THIS is a homely saying in Russia, meaning that sometimes a small part spoils the whole. The expression involuntarily occurs to my mind in perusing Mr. Stead’s “Truth about Russia”—a book in which the “Honey,” which certainly preponderates, is soured by, I regret to say, even more than one spoonful of “Tar.” I refer to that section which bears the burlesque title of “The Shadow on the Throne.” What the author designates by this is neither more nor less than fidelity to Orthodoxy, and therefore, from a Russian point of view, anything but a “shadow.” Against the infusion of this “Tar” I must ventilate my indignation, but, before doing so, permit me, after the manner of some journalists, to make a slight digression.

Some time ago, before the House of Commons so lamentably broke down and Parliamentary institutions lost their flavour, the favourite hobby of the benevolent English missionary in Russia was Constitutionalism. To-day that hobby is discarded, and there are few or none who now recommend a Parliament at St. Petersburg as a panacea for all our troubles, real or imaginary. But as an amiable Englishman is never happy unless recommending a patent remedy for his neighbour’s ills, we are now presented with a new specific from his moral pharmacopœia.

Our Constitution is let alone, all attention being now Concentrated upon our souls. And because we show as little respect for dilettante propagandists of religions as for constitutional quackeries, we excite a storm of indignation and protest. Could nothing be done, I wonder, to cure our kind-hearted advisers of this pedagogic mania? This is actually becoming morbid! When modesty fails, a sense of the ridiculous should surely save them from an attitude of arrogant superiority. Like the Chinese, they imagine themselves to possess a monopoly of wisdom and civilization, and actually regard as benighted everybody born under another sky.

“Charcot, Charcot! Pray come over here and establish an English branch of your far-famed Salpêtrière!”

Russia tolerates all religions and prosecutes at law only sects who propagate immoral and criminal doctrines, which would not be permitted, in fact, in any part of the world where Christian morality is accepted as the basis of legislation.

Russia established perfect religious liberty long before many of her civilized neighbours. It was a saying of Peter the Great that “God has given the Tzar power over the nations, but Christ alone has power over the consciences of men.” No difference of religious convictions has been allowed in Russia to stand in the way of promotion to the highest posts—although in Liberal England it was, until recently, a bar even to representation in the Legislature. The Count Loris Melikoff, who, a few years ago, occupied the position almost of a dictator, was an Armenian by nationality and religion. Many of our highest posts are held by Lutherans, and there are Mahomedan aides-de-camp to his Majesty the Emperor. I need hardly recall the fact, well known in England, that Count Nesselrode, Prince Gortchakoff’s predecessor at our Foreign Office, was a member of the English Church.

In England and in America, where the Christian faith is “splittered” into a hundred sects, it may be not only possible but necessary to allow liberty of religious competition, or propagandism. The sporting propensity of those countries discloses itself even in the field of religion!

With us it is not so. Our Church prays daily for the unity of all the Churches. That unity of our Church has always been the real power of Russia—a fact which finds recognition in the popular title of “Holy Russia,” whilst England is designated as a “Merry’’and Italy as “La Bella.” Certain facts are deeply rooted and permeate our very nature. We consider every schism a plague, whose infection has to be stamped out. We have no hankering, I assure you, after the ideal of possessing as many creeds as there are signposts; nor do we care to replace the majestic fabric of our National Church by a “Macédoine” of contending sects. Schism may be a virtue in the eyes of a Nonconformist. As for us, we are content with one absolute Truth, based on the Gospels, and explained by the seven Œcumenical Councils. Schisms, far from being commended by the Gospels, are even deplored as positive sins by Saint Paul. Mr. Stead remarked to Mr. Pobedonostzeff, in my presence: “It seems that even the Apostles would be banished from Russia, if they came to preach there.” To which, with his usual kind earnestness, the Procurator of the Holy Synod replied: “But this, which we possess, is their doctrine; the Apostles could only come to strengthen our faith, not to shake it.” 

