband for his younger daughter who should 
 be equally well-to-do, so that the two weddings 
 might take place on the same day, and thereby 
 save him trouble and expense. His third 
 daughter was considered to be too young as 
 yet to marry. 
 
 Now Anoushka repeated over and over 
 again, not without tears, that she did not wish 
 
 223
 
 224 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 to be married ; but her father and her mother 
 (whose will, always feeble, had now completely 
 ceased to work, owing to years of unceasing 
 compliance with the views and the wishes of 
 her domineering husband) paid no attention to 
 this. 
 
 At last Vichareff succeeded in striking a 
 bargain with one of his neighbours named 
 Kroustalieff, the purport of which was that 
 Kroustalieffs son, Dimitri, should marry 
 Anoushka, in return for which Vichareff pro- 
 mised to get him some horses at an unusually 
 low price, since Vichareff was a horse-dealer 
 on a small scale. The bargain was struck, and 
 the matter was arranged, and Anoushka was 
 told that she was to marry Dimitri. Dimitri 
 was a young man aged eighteen, nice-looking, 
 and not unintelligent ; notwithstanding this, 
 when Anoushka was informed of the matter, 
 she burst into a storm of tears, and declared 
 no power on earth could induce her to marry 
 him. Her father and mother, however, took 
 no notice of her tears and her protest, and 
 invited their friends to an evening party to 
 celebrate the engagement. Now the reason 
 Anoushka was determined not to marry
 
 "DIRGE IN MARRIAGE" 225 
 
 Dimitri, was that she loved her sister's 
 affianced husband, Ivan. He, for his part, 
 was quite unaware of this, and indeed nobody 
 knew of it in the whole village except an old 
 man, Alexis by name, who was said to be 
 versed in astrology and whom the peasants 
 often consulted in matters which concerned 
 the other world. Anoushka went to Alexis 
 and told him her story; he promised to cast 
 her horoscope and to see what could be done, 
 and he bade her return to him in a few days. 
 She did so. When Alexis saw her he shook 
 his head. 
 
 "There is nothing to be done, child," he 
 said, " the stars are against you : you must 
 wed Dimitri ; but no good will come of it, 
 neither to you nor to him." 
 
 Then Anoushka asked him if he could not 
 give her a love philtre or a charm, which would 
 make Ivan love her. 
 
 " I can give you a charm," said Alexis, "and 
 I can give you love philtres, but I cannot turn 
 the stars from their courses, nor prevent you 
 wedding Dimitri in the church, although no 
 good shall come of it, either to you or to 
 him. There is nothing to be done, save to
 
 226 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 obey ; this matter is the business of Provi- 
 dence." 
 
 And so Anoushka went home, taking neither 
 philtre nor charm, and spent the whole day 
 weeping at her work, but her parents did not 
 even trouble to scold her, so surely did they 
 know that their will would be accomplished. 
 And in the evenings Ivan and Dimitri would 
 come to their cottage and sing and play on 
 the Babalaika ; and while Douniasha and Ivan 
 looked at each other with love, and spoke in 
 whispers of a thousand nothings, like two 
 happy birds twittering in a tree, Anoushka 
 said no word to Dimitri, although he was 
 gentle with her and civil-spoken ; and he 
 attributed her silence and her gloomy look to 
 bashfulness and modesty. 
 
 When the evening of Vichareffs party 
 arrived, the whole village came to his house. 
 And some of the gentry from the landowner's 
 house came to look on at the dancing. The 
 small room of VicharefF s cottage was crowded 
 to overflowing, a little space being left in the 
 centre for the dancers. Outside the cottage 
 there were more people, those for whom there 
 was no room inside, and they crowded round
 
 "DIRGE IN MARRIAGE" 227 
 
 the door and windows, straining and craning 
 their necks to get a glimpse of the festivity. 
 Those who were at the window, finding that 
 the window-panes got in their way, broke the 
 glass and put their heads through the empty 
 sash. Inside, some one was playing on a large 
 concertina, and the dancers walked up and 
 down the room with faces of grave and solemn 
 indifference, performing the necessary steps and 
 singing the usual chant. The couples paced 
 to and fro opposite each other, and at the end 
 of every verse of the chanted music, each girl 
 was kissed by her partner. 
 
 When this dance was over sunflower seeds 
 were handed round on a plate to the guests, 
 and glasses of tea were brought for the gentry ; 
 then a soldier who was home on leave, per- 
 formed a solo in the centre of the room, 
 dancing and stamping according to intricate 
 rule, until he could no more. 
 
 Douniasha looked radiantly happy ; she was 
 dressed in pale green, and wore a necklace of 
 bright beads ; but Anoushka, in her pink silk 
 finery, looked as white as a ghost, and said no 
 word during the whole evening. And when 
 Dimitri danced with her and kissed her, she
 
 228 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 seemed no more to notice him than if he had 
 been a phantom. 
 
 They danced all night, but never once during 
 all those hours of mirth and gaiety, did 
 Anoushka smile. 
 
 Three weeks later preparations were made 
 for the wedding. Vichareff bought pro- 
 visions ; the wedding was to be a magnificent 
 one. The landowner lent his horses, and 
 Anoushka and Douniasha were to be driven 
 to the church in two troikas. Dimitri had 
 a new salmon-pink shirt for the occasion, and 
 in his high boots there was an unusual number 
 of creases ; he appeared with pride to show 
 himself to Anoushka, but she took no notice 
 of him. On her wedding day she was paler 
 than ever, and her eyes were red with crying. 
 Dimitri asked her if anything was the matter 
 with her and whether she was not feeling well ; 
 but she said that she was perfectly well. So 
 he attributed her strange appearance and ways 
 to the inscrutable habits of womankind, and 
 asked no further questions. But, shortly before 
 the wedding pairs were to leave for the church, 
 Anoushka went to her mother and said that 
 she could not marry Dimitri. Her mother
 
 "DIRGE IN MARRIAGE' 1 229 
 
 said that she supposed the child had another 
 sweetheart ; such was the way of girls. But 
 if she had, it was of no consequence, she said ; 
 she would soon forget him. In any case she 
 was to marry Dimitri, and that immediately. 
 
 Then Anoushka broke into a passion of 
 weeping, and begged and implored her mother 
 not to let her marry Dimitri ; and her mother 
 lost patience, and said she deserved to be 
 beaten ; that she never heard such nonsense 
 in her life. 
 
 " Now stop that crying," she ended by 
 saying, "or I will call your father, and he shall 
 put an end to this nonsense ! " 
 
 Then Anoushka dried her tears and said : 
 "Very well, since it is so, let it be so. But 
 I will never be Dimitri's wife ! " 
 
 Then the troikas drove up to the cottage 
 door, their bells jangling and tinkling, and the 
 bridal couples all in their best clothes were 
 driven off at a canter to the church, and the 
 wedding took place. And Anoushka and 
 Douniasha were crowned with gold crowns, 
 and walked round the altar (which was placed 
 in the centre of the church with a tall candle on 
 it) in memory of David dancing round the Ark,
 
 230 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 according to the rite of the Orthodox Church. 
 After the ceremony was over, they drove home 
 once more and the feasting, which had already 
 lasted one day, began again. The two bride- 
 grooms were taken by their friends through the 
 village, stopping at nearly every cottage to 
 have their healths drunk, and to join in the 
 toasts, while crowds of children followed them, 
 some of them beating small tom-toms and 
 scrambling every fifty yards or so for sugar, 
 which was thrown to them in handfuls by the 
 bridegrooms and their friends. 
 
 Towards the evening the bridegrooms were 
 fairly intoxicated, although they could both 
 walk quite straight and speak without difficulty. 
 In Vichareffs house an uproarious feast ended 
 in general music and dancing, which took 
 place on the green in front of the cottage. In 
 the yard behind the house a special chamber, 
 like a tent, had been made for Anoushka, hung 
 with pieces of striped linen. The dancing 
 company ultimately moved from Vichareffs 
 house and visited various parts of the village, 
 settling now here and now there, and gaining 
 fresh liveliness and zest at each place where it 
 settled. Anoushka was left alone, and shortly
 
 "DIRGE IN MARRIAGE' 1 231 
 
 afterwards Dimitri returned. He went into 
 the cottage and saw that it was empty. He 
 then went into the yard and into the tent which 
 had been prepared ; and glimmering in the 
 darkness he saw the tall white figure of 
 Anoushka standing up. He called to her, but 
 she did not answer. Being half-intoxicated he 
 could not see clearly, and he was not sure 
 whether it was in reality Anoushka or not that 
 he seemed to see. He called once more, as 
 loudly as he could, and, receiving no answer, he 
 walked up to her and grasped her by the arm, 
 and as he did so her whole body swung back- 
 wards and forwards as though it were dancing 
 on air. Then in a moment he grew sober, for 
 he realised that Anoushka had hanged herself, 
 and he went and shouted for the neighbours. 
 The body was cut down, and efforts were made 
 to restore her to life, but she had already been 
 dead about an hour, and there was nothing 
 more to be done. 
 
 The next day Dimitri's father and Vichareff 
 held a consultation ; Vichareff even said that he 
 considered his bargain cancelled, and Dimitri's 
 father, after a great deal of argument, refused to 
 admit that this was so. Ultimately Vichareffs
 
 232 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 cunning mind found a way out of the matter. 
 "Why should not Dimitri," he said, "marry 
 Natasha my third daughter? It is true she is 
 only fifteen, but she is a good strong girl, and will 
 make him a good wife. And then," he added, "we 
 can have the wedding at once, so that the food 
 shall not be wasted, and we shall thus be spared 
 the burden and expense of two weddings." 
 
