Russia, say many profound judges, who seem to derive all their knowledge of my country from the Nihilist Press, is on the verge of a revolution. It is there where they make their mistake. Russia is not on the verge, Russia is actually in the midst of a revolution. But it is not a violent overturn of the existing order of things, accomplished lawlessly from below; it is a great transformation effected lawfully from above that is now in progress in Russia. Russia, which was de-Russianised by Peter, is being re-Russianised by Alexander. That is the revolution in a phrase. But it is not only a phrase, but a fact. And so far the most striking feature of this pacific revolution from above has been the summoning of the Commission of Experts. This new departure, which is but a return to an old Russian practice, symbolises the change that is being wrought in Russia. The Emperor once more takes counsel with his people, and that fact is to us a glad omen for the future development of the traditional greatness.

The clouds which covered our country for so many months are disappearing; the sun shines forth once more, and a new hope and a new joy fill the heart of every thorough Russian. Here in England I find many even of our best friends full of gloom and despondency concerning our future. Some even despair. But in Moscow, where every new fact is weighed with great caution and in the clearest light, there is no despair; there is hope and confidence, that is darkened only by one single fear of which it is even painful to think. In our Emperor there is unbounded reliance and trust. Russians seldom praise their rulers. There is something very repulsive even in the semblance of flattery. On the other hand, what can be more ungenerous than to attack those who have already received their sentence, and lie prostrate in the dust? But justice demands that on some occasions the ugly suspicions of flattery or ungenerosity should be incurred for the sake of truth.

Alexander III. is a Russian whom Russia trusts.¹ He is a Muscovite of the Muscovites, incarnating in himself the attributes most distinctive of our national character. He shares our national aspirations, understands our past, and has faith in our future. It is but nine months since he came to the throne, when all Russia was thunderstruck by the tragical death of his father. Yet in these short months, when first the load of empire was suddenly thrown upon his shoulders, and even the mourning for a beloved and murdered father was interrupted by precautions against the new efforts of the assassins, Alexander III. has shown such calm and resolute courage, such independence of judgment, and such straightforward simplicity of character as to command the respect, the confidence, and the admiration of all who know him. Let those who mock at the stainless purity of his life and his religious principles, who deride the austere and economical spirit which now presides over the new court, remember that austerity and economy are virtues which in the whole of Russia, as well as in all civilised countries, are not generally despised. The Emperor always seeks to see things with his own eyes. He is keenly alive to the realities of the situation in which he is placed. These realities, although terrible enough in many things, do not discompose him, do not make him deviate from the path along which with sure and steady step he is endeavouring to lead his subjects. For, with us, the Emperor is still the leader of his people, and his autocratic power, which to you is an offence, is to the mass of Russians an indestructibly sacred symbol of that guidance which to them is the first necessity of life. There is a deep religious feeling throughout Russia, which has to be recognised even by those who hate every religion, every ideal, all spiritual life. We may be all wrong. Of course we are altogether wrong if we are to accept the views of constitutional doctrinaires as the ‘last words of human wisdom.’ But with us ‘the last words’ of wisdom, as of science, have no predominant weight. Besides, even Siéyès himself might shrink from the task of framing a Constitution based on universal suffrage and the ballot for the eighty millions of peasants who form the solid base of our Emperor’s power.

Strangely enough, the only men who have endeavoured to systematise the doctrines of Western civilisation have arrived at an ideal not very different from that of Russian autocracy. The disciples of Auguste Comte, at least, should not revile the only system which gives to Europe a supreme dictator in Russia wielding the energies and directing the forces of a mighty democracy. Of course, the Muscovite reality, thank God! differs widely from the Comtist ideal, and has quite different bases; but in essence it has some analogies. The Comtists, however, are but a handful; much more remarkable than their speculations is the practical outcome of the working of constitutional doctrine in the great nations of the West. Abuse the oneman power as you like—under what system but that is Germany governed to-day? What was the last general election but a plébiscite for or against Prince Bismarck? which, although it has gone against the Reichskanzler, will only place a slight check upon his arbitrary power. In France, where politicians disagree about everything, they agree in declaring that a slight alteration in the method of voting would have made M. Gambetta virtual dictator of the Republic. Even as it is, the ex-dictator of Tours is not likely to be less powerful in France than the Reichskanzler is across the Vosges. In England you have a highly artificial system of checks and counter-checks, and a Constitution like a Chinese puzzle for intricacy. But at the last general election what was the issue before the country? Was it the principles, or the men who incarnate these principles? Between Conservatism and Liberalism, or between Lord Beaconsfield and Mr. Gladstone? And since the election who has governed England—the House of Commons, or Mr. Gladstone? Of course it is a rudeness on my part to put my questions so plainly, but I see no sense in making very elaborate phrases, the meaning of which sometimes disappears even to those who utter them.

Besides, I am a poor strategist and not a diplomatist, for different reasons; but had I even been one of the ‘lords of creation,’ the career which compels people to pay compliments right and left to every foreigner—however hostile he may be to one’s country—could never have attracted me. And really nowadays diplomatic service is becoming almost an anachronism. It was useful in old times, but since railways, and telegraphs, and special extraordinary missions are in force, what have embassies and legations to do except giving dinners and dancing parties? One of my friends, a man of great age and very great reputation in the diplomatic world, was bitterly complaining one day of my total inability to mince my words: ‘There is an antique, an unsparing frankness about you, which spoils everything you say about politics,’ declared he.

‘But life is so short,’ interrupted I, ‘one has to save time; besides I seldom speak about politics. I only write, and even this only when I have to discuss England, Russia, Austria, Germany, France, Turkey, or Judaism.’

‘You wound everybody, even your friends,’ continued he, scarcely paying attention to my interruptions. ‘You reject every guidance, every good advice; you laugh at prudence and moderation; you go ahead unreasonably, heedlessly! And when I think that in England you could have been taken for one of us—for a Russian agent,’ added he, smiling contemptuously, lifting his shoulders.

‘But, I am an agent,’ announced I.

‘Ah, indeed! and whose agent are you, may I ask?’

‘Why, of course, my own,’ said I, quite satisfied with that slavery; ‘and should I be attacked from all sides—as our poor soldiers were on the Shipka Pass—well, never mind! Come of it what it may! life, after all, is nothing but a struggle, though, fortunately, not always a struggle for life only!’

