It is to be only a short interview at Skiernovice, but its importance will not be measured by its duration. For the second time since Alexander III. ascended the throne he meets his neighbouring Sovereigns. Last year there was a very pleasant family gathering at Copenhagen, where our Emperor had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Gladstone, whom he greatly admires; but since the famous interview at Danzig his Majesty of Russia has not met either of his Imperial allies. That he should welcome them as host in one of the Polish castles is to us Russians an agreeable and significant indication of the excellent relations which exist between Russia and her neighbours. The interview is the latest and most unmistakable sign of the fidelity with which Russia remains true to the ancient maxim of her policy: “Nearest neighbours, nearest friends.” The field is open now for making all sorts of most profound guesses and conjectures as to what is likely to be said and proposed and decided upon by the Imperial guests and their principal councillors. But if it is far safer and easier to dwell upon such an open secret as that when Russia and Germany re-established their old entente cordiale it became impossible for Russia and Austria not to be on visiting terms. In the Kaiserband there are three parties nominally, but in reality only two. Russia is an independent nationality, strong and united, who does not depend upon alliances for leave to live. So is Germany, though it took her a long time to bring all her limbs together. But Austria—that is another matter. The business of the firm known as the “Austro-German alliance,” “that newly founded insurance company,” is carried on at Berlin. There is a branch office in Vienna, but all orders come from the north. Danzig, therefore, implied Skiernovice, and the arrangement between M. de Giers and Prince Bismarck was ratified of course by Count Kalnoky. If you ask those who never pretended to be too much in love with Austria why they should be so satisfied now with this good understanding you would hear a very frank and undiplomatic confession. “Because,” they would say. “it keeps Austria out of mischief, and thereby constitutes an immense security for peace.” Now that the three Emperors are on such excellent terms they all understand each other, and a clear understanding is the best security for peace. Formerly, the people of Vienna were very slow to understand the truth, so firmly grasped by the venerable soldier who governs Germany, as to the indispensable conditions of peace in the East. All nations have a certain limit to the sacrifices which they are willing to make for the sake of peace. Even Mr. John Bright, I hope, would rather fight than allow a French army to occupy Dover, and Russia has her Dover in the Balkan peninsula. Not, of course, in the sense of possession, Russia has fought no end of campaigns in that interesting region, but she has not annexed one square inch south of the Danube. Why should she? In the whole Balkan she has not one “Resident with a masterful hand,” not even a High Commissioner, empowered to inquire and report.

Of all the kings and princes who owe their independence, or their verу existence, to Russia’s sword, there is not one who does not consider it his first duty to display his estrangement from us. King Charles, King Milan (even poor Milan is a King now!), and Prince Alexander of Battenberg—not even their worst enemies could say that they are Russia’s vassals. In fact, newly-created kings apparently imagine that simple gratitude is criminal in potentates. Well, Russia does not care for gratitude. The deep sympathies of the Russian people towards their kinsmen by religion and race cannot be uprooted by the mistakes of a handful of inexperienced rulers; and every Serb or Bulgarian in his heart of hearts feels that he does not stand alone, unprotected and forsaken in the world. On the other hand, though Russia has neither a throne nor a province, nor even a city, in the whole region, every Russian knows that Austria can no more go beyond certain limits in the Balkan than the French can occupy Dover. It is a great thing to know one’s power but it is wise to realize its limits. In the case of Austria, her position in the East has been defined by the Treaty of Berlin. It is only fair to say that the Emperor-King has disclaimed any attempt to forget that position, and Count Karolyi(?), immediately after the accession of Mr. Gladstone to the Premiership—a significant date—gave the word of Francis Joseph to the Prime Minister that the Government of Austria-Hungary had no desire whatever to extend or add to the rights it had acquired under the Treaty of Berlin. His own subjects, however, would not believe him. On all hands it was said “Austria is going to Salonica(?)*.” But at Berlin they knew better how important it was for Francis Joseph to keep his word; and a military country like Germany understands another military Power like Russia. “The interview,” say our semi-official papers, “will have as its end the consolidation of the status quo.” But consolidation is a curious word. Lord Beaconsfield said he had consolidated Turkey by partitioning its provinces. Will the status quo be consolidated in that fashion? Consolidation is not immobility. Status quo prevents a shifting of boundaries, but it does not prevent the taking of any measure necessary for the maintenance of future peace and welfare. For instance, if Austria were allowed, contrary to the Berlin Treaty, to convert her occupation of Bosnia and Herzegovina into a formal annexation, that might be counterbalanced by the unification of Bulgaria and Eastern Roumelia, and the status quo, although consolidated, would not be disturbed. But would it also not be an important condition of peace if in any solution of the Bulgarian question the despairing cry of wretched Macedonia were taken into account? Is it not a part of Bulgaria? And who would gain if, driven by despair, her people broke into an insurrection? Nothing unsettles peace more than unsettled questions. Besides, would it not secure the application of the 23rd article, that promises autonomy to the oppressed provinces? In this, if the three Emperors do nothing, could not England, who did the wrong, attempt to enforce the remedy? It would certainly not be in contradiction with her national character. There is no man as eager as an Englishman in his generous attempts to redress and injustice committed by him or in his name the moment he is aware of his mistake. Heaven knows, it is not easy to find a Russian who would admire everything said by Lord Beaconsfield; but no Russian acquainted with England can deny the truth of the late Premier’s remark when he spoke of the deep enthusiasm and impulsiveness of the English people. I only wish it took less time to convince them of their mistakes.