 So this was arranged, and the priest was 
 informed of it. But the priest declined to 
 celebrate the wedding, and said that such 
 a proceeding was unchristian and inhuman ; 
 they must be married, he said, after a decent 
 interval of time had elapsed. 
 
 Vichareff and Dimitri's father were forced 
 to comply, for public opinion in the village was 
 entirely on the side of the priest ; but the 
 wedding food, so far from being wasted, did 
 double service all the same, for it served to satisfy 
 the guests who thronged to Anoushka's funeral ; 
 so that in these days in the village there was 
 both dirge in marriage and mirth in funeral.
 
 THE GOVERNOR'S NIECE 
 
 T RINA ANDREEVNA T- - was a fair- 
 haired, blue-eyed girl aged twenty-two. 
 She went to lectures at the St. Petersburg 
 University in the daytime ; in the evening she 
 went to balls and parties. Irina was an orphan, 
 but she lived with an aunt of hers in a large 
 house in St. Petersburg, where on Thursday 
 evenings there was always a considerable 
 gathering of girls and young men, officers 
 chiefly. 
 
 When the war broke out in 1904, Irina spent 
 all the days at the hospital, learning to tend 
 the sick and the wounded, and making band- 
 ages and clothes for the soldiers at the war. 
 In 1905, when peace was declared, and 
 followed by tumultuous events, she was deeply 
 infected by the atmosphere of excitement which 
 prevailed everywhere, the wild hopes and the 
 great expectations. She went to public 
 
 233
 
 234 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 meetings and attended private discussions 
 the private discussions of small groups of 
 students, men and women, which took place 
 in private houses. All the people who 
 attended these informal meetings belonged, as 
 far as their political opinions were concerned, 
 to the Extreme Left. Some of them called 
 themselves Social Democrats, others Social 
 Revolutionaries. Irina's special friend be- 
 longed to the extremer shade of the latter 
 party. Irina's nature was enthusiastic ; she 
 hated compromise. She wanted all or nothing. 
 Violent means such as terrorism or assassina- 
 tion seemed to her of no account where the 
 cause was great and the end noble. 
 
 As the months went on, she became more 
 and more closely bound to the more ardent 
 spirits among the Social Revolutionaries, and 
 they regarded her as one of their most inspiring 
 leaders. But she continued during all this 
 time to live the ordinary life of the St. 
 Petersburg society, to talk and dance with 
 the young officers at evening parties, and go 
 to the opera, and to take part in sledging and 
 ski-ing parties. Neither her relations nor any 
 of her ordinary acquaintances suspected the
 
 THE GOVERNOR'S NIECE 235 
 
 intensity of the inner life that was going on 
 within her. They knew she was interested in 
 politics, but so was everybody else. Her 
 friends chaffed her for being what they called 
 "red"; but then a great many people were red. 
 
 In February 1906, her uncle, General 
 Steinberg, a brother of her deceased father, 
 was appointed to the Governorship of O., a 
 large manufacturing city. It was just at this 
 time that she joined the branch of the Social 
 Revolutionaries which called themselves Maxi- 
 malists, and whose business it was to remove 
 by violence the persons whom they considered 
 to be obstacles in the way of their cause. 
 These people, when they had decided that 
 some one should be removed, drew lots among 
 themselves as to who should accomplish the 
 deed of destruction. 
 
 It so happened that, in February 1906, the 
 Executive Committee of the Maximalists 
 condemned General Steinberg to death for 
 suppressing certain riots in the town of O., 
 during which affray a certain number of work- 
 men had been killed and wounded. Lots were 
 drawn as to who should kill General Steinberg 
 and the lot fell to Irina, his niece. She
 
 236 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 received the decision with calm, and made 
 preparations for leaving St. Petersburg. She 
 told her aunt she was going to Moscow to stay 
 with some intimate friends of the family : from 
 Moscow it is but a short distance to O. Her 
 relations saw her off at the station, also a 
 young man in the regiment of the Chevalier- 
 Gardes, who was particularly devoted to her. 
 She seemed in excellent spirits. 
 
 When she arrived at Moscow she went 
 straight to O., and stayed at the hotel, from 
 whence she wrote a letter to her uncle saying 
 that she was on her way to the estate of her 
 St. Petersburg relations, which was a night's 
 journey from O. Everything was made easy 
 for her, for the next morning she received a 
 letter from him asking her to come to luncheon 
 at half-past twelve. 
 
 The next morning at the appointed time she 
 started off in a sledge to the Governor's house, 
 wrapped in a fur shuba, and in her muff was 
 concealed a small dynamite bomb capable of 
 enormous destruction. 
 
 Her uncle greeted her with the utmost 
 simplicity and affection. He was a short, 
 grey-haired man between fifty and sixty, with
 
 THE GOVERNOR'S NIECE 237 
 
 a thick grey moustache and kind blue eyes. 
 He was a widower and had no children. He 
 took her into his sitting-room. 
 
 " My dear little Irina," he said, kissing her 
 on both cheeks, "it is years since I've seen 
 you ; I should not have recognised you, you've 
 grown into such a lovely grown-up creature. 
 It is lucky that I have been appointed here, 
 just on your way to X. (the country estate of 
 Irina's relations), but why did you go to the 
 hotel ? Another time you must stay here. 
 And mind, I expect to see you often now ; 
 you must stop here every time you go to X. 
 There is always plenty of room in this old 
 barrack of a house. But come, we will go and 
 have something to eat." And he took her 
 into the dining-room. "We shall be quite 
 alone," he said. "It is better, isn't it? When 
 you were a little girl, when we were all at X. 
 together, you used to love pancakes ; you 
 never could have enough ; so I've had some 
 made to-day. And my cook understands how 
 to make them properly." 
 
 Irina blurted out a few confused phrases. 
 Her uncle could not get over the fact that she 
 was grown up ; that she was a tall and pretty
 
 238 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 girl. He took her to the window to observe 
 her properly, and he kept on making exclama- 
 tions of admiration and surprise. Then he led 
 her to the sideboard, and chose out for her tit- 
 bits among the hot and cold zabouski (hors- 
 d'oeuvre) that were there. 
 
 "It does one good," he said, "to see a face 
 like yours in this detestable hole. I can't tell 
 you what a life it is. One never has a 
 moment's peace, and nobody is satisfied. 
 There are fifteen or sixteen different parties 
 in the town, all quarrelling. I have to settle 
 everything. There are Revolutionaries, Social 
 Democrats, Social Revolutionaries, Maximalists, 
 Minimalists, merchants, students, Jews, anti- 
 Jews, Reactionaries, the Alliance of the 
 Russian People all fighting against each 
 other, and all appealing to me to settle their 
 difficulties ; and if one does manage to keep 
 things smooth, what thanks does one get from 
 the Government? Absolutely none. The 
 other day all the Reactionaries, the Alliance of 
 the Russian People, and so forth, met together 
 and sang the National Hymn and collected a 
 crowd of hooligans, and went to set fire to the 
 school. I had to go down and make a speech
 
 THE GOVERNOR'S NIECE 239 
 
 to them, and it was with the greatest difficulty 
 I got them away. 
 
 " Then the other day there was a man called 
 Savin, who was arrested for making revolu- 
 tionary propaganda among the troops. He 
 sent and appealed to me to be allowed to go 
 and see his son, who, he said, was dying of 
 scarlet fever. I gave him permission, and it 
 turned out that the son had not got scarlet 
 fever at all ; that the whole thing was a pretext ; 
 and he took advantage of the occasion to shoot 
 a policeman and to get away. The result of 
 this is that the Reactionaries here say I am 
 a Revolutionary, and, of course, the Revolu- 
 tionaries say I'm a satrap and a brutal oppressor, 
 and all the rest of it. But it doesn't matter 
 what one does, it is impossible to satisfy any one. 
 And every day I receive threatening letters 
 from both sides : letters from people telling me 
 I am a traitor to my country, that I am sold 
 to the Jews and in league with England and 
 all the Continental finance ; and others saying 
 that I am an executioner, and the enemy of 
 freedom and of light. However, why should 
 I bore you with all these stories ? Let's talk 
 of more cheerful things."
 
 240 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 They sat down at the table. 
 
 " Here are the pancakes," he said. " The 
 country is turned upside down, but we have to 
 go on eating pancakes just the same, don't we ? 
 The best thing is not to think at all in times 
 like this." 
 
 Irina looked at him and smiled ; she found it 
 difficult to speak. But he did not give her 
 much opportunity, for he went on gaily, talking 
 first about one thing, then about another of 
 the coming elections, of the plays that were 
 being acted in St. Petersburg and Moscow, of 
 the modern literature and its hysterical tend- 
 encies ; and he told many amusing anecdotes 
 illustrating the strange anomalies and the 
 curious ideas that were rife in the present 
 condition of things. 
 
 When they had finished eating, he said : 
 " Now, you must come into my own sitting- 
 room, where no one is allowed to disturb me, 
 and I will have at least a half-hour of human 
 intercourse before I go back to my convict's 
 existence ; because, you know, my dear, a 
 Governor's life is worse than a convict's. At 
 least, a convict does not have to make 
 up his mind twenty hundred times a day
 
 THE GOVERNOR'S NIECE 241 
 
 about questions which cannot be solved at 
 all." 
 