For introducing this personal incident I beg my readers’ pardon. But the fact is, that I insist upon being alone responsible for anything which might appear ‘undiplomatic’ in my writings. When you want official diplomatic information, there is a whole brilliant embassy to apply to. If you are in need of some military trustworthy enlightenment, you have our military attaché, Lieutenant-General Gorloff, a man of great knowledge and ability. As to me—I am nothing but myself—’ni plus, ni moins!’

And now, ‘revenons à nos moutons!’ and from the House of Commons let us go to the House of Lords. That great body confined itself of late to protests, whilst the House of Commons, very wisely indeed, registered the decisions of the leader whom the nation placed in power, or, as Sir William Harcourt designated Mr. Gladstone, ‘the head of the Liberals.’ Across the Atlantic, where the country chooses its sovereigns for fixed periods, the same principle is recognised; because it is notorious enough that the President of the United States is not obliged to consult and follow the advice of his ministers. If we were to put it to the vote, do you think that Alexander III.’s autocracy would not be ratified by as heavy a majority as that which made General Garfield President, Mr. Gladstone Prime Minister, M. Gambetta President of the Council, and Prince Bismarck all powerful? As heavy?—there would not even be an appreciable minority. Russian democracy has surely a right to be allowed to choose its ruler in its own way. It may make mistakes; all democracies sometimes err, even that of Great Britain; but, on the whole, we have perhaps less reason to lament a system which has given us Alexander II., the Emancipator, and Alexander III. for Emperors, than the Americans have for complaining of that which gave them Mr. Arthur as a President; or the English of that which placed the destinies of the country, at a great crisis in the history of the East, in the grasp of such a statesman as the Earl of Beaconsfield.

I daresay I shall be told that it is no new thing to hear that a new sovereign possesses all the virtues. The unknown is generally magnificent. Imagination paints the future of a reign in brighter colours than have ever been realised in history. And of course there was the outburst of enthusiasm excited by the accession of the late Emperor which certainly did not point to so tragic an end. Still events have proved that these expectations have been partly realised, when you compare the Russia of ‘56 with that of ‘81. In the pages of this magazine (last January) I briefly referred to the reforms which constituted the glory of his reign—reforms so great, so vast, so wide-reaching that they could only have been realised by a sovereign wielding great concentrated power, and guided by very high humanitarian principles. The millions of emancipated serfs and liberated Bulgarians are living arguments and proofs.

The last years of his reign were not without clouds, but the fact that he was foully murdered in the streets of his own capital no more proves that he was a tyrant than the crime of Wilkes Booth proved that Abraham Lincoln was a despot. It is a shame and a disgrace to Russia, no doubt, that she should have had such criminals as those who constitute the ‘Nihilist Camorra.’² We know and feel it deeply. But, alas! monstrous things will happen in the world. In Russia we have a proverb saying ‘there is no family without a cripple.’ Our anarchists are moral cripples indeed.

When the horror and stupor occasioned by the death of the Emperor began to pass away, Russia saw with profound sympathy and admiration the heroic bearing of the young ruler who, after burying his father, set himself steadily to extricate his country from the evils which surrounded it. When his predecessor had ascended the throne Russia was mourning for the results of the Crimean war, deploring losses which seemed irreparable, disasters incalculable. No foreign enemy this year was encamped on Russian soil; no foreign fleet flaunted its hostile flag in Russian waters; no Russian stronghold was beleaguered by invading hosts. There was no war raging along our frontiers, save among the Tekkes, where General Skobeleff had added new laurels to his already brilliant reputation by the victories which he won over the borderers, whose prowess had hitherto resisted the Russian arms.

But the outward calm only rendered more striking the internal confusion. A small handful of young men, drawn from the class of those penniless students, the majority of whom are supported by Government charity, had formed themselves into a semi-political Camorra, for the purpose of striking terror into the Government. A very curious fact, supported by men who are closely connected with this movement, and which will doubtless be vehemently contradicted, as many absolute truths often are, ought to be mentioned, however unpleasant it may seem. It is clearly proved that this Nihilistic handful can be divided into two parts, viz. instigators and performers—the first inspiring and guiding; the other foolishly, heedlessly obeying, following, and becoming blind instruments, ready even to do so at the expense of their life. Strangely enough, the counsellors, the instigators, were chiefly composed of Jews; the performers all Russians. For the Jews act always upon the advice contained in a document found amongst their papers seized by the police: ‘Above all, be sure always to put the Russians forward.’ I confess it does very little credit to the intelligence and sharpness of my young countrymen, but the Jews—who in Russia compose the very worst element of the country, and have nothing to remind us of Moses and Spinosa—have certainly proved themselves to be very clever. But then, if you use every means without hesitating to employ the very vilest and worst, almost anything can be done. Mr. Théodore Guilaroff—author of a very interesting study, ‘Fifteen Years of Sedition’³—supports this view very strongly. The Nihilist Jews generally adopt Russian names; but here are undoubtedly genuine family-names: Lukkerman, who took an active part in the blowing up of the Winter Palace; Goldenberg, in the Kursk railway attempt to blow up the train; Lundélevitch, and again Goldenberg, in Solovieff’s attempt to kill the Emperor Alexander in 1879; Mlodétzky, Wittenberg, Jessy Helfman and others.

They began by attacking governors and officials whom they regarded as representatives of despotism. I knew personally some of these victims. I wish there were more people as kindhearted as those were! They shot one, they stabbed another. Recruited by those whose propaganda of socialism and sedition had been checked by the Government, they extended their operations; they menaced the Emperor, and they made incendiary fires wherever they could, be it in rich or poor quarters, in towns or villages. Repressive measures were adopted to deal with them, which only differ in degree and efficacy from those which much less heinous outrages have compelled the most Liberal Government that ever existed to adopt in Ireland. But the measures employed by our Government were not sufficiently systematic and efficacious. People who urged a declaration of the state of siege which is in force at Berlin even now were accused of cruelty and want of Liberalism. This hesitating halfrepression was answered by the blowing-up of the Winter Palace, and then, after a brief but deceitful lull, by the murder of the Emperor in the streets of St. Petersburg.

