From still another point of view, it is difficult to define the psychology of a nation, because psychology is, in its very essence, vague and indefinite. When we think of the American, English, or Russian people, a certain picture, it is true, rises before the mind; but the outlines are so wavering and intangible that it is almost impossible to express this picture in words. The fundamental difference between people is marked far more by their manner of feeling than by their manner of thinking. But how
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are we to define in words this manner of feeling on the part of an individual, and, still more, that of a nation composed of millions of individuals?

                   But if the psychology of any people in general is difficult to determine, that of the Russian people in particular is very much more so. In the first place, we may ask ourselves, "What is the Russian nation?" It is a union of Slav populations inhabiting the northeastern part of Europe, a part of the Caucasus, and Siberia. But this branch of the Slav race is further divided into three great branches; the Great Russians, Little Russians, and White Russians. Some ethnographers and linguists maintain that the Little Russians should not be consid­ered part of the Russian nation, but as an independent Slav nation, just like the Czechs and Poles. And here a new obstacle confronts us. We shall overcome it, however, by limiting ourselves in this essay to speaking of the Great Russians.  This will be the more legitimate,
[142]  
since they form much the most numerous and important branch. The Great Russians compose more than two thirds of the Russian nation in general. There are about fifty millions of them, and they have also the advantage in intellectual development. The Great Russian dialect, the Muscovite dialect, is now the literary language of all Russia, the language of Pushkin, of Lermontof, and of Tolstoi.

                   Imagine an instrument for measuring the intellect and morality of men. Imagine that, with the aid of such an instrument, we had measured the intellect and morality of all the Americans, of all the English, and of all the Russians. I am convinced that we should obtain very similar averages. No one can dispute the fact, however, that at the different epochs of history, some nations may be more advanced than others. But the nations which are most in advance at a certain period may not be so at another. The Italians were much in advance of the English in the fifteenth
[143]  
century, which would seem to show that the psychology of a people is not immutable, and can hardly be definitely determined once and for all. Like a living existence, a people is continually changing; so that what we say of it to-day may be no longer true of it to-morrow. Hence a new difficulty arises in determining the psychology of a nation.

                   But the reader will doubtless inquire, ''Since you recognize that so many obstacles lie before you, why undertake this task?" I do so at the solicitation of the Editor of this volume, and the precise object of these preliminary remarks is to secure the reader's indulgence for the imperfection of my work.

                   If the opinions stated in the following pages are not clear and well defined, if inaccuracies and contradictions appear there, it is for the reason that, in the nature of things, it is impossible to trace with geometric precision the outlines of a popular psychology. Life is a continually changing metamorphosis. He who
[144]  
speaks of living things must perforce limit himself to approximations more or less vague, and with little resemblance to algebraic theorems.       

         I. race and temperament.

                   The Russian Empire contains more than sixty-five independent racial groups. It is a veritable Tower of Babel. Even with the omission of Siberia and Central Asia, there remain in Russia in Europe, and the Caucasus alone, forty-six different peoples. In the northwest, the Fins; in the west, the Lithuanians and Poles; in the southwest the Roumanians; and in the east, on the banks of the Volga, numerous groups of Uralo-Altaic populations: the Tcheremisa, Mordia, Votiaki, and Permians. In the southeast, there are the Tartars in Crimea, and Greeks on the Sea of Azof. Add to this the sporadic groups of Germans and Jews. All these numerous elements have in a great measure commingled. The history of Russia is the reverse, properly speaking
[145]
of that of the United States. While in America there is an Aryan invasion proceeding from east to west, in Russia there is an Aryan invasion going from west to east. The centre from which the Slav emigrations set forth seems to have been the region of the Dnieper and Galicia. The upper tributaries of the Dnieper were settled first. The Slavs then reached the Baltic and founded Novgorod the Great. Later (from the eleventh to the thirteenth centuries) they invaded the basin of the Volga, and founded successively Moscow, Nijni-Nov-gorod, Saratof, and many other cities. This movement is still going on. The American "Far West" has a counterpart in the "Far East" of Siberia. Nearly two hundred and twenty thousand Russian colonists settle there every year. But while the Aryans of America have almost exterminated the autochthonous population of the Redskins, the Russians emi-grants have commingled with the ancient autochthonous populations of eastern Russia.

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The Russian people is thus, in its sum total, a mixture of Slavs and Fins.

                   Given such conditions, it is very difficult to determine the physical and physiological type not only of the Russian people in general,[1] but also of the Great Russians in particular. Are the latter dark or light? To tell the truth, they are both. According to the researches of ethnographers, we see that the number of Great Russians with dark hair varies, with the different regions, from fifth-one to fifth-seven in a hundred. These dark shades, furthermore, cover the entire scale from raven black to light brown. The same is true of the eyes as of the hair. Every shade is to be met with among the Russians, with a predominance, however, of grey eyes. If we consider blue and grey'eyes as belonging in the category of light, and brown eyes as belonging in the category
[147]  
of dark colored ones, we must confess that, although in a slight degree, light shades rather predominate among the Russians.