Nor is it only from the religious standpoint that we reject proselytizing. Russia is primarily a Church, not a State. The only constitution to which our Emperors have to subscribe at their coronation is the Nicene Creed. “Holy Russia” is a theocratic State, which exists, first of all, to defend the Church—that soul of Russia. Before even the duty of defending the frontier from invasion of hostile armies, is the duty of defending the Orthodox faith from the assaults of sects and heresies. The Nihilists, who have much method in their madness, in order to destroy the unity of the State, first endeavoured to attack the unity of the Church. In this starting-point the Pashkoffzy and the Nihilists unite! But we cannot allow the cement which binds together our mighty empire to be dissolved by a propaganda of iconoclasts, whether political or religious.

Hence, while we permit every man to practise freely in Russia whatever creed he professes, we cannot permit attempts to pervert others from the Orthodox faith.

In Russia you may be Protestant, Catholic, or Mahomedan. You may practise your rites and worship God in your own way, and also bring up your children in your own creed; but in mixed marriages, with a Greek Orthodox, the law of the country insists that the children shall belong to the established faith. Besides, you must keep your hands off other people’s creeds and other people’s children. “Hands off,” is our motto in religious affairs as well as in Balkan politics. “Hands off” all round. Leave us alone, and we leave you alone. Those who go to heaven need no English passport for the better world—that, at least, is not yet annexed to the British Empire.

Nowadays every quack soul-saver thinks himself entitled to pervert our simple-minded peasants, by filling their hearts with all kinds of nonsense, in the name of religious liberty. Now, why should there be more liberty given to spiritual quacks than to medical quacks? No doctor can practise, even in Freethinking France, without a diploma, duly certifying the possession of a certain indispensable minimum of knowledge. But in dealing with souls it seems as if every ignoramus, every silly self-appointed apostle, were good enough for the work. Such a view is not in accordance with our ideas, and no shrieks of outraged Salvationists will prevent us from kindly but firmly escorting all such meddling busybodies to the frontier. Imagine a splendid hall, brilliantly illuminated with numerous electric lamps. Suddenly a grotesque tatterdemalion rushes in with a small tallow candle, which he insists is far superior to the electric installation! Surely, it will be his own fault if he is summarily shown the door.

Mr. Stead, I fear, only too eagerly accepted all sorts of canards about the persecution of some adherents of Lord Radstock—or rather, of Lord Radstock’s charge d’affaires, Mr. Pashkoff. But, by carefully reading Mr. Stead’s own melodramatic narrative, it is easy to see that the Hiltons, for instance, who had to leave Russia, obstinately refused to submit to the law of the land. In London all shops, except, I believe, the liquor saloons, have to be closed on Sundays. Such is the law, and I should like to see what would happen to any foreigner daring to violate it? The importance of our numerous holidays, against which Mr. Hilton protested, may be ignored, or misunderstood. M. Drumont, in his remarkable book, “La Tin d’un Monde,” explains the generous and compassionate object of the frequent holy-days in the Catholic world. At all events, rightly or wrongly, people have to observe them; and the fact that Mr. Stead and other persons disapprove of that way of giving extra rest to children and the working classes, in no way exculpates Mr. Hilton. It is somewhat amusing to have to insist, to English readers, upon the absolute necessity of obedience to the law! After all, people may flourish and be happy away from Russia. Foreigners who deplore their banishment from our country, certainly pay us a compliment!

The accusation of persecution reminds me of the well-known definition of the lion: “The lion is a beast of uncontrollable savagery. He will always defend himself—when attacked.” What is called persecution is only self-defence. We do not carry our propaganda to other Christian countries. As any form of Christianity is better than heathenism, there is plenty of room for useful propaganda elsewhere. To unprejudiced minds the link between our Church and our people is indissoluble, because it satisfies all our spiritual needs. In illustration of this an intelligent and sympathetic observer has written in the Guardian and in the Church Review some very interesting descriptions of our Kieff festivities last August. He says:

“The monastery court in the moonlight presented a most impressive spectacle. In every part of the vast space there were dense masses of pilgrims who were unable to find room in the church, some joining in the service from outside, others lying all about, on the pavement and grass, taking their night’s rest. Many of these pilgrims had come from Siberia, and even from the shores of the Pacific, the whole way on foot, to pass a fortnight at this great centre of Russian Christianity; and when one comes to consider that it is quite a common thing for there to be 200,000 pilgrims in the year at this monastery alone, one begins to have some faint notion of the hold which the Orthodox Church has upon the Russian people.”