Alexander III. found society unnerved by the Red terror. To crush the terrorists, the tenth article of our Statute of Criminal Proceedings, which answers to your Habeas Corpus Act, has been suspended, and between the White terror and the Red, peaceable citizens had a troublesome time. Nor were the plots of the Nihilists for one instant relaxed. Everywhere around the person of the Emperor seemed to gleam the daggers of the assassins. Dynamite mines were discovered in places of public resort, and all the haunts of revolutionists throughout Europe rang with fiendish exultations over the death of the only monarch in Europe whose name is enrolled among the emancipators of the oppressed. Precautions were at last taken, which experience had proved to be only too much needed. But there was no panic. The Emperor and Empress were in a cruel dilemma: if they went abroad, they were told they were risking lives precious to Russia; if they remained under escort, they were accused of fear; and the less ground reproaches of that sort had, the more eagerly propagated they were by those who were looking out for new opportunities for new crimes.

The assassins, instead of being executed offhand—as might have been done, because, after all, their culpability was beyond any doubt—were publicly tried with all the formalities of the law. Had they been tried by an English judge they could not have had more liberty of speech when they were heard in their own defence. After the close of that drama, the Emperor was left face to face with the arduous task to which he had been so suddenly called. The whole of Russia was full of breathless expectation. The Emperor was firm, resolute, and composed. So much could not be said of those who surrounded him. Some ministers, whom he inherited from his predecessor, lacked the nerve requisite to deal with the situation. Listening to the babel of voices which arose in the West, they so far forgot what was the secret of their country’s power and the safeguard of her unity and greatness, as to talk of granting a Constitution. Count Loris Melikoff, who at the beginning of his dictatorial career seemed firm and well informed, disappointed us all, as much as Lord Salisbury disappointed England after his return from Turkey. Count Loris Melikoff became nervous and was foremost among those who imagined that by weakening the hands of the Central Power and dividing its authority, Russia could more effectively cope with the terrorists and anarchists who had just murdered one Emperor and were daily scheming how to murder his successor. To have proclaimed some showy sort of constitutionalism would no doubt have won for him a momentary éclat from the Petersburgers and the West. But it would only have been made a basis for new demands by the party of anarchy, who are as much opposed to constitutionalism, or what they call ‘plutocracy,’ as to the Tzardom or autocracy. They would have argued, ‘We have got rid of the autocracy by the murder of one Emperor; let us get rid of the plutocracy by murdering another.’ The time was hardly propitious for constitutional experiments. To engraft constitutionalism upon the Muscovite autocracy in hot haste may produce a mushroom growth, which will perish as rapidly as it springs up, perishing in the reaction of contempt which it would inevitably entail. Constitutionalism is no wonder-working fetish from which miracles can be wrought by simple invocation. It is a means to an end, like every other kind of government; and those who maintain that it and it alone can secure good government for Russia would command more support if they could but prove that they had mastered the most elementary facts of the situation for which they prescribe.

That there are advantages in constitutionalism, no one, I suppose, could deny. But even the most ardent constitutionalist in England never proposes to apply his principles to India. Yet if a new set of Thugs arose in Hindostan, who added a detestation of English rule to their objection to the maintenance of private property, and if they were to kill one lieutenant-governor after another and to finish by murdering your Viceroy, not even the certainty that such a step would be vehemently applauded by all the Baboos of Calcutta would lead to an attempt to suppress Thuggism by granting a Constitution. That, however, was what Count Loris Melikoff thought of doing. He had reported Nihilism to be extinct the week before the poor Emperor was killed. Insight into the existing fact so keen as this hardly justified confidence in his judgment as to the future consequences of so direct a breach with our historic past as that which he was disposed to recommend. The worst enemies of Russia abroad and at home were those who were most urgent in pressing upon us a Constitution. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. What our enemy pressed upon our acceptance could hardly be for our good. The publicists who, three years ago, were straining every nerve to urge England to go to war with Russia, as the predestined foe of England and the deadly enemy of the human race, were not believed to be animated by wholly disinterested motives in their vehement denunciations of the autocracy. Count Loris Melikoff, Count Milutine, and Mr. Abaza were anxious to gain immediate favour with Petersburg and the West by granting a Constitution; they longed for a responsible ministry, which they and their friends, naturally, were to form. Fortunately for Russia, though unfortunately for them, the Emperor, after much reflection, had come to a decision which did not by any means coincide with that of the trio. He drew up his famous ukase, asserting firmly and unmistakably his determination to uphold his autocratic power. Here is the principal passage of it—

In the midst of our great affliction the voice of God commands us to discharge courageously the affairs of government, trusting in God’s providence, with faith in the strength and justice of autocratic power, which we have been called to support and preserve for the people’s good from all impairment and injury. Therefore let courage animate the troubled and terror-stricken hearts of our faithful subjects, of all lovers of the fatherland, devoted from generation to generation to the hereditary Imperial power. Under its shield, and in unbroken alliance with it, our land has more than once lived through great troubles, and has grown in strength and glory. Consecrating ourselves to our high service, we call upon all our loyal subjects to serve us and the State in truth and justice, to the rooting out of the horrible sedition that dishonours the land of Russia, the strengthening of faith and morality, the good education of the young, the extermination of injustice and plunder, and to the introduction of order and justice in the operation of those institutions presented to Russia by her benefactor, our beloved father.

The ukase fell like a thunderbolt upon the ministers just as they were in session. One of them, forgetting entirely that we had no responsible ministry, as in England, declared that ‘the whole Cabinet ought to resign at once.’ Count Ignatieff, with his quick perception and intelligence, understood the absurdity of such a proposal, and calmly observed, ‘I really do not see why we should feel ourselves offended, if our Monarch thinks necessary to say a word to his people. No more can I see why he should be obliged to consult us before taking a step of that sort.’ Count Loris Melikoff resigned; others resigned later—to the great satisfaction of Moscow. Count Ignatieff, who, after a highly successful career as Governor-General of Nijni Novgorod, had been recalled to office as Minister of the Domains, became now Minister of the Interior. General Vanoffsky, a man of renown, honour, and zeal, succeeded Count Milutine as Minister of War. Mr. Bunge, a distinguished professor of political economy at Kieff, took the place of Mr. Abaza. The only reproach which could be addressed to Mr. Bunge is that he is an enthusiastic Free Trader; but it is to be hoped that when he comes to apply his theories to Russian needs, he will see that we have more analogy with America than with England when Free Trade is discussed. All the new ministers were, in many respects, new men, unconnected with the former Camarilla—men whose patriotism had been tested and proved.

