I must be excused for mentioning here my personal recollections, but they often return to my mind and stubbornly intrude themselves under my pen.

Moreover, too, the Tsar himself has taken pity on the poor, perishing, people and is willing to help them.

What an excellent example!

In truth, everybody indeed in the very smallest circle can, with an effort, contribute his share, when he fervently wishes to serve a good object.

Here, then, is what happened on my part.

About two years ago I was driving homewards to an inn from Tsarskoe Selo station. The weather was bad, not altogether summerlike. Alas! our Northern Summer is really a caricature of Southern Winters; wind, cold, damp. Methought, When in the world shall I reach my warm hearth and a hot cup of tea?

All of a sudden there came my coachman’s voice and the strange questions: “Dear Mother, are you a Russian?” “Yes I am a Russian, God be praised.”

Again he said: “Are you a true Orthodox?”

Once more I repeat: “Yes, praise God! a true Orthodox.”

“And do you often see the Tsar?”

“To my regret I hardly ever see him.”

“But what is all this to you?” I asked him in my turn, being somewhat puzzled.

In spite of the murderous weather, the conversation excited my curiosity.

“You might even ask him to intercede on our behalf. I come from Rachinsky’s School at Tateff; Sergius Alexandrovitch has from infancy made a sober man of me. I travelled hither to earn money by work. I bought a horse, a four-wheeled drosky, and a “kaftan.”¹ Thus I spent a lot of money and have to work. But there now of evenings I am almost dying of hunger! Woe! All tea houses, bakeries, butchers’ shops, retail shops—all are shut early, by 8 o’clock. Only the taverns are open all night, but there it is impossible to buy even a crust of bread. Truly man needs to eat a little,” concluded my fellow-traveller as a finishing touch.

As I agreed with him, I held my peace. But what a curious coincidence! Sergius Alexandrovitch Rachinsky was one of the very persons with whom I was most intimate. And suddenly I meet one of his pupils; moreover, one who has adopted his instructions.

It was extremely pleasant to see that his good work in the interest of sobriety, at which I too had worked a good deal, was still in existence.

Somehow or other this conversation was recalled to my mind frequently during the last few years!

Naturally, my helplessness has strongly dismayed me.

But I have made enquiries about this question of people, who know and are sympathetically disposed towards the welfare of Russia. (Thank God! although rarely, still there are such people to be met with!) One thing became clearer to me that day. It was in any case necessary, without wasting time, to replace the existing temptation which intensifies itself with us more and more on each successive day, to the shame and misery of all Russia. Of course it is hard to do good, but as for evil—Why! How easy! There what devilish power comes to people’s aid!

And now I will tell you to what point my tremendous efforts led me to continue the good work of my friend Rachinsky, this indefatigable wrestler in the cause of Temperance.

From enquiries made by me I came to the conclusion that evil is not to be extirpated with one blessed stroke of the pen. It is necessary to abolish this temptation or at any rate to lessen it by some good new custom: one can rescue from destruction, whether moral or physical, or financial, by cheapening, for example, the sale of indispensable objects, such as tea and sugar. In practical England these questions are dealt with incomparably better than they are with us. An English pound, as is well known, is greater than a Russian pound by almost a whole third. Very excellent tea is to be had at one shilling and sixpence (about 70 kopecks); but one can buy it still much more cheaply. A pound of sugar here, in London, costs about 8 kopecks (about 2¾ d.)

These figures speak more eloquently than Political Economy treatises.

I shall once more allow myself to point to facts of my own personal observations. In our village Novo-Alexandrovka (in the district of Kozloff) I have chanced several times on festival days to notice with what great satisfaction my peasant visitors drank tea at my house. Every peasant and domestic servant knows very well, that at my house there must not be any talking about vodka. More than once I have noticed how some of the local inhabitants have been inclined to laugh good-naturedly over my hatred for their favourite poison, but they took no notice of me. But this did not hinder them from drinking with pleasure cup after cup of my tea.

I used to take advantage of these gatherings, in order to explain to them about the blessings of temperance and the ruin caused by drunkenness. I once tried to find out from one of my guests how much he spent in drink a year.

“Why, perhaps one spends fifty roubles,”²—he regretfully replied to me.

“And so this then is not a sin, as it is not a matter of conscience?” I exclaimed. “Why, with us in the Government of Tamboff for such a sum as that you can buy an excellent cow, and thus there would be food ready for all the children, and they would not be compelled to go begging.” “That may be so,” agreed my companion, and he silently occupied himself with drinking up his cup of tea.

In making observations in regard to my poor people, I enquired several times whether the peasants like tea, and I always received the following answers: “Certainly, everybody likes it, but it is dear; there are many things which rich people can buy, while, as for ourselves, we are poor people; it is not within our means, vodka is cheaper and there is plenty of that everywhere.” From such comparisons the matter presented itself to me as anyhow shameful and provoking; the troublesome question always kept on returning to me more incessantly and wringing my heart. How in the world could we the sooner remedy this woe? How make tea more accessible, so that it may be able to penetrate into the most poor corners of Russia?

But really there is a remedy and quite a simple one too: to lessen the duty on the importing of tea, and to decrease the excise on sugar.

By these easy means the revival of Russia will be secured. Moreover, the revenue’s temporary loss will compensate itself by the enormous increase in the sale of tea and sugar. Trade will increase.

Indeed there can be no doubt at all, that sobriety enriches not only separate individuals, but also whole empires, and not only in simply moral and sanitary, but also in financial respects. This is not by any means empty paradox but indubitable truth! Let anyone who does not believe it travel to Plotsk to the Mariavite Bishops. As in all probability is well known to many people, the number of the Mariavites now amounts to 200,000 souls. Thanks to the exertion and example of their pastors, they are all absolute abstainers. This I know from various sources, and one of their Bishops, the Right Reverend Michael Kovalsky, has also confirmed these facts to me. The extremely interesting feature of all their pastorate lies in the fact that it almost all consists of poor people; but they аre all pervaded with faith in their holy work, and each one contributes with joy his hardly earned mite. As the result Churches, Schools, Reading Rooms, Hospitals and Workshops, are rising. Just think! Why! all this is being attained by the voluntary exertions of teetotallers, by their stubborn sacrifices and by prayer!

As an onlooker my heart is gladdened. But involuntarily the recollection of our National Russian misfortune returns to my mind. When, indeed? with the help of God, will temperance develop and blossom forth for us also to our joy and to our pride?

[Note.—The wonderful Imperial Ukase which abolished Vodka in the early part of the War has proved an answer of the best kind to Madame Olga Novikoff’s question. R.G.P.]

1. i.e., the coat worn by Russian peasants.
2. Between £7 and £8.