 He led her into his sitting-room, which was 
 as simply furnished as possible : it contained 
 a large writing-table and a low divan ; the 
 carpets had holes in them ; there was a gramo- 
 phone and a small piano. 
 
 " That gramophone," he said, " is my one 
 consolation. When I am tired I turn it on and 
 listen to gipsy songs and to Caruso." He 
 hummed a tune from an Italian opera. "It's 
 a beautiful gramophone ; you must hear it," 
 and he fixed a Caruso record on it which sang 
 a song from Cavalleria Rusticana. When 
 this was over he talked on for about twenty 
 minutes, of the memories of his youth, of his 
 travels, and many trifling episodes concerning 
 their common relations and acquaintances. Pre- 
 sently he looked at his watch. " My time is 
 really up," he said, "and now I want to talk to 
 you seriously. You know, Irina, I am alone in 
 the world, and you have got no parents either ; 
 so that in a kind of way I look upon myself as 
 your father, and I want you to treat me like a 
 father. I want you to come here whenever 
 you like and to confide in me if ever you have 
 
 16
 
 242 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 anything that troubles you in any way. And 
 I will always be ready to do anything I can 
 for you ; because, you know, little Irina, I am 
 very, very fond of you. And now, I'm afraid 
 my time is up, and I must go back to my 
 work." 
 
 He kissed her on both cheeks, and made the 
 sign of the cross on her face. " God bless 
 you," he said. 
 
 Irina left the house, and the General rang 
 for his aide-de-camp and settled down to his 
 work. 
 
 Ten minutes later a loud explosion was heard 
 in the street where the hotel was situated at 
 which Irina had stopped. She had thrown her 
 bomb, but the street was empty at the time, and 
 she had killed no one save herself.
 
 A POLICE OFFICER 
 
 IT was the fourth day of the armed rising in 
 Moscow. Early in the morning some of 
 the shops had opened, especially the tobacco- 
 nists, and there had been a certain amount 
 of movement in the streets ; but later on, 
 towards noon, a stillness had again descended 
 on the city. From the centre of the town came 
 the noise of artillery, and in the side streets one 
 heard a ceaseless clicking of firing, though one 
 could not tell whence it came or where it was 
 going on. 
 
 At half-past six in the evening, when Alex- 
 ander Petrovitch Pavlov, a police officer, went 
 home to dinner, all the city seemed empty, 
 quiet and deserted, yet at the same time full of 
 an intermittent, unwonted noise. He went 
 down the Square from the Governor's house 
 where he had had business, past the Hotel 
 Dresden, and stopped to say a few words to
 
 244 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 the policeman there on duty. The policeman, 
 in reply to some question he had vaguely 
 asked (for Alexander Petrovitch was tired, 
 sick of the whole business and discouraged 
 by what seemed to him to be a tissue of ab- 
 surdities), said : " They are fools, little fools- 
 nothing will come of it." He did not pay much 
 attention to this ; he was thinking how absurd 
 the whole matter was, and what a nuisance 
 these abnormal upheavings were when they 
 were prolonged. 
 
 Alexander Petrovitch was a man about forty 
 years of age. He had been an officer in an 
 infantry regiment and had once been a man of 
 considerable means, but he had lost all his 
 money quite suddenly playing cards. He had 
 been fond of adventure, and had even taken 
 part in foreign wars in Cuba, in Greece, and in 
 China. Then he married. He did this as he 
 had done everything else, suddenly and im- 
 pulsively. He married the daughter of a land- 
 owner whom he met in a provincial town, and 
 he married her after three days' acquaintance. 
 His wife was good-looking and prided herself 
 on her European culture ; she spoke French 
 and English. They had two children. It was
 
 A POLICE OFFICER 245 
 
 after his marriage that he had lost his money, 
 and shortly before the war. When the war 
 broke out he went to Manchuria. He was 
 wounded at the battle of Mukden and promoted 
 to be a captain ; he also received two orders. 
 After Mukden he was invalided home and 
 some influential person who had met him in 
 the Far East obtained for him a place in the 
 police at Moscow, for which he received good 
 pay. He was what is called in Russian a 
 " Pristav " ; that is to say, the police officer of 
 a town district. His wife considered that this 
 position was an inferior one ; she was humiliated 
 by it. She also considered her husband to 
 be beneath her in social rank (which was in 
 reality absurd) and she constantly reminded 
 him of the fact. Alexander Petrovitch was 
 quick-witted, good-natured, impulsive, but hope- 
 lessly incapable of any prolonged effort or any 
 sort of concentration or fixity of purpose. His 
 mind continually went off at a tangent, and as 
 a Russian proverb says, "there was no Tsar in 
 his head." 
 
 When the Manifesto of the i7th of October 
 had been published he had greeted it with 
 enthusiasm, and had taken part in the proces-
 
 246 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 sions which had filled the streets that day, and 
 the crowds that sang the " Marseillaise " and 
 " God Save the Emperor," alternately, and 
 displayed together the red and the National 
 flag. But now he was discouraged. His innate 
 scepticism and his pessimism which every now 
 and then gave way to fitful outbursts of enthusi- 
 asm, had once more got the upper hand, and 
 he muttered as he walked home through the 
 snowy streets on that grey evening : " What 
 a beastly state of things ! What a beastly 
 state of things ! " 
 
 When we got home he saw at a glance 
 that his wife was not in the best of tempers. 
 
 "Late as usual!" she said. "The soup's 
 been standing twenty minutes and it's quite 
 cold." 
 
 "I'm very sorry," he said; "I was kept at 
 the Governor's." He sat down to the table on 
 which there were a few sardines in a broken 
 saucer, a little stale pickled caviare which had 
 got hard and slightly grey, and some slices of 
 sausage no longer fresh. He gulped down 
 three small glasses of vodka. 
 
 " What about Ermolov ?" asked his wife. 
 
 " He has been arrested," said Alexander
 
 A POLICE OFFICER 247 
 
 Petrovitch. " He will be examined by the 
 doctors." 
 
 "What nonsense!" said his wife, "why 
 should he be examined ? Why should he 
 be arrested ? I think he ought to be rewarded. 
 They don't care who they kill ; they shoot 
 policemen round the corner ; they profit by 
 the red cross uniform to kill the police ; 
 they were shooting from some of the churches 
 to-day." 
 
 Ermolov was a high police official who had 
 walked into a doctor's house the day before and 
 had shot him with a pistol for no reason at all. 
 
 Alexander Petrovitch shrugged his shoulders. 
 " It's the Government's fault," he said. " There 
 is no order and no law anywhere. Protection 
 is everything. What does it matter what the 
 Revolutionaries do ? That has nothing to do 
 with the question. If an officer breaks the law 
 he ought to be punished. He won't be 
 punished because he's got protection. Besides 
 which, Ermolov is not a normal man : he is 
 mad, quite mad." 
 
 "What I say is," said his wife, "that men 
 who pretend to be doctors and use the protec- 
 tion of the red cross badges to shoot innocent
 
 248 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 policemen in the streets, ought to be shot 
 in the street at sight." 
 
 " The whole thing is absurd ! " said Alexander 
 Petrovitch. 
 
 "What did I tell you?" said his wife; " I 
 told you so from the very first when the 
 Manifesto was published. I said that nothing 
 would come of it, and that it was a mistake. 
 What do we want with a Constitution in 
 Russia? It is all the Jews all this chaos 
 is the work of the Jews. And look what is 
 happening now. One cannot even go out 
 into the streets for fear of being shot. They 
 killed the Schwetzar (the hall porter) next 
 door this morning ; he had been sent on a 
 message." 
 
 "If people would stay at home and mind 
 their own business," said Alexander Petrovitch, 
 " they would be quite safe. All day long I 
 have been pestered by people who want to pass 
 here and want to pass there; and they know 
 quite well they can't. And it's no good telling 
 them ' Don't go there, it's dangerous ; don't go 
 there, you'll be shot,' because the moment you 
 tell them that, they make a point of going 
 there at once. I'm sick of always saying the
 
 A POLICE OFFICER 249 
 
 same thing. If they go out in the streets they 
 must expect to be killed." 
 
 " These students and these Jews," said his 
 wife, " come and shoot you round the corner. 
 I always said this would be the end of it. I 
 always said no good would come of it. It is 
 disgraceful ! " 
 
 Alexander Petrovitch settled down to his 
 dinner, and, putting a napkin under his chin, 
 began to eat the soup, but it was cold and he 
 had no appetite. 
 
 " Where are the children ? " he said. 
 
 " They've had their dinner," said his wife. 
 " Kolia and Peter are reading in the next 
 room." 
 
 Alexander Petrovitch called his children, and 
 two little boys came into the room. Kolia, 
 a fair-haired, pasty-faced boy with large grey 
 eyes, was aged nine, and Peter, a fat, dark- 
 haired little creature in a sailor's suit was 
 aged seven. Peter climbed on to his father's 
 knee and his father asked him what he had 
 been doing. 
 
 " We've been making bombs with the snow," 
 said Peter ; " and playing at the Revolution. 
 Kolia was a policeman and I was a Social
 
 250 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Democrat, and I made a bomb and threw it at 
 him and killed him." 
 
 " How dare you play such games ? " said 
 their mother "that's all your fault," she 
 added to her husband ; " it's you who have 
 put such ideas into their heads. Heaven 
 knows when children begin to get such ideas ; 
 I think the end of the world is come. Look 
 at our schools : the children can't read ; the 
 universities are all in the hands of the Jews. 
 The girls at school have all gone quite mad. 
 Nothing but hysteria, hysteria, hysteria ! It's 
 a disgrace. Don't let me ever hear of your 
 playing such games again," she said to the 
 children. 
 