The heritage of autocratic power which was entrusted to the young Emperor for the good of Russia was not a light one. Alexander III. might be perhaps excused if he sought for some pretext for disowning it. But this is not the way in which Russians understand their duty. If the ordinary soldier knows how to die at his post—marching, as at Schweidnitz fort, into the deadly morass, merely to make a bridge by his death for the passage of his comrades—much less could the Emperor desert his post. Because, in reality, to grant a Constitution in view of the difficulty of his position, and of the dangers surrounding it, would simply mean a cowardly desertion. Western mentors, giving counsels of cowardice, hardly deserve a hearing. Besides, we know very well that such are not the real views of Englishmen. When their own lives are needed on the battle-field they seek no pretext for running away. And our Emperor is the last man to accept hints concerning the giving up of a position on personal grounds, in which he would be placed to-morrow by a tremendous majority, if such a thing as a plébiscite were possible with us. Surely in those latter days, when the gospel of assassination is preached as the ‘last word of justice,’ it is impossible even for the most vulgar-minded mortal to fail to see that the crown of the autocrat is in very truth a crown of thorns, and the throne of Russia makes its ruler a Prometheus indeed.

For autocrat though he is, the range of autocratic power is limited by very complicated circumstances. Can any Emperor, be he never so autocratic, give ‘every peasant the fowl in his pot’ of which Henri Quatre dreamt? Can he prevent the famine? Can he supply places for all the host of half-educated prolétaires who are turned out annually from our universities? Can he with a stroke of the pen abolish taxes or disband the army without exposing his country to still greater calamities? Can he prevent all his officials from committing malversations and abuses in some parts of his vast empire? But to limit still more by artificial fetters the autocracy, which is the only force to which we look for remedying the abuses, the evils, and grievances under which we suffer, would, to our thinking, be madness indeed. The need of the time is to strengthen rather than to weaken the supreme power of the Throne, whose interests are identical with those of the nation, and which exists for the prosperity and greatness of Russia. The same instinct which leads Liberals to demand the improvement of the efficiency and the increase of the authority of the House of Commons leads Russians to insist upon preserving the powers of the Emperor. To him, as to your House of Commons, we appeal against the misdeeds of all governors, ministers, and officials. He is our Great Representative.

Surrounding himself with ministers thoroughly national in their aims, he nevertheless has preserved the initiative and supreme choice of instruments for the execution of his policy. Europe may disapprove of some of these instruments. Its indignation, for instance, has especially been raised by the appointment of Count Ignatieff, for whom M. Gallenga almost alone has said a good word in the Western press. Well, in Russia he is known for his national feelings, for his undoubted skilfulness and intelligence, and the very fact that he is detested by all who hate Russia is already a very strong argument in his favour. What a mad desire it is to please the whole world! In a private individual, however, it is only ridiculous; in an Emperor it would be criminal.

In Russia the spring succeeds winter with a rapidity which startles the traveller accustomed to the more gradual transitions of milder climes. Our politics resemble our seasons. We are accustomed to violent transitions. We do many things by leaps and bounds. We linger long before Plevna, but when once the period is past we rush irresistibly over the Balkans, up to the walls of Constantinople; but in politics this hardly answers as well as in war. Alexander III. is moving considerately, but not less resolutely than needed.

The Nihilist Camorra, with its ceaseless plots, forbade that constant intercourse between the Emperor and the poorest of his subjects, which once existed. English travellers have often expressed their surprise at the freedom with which the late Emperor, in the earlier days of his reign, used to meet the poorest of his subjects. Among the many evil consequences of the exploits of the assassins, that familiar intercourse naturally had to be suspended. But the Emperor, eagerly longing for the exact truth, does not even try to conceal his contempt for deceit and all sorts of subterfuges. From the chiefs of the subdued Tekkes to the peasants of a remote Russian commune, deputies have no difficulty in obtaining an interview with their Emperor, who always receives them kindly, and tries to learn from themselves their wants and wishes. One by one the old ministers, whose shortcomings had been concealed from the late Emperor, found that it was prudent to retire. The new men were selected not exclusively from the national party; still the most of them were Russians at heart, and men of strict probity, free from all suspicion of laxity in money matters. They all—except Baron Nicolaï, whose German name does not indicate a German profundity of studies, and whose anti-classical views may do a serious harm to our schools and universities—meet with warm sympathy in Russia. Everywhere a reign of strict economy is inaugurated. The new men, in whose hands the administration of the navy and of the army is placed, are well aware of the necessity of keeping down the expenses. The threatened war with China was averted by the conclusion of a treaty, settling the dispute concerning the Ili territory. The advance of our troops in the direction of Merv was checked—though, according to a ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ correspondent, nothing was easier than the seizure of Merv—and the reorganisation of the border territory commenced. New rules were issued for the distribution of Crown lands, and measures taken against existing abuses, which have led already to the resignation of Prince Lieven, one of the greatest protégés of Count Valouyeff, that very type of an effete St. Petersburg official, full of grand and shallow phrases on Liberalism and cosmopolitanism, and one of the worst State ministers we had; which is not saying little, I regret to confess.

But the new departure in Russia which promises to be the distinctive feature of the new reign, was the reference of every great measure of social, agrarian, and administrative reform to Commissions of Experts, specially summoned for the purpose of expressing the best-formed opinions upon the measures under discussion.

The new system was first tried in connection with the agrarian question. As the English Parliament has been engaged all last session in discussing the details of a bill amending the provisions of the Irish agrarian measure of 1871, I need not dwell upon the complexity, the tediousness, and the difficulty attending agrarian legislation, even upon the small scale with which you have made its acquaintance. In Russia the problem is far more vast in its proportions than in your Irish province, and the agrarian law of the late Emperor cast all your agrarian legislation entirely into the shade. Mr. Bright has frankly acknowledged the advantages of autocratic power in settling a question so complicated. In his speech on the second reading of the Land Act, he said: ‘Lord Dufferin says that out of 10,137,000 former serfs—meaning families (I don’t know what population)—8,584,000, or 75 per cent., are now absolute owners of the land they occupy; 1,550,000—three times the number of the Irish tenants—have not yet redeemed their land. That is a process which is coming on in Russia. They have an autocratic government in Russia, and it was not necessary to consult two contentious parties in two Houses of Parliament, though perhaps it might be better for some things. But, as regards this matter, there came a great providence, which has been described as a hand stretched out of the cloud—the hand of the late Czar, who, by a decree of his, and the action of the ministers, made this enormous, this stupendous, and absolutely unequalled change throughout a portion of that great empire. I think that ought to encourage us that we ought to be able to do something, though not so great a thing as that.’

