After explaining at some length the stern duties of the rising generations, after earnestly entreating them to form their character and their principles, to study hard, to avoid the influence of political charlatans who simply exploit their ignorance, Mr. Tikhomirov says: “Russia has a great past, but a still greater future.” He is, however, not blind to our shortcomings, of which a very serious one among our youths is their want of prudent resistance to mischievous influences. Their want of thought makes them accept every new political aphorism, however absurd.

As soon as the universities are quiet for eight or nine months pressure is put upon the young students to make some absurd demonstration, some riots, “something,” and they listen to such instigations. Our censors are not infallible; but censorship is an institution whose importance is exaggerated. The principal mistake lies in ourselves. We Russians have an unlimited confidence in every new theory, in every hypothesis, no matter how superficial, how foolish. The so-called “Intelligenzia” are far inferior in common sense and practical questions to the simple Russian peasant. (Page 21.) The latter possess few notions, few facts; but they have not spoilt their mental faculties, their sound judgment. The fantastic element, deplorably developed in our middle classes of culture, reaches its zenith amongst our revolutionists. What young revolutionists repeat now, I used to think myself, alas! several years ago. Russia would immensely gain if her young people, instead of meddling with politics, resolved to spend some five or six years on a regular course of lectures and in studying their own country, her present position, and her history. Hundreds of Russian undergraduates perish merely thanks to evil influences from without.

This, unfortunately, is only too true. Such instigators have neither pity nor judgment. Any kind of riot equally serves their purpose, provided it makes mischief and commits foolish, reckless boys. Mr. Tikhomirov, describing the difference between the students of 1840 and 1860, shows how superior were those of the former year. Their aspirations were much higher. He relates an anecdote which is charmingly characteristic: 

“Some undergraduates of the old school were engaged in an animated discussion one day when dinner was announced. ‘How can you disturb us?’ reproachfully exclaimed one of the orators, who afterwards became a celebrated Russian writer. ‘We are just settling the existence (das Seyn) of God, and you summon us to . . . dinner.’” What Mr. Tikhomirov says now about the duties of a citizen may be endorsed by every wise patriot. “From the question of culture I now pass to that of autocracy. Whatever constitutes a man’s general views, the moment he proclaims himself as opposed to the Tzar he belongs to the welcome set, he is ‘one of ours.’” (This reminds one of the Irishman, who, on landing in America, declared: “I do not know what is the form of government here, but I am against it.”) Let Mr. Tikhomirov, however, continue his own story.

If you point out the unreasonableness of this view, if you convict him of extreme ignorance, you are met with the protest, how can a man be cultivated as long as there exists in Russia an autocrat? Unfortunately, such views may be sincere. To my great regret, at one time I used to share them myself. But now what pain they give me! In the first place, no form of government is able to prevent intellectual culture when the people are sincerely anxious to acquire it. Besides, let us refer to history. Were not Peter the Great and the Great Catherine autocrats? Was it not in the Emperor Nicholas’ time that the present social ideas originated? Is there any republic in the world which has carried out such great reforms as those of Alexander II? I regard autocracy in Russia as the result of our history, which cannot and ought not to be abolished so long as tens of millions desire nothing else. I deem unjust, unwise, and useless the presumption to interfere with the wishes of a great nation. Every Russian desiring to carry out reforms should do so under the shelter of the autocratic power. Has autocracy prevented Poushkine, Gogol, Tolstoy, &c., &c., from developing the greatest possible progress in literature? For argument’s sake, suppose that some Russian Emperor consented to impose limits upon his powers. Such concession would be only apparent, not real. At the slightest hint an enormous majority of the people would disperse the handful of men who ventured to restrict the unlimited power of their Tzar. What every country needs above all is a strong and stable Government which firmly carries out its programme. Russia needs this even more than any other country. The parliamentary system, although it has some good sides, has proved itself most unsatisfactory—a fact which our critics of autocracy should keep firmly in mind. Unfortunately, our young generation behave in a way to drive a rational statesman mad. One day they take part in a Polish insurrection; another day they try to organize a reign of terror. Like true fanatics they display a passionate energy, a remarkable self-sacrifice. It is simply deplorable:—(P. 28.)

Mr. Tikhomirov insists over and over again upon the necessity for sound learning and right thinking. In a foot-note he still further develops this idea. Insisting upon the evils of half culture, he explains, “I do not mean the small amount of information—a peasant is still less informed, but it is the manner of foolishly adopting anything said by others—on faith, without reflection—which is so fatal. It is the want of mental discipline which I lament.”

Mr. Tikhomirov’s sketch is of great psychological interest. It throws a true light on Russian nature. Russians, unfortunately, are too impulsive, too reckless, not to be often misled—which, of course, is deplorable. With all this there lies in their heart of hearts a deep affection for their country, their church, their old traditions, their customs, their language—in fact, everything Russian. To them “ubi bene, ibi patria” is a faulty phrase: there is no place where they can be happy when they are banished, when they are anathematized by their native land. Certain feelings are stronger than arguments. I may be perhaps allowed to quote a case in point. A colony of Russian refugees, whose life, for some political reason or other, became uncomfortable in Russia, emigrated to Buenos Ayres some twenty or twenty-five years ago. They deemed it would be quite easy to acclimatize themselves anywhere. Little by little, however, they discovered, with acute pain, that their souls craved for their former faith. At last, uniting their efforts, they appealed to the representative of the Russian Government, begging him to help them to secure for them a Russian Greek Orthodox priest, willingly offering to build the church and to provide all necessary means for supporting the clergy. The Russian Government did not hesitate to acquiesce. The Reverend Father Ivanoff, a brilliant theological student, sympathizing also with the request, hurried across the seas to undertake this novel duty. Yes! It is easy sometimes to be an absentee, but it must be intolerable to feel oneself a renegade! From this reproach let us hope M. Tikhomirov is now to be rescued. “There is more joy over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine just men who need no repentance.”

O.K.

Claridge’s Hotel, October 31.