 The children, used to perpetual scolding, 
 said nothing. Alexander Petrovitch laughed. 
 
 " At least, I hope," said his wife, " that the 
 result of all this, and of your having to do all 
 this extra work, will be that you will get 
 promotion." 
 
 " I doubt it," said Alexander Petrovitch. " I 
 have got no protection, and protection is every- 
 thing. I have finished my dinner. I want 
 some tea." 
 
 His wife called Sasha, the maid, and told
 
 A POLICE OFFICER 251 
 
 her to bring the samovar, and then scolded her 
 violently because it was not ready. She then 
 made a further scene about the way in which 
 the lemon was cut. Finally the samovar was 
 brought, Alexander Petrovitch was given his 
 tea and began smoking cigarette after cigarette 
 in gloomy silence. His wife sat at the head of 
 the table and said nothing. The children 
 played in the corner with some wooden soldiers, 
 and every now and then a dull boom was heard 
 outside, and once or twice the window shook 
 and rattled. 
 
 " Guns ! " said Alexander Petrovitch. " They 
 are firing in the Tverskaia, I suppose." 
 
 At that moment the bell rang. 
 
 " I think," said Alexander Petrovitch's wife, 
 "that it must be Ivan Ivanovitch ; he said he 
 would come round this evening if he could." 
 
 " I shall have to go presently," said 
 Alexander Petrovitch; "I've got to go back 
 to the office." 
 
 Then the door was opened, and seven or 
 eight people walked into the room. They 
 were young schoolboys and students between 
 the ages of sixteen and eighteen, and there 
 were two girls with them.
 
 252 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Alexander Petrovitch and his wife were 
 surprised at this influx of guests, and the 
 children stood up in the corner and stared. 
 
 "Whom have I the honour to address and 
 what can I do for you ? " said Alexander 
 Petrovitch. 
 
 A young student with long black hair, a 
 seedy overcoat, and a worn fur cap appeared 
 to be the spokesman of the group, and, taking 
 off his cap, said: ''We are the representatives 
 of the flying column of the Social Revolution- 
 aries. We have come to carry out our 
 orders." 
 
 Alexander Petrovitch's wife stood up and 
 turned pale. The schoolboys and the students 
 surrounded Alexander Petrovitch and, linking 
 their arms in his, forced him out of the room. 
 He turned round and looked at his wife and 
 the children. "I thought as much!" he said. 
 Then he was pushed out of the room and down 
 the staircase. 
 
 All this happened in a moment. His wife 
 stood still as though transfixed, and could not 
 move or utter. 
 
 Two or three minutes passed in breathless 
 silence, and Peter began to cry. They had
 
 A POLICE OFFICER 253 
 
 left the door open. The banging of the 
 street door was heard, and then two or three 
 shots rang out. 
 
 Sasha, the maid, came rushing into the room, 
 screaming with all her might 
 
 " They have killed Alexander Petrovitch in 
 the yard ! "
 
 THE AMORPHISTS 
 
 WAS staying not long ago in a small town 
 in the centre of Russia which I will call 
 
 T . It was a small, sleepy town, through 
 
 which an indolent river wended its way. The 
 houses were low, one-storeyed, built of wood 
 and painted white, adorned with old-fashioned 
 delicate stucco, delicate pilasters and wooden 
 verandahs ; and many of them had gardens 
 and trellis-work arbours. The place breathed 
 a spirit of the dying eighteenth century. One 
 seemed to be in a kind of Russian " Cranford." 
 The shops and market-places, the hotel with 
 its stiff early Victorian furniture mahogany, 
 stuffed with faded red rep the squatting 
 churches, the slow moving, leisurely in- 
 habitants, all seemed to belong to a remoter 
 time than ours. Here, I thought, in any case, 
 the Revolution cannot have penetrated ; to 
 seek for politics here would be like looking 
 
 254
 
 THE AMORPHISTS 255 
 
 for bombs in the Garden of Proserpine. But 
 when I was waiting for my dinner in the 
 dining-room of the hotel, when the great 
 mechanical barrel-organ had played a tune 
 by Donizetti out of Lucrezia Borgia for the 
 tenth time, I was disillusioned by the inn- 
 keeper, a fat, smiling man, with a huge 
 beard, high boots, and a loose, white un- 
 tucked shirt, with a red corded waistband 
 round it. 
 
 "Here," I said to him, "you have in any 
 case the advantage of being free from revolu- 
 tionary turmoil." 
 
 "How so?" he asked, in a slightly injured 
 tone, which was due to the fact, not that I 
 had suspected his native city of being anti- 
 revolutionary, but of being void of teeming 
 events. 
 
 " We, too, have our disorders, very serious 
 disorders," he said, with pride. " The day 
 before yesterday there were terrible occur- 
 rences." 
 
 " Really," I answered, with great interest, 
 "what were they?" 
 
 " Is it possible that you have not heard," he 
 asked. "Why, everybody knows that the
 
 256 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 day before yesterday the Amorphists made 
 an attempt." 
 
 I confessed that I had not heard of it, 
 because I had been very busy, and I pressed 
 him to relate to me the proceedings of the 
 Amorphists, adding that I was not quite sure 
 who the Amorphists were. 
 
 " Everybody knows," said my host, " that 
 the Amorphists are the extreme left wing 
 of the Free Law Party. They are to the 
 left of all left parties, which run thus : 
 Social Revolutionaries, Maximalists, Anar- 
 chists, Amorphists." 
 
 " But what are the Free Law Party ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 4 'The Free Law Party," he answered, "are 
 those people who wish the law to be free." 
 
 "How free?" I asked. 
 
 "Free Law," he answered, "is like free 
 trade. In some countries there is free trade. 
 We wish for free law ; everybody to be free 
 to make whatever laws he likes, and everybody 
 else to be free to obey them." 
 
 " And to disobey them ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, of course, and to disobey them. 
 Well, I will tell you what happened. The
 
 THE AMORPHISTS 257 
 
 Amorphists that is to say the left wing of 
 the Free Law Party were getting discontented 
 at the inactivity of the rest of their party " 
 
 "What are Amorphists?" I interrupted. 
 
 "It is a secret," he answered, "but I will 
 tell you this ; nobody can be an Amorphist 
 who recognises any law or rule, and nobody 
 can be an Amorphist who is more than 
 seventeen years of age. They have no 
 President, for every Amorphist is a President. 
 Their watchword is, ' Death to the Bourgoisie ; 
 away with the intellectuals ; down with the 
 students ; to hell with the Jews ; Life, 
 Liberty, Anarchy ; Death.' They wear a 
 sign nobody can recognise unless he is 
 initiated, and whoever betrays it is con- 
 demned to be drowned on dry land, like a 
 Catholic Freemason." 
 
 " What are those ? " I asked. 
 
 " Freemasons," he replied he had now 
 become used, and consequently indulgent to 
 my ignorance "are those people who drink 
 each other's healths in water. Well, as I was 
 saying, the Amorphists who constituted the 
 left wing of the Free Law Party were dis- 
 contented with the apathy of the rest of their 
 17
 
 258 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 colleagues, and they decided that this state of 
 things could not last any longer, and that they 
 must make themselves felt ; so they decided to 
 kill Michael Ivanovitch." 
 
 "Who," I asked, "is Michael Ivanovitch?" 
 The innkeeper's astonishment knew no 
 bounds. My not having heard of the 
 Amorphists, of free law, or freemasons, he 
 quite understood, but Michael Ivanovitch ! 
 That was too much. Everybody knew 
 Michael Ivanovitch. " He is the assistant 
 of the Police Inspector," he said, with an air 
 of patient pity. " They settled to kill him. 
 Lots were drawn, and Vasili, Paul, and Trafim 
 were chosen to kill him Vasili the floor- 
 cleaner, Paul the stone-mason, and Trafim the 
 stove-maker." (He now gave explanations 
 unasked, as one does to small children.) "So 
 Vasili, Paul, and Trafim went off to buy a 
 bomb at the Apothecary's opposite he is 
 cunning in the making of bombs. They 
 bought a bomb, and they then went to make 
 the attempt. Vasili and Paul were chosen to 
 act, Trafim was to keep guard. It was he 
 who told the story afterwards. They went 
 and sat on a seat in the big street here (it was
 
 THE AMORPHISTS 259 
 
 quite deserted at this hour), along which they 
 knew Michael Ivanovitch would pass at five 
 minutes to six, since he passed that way every 
 night on his way to dinner. But Heaven 
 knows why ! Michael Ivanovitch was late ; 
 it was cold, dark, and drizzly, a fine rain was 
 falling, and on Paul, Vasili, and Trafim, as they 
 waited, a great tediousness descended. At 
 last Paul asked Vasili if he had ever been to 
 the Circus. Vasili said he had never been to 
 the Circus. Paul said Vasili knew nothing of 
 anything, and that he for his part had been to 
 the Circus often, and that it was a fine sight. 
 There was a maiden, beautiful as the day, 
 glittering with spangles, who stood on a horse, 
 and leapt through a paper hoop, and alighted 
 once more on the horse. Then there was a 
 Chinaman, a real Chinaman with a big pigtail, 
 who spun a pail of water on his finger. There 
 was also a clown who threw a great golden ball 
 into the air and caught it on his nose as easily 
 as a trout catches a fly. ' Yes,' said Vasili, ' I 
 know how that is done ; I can do it myself. You 
 throw the ball up like this, 'and he made a gesture. 
 1 Fool ! ' said Paul, ' thou knowest nothing at 
 all. May the soul of thy mother be vexed |
 
 260 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 He does it like this,' and suiting the action to 
 the word he lightly threw the bomb which he 
 was holding in his left hand into the air. The 
 bomb exploded, Paul was blown to bits, and 
 Vasili was left a mangled heap. 
 