Besides, Mr. Stead has been betrayed into another important mistake. “Bible-reading at home” is never prohibited in Russia. The truth is, that the Bible-readers he alludes to are those who invariably meddle in anti-Orthodox propaganda. They are all opposed to our holy Sacraments, either superseding them by shams or suppressing them altogether. They reject entirely the guidance of the Church, and bring ridicule upon Christ’s Apostles by arrogating to themselves apostolic self-appointed functions. They also reject one of the most consoling practices—prayers for the dead—which even some Anglican clergymen advocate. Besides, religious propagandism in Russia has been used by the Nihilists, who, under a Bible cover, have been known to disseminate anarchical proclamations. All these things have to be weighed and considered by the authorities, as Mr. Stead admits, without, however, revealing the secret (which he no doubt possesses) of how they are to be counteracted.

Even in England to-day, have not people been put in gaol for publishing blasphemous caricatures? But there are many meanings of the word “blasphemy.” We are consistent in objecting to all that impairs the unity of our faith. But why should England, which boasts of having no unity of creed, persecute her Freethinkers?

It is most unfortunate that Mr. Stead’s book, in other respects so excellent and useful, should be disfigured by this inaccurate chapter, which, instead of proving a “Shadow on the Throne,” is but a blot upon his own page. What evil genius entrapped him I cannot imagine. How deplorable the contrast between his beautiful and touching description of Easter Eve at St. Isaac’s, on the very day of his arrival in Russia, and his flippant attack, written during the last week of his stay amongst us, upon the so-called persecution of the Pashkoffzy! Surely he must feel himself rebuked by his own words, if after having exhausted his rhetoric in assailing the Greek Orthodox Church he were to read again his meditation in St. Isaac’s.

“This Church,” says he, “has at least taught the Russians how to die. It has made itself for centuries the most vital reality, the most living force in all these Eastern lands. . . . . If this be difficult to understand, if it be strange for us Westerns to comprehend this religion . . . . it is no marvel. Think you, who have not even learned to decipher the Cyrillian alphabet so as to read the names of the stations and of the streets, that it is easier to penetrate at the first careless glance into the secret mysteries of the inner arcanum of the national life?”

Without doubt Mr. Stead has the gift of a sympathetic imagination, but it unfortunately fails him exactly when he needs it most; as, for instance, when he attempts to appreciate the difficulties of Mr. Pobedonostzeff. For the Greek Orthodox Church he has not only no sympathy, but not even an elementary sense of fair-play. To compare the Russia of to-day with the Spain of the Middle Ages is as absurd as to liken the kind and humane Mr. Pobedonostzeff to Diocletian, or Torquemada, as is done with such strange persistency. This is not only foolish, but it is nonsense, which, to quote Mr. Stead’s phrase, “grates horribly upon our civilized ears.” After applying a variety of such epithets to Mr. Pobedonostzeff, we are naively assured: “Far be it from me to speak evil of Mr. Pobedonostzeff. By almost universal repute, he is a good and honest man. He is a lawyer of integrity and erudition, he is an omnivorous reader, and he is a faithful son of the Greek Orthodox Church.” 

I notice in other places also this strange method of attack in one breath and eulogy in the next. But let us now pass on to pleasanter topics. We have had enough of the “Tar,” let us enjoy a little of the “Honey.”

For the past eleven years Mr. Stead, of all living English journalists, has written most constantly and consistently in favour of my country. With courageous tenacity he has combated ignorant prejudice, and striven to create an entente cordiale between England and Russia in place of the senseless antagonism which has so long prevailed.