Yet, in face of this testimony—which, after all, only recalls facts which everyone is supposed to know—I have heard of sapient enemies of ours, who actually make it a serious charge against the memory of our late Emperor, that he never attempted to grapple with the agrarian question! It is such criticisms which make Russians wonder how anyone can be so foolish as to pay the least attention to the idle chatter of that presumptuous ignorance which so often finds a voice in the foreign press. I see the English papers regularly in Russia, and like other people outside Russia, I suppose, I did not read every line of the interminable debates on the Land Act. But the six hundred and fifty miscellaneous individuals collected at Westminster to draw up an agrarian code for Ireland seemed very little inclined indeed ‘to stick to the point.’ They involuntarily reminded me of an incident at the Edinburgh Social Science Congress last year. One of the orators seemed greatly shocked when the chairman politely begged him to observe time and not to wander too much about in his digressions. ‘Well, sir,’ answered he, ‘of course I have to observe time, but I am not going to stick to the point; I am free in my speech, let others stick to points!’ But really, for a practical people, pardon me, you seem to go about the work of legislation in a most unpractical fashion. A long complicated bill, which Mr. Gladstone alone could have drawn up, and which not even Mr. Gladstone could explain all at once, is thrown down upon the table of the House of Commons to be wrangled over by six hundred and fifty persons, one-third of whom only desire to throw it out altogether, while a formidable minority wish to transform it entirely, or obstruct it out of existence. How many of those who spoke by the week upon the bill understood it, or even professed to understand it? An English correspondent of mine assured me that there was only one man in each party that had really mastered its contents—Mr. Gladstone (Liberal), Mr. Gibson (Conservative), Mr. Healy (Obstructive), Mr. Shaw (Home Ruler), and Lord Randolph Churchill (the Fourth Party), and he was not sure about Lord Randolph Churchill. This, I suppose, was only a humorous exaggeration; but not even the most devoted Parliamentarian even pretends to believe that the passage of the Irish Land Act reflects much lustre on the reputation of your Constitution. It increased, no doubt, the reputation, already so great, of your Prime Minister; it strengthened the ‘one-man power,’ but it diminished the respect felt for your method of legislation, and confirmed us in our distrust of English models.

I ask you frankly, Would any Englishman, with recent experience still fresh in his mind, recommend our Emperor to summon a Parliament on the English model, to deal with the agrarian question—three times as great, according to Mr. Bright, as that which has brought the English Parliament to a standstill this year?

We have too much serious work to do, to indulge in the luxury of ‘obstructive tactics,’ continuous sittings forty-one hours in length, and all the elaborate apparatus for the production of eloquence, which it pleases you to imagine the climax of human wisdom in the art of government.

In our present condition we can hardly afford to exchange that ‘hand stretched from a cloud,’ that ‘great providence,’ which emancipated the serf, for such a broken-down machine as the English Parliament. At the same time our Emperor is far too earnest and sincere an autocrat to neglect any means that are calculated to make his autocracy a benefit to his people. No one can be more keenly alive to the shortcomings of many officials (which, indeed, has been officially and in the frankest manner recognised by Count Ignatieff himself in his circular), as to the necessity for submitting the red tape theories of departments to the fresh and searching examination of the ablest of his subjects outside the circle of bureaucracy.

The question arose, how this could be best secured? The favourite proposal of the National party was that the ancient Zemskie Sobory should be reassembled, in order that the representatives of the people should be brought into council with their sovereign. But if the ancient traditions were revived, the popular consultative assembly would number no fewer than two thousand members. In the multitude of counsellors there is said to be safety, but two thousand is rather too much. If the Zemskie Sobory reappeared, the method of appointment and constitution will have to be altered so as to bring them within manageable proportions. This could not be done at once, and the difficulty pressed for immediate attention. A departmental commission had drawn up a scheme of agrarian reform which was ready for immediate enactment, if it has not been thought necessary to consult the representatives of the people. It was still more absurd to propose to summon a Russian chamber after the French system. To divide the ninety millions of Russian subjects, who are scattered in villages over an enormous continent stretching from the Baltic to the Yellow Sea into a number of equal electoral departments, each electing its own representative by universal suffrage and the ballot, is not a work to be accomplished in a day or even in a year; and when it is accomplished, the experiment would probably fail.

The experiment of a limited suffrage such as prevails in England, with constituencies of irregular size and differing franchises, would be still more difficult of execution. Nor would it, if attained, be more in accordance with the ideas of democratic justice than autocratic imperialism itself. To allow the votes of half a dozen mouldering communes in the south of England to neutralise the combined representatives of Birmingham and Glasgow, is even more anomalous than the autocracy in an era of equality. The autocrat at least acts for the nation; the shopkeepers of your pocket boroughs are hardly expected to place national interests before their private concerns. And, after all, your Parliamentary system is not democratic so much as plutocratic. What capital leaders have been written upon this theme by Mr. Katkoff, our best publicist, and the editor of the ‘Moscow Gazette’! and yet, after all, Mr. Katkoff has said nothing more severe than what is said by the impartial Mr. Morley, who, in his ‘Life of Mr. Cobden,’ denounces ‘the hypocrisy and shiftlessness of a system that, behind the artfully-painted mask of popular representation, concealed the clumsy machinery of a rather dull plutocracy.’ Now, do pardon me if I say, that to us Russians the power of material wealth alone is perfectly repugnant. The extreme material poverty of a Spinosa and his overwhelming moral riches form an antithesis which speaks to our hearts and our imaginations infinitely more than all your money-lords collected in one assembly. And we Russians think that a craving for merely material advantages, such as exists now in France, where the stock market is the only temple of worship, can only be fatal, mortally fatal, to a great country. A German statesman, whose opinion has a very great weight, observed some time ago, ‘These poor dear French are so entirely swallowed up with stock-jobbing, that they will, fortunately, forget very soon that they ever possessed Alsace and Lorraine.’ Madame Adam, with her ‘Nouvelle Revue,’ is, however, an exception to that general rule. She keeps up the divine fire of patriotism and other lofty feelings which are not to be purchased at stock exchanges; but, alas! such examples are not numerous.