 "Trafim, who was only wounded, was very 
 angry, and after taking from the mangled 
 corpse of Vasili a Browning pistol, saying, 
 ' It is no use wasting twenty-four roubles,' he 
 went straight to the Apothecary who had sold 
 him the bomb. ' Scoundrel,' he said, ' what 
 sort of goods do you sell ? And you even 
 dared to boast. Melinite! Melinite! Here 
 is Melinite for you ! It goes off before it is 
 meant to. You do not know how to make a 
 simple bomb. Cheat ! Rascal ! ' 
 
 "'Who says I don't know how to make 
 bombs ? ' said the Apothecary, wounded in his 
 professional pride. 
 
 " ' I say so,' said Trafim. ' The bomb you 
 sold us yesterday went off of its own accord. 
 It was worth nothing at all. May the soul of thy 
 mother be annoyed, you yellow-eyed Arcadia ! ' ! 
 
 " What is an Arcadia ? " I asked. 
 
 " An Arcadia is the same as a Cholera," he 
 answered.
 
 THE AMORPHISTS 261 
 
 " ' You say I am a yellow-eyed Arcadia,' he 
 continued, ' and you are a yellow-eyed Arcadia 
 yourself. You say I cannot make bombs ! 
 Look at this ! ' and he produced a bomb from 
 a drawer, and banged it down on the counter. 
 The bomb went off, the shop was wrecked, 
 the assistant of the Apothecary was killed ; 
 Trafim was blown through the window and 
 wounded ; but the Apothecary, who came off 
 with a scratch, smiled triumphantly amidst the 
 wreckage, and said, ' Who says I do not know 
 how to make bombs ? Yellow-eyed Arcadia, 
 indeed ! ' 
 
 "Now a large crowd had gathered outside, 
 attracted by the noise ; a policeman came, and 
 every one said something must be done. ' Send 
 for the Chief of the Police,' they cried. But 
 the policeman began to cry and said he was a 
 family man ; and at last Peter Alexandrovitch, 
 merchant, went and fetched the Chief of Police. 
 The Chief of Police said he could not act 
 without orders, and went to the Prefect. The 
 Prefect telephoned for orders to the Governor, 
 who telephoned back that the Apothecary's 
 house must be searched, and any bombs and 
 weapons found there must be taken instantly
 
 to the Police Station. The Chief of Police 
 came back with the news, and told the 
 policeman to search the Apothecary's house, 
 for only the shop had been damaged. But the 
 policeman said, ' For the sake of Heaven, have 
 mercy on a family man.' The Chief of Police 
 appealed to the crowd for a patriotic volunteer, 
 but the crowd began at once to melt away. 
 
 " ' It is not our business,' at last he said, ' it 
 is the Electrotechnician's business ; send for 
 the Electrotechnician.' No sooner said than 
 done. People rushed to fetch the Electro- 
 technician. He soon arrived, and was told 
 what to do. ' All right/ he said. ' These 
 bombs are Melinite ; give me five hundred 
 roubles, and I will bring them out.' The 
 police said, ' We have no such sum.' Never- 
 theless, in an hour's time the money was 
 found, and by evening a basketful of bombs 
 was carefully carried by the terrified policemen 
 to the Police Station. Here the bombs were 
 left, and yesterday the Governor drove to the 
 Police Station with an engineer, who examined 
 the bombs ; he found that all the explosive had 
 been taken out, and that they were filled with 
 cotton wool."
 
 THE AMORPHISTS 263 
 
 "Who did that?" I asked. 
 
 "Why, the Electrotechnician, of course," 
 said the innkeeper. " Do you not know 
 he is the Honorary Vice - President of 
 Amorphists ? " 
 
 " And was he arrested ? " I asked. 
 
 " Heaven be with him, no," said the inn- 
 keeper. He was thanked by the Governor 
 in person."
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 
 
 THE STORY OF A SKAT SCORING BOOK 
 
 (With apologies to Sir A. Conan Doyle) 
 
 IT was in November 1907 that I went to 
 Moscow to meet Sherlock Holmes, who 
 was returning via Kiachta by the Trans-Siberian 
 Railway from Afghanistan, where rumour said 
 he was connected with certain not altogether 
 official negotiations between the British Govern- 
 ment and the Ameer of Afghanistan. During 
 his return journey, Holmes, indefatigable as 
 usual, had enabled the Russian police to lay 
 hands at Irkutsk on the ringleaders of a daring 
 revolutionary band who were plotting to kid- 
 nap the Emperor of Russia. So much I had 
 gathered from a laconic post card dated Ufa, 
 in which he also requested me to meet him at 
 Moscow on the 2Oth of November. When, 
 however, I arrived at Moscow, I found the 
 
 following telegram awaiting me : 
 
 264
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 265 
 
 " Take night train town O ; government 
 
 Z ; meet you station ; prospect excellent 
 
 sport ; bring furs." 
 
 To any one acquainted with Sherlock Holmes' 
 methods and habits this seemed to signify that 
 his ever-restless brain was once more on the 
 scent of some thrilling mystery or some baffling 
 crime. After spending the day at Moscow, I 
 took the night train, as directed, and I arrived 
 
 the next morning at O . I found my friend 
 
 awaiting me at the station, muffled in a thick 
 shouba, and smoking a pipe of more than 
 usually strong tobacco. 
 
 " I hope you have brought a warm coat, 
 Watson," was his greeting; "we have got a 
 thirty-mile drive before us ; " and giving orders 
 to a porter to carry my bag, in Russian, which 
 he spoke fluently, he led the way through the 
 station to where a sledge drawn by three horses, 
 harnessed abreast, awaited us. 
 
 " Jump in," he said, " we have no time to lose. 
 We are driving," he continued, as we made 
 ourselves comfortable in the straw and wrapped 
 ourselves up with a thick fur rug, "to the 
 
 property of Prince B , whose acquaintance 
 
 I made in Transbaikalia, and who invited me
 
 266 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 to stay with him for a few days' wolf shooting. 
 The Prince is expecting you." During the 
 first half-hour of the drive Holmes discoursed 
 learnedly on old violins and Elzevir editions, 
 interrupting his discourse to point out from 
 time to time the effects of light on the snowy 
 plain, or to make some pregnant comment on 
 the manners and customs of the villagers whom 
 we passed. Then, when we had driven for 
 about half an hour, he said, " You will now 
 oblige me, Watson, by not talking to me until 
 we arrive at our destination. I am engaged 
 in following a train of speculation which requires 
 all my attention." 
 
 Knowing my friend's habits I showed neither 
 surprise nor annoyance, and it was not long 
 before I fell into a deep sleep. 
 
 When I awoke we had reached the property 
 
 of Prince B . Prince B 's home was 
 
 situated at a stone's-throw from a long straggling 
 village composed of log-built huts, and now 
 mantled in a thick covering of snow. 
 
 The houses, for there were two, were situated 
 in the midst of a garden plentifully wooded 
 with pine trees and Siberian firs. The houses 
 were separate, although close to each other ;
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 267 
 
 both of them were two-storeyed, the first, at 
 which the horses pulled up, being built of wood 
 painted red, the second, and farther one, of 
 white bricks. 
 
 " You have already been here two or three 
 days ? " I ventured to ask, as we drove through 
 the garden gate. 
 
 "Watson, you are incorrigible," replied 
 Holmes. " Had you observed the name of 
 the station whence my message was despatched 
 you would have known that I myself arrived 
 
 this morning from the town of A , which a 
 
 glance at the map would have shown you is a 
 
 twelve hours' journey from O * This is 
 
 the first time I have the pleasure of enjoying 
 the Prince's hospitality, and when the Prince 
 invited me he begged me, if possible, to 
 persuade you to accompany me. I am 
 glad you have come, for who knows but 
 that I may need your assistance before 
 long." 
 
 I could not help thinking that the reproach 
 was in this case scarcely justified, since, being 
 entirely ignorant of the Russian language, I 
 could not be expected to decipher the name of 
 a telegraph station, but I merely replied : "You
 
 268 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 have at present no immediate problem on 
 hand ? " 
 
 "Watson," said Holmes, as we reached the 
 front door, ''every fresh human being we meet 
 is a possible problem." 
 
 We were met and warmly welcomed by the 
 Prince, and after we had been shown to our 
 rooms, which were in the further stone house, 
 We were conducted to the drawing-room in the 
 wooden house, where the Prince and his family 
 awaited us. The Prince was a middle-aged 
 man with silver-grey hair and mild grey eyes ; 
 he wore a grey undress military tunic, and 
 Holmes remarked, as we washed our hands 
 upstairs, that he supposed I had already noticed 
 the Prince was a general adjutant of the 
 Emperor's suite ; that he had served in 
 Turkestan before he had been in the Far East ; 
 that he was at present suffering from a slight 
 toothache ; and that he had been on two big 
 game expeditions in Africa. I confessed that 
 all this had escaped me, and Holmes said that 
 he hadn't time to detail to me the links of the 
 chain, but if I would glance at the Prince's 
 uniform, the spots on his forehead, the iodoform 
 stain on his upper lip, and the antelope horns
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 269 
 
 in the front hall, with their respective dates, 
 perhaps all would be clear to me. The Prince's 
 family consisted of his wife, his eldest son, and 
 his daughter. The Princess was a dark, thin, 
 young-looking woman, with large grey eyes, 
 and the son, Prince Alexander, a tall, dark 
 young man of about twenty-three, dressed in 
 an ordinary tweed shooting suit ; the daughter, 
 Princess Barbara, was a girl of nineteen, very 
 fair, with blue eyes. The whole family talked 
 English with the greatest fluency. 
 