Perhaps one of the most important services which this volume will render to that cause is by the flood of light shed upon the personality of our Emperor. Few Englishmen have ever appreciated the strength and dignity of his Majesty’s character so well as has Mr. Stead in his chapters on “The Peace-maker of Europe” and “The Tzar Tribune.” Europe can now see our Emperor as we know him:

“The Emperor Alexander the Third is, in many respects, a model autocrat in disposition, and in ideal. He has two great qualifications for the discharge of the difficult duties of his post—steadiness and courage. He is emphatically not a flighty man. He is sober, sensible, and sedate. He is not rash nor precipitate. He is slow in forming a resolution, but when he has mastered a subject, and has the facts at his command, his decision is made once for all. His one anxiety is to do right, and when he has come to a conclusion that a certain course is right, he adopts it without the slightest hesitation. He acts regardless of danger. ‘Our Emperor,’ said one who knows him well, ‘is somewhat of an enfant terrible. When he sees what he thinks he ought to do, he goes to his object like a bullet from a gun. He does not ask what is in the way. Public opinion, censure of the press, all these things are nothing to him more than the croaking of frogs in the pond. Pressure, as you understand it, will never make him swerve a hair’s-breadth from his course. If you want him to change, you must not bring pressure to bear; you must persuade him. Once convince him that anything is right and he will do it. Otherwise he will not—no, not though all the voices in Europe, in the world, were denouncing him.’”

The section headed “Peace or War” can only evoke in Russian hearts the most sincere response. The appeals Mr. Stead makes, over and over again, for a better understanding between the two countries are worthy of a true statesman and Christian, and it is certainly not on our side that difficulties in that direction will arise. These chapters also show that it was not Russia alone who had cause for rejoicing at the miraculous escape of our Emperor from the terrible railway accident at Borki.

Apart from the political side, there is much that is interesting in the chapters which deal with the material progress of Russia. Mr. Stead had access to all the best authorities from the Minister of Finance downwards, and he has given us a series of striking pictures of our commercial development. It was a great pity he could not avail himself of the facilities which were most kindly offered him to go to Samarkand. But he gives a better account of our Central Asian Railway than some who have travelled over it, having been furnished with all the plans and explanations by one of our principal engineers, Mr. Mestchérine.

Still more interesting is his account of Captain Wiggins’ heroic attempt to enter Siberia through the Frozen Sea. Even a less practised writer than Mr. Stead could hardly fail to be interesting when describing that remarkable man. No wonder Captain Wiggins captivated so many people in Russia—he is so simple, so true, so self-sacrificing, as are only men of real genius! If he succeeds in opening up a trade-route to our Siberian corn and gold fields by the sea he will have conferred upon the world generally, and upon Russia in particular, a benefit of incalculable value. Captain Wiggins, and his enterprise might really become a new tie between the two Empires. Sir Robert Morier, always so energetic and so intelligently devoted to everything that promotes the real interests of peace and civilization, has said so much about Captain Wiggins, both in the Blue-Books and in general conversation, that I need only add that all who know that Columbus of our days cannot help trusting and sympathizing with his grand scheme. Sir Robert Morier has in no way overstated the case, and he gave a hostage to its fortunes in the person of his young and only son, Mr. Victor Morier, who not only sailed to Siberia with Captain Wiggins, but is quite eager to join the great sailor again next year. It is a great satisfaction indeed to have in an English ambassador a man who takes the trouble to study and understand his facts. He is a type of the grand old school of the time when patriotism supported lofty and great ideals.

But to return to my subject: Mr. Stead’s book, although somewhat fragmentary, is vividly descriptive of the important topics of the day in Russia: the Emperor and the peasant, the patriot statesman and the half-cracked mystic, the great modern enterprise of the Central Asian Railway and the primitive country life in the province of Toula.

As I read, I can almost hear Count Ignatieff relating his experiences at Constantinople, and see Count Leo Tolstoy’s bewildered face when he was triumphantly pointing out the old pilgrim-woman, whose notions about the Trinity seemed in such sad confusion. Pity he was not more explicit himself upon that question! It would have been amusing to add a description of poor Countess Tolstoy re-copying six times running her husband’s six large volumes of “Peace and War!” Mystics, a la Count Tolstoy, are evidently pitiless husbands in private life. This was certainly a practical application of his sublime doctrine: “Resist no evil!”

What Mr. Stead sees with his own eyes, can be unhesitatingly trusted. It is only when he relies upon what others tell him that I part company. The description of the Russian prisons he has visited 

himself is, I am sure, accurate. No less accurate is certainly all that we know from Captain Wiggins of the life led by the exiles in Siberia, and from an English clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Lansdell, in his instructive work, “Through Siberia.” I happen to know that Mr. Lansdell, at all events, not only saw the prisons, but was allowed to converse with the prisoners, and to inspect the official prison-registers.

