To return to the popular delusion about the Panslavistic party: the only actually existing “party’’ in Russia is the one whose real chief is our Emperor, who is followed by the whole of Russia. That “national party” is clumsily called the “Panslavist,” and everybody understands by that word something created by his own imagination. In reality our only doctrine consists of three great tenets—(1) The Greek Orthodox Church, solely depending on the  Œcumenical Councils, and having no other head; (2) Autocracy, representing the principal aspirations of our nation, and acting as the guardian of our national honour and welfare; and (3) our organic unity, based on those two foundations, the support of which forms the duty of every honest Russian citizen. There are shades of opinion in questions of minor importance, different currents of thought. Thus, Aksakoff was more demonstrative, more vehement and passionate, in the Slavonic and Old Russian views, and was therefore nicknamed “the Slavophil,” while Katkoff, thanks to his Western culture, was at one time called “the Western;” but people should well keep in mind that these differences were chiefly seen in questions of home policy. When John Aksakoff died, Katkoff said: “We disagreed in many points with Ivan Sergueievitch, but never when the honour and dignity of Russia were at stake.”

In order to realize the position of those two men in history, it is necessary to correctly understand their times. About the middle of this century the intellectual part of Russia, chiefly represented by Moscow, did not particularly care for foreign politics and the passing questions of the day, which very often only last one day. Questions relating to philosophy, theology, science, and fine arts, and their very principles, had more attraction, and absorbed the reflective minds. Thus one of the great topics of that time was the part which nationality should play in science. The Slavophils insisted upon the necessity of that element. The Westerns opposed that view. Another subject was the real utility or the harmfulness of Peter the Great’s reforms, and the effect of foreign influences on Russian culture and development. The “Slavophils” deprecated that policy, the Westerns admired it. These two currents opposed each other, striving more for eternal principles than for the petty interests of the hour. Wretched quarrels for position, career, decorations, money worship, &c, had very little to do among these “men of the year 1840,” as they were called. Unfortunately that moral Arcadia did not last very long; the Crimean war compelled them to become more matter of fact. Aksakoff enrolled himself among the militia. Then came the grand and noble reform of the emancipation of the serfs, making 23 millions of men not only free but freeholders, compelling everybody to study the details of practical measures and the pressing needs of their countrymen. In the year 1863 another event took place, which deeply stirred the national mind in Russia. Local disturbances occurred in Russian Poland, which had to be quelled by armed force. To the great bewilderment of Russians, the whole of Europe, incited by Napoleon III., including the most Lilliputian countries, interfered in that domestic quarrel, and they actually had the assurance to send us advice and admonition. Prussia alone stood aloof; alone understood the ridiculous folly of such a demonstration. Unfortunately at that critical moment our Foreign Office was seized with a fit of moral paralysis—that malady peculiar to all Foreign Offices—and seemed unable to see its way. It became shy and hesitating. But Katkoff was there. He was not only alive, but grasped the position with splendid force. His leaders sparkled like guiding stars in the black sky, and, like trumpet blasts, aroused the dormant energy of our demoralized officials. His work was magnificent. Every heart that could beat at all throbbed with patriotic enthusiasm. The attack of Europe burst like a bubble. But the hero of that campaign was Katkoff. Aksakoff liked to refer to the part played by Katkoff, and he said to me more than once, “Russia should never forget what Katkoff did in that emergency.” Nor is she likely to do so.

A spontaneous demonstration was made in the shape of a voluntary subscription for a large silver centre-piece, representing a Russian of olden times, holding an unfurled banner, which bears the motto “Unity of Russia,” and which was presented by a large deputation to the eloquent and patriotic editor of the Moscow Gazette. Katkoff was very particular about the accuracy of his facts, weighing and sifting them with the most zealous care. But once he acquired a conviction, he fought for it with reckless courage. Truth being generally on his side, he as often won, and his opponents, no matter how high their position, collapsed. Thus in the railway question of the Baltic Port and Libau, as also in that of Kief and Warsaw, his opinion prevailed, contrary to that of the Governor-General Kotsebue, and deprived Konigsberg of a large portion of its former traffic.

The introduction of Greek and Latin to the same extent as in Germany into all our gymnasiums was his doing, in the face of a very great and powerful opposition. The Classical Lyceum, dedicated to the memory of the late heir apparent, Tzarevitch Nicolas, was founded by him and his alter ego, Professor Leontieff. When the latter died, Katkoff became sole director of the school, and devoted to it a great part of his time. It was thanks to Katkoff’s efforts that Mdme. Fischer established a classical school for girls, of which Moscow may be proud, and which is every day increasing in importance. Katkoff’s foresight was sometimes remarkable. Last February he called on me at St. Petersburg. I said that among many curious things spread abroad was the probable nomination of Prince Coburg as ruler of Bulgaria. “But surely that is too monstrous to be true? A Roman Catholic, a perfect tool in the hands of the Jesuits and of Austria—that is out of the question,” exclaimed I. “Well, it would be a disaster to poor Bulgaria; it would jeopardize their Church and their nationality; but I should not be surprised, for my part, if that came to pass,” rejoined he. Alas! he was right and I was wrong. Nothing, of course, can be more painful to a Russian than to watch the fate that threatens our unfortunate co-religionists, and to think that all our sacrifices have not saved our Slavonic brethren from such deplorable chaos and anarchy. However, let us not despair. Political, as well as private life, has its trials, and every struggle helps to form character. But dangers can be avoided only when plainly realized. . . .

As I have said, Katkoff appreciated the part played by France in Bulgaria, and saw in that policy good reason for an entente cordiale with her; while of Germany he became suspicious the moment he perceived her inclination to support Austrian intrigues on the Balkan Peninsula. A man of his large and statesmanlike view naturally has to be cautious. A political alliance is not a religious marriage. Stability is as fatal in the first as is want of stability in the second. A breach of faith in politics breaks and ought to break the established union, but in married life the duty of one is not lessened by the faithlessness of the other.

Katkoff died from over-work. He never allowed his wife or his friends to persuade him to take however short a holiday. “It is useless to speak of rest,” was his curt reply. “I have no time for that. I have the Lyceum, the Moscow Gazette, and the Russky Vestnik to attend to. Let us not talk of rest!” And he would go on—go on working, until death stopped him at last. He died too soon, far too soon. His country deplored that loss with an exhibition of respect and feeling never before witnessed in the case of a private person. The popular demonstrations, headed by the Metropolitan of Moscow and the principal clergy, were quite extraordinary and most affecting.

The Emperor sent a telegram to the widow expressing his deep sympathy and regret, calling this sad event “a national loss.” Here, again, his Majesty showed himself a true and faithful representative of the Russian people.

O.K.

18, Dover-street, Dec. 16.