However, I must not cross the Channel as yet; the coasts of the Thames are preferable. Still, what do you see in the House of Commons? Is it not the rich man’s paradise? How much did it cost to elect your present chamber? Some two or three millions sterling, did it not? Two or three millions spent by some thousand individuals to purchase a right to legislate for the Empire—that is not a system we care to introduce in Russia. Even a democrat—and most Russians are democrats, if only because our nobility has no aristocratic privileges, which used to represent a certain power in this country—well then, I say that even a democrat may be pardoned if he prefers an autocracy, or rule of the strongest, to a plutocracy, or mere reign of the richest. The great object is the reign of the wisest; and our Emperor may, perhaps, be trusted to discern preeminent ability as much as the hodman of Lambeth, or the publican of Rochester.

I am not arguing in favour of autocracy in England. You have your own ways, and we are well contented for you to go your own way. I am touchingly humble in my request; all I ask is that you should allow us to go ours, without perpetually indulging in Pharisaical exaltation of your system not only for yourselves, but also for Russia. The insular bigotry and fanatical fetish-worship of constitutionalism does not give you the right to insult—or, what is almost as bad, to weary to death—your neighbours. Religious hatred is fortunately dying out. Is it, then, absolutely necessary to replace it by some other? You are constitutionalists; we uphold the autocracy. Each kindly thinks that he is right and the other is wrong. Why should they not be allowed to find that kind of satisfaction? But Russians are continually provoked by the taunts of the fanatics of constitutionalism. Is it not time, really, that some of them who are not by nature particularly patient should at last say, But, for common sense’s sake, have you not said sufficient to show that you know very little what our wants are?’ It is better for each country to prescribe for its own maladies.

The plan adopted by the Emperor was simple, but effective. Instead of attempting to convoke his peasants to a general election, he summoned a special representative Commission of Experts, to whom was submitted the law which had been drawn up by the chief committee for the reorganisation of the landed property of the peasantry, and approved by the Council of State. The step produced a great sensation, because the persons who were summoned actually had no other claims but their serious knowledge of the questions under consideration. There was something very earnest and real about the whole matter, and it was looked upon with confidence by the whole country. A decree was issued on June 2 summoning for June 14 this first commission of experts. It consisted of three ex-officio members, and twelve specially selected on account of their representative character. The ex-officio members were the Minister of the Interior, Count Ignatieff; the Minister of Finance, Mr. Bunge; and the Minister of Domains, Mr. Ostrofsky. The twelve specially appointed members consisted of the late Prince Vassiltchikoff (President of the Slavonic Committee of St. Petersburg), who had devoted many years to a close study of the agrarian question; the presidents of the provincial delegations of Moscow, Kharkoff, Twer, and Oufa; the Maréchaux de Noblesse of the provinces of Yaroslavl, Syzrane, and Vetlouga; two members of the provincial assembly of Moscow; a landed proprietor from Tchernigof; and the president of the Moscow Agricultural Society. To them was added the president of the Zemstvo of St. Petersburg, who was named chairman of the commission.

All schools of thought were represented—from M. Kolioupanoff, who for the last fifteen years has protested against the existing arrangement for the repayment of the purchase money, to Prince Vassilchikoff, who, in his last published work, insisted that the agricultural crisis in Russia was neither due to the emancipation nor the agrarian legislation of the late reign, but to economical causes, which would have produced the same results if the serfs had remained under the yoke of their former masters. The twelve representative members were almost equally divided between the two opposing schools; and it was well said at the time in St. Petersburg, that although the commission did not represent the whole of Russia, it represented the whole of experience acquired in Russia, and of the conclusions arrived at by the study of the question.

When the members of the commission met, they were received by the Emperor, who said that he had convoked them because in their capacity as members of elective assemblies, or associations connected with the affairs of the peasants, their knowledge and opinions were needed. The project of reform laid before them had already been elaborated administratively, but he did not think it possible that such a law could be usefully framed without their assistance. Acting upon that principle, the Government would leave them entire liberty to appoint their committees, to decide the hour or the dates of their sittings, and to draw up their own orders of the day, merely reserving to itself the duty of furnishing them all the necessary materials for deliberations.

The commissioners; set about to work with diligence; sub-committees were appointed, and they sometimes held two sittings a day. The ex-officio members attended to give information and to answer questions, but did not vote. The project submitted to them by the Government can hardly be explained without entering into details from which a public surfeited with discussions on agrarian questions must naturally shrink. It is necessary, however, even at the risk of wearying, to give some outline of the new Russian Land Bill. Under the agrarian law of 1861, advances were made to the peasants to enable them to become absolute owners of their holdings; the outstanding balance of which last April was 752,000,000 roubles, or say, about 75,000,000l. On this they had to pay six per cent., five and a half for interest repayment, with a half per cent, for reserve fund. After making some allowances, this amount is an annual burden upon the present proprietors of 43,500,000 roubles, or, say, little more than 4,350,000l. sterling. Of this, owing to successive bad harvests and other causes, 16,500,000 roubles were in arrear at the beginning of this year. On the other hand, the half per cent, charged for reserve fund realised an available balance of 20,000,000 roubles. The Government proposed, in the project of law submitted to the commission, to remit all the arrears due from the peasants, recouping itself from the reserve fund. It also proposed to grant a sum of 9,000,000 roubles per annum for the reduction of the annual payment in the districts where the soil is poorest and the distress most general, meeting the loss out of the profits of the State Bank. As a third measure, it proposed to insist that the eight or nine hundred thousand peasants who have not yet voluntarily agreed to purchase their holdings, shall after January 1, 1883, be able to purchase their holdings at the compulsory rate—a gain to the peasant of about 20 per cent. As twenty-nine years have still to elapse before the peasants complete the payment of all their instalments, the vote in aid of 9,000,000 roubles per annum practically amounts to a subsidy to the distressed peasants of a sum of 26,000,000l. out of the profits of the State Bank, the payment being made in twenty-nine annual instalments of 900,000l.

