‘‘A great misfortune has befallen us, brethren, a very great one!” Such is the beginning of an open letter, addressed by a contemporary Nihilist to his political co-religionists. “Yes, a great misfortune,” exclaims he again, with Russian frankness, at the conclusion of his epistle, and from the Nihilist point of view the event referred to is undoubtedly a very great loss, a most serious “misfortune.” It is this. One of their most prominent and active members, Mr. Leon Tikhomirov, an able author, a scholar, having seen the error of his ways, has recanted, and has publicly repudiated his former faith.

I do not know Mr. Tikhomirov personally, but I am assured that he had no direct relation to the diabolic event of the 1st of March. After leaving the Kertch Gymnasium with the gold medal, he entered a Russian university, where he took a foolish part in one of the students’ riots, and in the propaganda. Four years’ prison life was the result of those follies. He is married to a Russian, who did not meddle with politics, and has three children.

I have read the pamphlet which contains his confession, and I am struck with its tone of extreme honesty and sincerity. In all Christian charity we are bound to sympathize with him who repents. “Do not strike a man on the ground” is a good proverb which should have a practical application. In Mr. Tikhomirov the Nihilist party had a talented, cultivated, and probably sincere member, who sacrificed his material interests and prospects in life in order to be true to his convictions.

At that time his idea, unfortunately, was that the only possible evolution for Russia was— Revolution. In that direction he worked and wrote for several years. The first edition of “La Russie Politique et Sociale” belongs to that lamentable period of his career. But the success which attended that mistaken book has not prevented its author from retracing his steps in an opposite and more worthy direction, with the result which is shown in the pamphlet now before me, “Why I have ceased to be a Revolutionist,” published in Paris by the Nouvelle Librairie Parisienne. The unreserved sincerity of this publication is remarkable. To speak out one’s mind needs much civic courage, especially when you know that all who sympathize with you are far off, and that the majority of those surrounding are only too ready to impute the meanest and most despicable motives. Mr. Leon Tikhomirov, however, faces that risk.

The sketch of his moral convalescence is worth study. Whilst pondering over his psychological diagnosis, one involuntarily recalls Shakespeare’s—

Yes, indeed, none are so surely caught, when they are caught, As wit turned fool!

But, fortunately, the wit is now restored. In order to render Mr. Tikhomirov full justice, it would be necessary to translate every line of his pamphlet; short of that, where I cannot give the words in full, I shall endeavour to convey the spirit.

“I look upon my past with disgust,” says he, and which is not surprising when the details of that past are examined. He is not influenced by any expectation for the future. Having left the revolutionary party, his only object now is to promote, by legitimate means, the cause of true progress: the conviction that he has been right in abandoning his former faith is only strengthened by the reproaches now heaped upon him by his former associates. . . . “When I was twenty,” says he, “I used to write revolutionary programmes. If, twenty years later, I am unable to write something better, I should really have a very poor opinion of myself.”

Still, that transition, from folly to wisdom, was not accomplished without struggle and hesitation. That we might easily assume, but Mr. Tikhomirov frankly admits it. “How hard it was for me to acknowledge that I was utterly wrong; that, in clinging to my theories, I held a lifeless body, which could not be revived. I hesitated to bury it, in spite of its obvious death.”

About the year 1880 (Mr. Tikhomirov continues) I, and not I alone, began to feel that the growth of our party was becoming torpid, was daily losing more and more of its vital force, which had at first seemed so great. The following year I began wondering how it was that Russia was healthy and full of life, while the revolutionary movement, that very movement which, according to our ideas, was the very manifestation of national growth, was withering and decaying. This obvious contradiction reduced me to a morbid despair. I went abroad with the sole object to publish my recollections of the events through which I had lived. Since then, all the remains of the old organizations have perished, all, all, have tumbled down! Reality has given me startling lessons. One consoling hope, however, remains. I deemed it possible to rebuild our party, while remaining within it. Oh, what a self-delusion that was! In reality it was I who enslaved myself, who was prevented from thinking, from meditating as I ought to have done! Still the strokes fell too heavily; their weight became intolerable. I felt we were on a wrong track, and urged Lopatine and the other members of our party to search some new paths. On finding that they would not, or could not, follow my advice, in 1884 I wrote to say that I ceased to belong to their party, and withdrew their right to use my name. Thus ended my co-operation with all their circles and organizations.