 As soon as the Prince had presented us to 
 his family, he led us into the dining-room, where 
 lunch awaited us. 
 
 " You have been having a busy morning 
 practising the flute," said Holmes to Prince 
 Alexander. " I hope we may have the pleasure 
 of playing some duets together. I have brought 
 my violin with me." 
 
 "Yes, I have been playing this morning," 
 answered the young man ; then he paused in 
 amazement, and added, " But how on earth did 
 you You couldn't have seen my flute, be- 
 cause it's in my room." 
 
 " Your forefinger, my dear sir," answered 
 Holmes, "has the dent which is peculiar to
 
 270 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 flute players ; that you have been playing this 
 morning I concluded from the fact that you 
 have not been out of doors, and that the music 
 music for piano and flute on the drawing- 
 room piano had been evidently quite recently 
 ransacked by some one in a hurry to find a 
 particular piece of music." 
 
 "Your reputation does scant justice to your 
 powers," answered the young man ; " but I 
 doubt if you can guess what my sister has been 
 doing all the morning." 
 
 "I never guess," answered Holmes; "but 
 the problem is an extraordinarily simple one. 
 The Princess has been occupied in making 
 green pottery, and this morning has fired a 
 kiln." 
 
 " It's quite true ; how could you know it ? " 
 said the young Princess. 
 
 "In the drawing-room," answered Sherlock 
 Holmes, " I could not help noticing a certain 
 tray. On this tray were a quantity of small 
 green pots which were evidently just finished, 
 and had, moreover, that particular grace peculiar 
 to an amateur's work. Your left hand, Princess, 
 you will observe, is faintly tinged with red lead 
 glaze, your cheeks are slightly flushed, and I
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 271 
 
 noticed as you entered the room the smell of 
 smoke which necessarily clings to a person who 
 has been standing all the morning close to a 
 kiln. You see how childishly simple are my 
 methods." The Prince and his family expressed 
 surprise and delight. During the rest of 
 luncheon Holmes kept his guests delighted 
 with his varied knowledge. 
 
 As soon as luncheon was over we repaired 
 to the drawing-room, in a corner of which an 
 open card table had been placed, 
 
 "We always play cards after luncheon," said 
 the Prince ; " I hope you and Mr. Watson will 
 join us. It is no use telling you, Mr. Holmes," 
 he added, as he stuffed tobacco into a long 
 cherry-wood pipe, " what game we play, because 
 I am sure you know already, only I shall be 
 curious to see how you arrived at the know- 
 ledge." 
 
 " Certainly," said Holmes ; " it is true I have 
 drawn certain conclusions, but I dare say I am 
 mistaken. I exclude bridge, vindt, whist, and 
 all kindred games, because your packs are 
 obviously not full packs. I know, on the 
 other hand, that more than two play, for you 
 said we, and asked me and Watson to join you,
 
 272 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 I exclude piquet, therefore, and all kindred 
 games. There remain preference and the 
 national German game, skat. As your nephew, 
 who has been on a recent visit here, is study- 
 ing at Heidelberg, I concluded that he had 
 introduced the game of skat, of which 
 German students are exceedingly fond, to 
 you." 
 
 " Perfectly correct," said the young Prince ; 
 "but how did you know I had a cousin, and 
 that he was at Heidelberg ? " 
 
 " The photograph of a young student in the 
 dress of the Saxo Berussen Korps, which is in 
 my bedroom, and the group of students, both 
 signed Fritz von Interlacken, dated October 
 1907, told me that a student had been here 
 recently ; the inscription on the bowl of your 
 pipe, Prince, 'Fritz, S.L., Onkel Peter, July 
 1907,' told me the rest." 
 
 "Wonderful," said the Prince; "and how 
 simple it seems when one is told ; but will you 
 and Watson join us and cut ? " 
 
 "Watson," said Holmes, "plays nothing but 
 whist, and I, although I know the principles 
 of many card games, am an indifferent player 
 in practice,"
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 273 
 
 " Papa," broke in the young Princess, "the 
 skat-book has gone." 
 
 " Ring," said the Prince. "We are new to 
 the game," he added, "and a small book, 
 which contains the rules, and is, moreover, 
 a scoring book, is of great assistance to us." 
 The butler entered the room, and declared that 
 Prince Alexander took the book every evening 
 to his room in the other house, and left it in 
 the front hall in the morning." 
 
 " I take it to learn the rules," said Prince 
 Alexander, "but I always bring it back." 
 
 "You can look in my room," he added, to 
 the butler, "but I know it isn't there." The 
 butler went out. 
 
 "Did you bring it back this morning?" 
 asked his father. 
 
 " I didn't take it away last night. It was on 
 the table, and I think I left the money I won 
 in it, nine roubles in paper." 
 
 " Then," said the Prince, laughing, " this 
 is a matter for Mr. Holmes, and, by the 
 way, we forgot to tell him, at least I didn't 
 forget, but I purposely didn't mention it at 
 luncheon, that last night we had a robbery 
 here." 
 18
 
 274 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 " Indeed," said Holmes, folding his hands 
 and looking up to the ceiling, " you interest 
 me extremely." 
 
 " I'm afraid it's not very interesting," said 
 the Princess, "but, it's rather comical. Our 
 four best kitchen saucepans have been stolen, 
 two or three of the Prince's shirts, two or three 
 of Alexander's, and some inexpensive silver 
 links belonging to him." 
 
 " Would you like me to try and find the 
 thief?" asked Holmes. 
 
 "We would be delighted if you could find 
 the kitchen saucepans," said the Princess, "as 
 it is inconvenient for the cook. It doesn't 
 matter about the thief." 
 
 " Do you give me leave to cross-examine 
 the members of your household and your 
 servants?" asked Holmes. 
 
 "Of course," said the Princess, "we know 
 it is no one in the house, but we have several 
 bad characters in the village." 
 
 The butler now entered once more, and 
 said that he had searched everywhere in both 
 houses and the book was nowhere to be found. 
 
 "Then we must play without it," said the 
 Princess. "Alexander, get some paper to
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 275 
 
 score on ; the book," she added, " was most 
 convenient, as it had blank leaves at the end, 
 perforated at the edge, which one could tear off 
 for the score. And one saw the score at a 
 glance. You won't play, Mr. Holmes ? " 
 
 " I prefer to look on," said Holmes, and 
 when I had likewise declined to play, the 
 Prince and the Princess and Princess Barbara 
 sat down at the table. Prince Alexander also 
 declined to play, on the ground that he was 
 too busy. 
 
 "As you are not going to play, Prince 
 Alexander," said Holmes, "perhaps you will 
 help me presently to conduct my preliminary 
 investigations." 
 
 "Certainly," said the young prince. 
 
 " Nobody can possibly have stolen the skat- 
 book, in any case," said the Princess. 
 
 "I'm not so sure," said Prince Alexander, 
 " if I left my money in it, as I think I 
 did." 
 
 Holmes took no notice of this remark, but 
 after he had watched three games in perfect 
 silence he suddenly addressed the Princess : 
 "You said you had several bad characters in 
 the village ; is there any one whom you would
 
 276 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 particularly suspect ? Who, for instance, is the 
 worst character ? " 
 
 " There are several in the village," said the 
 Princess ; " and one of the clerks in our office 
 what we call the ' Kontora ' an educated man, 
 is suspected of carrying on social revolutionary 
 propaganda, but there is no evidence against 
 him. They say, too, that he steals only not 
 saucepans." 
 
 "Yes, but that's all rubbish," said the young 
 Prince. "He's an honest, hard-working man." 
 
 " Why don't you send him away ? " asked 
 Holmes. 
 
 " Oh, he would burn our house!" said the Prin- 
 cess, laughing. " Besides, he's quite harmless." 
 
 " Most interesting," said Holmes. " And 
 can I see this gentleman ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said the Princess. " Alex- 
 ander will take you to the Kontora." 
 
 " Let us go to the other house," said the 
 young Prince to Holmes, "and you can begin 
 your investigations. It will be great fun." 
 
 " May Watson come too?" asked Holmes. 
 
 " Of course," said the young Prince ; " the 
 investigations would have no value without 
 Dr. Watson's presence."
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 277 
 
 " Before we do anything else," said Holmes, 
 " will you show me the kitchen, and we will 
 solve the question of the saucepans ? " The 
 kitchen was in a building by itself, separate 
 from both houses, and situated on an elevation 
 beyond the further stone house, in which were 
 our rooms and that of the young Prince. We 
 went there, and the white-frocked Parisian 
 cook explained in precise phrases exactly what 
 had disappeared, ending up his narrative with 
 an exclamation of disgust. Sherlock Holmes 
 was soon on all fours beneath the kitchen 
 window. He examined the wall, the window- 
 sill, and the ground, with a strong magnifying 
 glass ; then, like a hound following a strong 
 scent, he walked swiftly from the kitchen into 
 the garden, and stopped before a heap of 
 snow beside a clump of trees. "If we could 
 have a spade" a spade was soon brought, 
 and Holmes, after a few vigorous strokes, re- 
 vealed to the astonished gaze of the Prince, 
 the cook, and a crowd of moujiks, four large 
 kitchen saucepans. " Now," said Holmes to 
 the young Prince, " I will continue the investiga- 
 tions, if you permit it, in your room." And 
 we went into the stone house together.
 
