Each stoppage on a journey is disagreeable. But a stoppage affects one specially unpleasantly, firstly, when you are making haste about some necessary business, and, secondly, when you do not know the reasons for it, which was the case with me in Finland. Fortunately I had an excellent book with me, and I patiently set to work at reading. But in vain. I heard somebody making a demand in Russian in a loud and savage voice. “A glass of vodka!” sternly demanded my fellow countryman. Hereupon came a polite but firm reply from the attendant: “We have no vodka. The refreshment room does not supply vodka.”

“Why, how is it that there is no vodka? What is the meaning of this? Is it because it is Sunday that you have such regulations?” the traveller all but screamed out.

“No vodka is on sale at stations in Finland,” the attendant explained, politely, but firmly. “Why! what a country!” the indignant voice exclaimed. “And is there also no wine on sale with you?” “No, neither wine.” “Well! is beer?” “Yes, beer can be sold.”

“Well give me a bottle.—Be quick!”

I recollected with anger the naive statement that beer is a most harmless drink. As if it were difficult to pass from beer to vodka! I remembered also Count Witte with his tiny State vodka monopoly bottles, which any poor soul can easily obtain for five kopecks. (1¾ d.) But thereupon the dialogue commenced again, diverting me from my thoughts.

“Yes indeed, we can sell beer, but then only supposing that you want to have a snack or something? A cutlet? a patty? Will you have some? But we have no right to sell beer without supplying food.”

Grumbling and becoming angry, the Russian began to eat because, just by way of reward, he received some beer, though not a large bottle, but a small one of the sort in which they sell seltzer water here. It appeared that such a permission was given on behalf of Teriok and Viborg, only out of regard for the numerous Russian travellers who all become more and more famous through their passion for alcohol. Indeed in the depths of Finland beyond Viborg they do not even give beer at the stations even with meals.

I was quite carried away by this scene, having forgotten about my book. “Well!” methought, not without envy,  “this really is excellent. Here they don’t have any trifling in the struggle with evil. Here there is no reckoning upon deriving money from the national depravation.”

A certain good-looking Finlander was following this scene with a little contemptuous smile. I wanted to learn how matters stand generally in Finland about the struggle with drunkenness. Evidently my companion was himself interested in this question, and I guessed rightly that he could enlighten me with his knowledge. He himself came from the industrial town of Tammerfors. He was a man occupied with his affairs, but at a question about Temperance he became animated. “Yes,” he said, “This is a question of enormous importance. Only a temperate nation is capable of progress and improvement. A drunken nation debases itself, degenerates, and perishes. I was noticing by your look that the scene at the refreshment-room had an unpleasant effect upon you. I am always looking for fellow workers everywhere. I am a member of the Temperance Society, and I am always disposed to associate evil with wine.”

“Yes,” I replied, “You are right. Half of all the convicts have committed their misdeeds under the influence of drink. Why! evil does not only cause ruin but it disturbs ideas of duty. But have you a large Temperance Society in Tammerfors?”

“Oh! yes. This is only the Tammerfors Society, There is a Finnish Society with its branches in all the towns and villages. Its members number tens of thousands. Its success is colossal. It has meetings, reading-rooms, gatherings in the evenings; all these are frequented with lively interest. At the last elections of the Finnish Diet all the political parties ingratiated themselves with the Temperance people, and brought on to their platforms demands for laws against drunkenness, some demanding stricter laws than others.”

“And to which party do you yourself belong?”

“Oh! God save us from belonging to any political parties with their ingenious sub-divisions! We are busy folk. We are people of business. We have nothing to do with politics. We acknowledge one party—the patriotic; in order to be a member of it, уоu must fulfil two conditions. The first is not to drink, and the second, to spread as much as possible the ideas of temperance.”

“And for how long do its members enrol themselves in the Society?” I asked.

“In what sense do you mean ‘For how long?’”

I explained to him how people enrol themselves as members of the Temperance Society with us; how they make their own vows of Abstinence in Church before the Ikon for a certain period, and how in case of need these vows are repeated.

“No, in Finland there is nothing like that. With us it is a matter of free-will. With us this is the result of a sense of social duty, which is developed both in our schools and in our Churches. Among us there are quite different conditions for the wine trade. The time of the trading is limited, and the quantity of wine to be sold at one time is fixed. Nothing is sold in small bottles, but only in a large expensive bottle which costs too much for the poor man’s purse. In consequence of such conditions people use ample discernment and reflection when they supply themselves with wine. In a few towns such as with us in Tammerfors, in a specially working-class centre, the wine trade is totally prohibited. If anyone has a desire to have a drink, he must go to a neighbouring town; in the presence of these conditions people have time to think better of it and to refrain from the temptation.”

“And what is your opinion of the taverns? With you there must be a heap of them with their secret sale of wine; and in the taverns drunkenness, in reality is far worse. With us” I said “in the villages, as the saying goes, ‘Whatever is not a house, is a Pot-house.’”

“There cannot be even any talking at all about taverns among us. The population itself does not admit of them. It strives against them itself. In the most extreme cases people have recourse to the police.”

“But how do you explain,” I tried to learn from him, “the fact that the conditions of the sale of wine vary in different towns? I suppose you have only one law?”

“The laws and regulations that have regard to the wine trade are put forth and maintained by the local self-governments. With us there is a firm resolve not seek the enrichment of the Treasury in people’s drunkenness and depravity. In Finland people have understood that for each rouble which is spent in drink, the population loses ten in the form of loss of time, the capacity for work, and the other consequences that are involved through drunkenness, and also even in the form of expenses incurred in connexion with the official bodies which are established for intervening in cases of drunkenness, and for supervision of the licensed trade. With us people have understood that in order to abolish drunkenness, even all at once, it must be possible to fill up the deficit in the Budget by Taxes, in which case each rouble paid to the Treasury will cost the population only one rouble and not ten.”

“But do you know,” my companion said to me suddenly, “that I am convinced that no nation at all will wrestle with this tremendous evil of drink so ardently or so radically as the Russian!”

“God grant,” I replied, “that this struggle might only commence sooner and more energetically!”

“I will tell you still more,” he continued, “Not only ought Women to enter into the ranks of the workers, but—do not laugh—even Children. Just consider yourself; who suffers more from wine? Is it the man who has quite lost his senses, or those who stand around him—his wife and his children? Although I am indeed a Finlander by birth, still I have lived a long time in Russia; I have also been in Russian Villages, and have also attended the peasants’ assemblies. The peasants strictly adhere to the decisions passed by the community and comply with its will. If the community determines on a particular course, to this, believe me, they submit. Only give the people liberty to struggle with drunkenness, to struggle with all its strength, and it will bless you.”

I listened in silence, and he continued: “I have read your great Dostoievsky. Among other nations you will not find any such writer. He used to give such great examples of kindness as are to be found nowhere else except in Russia. Is not Russia on the very eve of staggering the world with the majesty of her virtue? A sober Russian nation is capable of such great exploits as no other country is capable of.”

At this point we began to approach Viborg. I took leave of my companion, from whose words uttered with such faith in the renewed Russia of the future, there settled so very glad a feeling on my soul.