In Mr. Tikhomirov’s narrative there is, as I have said, a tone of sincerity, of truthfulness, which appeals to our best nature. No melodrama, no straining after theatrical effect—one cannot resist feeling for him, almost sharing his sorrow. But let us listen again to his own voice:—

Meditating upon recent events, I wrote in my diary of March, ’85 :—“Yes. I am definitely convinced now that revolutionary Russia—taken as a serious, intelligent party—does not exist. Revolutionists still exist, and may make some noise. But it is not a storm, only ripples on the surface of a sea.” Further, I said, “Since last year one fact seems to me perfectly obvious. All our hopes have to depend henceforth on Russia, on the Russian people; as to our revolutionists, hardly anything may be expected from them! I came to the conclusion, that it was absolutely necessary to arrange my life so as to serve Russia according to my own instinct, independently of any party. The Nihilist party, I now see too well, can only injure Russia. My common sense and my will might remain dormant, but once they awoke I had to obey them. If my former friends could leave their graves and come to life again I would spare no effort, none whatever, to induce them to follow me, and then with them, or quite alone, I would take the path which I now feel to be the true one.”

Mr. Tikhomirov has much sinned, but has also loved much. Even in his revolutionary epoch Russia was still precious to him, and he was always ready to die for her unity. In that respect, to his credit be it said, he was not a model Nihilist, whose creed it is to despise such “obsolete notions” as patriotism. How much freedom of thought was tolerated in those circles can be seen from the following incident. In an article intended by Mr. Tikhomirov for their review ‘‘Popular Will,” among many truisms he wrote:— “Russia is in a normal state, while the revolutionary party are collapsing—a fact which can only be explained by some mistakes in the programme of our party.” And again. If terrorism is recommended to a country, the vitality of that country must be very doubtful.” At these sentiments Mr. Tikhomirov’s comrades—the other editors of the paper—were thunderstruck, and peremptorily declined to admit them into the columns of their organ. This schism was the dawn of Mr. Tikhomirov’s salvation. His better self rapidly developed. He soon recognized that the less a country at large is desirous of revolution, the more compelled are revolutionists to resort to terrorism. Thus the weaker the cause, the stronger the necessity for terrorism, which obviously was a criminal paradox. Further on, Mr. Tikhomirov says: “I have not given up my ideas of social justice, but they take a clearer, a more harmonious shape; riots, revolts, destruction, are all the morbid results of the social crisis which now traverses Europe. These things are not easily introduced into Russia. That disease has not yet reached her; nor can revolutionary movements, however temporarily pernicious, divert Russia from the path of her historical development.”

Political murders (says he) produced a certain commotion in the Russian Government so long as it was believed that they had to deal with a strong threatening power. The moment they realized how wretchedly small was that handful of men who resorted to murder merely because of their weakness and inability to undertake something on a larger scale—since that moment the Russian Government shows no signs of any kind of anxiety. It determined upon a strong system, and which it unflinchingly carries out. Of course the life of the Emperor and of his different officials is spoilt by the perpetual expectations of danger, but in spite of this the Government will certainly never make any concessions to the Terrorists. A legal Government recognized by the whole country naturally objects to subordinate itself to the whims of a party so cowardly as not even to venture on open attack. But this necessary attitude is what the Terrorists denounce as a “political crime deserving of death.”

“The Russian Emperor,” continues Mr. Tikhomirov, “has not usurped his power. That power was solemnly conferred upon his ancestors by an overwhelming majority of the Russian people, who have never since shown the remotest desire to withdraw that power from the Romanoff dynasty. The law of the country recognizes her Emperor as one above any kind of responsibility, and the Church of the country invests him with the title of her temporal Head.” (Page 16.)

Ten years of hard struggle have proved beyond possible doubt that all the revolutionists may well perish, all, one after the other; but Russia was dead against supporting them. The life of a Terrorist is a terrible one: it is that of a baited wolf, in momentary expectation of death. He has to suffer perpetual alarm from detectives, to use false passports, to live in hiding places, to resort to dynamite, to meditate murder. . . . Such a life necessitates the abandonment of all matters of most vital interest. All ties of affection under such circumstances are torture. Study is out of the question. Everybody, except the five or ten ringleaders, has to be deceived. An enemy is suspected on all sides. No, the best amongst us, had they lived long enough to see the obtained results would not have failed to give up such a struggle. We committed a terrible crime in demoralizing the Russian youth. One of our revolutionary chiefs—himself already doomed—to whom I expressed my present views as frankly as I am now doing, urged me to save our young generation, and to exhort them to give up premature meddling with politics, and instead of politics to prepare themselves for a useful life by hard studies.

What good advice! “Think, observe, learn; do not trust words and shallow theories. That is what I now say to the inexperienced youth,” says Mr. Tikhomirov. “ I am utterly indignant,’’ continues he, ‘‘when I hear remarks of the following kind: ‘Let them make riots. Of course it is foolish, but what does it matter? There is not much weight in all these fellows, and a riot is still a protest.’ For my part, I now look upon these things quite differently.”

O.K.

Claridge’s Hotel, Brook-street, October 30.

(To be concluded to-morrow.)