I have never seen in the English Press any reference to the above-named important organisation, and as England is so noted for its charitable and philanthropic generosity, it has occurred to me that it is a pity that it does not know something of the formation and organisation of this Court.

The exact title of that institution is “The Court of Petitions, addressed to the Emperor.” It was founded in the reign of John IV. in the sixteenth century, under the control of Alexis Adasheff (whose life and character have so brilliantly adorned the pages of Russian history) and his friend and ally, the Rev. Father Sylverst (sic), who was another bright star of that period. But, after their disappearance from the field of action, the institution failed to be marked by the same zeal and success as previously. Once more was it shown that, in every human effort, personal character plays a greater part than the written law. For, however perfect may be the law, its application must be varied by circumstances, and is thus greatly dependent upon the personal character of its administrators.

Fortunately, however, Peter the Great, with his masterly genius, recognised the importance of such a Court in an autocratic country where the power of doing generous work is in the hands of a ruler who stands above conventional formalities or obsolete customs, of parties or of newspapers. Nor did Peter the Great fail to realise that an exact knowledge of real facts was of vital importance to the proper exercise of such power. To secure this, therefore, he introduced new and very drastic regulations and reforms.

He made it a rule that the head of the Court was to be bound by a solemn and patriotic oath of fidelity to his charge. At the same time he was to be allowed a larger initiative, by which his personal power was increased. He became entitled to delegate powers to other administrative offices and Courts, by which the work of the institution became more decentralised.

But, although it was thus understood that appeals to the Emperor personally were to be allowed only in special cases, yet little by little these personal appeals became more and more numerous and were with difficulty controlled by the head of the Court.

When the Empress Catherine the Great ascended the throne, that wonderful monarch resolved that she would personally receive all appeals to mercy. But it soon became evident that that task was beyond the powers of even her exceptional energy. Catherine herself relates that on one occasion she found it impossible to reach the church to which, surrounded by her Court, she was on her way, owing to the crowds of petitioners who knelt before her with petitions in their hands.

Such a condition of affairs, of course, could not possibly continue.

In the following year the Empress appointed three high officials, called State Secretaries, to whom she gave detailed instructions which show the great pity she felt for such petitioners.

These secretaries were to communicate personally with the petitioners “kindly, patiently, indulgently,” and to extract from them all necessary details and explanations. For this purpose references had sometimes to be made to the separate tribunals before whom special cases had to go. But scaled letters, addressed privately and confidentially “in His Majesty’s own Hands” (as the Russian expression goes), still reach the Emperor without any intervention. And this happens even now.

Not long ago I heard of a boy, a poor little coach-driver, who addressed a pitiful letter of this kind to the Emperor Alexander III. when he was in the Crimea, and not only was the letter received, but the request was generously granted.

To return to old times, the Emperor Paul, while young and in good health, tried to imitate the great Empress Catherine, and endeavoured to come into contact with people who appealed to his mercy. To facilitate this a large, yellow, iron box was attached to one of the ground-floor windows of the Winter Palace (St. Petersburg) in which petitions were to be deposited. This box had to be periodically opened by the State Secretaries, and the contents submitted to the Emperor for orders. Some, when too absurd, were partially torn and returned through the post-office. Others were published in the Petersburg Gazette, with the reason for their refusal. In 1799 the same Emperor Paul issued a rather strange Ukase, forbidding the presentation of unreasonable requests. No doubt the question of what was and what was not reasonable was not an easy one, and the unfortunate box could hardly hold that strange correspondence. It obviously became necessary to dispense with this original method of communication.

In the time of Alexander I., thanks to the great Speransky’s efforts, a “Commission of Appeals” was established, and in the time of the Emperor Nicholas I. the “Court of Petitions” was reformed more or less on the basis upon which it now exists.

The members are appointed by the Emperor himself. To their former duties have been added others relating to orphans and lunatics. Certain rules have to be observed by petitioners, and they must have lived in the realm not less than one year.

By the wish of his Majesty the reasons for refusals to grant favours are sometimes given, but this law cannot always be observed.

The Emperor has recently given orders to enlarge the Court’s sphere of work by accepting appeals to Imperial mercy for criminal charges and administrative misdemeanours.

Finally, I will note the fact that in the year 1908 there were 65,357 petitions through this Court, out of which 64,174 were fortunate enough to obtain the Imperial order for immediate attention. As a rule there are about 65,000 petitions presented yearly. Imperial benevolence (mercy) shown to children amounts to 10,000 yearly.

During the war his Majesty ordered from the coffers of the Court of Petition no less a sum than 178,000 roubles for the wounded soldiers.

“If anyone were to tell the Russian people that the Emperor had not the power to help them, they would never believe such an assertion.” observed Baron Budberg (the present head of the Petition Department), “and may that belief in his Majesty’s power always remain with the Russians.” The Emperor’s remark on this statement was that Baron Budberg was right.

“Let those who require my mercy come to me with their sorrows and confidence.”

And many, many are the thousands who have been made happy—thanks to that Court of Appeal.