 278 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 As we entered the house, a young man 
 approached the Prince and said a few words to 
 him ; he wore top-boots, long hair, a dark blue 
 sarsenet shirt without a collar, buttoned at 
 the side, a pince-nez, a black jacket, and an 
 astrakhan cap. 
 
 The Prince said something to this man in 
 Russian, and led us into a room on the ground 
 floor adjoining his own sitting-room, saying : 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Holmes, but do 
 you mind waiting here one moment ? I have 
 to speak to a man on business ; it is a matter 
 of a few minutes only." 
 
 The Prince then went into his sitting-room, 
 which was connected with the room in which 
 we were by a door ; the door was ajar, and 
 appeared, indeed, to be one of those doors 
 which never shut, so that fragments of the 
 conversation which took place between the 
 Prince and the young man were audible. They 
 were, of course, speaking Russian. 
 
 Holmes lit a pipe and sat down on a divan ; 
 presently one of the voices next door sank 
 to a whisper, and the opening and shut- 
 ting of a drawer were heard. Then the young 
 man took his departure, and the Prince, opening
 
 279 
 
 the door, invited us into his room. "Please 
 sit down," he said, pointing to a divan, and he 
 himself took a seat at a writing-table which 
 was placed sideways in the middle of the room. 
 " Now that we have found the saucepans, I 
 suppose all further investigations are needless, 
 Mr. Holmes?" he said. 
 
 "We have not yet found the thief," replied 
 Holmes. 
 
 "That, I am afraid, will be more difficult," 
 said the Prince. 
 
 "Nor have we found your skat-scoring 
 book," said Holmes. 
 
 " Oh, that's sure to turn up ! " said the Prince. 
 " I will send for the maid who cleans our rooms 
 and you can examine her. She is an old peasant 
 woman who has been with us ever since I 
 have been born," and saying this the Prince 
 went to the door and shouted, " Mavra ! " 
 
 An elderly woman dressed in a peasant's 
 dress, consisting of a blue cotton petticoat and 
 a large apron, and a black handkerchief over 
 her head, entered the room, and smilingly 
 greeted the company. What followed I was 
 unable to understand, but Holmes later in 
 the afternoon dictated to me at my request
 
 280 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 what took place in detail. The Prince asked 
 Holmes to examine her, and Holmes did not 
 allude to the saucepans, but asked her whether 
 she had seen a small green book anywhere. 
 
 She said she had seen it, she had seen it 
 every day. It was there. 
 
 "In the other house ? " asked Holmes. 
 
 " Yes, in the other house," she answered. 
 
 " Did you see it yesterday ? " 
 
 "Yes, yesterday it was lying there." 
 
 " In this house?" asked Holmes. 
 
 " Yes," she replied. " There." 
 
 " Somebody said," interrupted the Prince, 
 " that some books were left on the window-sill 
 upstairs in this house, and that they had got 
 wet and had been taken to be dried ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Mavra, smiling cheerfully, "they 
 say some books got wet and were taken to be 
 dried." 
 
 " Where ? " asked Holmes. 
 
 " They were lying there. And then to-day 
 I said to Masha : ' Where are those books ? ' 
 And she said : ' What have I got to do with 
 books, and what have you got to do with 
 books ? " 
 
 " In this house?"
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 281 
 
 'Yes, there." 
 
 ' Who dried them ? " asked Holmes. 
 
 "I cannot know," she answered; "perhaps 
 Andr^ knows." 
 
 "Who is Andre"?" asked Holmes. 
 
 "The night watchman," answered the young 
 Prince. 
 
 "And after the books were dried did you 
 see them ? " asked Holmes. 
 
 "Yes," she answered. 
 
 "Where?" he asked. 
 
 " They were lying there" she replied. 
 
 " In the other house ? " 
 
 "Yes, there" 
 
 At that moment the butler entered, and the 
 Prince asked him whether the skat-book or 
 any other books had got wet from being left 
 on the window-sill and had been dried. He 
 replied that there were two books on the 
 window-sill upstairs ; they were still there, 
 but nobody had dried them, because they had 
 never been wet, and the skat-book was not 
 among them. The young Prince repeated 
 that they had played skat the preceding 
 evening and had used the scoring book, 
 which had been left on the drawing-room table.
 
 282 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 "Thank you," said Holmes to the maid. 
 "That is quite sufficient for the present. I 
 should now like, if possible, to go to your 
 office." "Certainly," said the Prince, "let 
 us go." We walked down to the office, which 
 was about five minutes' walk from the house, 
 during which time Holmes carried on an 
 animated conversation with the Prince on the 
 political situation in Russia. We reached the 
 office, and entered into a bare room, furnished 
 with a stove and a writing-table, where we 
 found two clerks at work. One of the clerks 
 was the young man whom the Prince had just 
 interviewed. "Which is the gentleman you 
 mentioned?" asked Holmes in an aside to the 
 Prince. "The man with a blue shirt," replied 
 the Prince : " would you like to examine him ? " 
 " No thank you," replied Holmes. " I have 
 seen all I wanted to see. I will now, if you 
 permit me, go for a walk in the village by 
 myself; I wish to think over a few things." 
 We returned to the house, and Holmes set out 
 by himself for the village. I went up to my 
 room to take a nap, for I was still rather tired 
 after the journey. 
 
 Holmes returned towards five o'clock in the
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 283 
 
 afternoon, and, settling himself in an arm-chair, 
 he said : " If you care to hear, Watson, I will 
 tell you the result of my investigations." 
 
 "If you found the thief," I said, "you 
 deserve credit, for the vagueness of this family 
 and the unconcern with which they regard this 
 robbery appals me." " Very true," replied 
 Holmes. "The matter was, as I had 
 anticipated, far more complicated than ap- 
 peared at first sight. It frequently happens 
 that problems which appeared to consist of 
 mere trifles turn out to be matters of deep 
 importance and difficult of solution. In this 
 case, what put me on the scent was the dis- 
 appearance of the skat-book. It is obvious 
 that a thief, whose object is money, would not 
 steal such a thing. When I found the sauce- 
 pans in the garden my supposition was con- 
 firmed. The theft was a blind." 
 
 " But there was money in the book," I 
 interrupted; "and, besides, some shirts and a 
 pair of links disappeared." 
 
 " I am coming to that presently," answered 
 Holmes. " I concluded from the manner 
 in which the saucepans had been stolen and 
 hidden that the thief was no ordinary thief.
 
 284 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 Further data in our possession told me that 
 one of the clerks was under suspicion of 
 carrying on revolutionary propaganda. The 
 young Prince interviews him and receives from 
 him a small cardboard box which he was 
 carrying when we met him, a fact which you 
 no doubt overlooked. He placed the box in a 
 drawer which has no lock. (Note once more 
 the vagueness and the carelessness of these 
 people !) While the young Prince was inter- 
 viewing the clerk I overheard a portion of their 
 conversation, and I ascertained that the contents 
 of the cardboard box consisted of bombs, and 
 that it was proposed to bring about a coup 
 to-morrow, which was to take place at the 
 railway station." 
 
 " With what object? " I asked. 
 
 " We will come to that later," said Holmes. 
 " Let us take things in their order. When 
 we visited the office, I noticed that on the 
 clerk's table lay a sheet of paper perforated 
 at the edge, covered on one side with figures, 
 and evidently torn from a card scoring book, 
 for it had divisions and lines printed on it for 
 scoring. When I returned from the office 
 on my way to the village the young Prince
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 285 
 
 took me once more into his room, and by 
 skilfully leading the conversation into a channel 
 of argument (the young man is, you have 
 noticed, argumentative) I finally made him 
 a bet on the matter of a date, the settling of 
 which made it necessary for him to fetch a 
 book of reference ; he went eagerly in search 
 of a dictionary of biography, which I knew was 
 in the other house, and once left alone I made 
 two important discoveries. In one of his 
 writing-table drawers I found a cardboard box 
 containing four narrow bombs made of a high 
 explosive, and in another drawer I found the 
 silver links and nine roubles in paper which 
 the young Prince said he had lost at cards last 
 night. But more important still was my second 
 discovery. I found several pages torn from a 
 scoring book and covered with figures, which 
 are not those which occur in skat or in any 
 other game ; and I also found on the edge 
 of the fireplace a half-burnt piece of paper, 
 torn from the same book, but, mark this, from 
 the text of the book, and not a blank leaf 
 perforated at the edge, likewise covered with 
 figures. I then went to the village and had a 
 notable conversation with the village policeman.
 
 286 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 He furnished me with interesting information 
 with regard to the inhabitants of the village 
 and the political situation generally. When 
 asked as to the clerk we saw to-day he said he 
 was very 'red,' meaning revolutionary. He 
 said the old Prince refused to send him away 
 at the instigation of his son. The young 
 Prince was also ' red,' he said, and this was the 
 most dangerous feature in the situation. The 
 policeman had no doubt that he communi- 
 cated with the revolutionary party through the 
 channel of the clerk. 
 