These proposals the experts took into consideration. All agreed that some reduction was necessary. About the arrears there appears to have been general assent to their remission. Nor was there much demur to the limitation of the period of voluntary transfer. The great discussion arose concerning the method of applying the 9,000,000 roubles offered by the Minister of Finance. The commission was almost evenly divided between two parties. The ministers did not vote. By their abstention in the end a majority of seven to five carried a resolution in favour of reducing the annual payment by one rouble per head all round, and devoting 5,000,000 roubles besides to the relief of the more distressed provinces. A reduction of one rouble per head involves a loss of 8,500,000 roubles per annum, which, with 5,000,000 specially devoted to the distressed provinces, exceeded the sum at the disposal of the Minister of Finance. The minority not only urged that objection, but protested against a diminution of the payments being nude in districts where the annual instalment paid to the State was under the letting value of the land. In these districts, they maintained, the money intended by the Government for the amelioration of the condition of the peasants should not be handed over to each individual in the shape of a reduction of his instalment, but employed for the establishment of communal banks of credit, the opening of agricultural schools, the improvement of agriculture, and the like.

Although the experts are understood to have made the recommendations I have described, I have not seen the precise terms of their report, nor were detailed reports of their proceedings published in our papers. And it appears from a circular issued by the Minister of the Interior to the Zemstvos, in October, that the experts had made very serious representations to the Government concerning the inadequacy and untrustworthiness of the official returns. It is a curious fact, that nothing can exceed the reluctance of the Russian peasant to furnish exact accounts of his possessions, unless it be the readiness of Russian officials to draw up elaborate returns of the exact economical state of our rural population. The experts, distrusting these statistics, urged Count Ignatieff to take immediate steps to procure exact and trustworthy information as to the real facts of the case.

With this request Count Ignatieff at once complied. His circular to the Zemstvos states that the experts of the Zemstvos invited to special conferences with the Ministers have indicated the precise nature of the information required, and have proposed to apply to the Zemstvos in order to secure it. The circular recognises the justice of this demand and the wisdom of seeking from the Zemstvos information which should be exact, conscientiously collected, and exempt from all preconceived ideas. He therefore asks the Zemstvos throughout the empire to furnish them with information: 1, as to the details of the economical situation of the rural communes; 2, the exact figures as to the repayments and the arrears; and 3, an indication of the villages whose economical situation has been particularly disturbed.

Thus the first commission of the experts has set on foot a great national inquest into the condition of the people throughout the Empire, an inquest conducted by the freely-elected representatives of the people in their several localities, acting under the advice and at the initiative of the Emperor himself.

The Commission of Experts not being a representative body in the English sense of that term, its decisions have no binding authority. In such a case as the present, where the opinion of the commission is almost equally divided, even Englishmen would admit that it is for the Emperor to decide. The decision would equally rest with him if the Commission were unanimous. It exists solely for consultative purposes, and he is free to reject its unanimous advice; but although he is free to do so, he is as likely to make such an exercise of his freedom as your Queen is free to make a peer of every cobbler in London, or veto a bill passed unanimously by both chambers. The report of the Commission of Experts has been presented to the Council of the Empire.

This was the first of the commissions. Its proceedings were held with closed doors, and the nature of its discussions of course oozed out, great interest was excited, and everyone began to ask whether this was to be a new departure, or merely an isolated experiment. The well-known independent character of the experts, the uncompromising manner in which they combated the views of the Ministers, and especially that of the Minister of Finances, the decisions at which they arrived in insisting upon amending the project of the Government, attracted naturally great attention. Some maintained it was the beginning of a representative Government; others saw in it the forerunner of revolution. But the Moscow party rejoiced, for they saw in it the return to the ancient traditional policy of the country, when the Tzars and the nation took council together, and the unity and the greatness of Russia were established on sound foundations.

All doubts as to the determination of the Emperor to learn the exact views of his country before taking any new direction, any great reform, his earnest desire to come face to face with his people, was set aside by the appointment of other Commissions of Experts on the same consultative principle. In reality, this New Departure is but a revival of traditional usage, modified in accordance with altered circumstances.

Among other questions to be settled in the same way are the questions of the sale of drink, the migration of peasants, military and naval reform, and the treatment of the Jews.

For the first, the drink, specialists of all ranks and classes are already summoned to St. Petersburg. They represent the provinces and towns of Moscow, Simbirsk, Penza, St. Petersburg, Riazan, Pskoff, Tamboff, Kharkoff, Oufa, Saratoff, Nijni Novgorod, Toula, Yaroslavl, Wilna, Kostroma, Kherson, Samara, Kieff, Orel, Kazan, and many other towns and districts. On this remarkable commission peasants and merchants sat side by side with princes and maréchaux de noblesse—no rank, no monetary qualification was demanded. It was only necessary that each member should have studied the question closely, or to have had practical experience in the matter which had to be brought before them.

A remarkable thing must be noted about this assembly, two special authorities on the licensing question having arrived at St. Petersburg during its session; and although their names were not included in the original commission, the members took upon themselves the liberty of adding the new arrivals to their number under the title of ‘special experts.’

As in the preceding case the members of the Commission were presented to the Emperor, and by him personally assured that they were absolutely free to discuss all the questions submitted to them without the intervention of the Government. All that he requested was that their deliberations should be exhaustive, and that the subject should be discussed in all its aspects. The sittings opened with addresses from Count Ignatieff and the Ministers of Finances and Domains, which have a curious resemblance to the speeches of your Ministers on the opening of your Parliament. They explained the programme of the Government, and requested the co-operation of the members in the elaboration of the projected law.