In spite of the standing importance of the Eastern Question, it would be difficult to suppose that their Majesties, now united in Poland, can forget the important business nearer home. It is believed that the Emperor of Austria is quite willing to act cordially with Russia and Germany in the police measures necessary to cope with the Anarchists. It is difficult, no doubt, for a conditional Emperor-King to act with the vigour and resolution of the Sovereigns of Germany and Russia. But both Russia and Austria would benefit if they could assimilate more of the spirit of the aged Emperor William. English people talk of Russian autocracy as the realized ideal of concentrated power. In reality, there is nowhere such concentration of power and discipline as there is at Berlin. It permeates and wraps up everything and everybody. In Germany the whole Government is as compact as a clock. It is the very personification of discipline and unity. There alone in Europe is authority really concentrated in a single hand, and that phenomenon is the more exceptional and surprising because it exists in spite of the liberties already accorded to the German Parliament. For, unfortunately, the present Emperor’s brother abandoned the privileges which Russia is so eager for our Emperor to preserve. We trust our chief ruler, and have no reason to regret that trust. The whole course of our history has shown us how entirely our Emperors have identified themselves with their country and her noblest aspirations. The great majority of Russians, though very tolerant of the creed of others, are profoundly devoted to their Church, and their Emperor, whom they accept as the Lord’s anointed. A Russian Emperor who would be afraid of his responsibility, and who would take off the burden of his duties and only enjoy the easy life of that gilded sinecure, a constitutional Monarch, would immediately lose the devotion of his people.

There is a very remarkable article of Dr. Overbeck’s in the Orthodox Catholic Review on the “Coronation of the Czar” (No. X., 1883), which gives a very true idea of the relations between the Russian Emperor and his people. “Where is the seat of authority?” asks Dr. Overbeck. “Is it lodged in the King or in the people? Almost all Europe answers, ‘In the people.’ Majority is our absolute monarch, and the King is his obedient servant. What Papal Infallibility is in religion, Majority is in politics. Both lead mankind to the verge of ruin. More than thirty years ago, when the paroxysm of the Constitutional power was most violent all over Europe, F. Julius Stahl, Professor in the University of Berlin, uttered the grave word—‘authority, not majority,’ and Stahl devoted all his life to elucidate this truth. He shows that authority is rooted in a religious ground, but that ‘majority is the denial of religion.’” “The majority of mankind are bad,” said Bias of Priene, but in spite of the saying of this wise man of ancient Greece, majorities are right sometimes—as, for instance, when they insist in Russia upon not being governed by majorities; the feeling expressed by Stahl is deeply rooted in the heart of the Russian people, who voluntarily accept and maintain the authority of their Czar.

Holloway’s Hotel, Dover-street.      

O. K.