It would have been better had Mr. Stead relied upon such testimony, instead of upon that of an obscure individual, who, in order to work up his readers to agony point, added sensational pictures to his melodramatic narrative, in the evident desire to attain notoriety by these unenviable means.

But admitting, as we are quite ready to do, that the reproach of overcrowding in our prisons is partly deserved, if it can be shown— as I have endeavoured to show in recent letters to the Times—that we recognize the evil and are doing our best to remedy it, what more can be asked? In many parts of our empire at the present moment prisons are being improved and rebuilt. Mr. Galkin Vratsky, the Chief Director of our prisons—who is the right man in the right place—is pushing forward this good work as rapidly as the many other equally pressing schemes of reform permit. As a remedy for overcrowding, it was suggested to me the other day by a clever English friend, that by adopting the English method of hanging all our murderers, we might easily make more room in our prisons! But this, I repeat, would be too dreadful to us. Executions in Russia are, thank God, very rare, and are resorted to only in extreme cases. Upon that I insist.

Sometimes Mr. Stead makes such a grotesque bound into the unexpected that it simply takes away one’s breath. To suggest, for instance, that our Emperor should be at the head of a newspaper—is really too severe a task upon our risible faculties! When our Tzars speak to their people, they do so from the height of the Kremlin or from their throne. They concentrate the attention of millions of men, animated with devotion and trust. As for journalists, when they speak …. But this is no business of mine!

Mr. Stead understands Count Ignatieff’s position much better. Here, for the first time, we have our ablest statesman and diplomatist presented to the Western world in his true light. The Count is now President of the Slavonic Benevolent Society, whose members are generally designated abroad by the mistaken name of “Panslavists.” Here is a passage about the “Panslavists” which English Russophobes should attentively read:—

“Austria and Turkey are the two great generators of Panslavonic enthusiasm. The worse Austria treats the Slavs, the more terrible will be the picture which will be drawn by the avenging Slavonic idea. What the Slavonic enthusiasts hope for is exactly the same as that for which English enthusiasts long when they talk of the union of the English-speaking peoples. We do not dream of conquering the United States, or of compelling every English settlement to obey the laws of the House of Commons. All that we hope for is that in all the world’s broad surface no English-speaking race shall be domineered over and oppressed by any other race, and that all differences between the various English families shall be adjusted by arbitration rather than by war, and that there should be a general league or brotherly union for defensive purposes, whereby all English-speaking men should make common cause against any one who attempts to crush the weakest member of the fraternal league. That is our ideal. It is also the ideal of the Slavonic Society—a society to which, if they were Russians, most Englishmen would of course belong. So far from regarding the Slavonic Society with alarm, it seems to me that the only reason for regret is that an association with aims so legitimate and so inspiring should not receive much more general support in all classes than is actually the case. According to English ideas, the Emperor would be the natural patron of such an association, just as the Queen is the natural patron of our AntiSlavery Society. Slavery is a domestic institution of many of her Majesty’s neighbours, just as the oppression of Slavs is practised by some of his Imperial Majesty’s imperial allies. But to a Russian Sovereign the oppression of Slavs can no more be regarded as a normal and natural and permanent condition of things than the institution of slavery can be so regarded by our Queen.”

How simple it seems, and how clear! Why should such obvious truths be almost always overlooked?

I have left myself but little space to speak of what, to the purely literary reader, will be the most fascinating part of the book—of Count Leo Tolstoy as a novelist. Mr. Matthew Arnold, in one of his last essays, pays us the compliment of saying that Russian novelists “hold the field.” At the front of these stands unquestionably the author of “War and Peace” and “Anna Karenina.” Mr. Stead gives a very artistic sketch of that gifted man.

But, alas! alas! what a dense November fog we are led into when Tolstoy ceases to be a novelist, and assumes the garb of a theologian or a philosopher! How arrogant, how conceited, how didactic he then becomes! Funnily enough, it is precisely by that fog that Mr. Stead was most attracted. How these two came to understand each other it is not in my power to explain, except that both are united by one strong link: both, unfortunately, imagine that they are blessed with the same gift—of infallibility!

OLGA NOVIKOFF.

(“O. K”)