The discussions of the second and enlarged Commission, so far, at least, as related to the question of the intemperance of the peasants, were daily reported in the papers, and were read with at least as much eagerness as your debates. The discussions of the question were very lively and business-like. They discussed and decided by a majority in favour of a much more drastic system of licensing reforms than the English House of Commons is likely to sanction after the experience of 1874. I think the following—Count Ignatieff’s speech—indeed worth reproducing. He said:—

This is the second time that, by the express desire of His Majesty the Emperor, the experts of the Zemstvos find themselves convoked in order that the most vital questions of the day shall not be decided without taking counsel with men residing in the districts concerned and familiar with the true state of affairs. . . . In convoking you this time, the Government, not wishing to rely solely upon information reaching it through official sources, has urged you to bring with you statistics collected from local sources. This invitation, as well as the fact that the experts have been summoned from a considerable number of provinces, qualify the expectation that your labours will yield good fruit, and that you will contribute useful help to the solution of two questions of essential importance, which have remained pending too long. . . . Those among you who are not assembled for the first time will be better able to understand than the new comers that you have no reason to refrain from expressing your opinions with the most complete freedom. The best means to avoid misunderstandings is certainly for each to do his duty and display absolute sincerity in discussing the questions submitted to you. . . . You have already in your hands the printed materials, and the projects elaborated by the report on the two questions submitted to your examination. None of these projects must be regarded as final. You must regard them as furnishing a simple point of departure for your deliberations. We have given orders that everything shall be placed at your disposal which you may deem necessary. If you should find it useful to have personal explanations, there is nothing to hinder your presidents putting themselves into communication with the presidents of previous commissions in order to arrange one or more sittings together with the members of these former official commissions. When your labours are about to terminate, you will inform me, and we will then convoke another full séance, the Ministers of the Domains and of the Finances, together with myself, will state in all sincerity what we think reliable or unreliable in your projects. We will debate the question together; and, God helping us, we will then arrive at conclusions which, after having been definitely elaborated, will be submitted by the Council of State to the august appreciation of his Majesty, as conducing to the prosperity of our well-beloved Russia.

The discussions of this Commission were frequently interrupted by the reception of deputations from Zemstvos or the reading of telegrams demanding vigorous measures against drunkenness. The proceedings were most interesting and instructive, but most unaccountably they seem to have escaped all notice in the English press. Their conclusions will come before the Council of State in January, when the leading experts expect to be called upon to defend the reforms which they have declared necessary for the welfare of the Russian people.

The question of the migration of the peasants was discussed briefly. But beyond affirming general principles, the experts did not enter upon the discussion of the subject, adjourning the further consideration of the matter till next January. The adjournment was rendered necessary in order that the experts might be free to attend in their places in the local Zemstvos.

This second, or Grand Commission, was not alone in its deliberations. A special Commission was appointed to report on the tobacco duty, in which several large manufacturers were appointed as experts. We have about 180,000 tobacco plantations in Russia, and on these it was proposed to levy a special tax. The experts all but unanimously condemned the idea of the proposals, declaring that it would destroy the prosperity of the plantations without materially augmenting the revenues of the State.

The Commission for the reorganisation of the army, which met on October 18 in the Winter Palace, was another remarkable development of the new principles. Count Kotzebue presided, and it included, amongst members, the Grand Duke Vladimir, Generals Todleben, Radetsky, Drenteln, Scobeleff, Vanoffsky, Prince Iméritinsky, and many others whose names shine brightly in the military annals of their country.

In England questions of army organisation are decided by an assembly in which the Quakers sit and vote, and often exercise more influence than the generals. Such a proceeding hardly seems to Russians likely to secure the best results, and we believe that the decisions of the military commission on the questions submitted to it are entitled to more respect than if half its members had never been in camp nor commanded a regiment. The programme laid before them was comprehensive. They were asked to discuss not merely the organisation of the army in peace and in war, but everything that concerned the economic interests of the army, its armaments, other methods of conscription, &c.

The proceedings were not public, but it is believed that it has summarily rejected certain schemes of reorganisation which were held in great favour in high official circles.

A Commission of thirty-two naval experts met in the same month to consider the smaller, but important, question of a reform of the Naval Academy. They held two or three sittings, and decided in favour of the proposed reform.

The same method of procedure was adopted in relation to such minor matters as the examination of the archives of the province of Orenburg and the drawing up of new regulations for the Imperial theatres.

Everywhere the nou-official but well-informed public has been recognised by the Government, taken into its confidence, and asked to co-operate in its deliberations. Only ignorance has been excluded, which would hardly have been the case if the majority of our uneducated peasants had constituted these commissions.

Another committee, which combines the characteristics of the old departmental commissions and the new Commissions of Experts, has been called to consider the Jewish question.

The old commission for the Israelitic affairs has been dissolved, and a new committee has been summoned in its stead. Besides the delegates from the departments interested in this matter, the committee is composed of the most distinguished members of the provincial commissions which have been reporting on the question, as well as of other competent persons, selected by Count Ignatieff. Among the latter the Jews themselves will not be unrepresented.

Instead of only having one parliament—discussing or neglecting from pressure of talkativeness—to discuss all manner of questions, and encroaching more and more on the executive power, we have now in Russia a number of little parliaments, each specially qualified for the discussion of the designated subject, merely legislation.

They sit simultaneously. Freedom of debate has not yet degenerated into licence to twaddle by the hour, and they meet for the despatch, and not for the obstruction, of business.

No one, of course, would think of recommending such simple contrivances to a country in the advanced English stage of constitutionalism; but for ‘poor, barbarous, autocratic Russia’ they are at least a notable phenomenon of which omniscient Westerns may at least do well to take note before they next make eloquent dissertations concerning ‘Muscovite despotism.’ In Russia we regard the Commission of Experts as the beginning of a new régime, in which the reorganisation of Russia will be accomplished by the co-operation of the Russian democracy and their autocratic Emperor.

1. And even the Baltic Germans, if we may believe Dr. Eckhard, who, although anti-Russian to the last extreme, says of him, in his work, Von Nicolaus I. zu Alexander III., p. 402: ‘The young Monarch unites the energy of his grandfather to the humanitarian spirit of his father. And if the school of his youth has been incomplete, the school of experience has filled the want.’
2. In Russia we generally supposed that Mr. Tourgueneff created the word ‘Nihilism,’ and we thought with disgust that it was quite a national production. But the celebrated Breslau Professor, Author of the History of Poland, Dr. I. Carò, showed me that it appeared already in Gutzkau’s Die Ritter vom Geist, vol. i., chapters ii. and vii., much before Tourguéneff’s Fathers and Sons.
3. Published this year in the Sovremenia Isvesty.