 " I questioned him as to the theft of the sauce- 
 pans, and to my astonishment he said he knew 
 quite well who had stolen them. I asked who. 
 He said there was a man in the village formerly 
 employed in the Prince's office who had once 
 been sent to Siberia but who had returned. 
 He was now a professional pick-pocket, and 
 was enjoying a holiday. ' But if you know he 
 did this why don't you arrest him ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' God be with him, no,' replied this 
 astonished and astonishing policeman. ' Why 
 arrest him? He has already been in prison 
 once.' 
 
 "'What for?' I asked.
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 287 
 
 " ' He killed the brother of the gamekeeper,' 
 said the policeman, ' and he stole hens.' Of 
 course I knew that he was lying, because a 
 real thief would have taken the saucepans 
 away, and had the policeman known him he 
 would have arrested him. ' Does the Prince 
 know this ? ' I asked. ' Of course he knows it,' 
 answered the policeman. ' Then why does 
 not he insist on his arrest ? ' I asked. ' The 
 Prince has pity on us,' said the policeman. 
 ' We are poor people. If he were arrested he 
 would soon come back again and probably 
 kill me ; he would certainly burn rny house. 
 The Prince knows. What does it matter if he 
 stole a few saucepans ? The Prince will buy 
 new ones. The Prince does not mind. He 
 will do no further harm. He has come back 
 to see his home and his native village.' Ques- 
 tioned as to whether the clerk was connected 
 with the theft, the policeman laughed. He 
 said the clerk was ' red,' and busied himself 
 with politics, but was not a hooligan. 
 
 " I asked him if sufficient proof were found 
 whether he would arrest the thief. ' May God 
 forfend ! ' answered this amazing policeman. I 
 also ascertained from him that a large sum of
 
 288 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 money, about half a million roubles, will be 
 
 transported from the town of O to the 
 
 town of X to-morrow. Then I returned 
 
 home. 
 
 "You now doubtless understand the object 
 of the coup. It is to obtain money for the 
 revolutionary funds, and the object of the theft 
 of saucepans was to throw suspicion, when the 
 coup should take place, on an indefinite band 
 of robbers who would be supposed to be lurking 
 in the neighbourhood. 
 
 " Now we come to further links in the chain. 
 The young Prince, as you remember, was in 
 the habit of taking the skat-scoring book 
 every evening from the drawing-room in the 
 wooden house to his sitting-room in this house, 
 and of bringing it back every morning and leav- 
 ing it in the front hall. Why did he do this ; 
 and why the front hall ? I suppose that even 
 you, Watson, have already concluded that the 
 spurious thief of the saucepans and the leading 
 spirit of this dark conspiracy is none other 
 than the young Prince. He could not com- 
 municate openly with the clerk, nor see him 
 too often without raising suspicion, so every 
 evening he wrote what he had to say in cipher
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 289 
 
 on the blank leaves provided at the end of the 
 book for scoring purposes, and left the book in 
 a prominent place. The clerk called at the 
 house on business matters and tore off a leaf 
 from the book and left an answer in it, if he 
 wished to do so." 
 
 "Most ingenious," I interrupted; "but why 
 did the book disappear ? " 
 
 " The Prince destroyed it. The scrap of 
 burnt paper I found in the fireplace told me 
 that ; since it was not, as I told you, one of 
 the blank leaves, but a page of the text of the 
 book itself. The Prince being, like all the 
 members of his family, as you yourself have 
 observed, and like most Russian revolutionaries, 
 excessively vague happy-go-lucky, had worked 
 out his cipher all over the book, and as the 
 coup is to come off to-morrow he thought it 
 best to be on the safe side and to destroy a 
 document which might possibly prove com- 
 promising. By the ingenious lie of the 
 money left in it he included it in the 
 robbery." 
 
 "And what steps have you taken?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " I sent an express telegram, in cipher, to 
 19
 
 290 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 my friend L of the Chief Department of 
 
 the Police in St. Petersburg acquainting him 
 of the facts." 
 
 " And what will be the result ? " I asked. 
 
 "They will prevent the coup coming off 
 it was to be to-morrow evening," answered 
 Holmes. 
 
 The bell now rang for tea, and during the 
 rest of the evening the matter of the theft was 
 only once or twice jokingly referred to. 
 Holmes and the Prince appeared to think 
 that as the saucepans had been found there 
 was no further use bothering about the thief. 
 After dinner, Holmes, the young Prince, and 
 the young Princess delighted us with a trio 
 for flute, violin and piano, and the time passed 
 rapidly and pleasantly. I found it difficult 
 to believe that the young man who was so 
 carelessly and easily "entertaining" us was 
 really a dangerous criminal on the eve of 
 carrying out a gigantic coup ; but my experi- 
 ence as Holmes' biographer has convinced 
 me that such cases are, alas ! only too frequent. 
 The next morning I spent in writing letters, 
 and Holmes did nothing but lie on the sofa 
 and smoke a quantity of shag tobacco. We
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 291 
 
 all met once more at luncheon. After luncheon, 
 as we were drinking our coffee in the drawing- 
 room, the young Prince said he had an in- 
 teresting communication to make to us, which 
 was as follows : At the railway station there 
 is a large wooden building made for storing 
 corn. The merchants store their corn there, 
 for which they receive a receipt stating the 
 value of what is stored. If it is destroyed 
 the Government is responsible for the 
 amount. 
 
 Now it appeared that the stationmaster 
 had arranged with one of the merchants to 
 give him a duplicate receipt for an amount of 
 corn worth an immense sum. He made out 
 a false duplicate for this immense sum. It 
 was further arranged that the merchant should 
 deliver an infinitesimal quantity of corn, worth 
 a few shillings, and that the corn storing- 
 house should be set on fire and burnt. The 
 stationmaster was to receive a handsome 
 commission. But, as it was impossible to 
 tamper with the books, owing to the number 
 of officials employed, in which the amounts 
 received were entered and kept at the station, 
 it was likewise settled to burn the station and
 
 292 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 thus destroy the compromising documents it 
 contained, and render comparison between the 
 false duplicate received by the merchant and 
 the original receipt entered in the station 
 books impossible. It was further settled to 
 do the burning by means of bombs and to 
 attribute the whole affair to the revolutionaries. 
 The plot, however, had been discovered by 
 the clerk in the Prince's office who was a 
 friend of a new assistant stationmaster, and 
 he had brought the bombs to the house and 
 had told the whole story to the young Prince, 
 who had immediately communicated with the 
 Police Captain of the district in the town of 
 
 O . As he finished his story the young 
 
 Prince added : "It shows what idiots our local 
 police are, because they suspected this very 
 clerk of being a revolutionary." Holmes' face 
 remained impassive during the recital of this 
 story, but I could not help feeling that my 
 friend was somewhat anxious. "It was quite 
 a problem in your line Mr. Holmes," said the 
 Princess, "but I feel you have done enough 
 for us in finding our saucepans, only I do 
 wish we could find the scoring book." " I 
 can't remember," said the young Prince,
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 293 
 
 "whether it was yesterday or the day before 
 yesterday morning that the book was in my 
 room. I remember tearing a leaf out of it, 
 having no other paper handy, to write a 
 receipt for the clerk who brought me some 
 money from the Kontora. But there was 
 no money in it, because I found the 
 money I won last night, and the silver 
 links also, in a drawer. So the book wasn't 
 stolen." 
 
 "Has any one looked in the card table ? " 
 asked the young Princess. And as no one 
 had looked there, a leaf of the card table was 
 raised, and there lay a small green book the 
 skat scoring book. At that moment the 
 butler entered the room endeavouring to 
 master convulsions of laughter, and said that 
 the village police-inspector, the Stanovoi, was 
 outside saying he had received orders from 
 St. Petersburg to arrest Prince Alexander and 
 
 to send him immediately to the town of O 
 
 for being implicated in an " expropriation " 
 plot to rob the train. The whole family 
 burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and 
 the old Prince explained to Holmes that the 
 police-inspector had probably made this idiotic
 
 294 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES 
 
 mistake on purpose, since he had twice been 
 found poaching in their woods and that 
 they had complained and asked for his 
 removal. 
 
 Then together with his son he went and 
 interviewed the police-inspector. They came 
 back presently saying that the matter was an 
 idiotic and inexplicable mistake connected 
 with the affair of the station, but that the 
 police-inspector, although he was well aware 
 of this, owing to the grudge he bore the 
 family insisted on carrying out his orders. 
 So the young Prince had to leave for O 
 that afternoon, amidst universal merriment, 
 and he exhorted Holmes as he departed to 
 obtain his release. We also left for Moscow 
 the next day, whither Holmes said he had 
 suddenly been summoned upon urgent 
 business. When we arrived at Moscow we 
 received a telegram saying that Prince 
 Alexander had been immediately released 
 with many apologies for the mistake, that the 
 police-inspector had been dismissed from his 
 post, and that the merchant and the station- 
 master had been arrested. Holmes never 
 referred to the matter again, nor does he like
 
 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN RUSSIA 295 
 
 any mention made of the game of skat. But 
 it seems to me that this comparative failure 
 only serves to heighten the brilliance of his 
 many successes, and it is for this reason I 
 have recorded it.
 
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 Edinburgh
 
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 PAGE 
 
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 10 
 
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 12 
 
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 20 
 
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 39 
 
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 SAM'S SWEETHEART. 
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 COUSINS. 
 
 THE BABY'S GRANDMOTHER 
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 THE FAIR GOD. 
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 White (Percy). A PASSIO, 
 
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