                   As to the conformation of the skull (to which is now attributed an importance which is as exaggerated as it is arbitrary), all types thereof are to be found in Russia. We find there the brachycephalic type, the mesaticephalic, and the dolichocephalic. But the archaeological researches of recent years, which have been very accurate, are responsible for a singular discovery, to the effect that in ancient times in Russia the dolichocephalic type predominated, and that in recent times it has been continually decreasing. This remark completely subverts certain modern theories, in accordance with which the number of the dolichocephalic type increases with the greater development of intellect. It may be maintained, however, that the Great Russians are more dolichocephalic than the Slavs of the south,—the Bulgarians and Servians.
[148]  
Of what race, then are the Russians? It is very difficult to say. In the first place, there is no longer a single pure race in Europe; but of them all, the Russian nation is certainly composed of the greatest number of races. Into the vast plain which serves as its country have rushed a thousand different peoples. The modern Russians are a most complex mixture, whose constituent elements it is impossible henceforth to distinguish. There is an analogy in this respect, also, between the Russians and the Americans, who are a product of the crossing of all the races of Europe, Asia, Africa, and the new continent.

                   Granted that the race of the Russians is so difficult to determine, it is even more difficult to describe their exterior aspect and their tem­perament. Every type imaginable is to be met with in Russia. The choleric, the lymphatic and the bilious.  Apparently, however (this is a personal opinion of the author's, for there are no statistics on this subject), the lymphatic
[149]  
type predominates. In general, the Muscovites are very tall, have full forms, soft thick beards, and abundant hair. This would probably represent the average type of masculine beauty in the Russian race. The type of feminine beauty consists, also, in a rather lofty stature, and forms which are well rounded but neither slender nor graceful. While I am writing these lines, a type of the Russian woman arises before me. It differs from the American, English, and French woman, but a pencil is needed to draw it and not a pen.

         II. General psychology.

                   Moreover, I am in haste to pass on to the psychical factors. The race and its exterior traits are of very slight importance in sociology, and for this reason I do not think it worth while to dwell long upon them.

                   But it will be easily understood that there are quite as many, if not more, difficulties to be met with on the psychological plane than on
[150]  
the physiological. If it is not easy to determine what colored eyes predominate in a people (for which direct observation only is required), still less so is it to determine the sort of character. On this subject we shall have to content ourselves with general approximations.

                   Keeping within these limits, we may venture to assert that one of the most prominent traits of the Great Russian character is an inequality of effort. It would seem as if the Russians had modeled themselves on the climate of their country, which offers the greatest extremes of heat and cold.[2] It has been known for a long time, that among the Russians, periods of eager activity are succeeded by periods of an almost insurmountable apathy.

                   Very often, in Russia, certain individuals are the victims of an intermittent alcoholism. They remain for months, sometimes, without
[151]  
drinking a drop of liquor. Then comes the period of alcoholism, and for a long time they are uninterruptedly tipsy from morning till night. For many Russians, too, this is their method of labor. They pass weeks doing nothing; and, then, all at once, they are capable of working thirty-six consecutive hours, and they then get through an enormous amount of work. Naturally, this remark applies rather to the wealthy and cultured, for the laboring classes of both city and country work regularly a fixed number of hours throughout the year. This inequality of effort is the trait among the Russians which will strike the stranger most forcibly. It seems to constitute a char-acteristic, as it were, of the Russian mind. It is in no sense a fatality inherent in the race, as the exponents of certain pseudo-scientific theories maintain. This inequality of effort is the result of historical circumstances, and when" these circumstances shall have been modified it will disappear. What I have said
[152]  
as to the degree of morality may be repeated of the amount of energy. This amount is evidently present in equal force in every nation, but according to the bent given by historical circumstances, one nation may possess more of it at a given moment than another. Until the sixteenth century, the English were known for their indolence and apathy.  The Florentines who went to England in the fifteenth century found the English positively inert. The great activity of the American people in our own time comes, in great measure, from their realization of the magnitude of the task which lies before them (an entire continent, immense and amazingly fertile, to people and cultivate) and the political facilities which they enjoy. The Russians have a territory more vast and fertile even than that of the Americans and quite as uncultivated. There is, then, no lack of work for them. Unhappily they have not yet had a chance to have free play, from a political point of
[153]  
view; hence their state of apathy and discouragement.

                   But should there come a more fortunate period in their history, it is quite probable that there would be found no less persistency of effort among the Russians than among the Anglo-Saxons.  Even now certain indi­vidual proofs of this may be seen, for inequality of effort is very far from being a universal fact among cultivated Russians.

                   If the Russians often experience these periods of apathy, we may at least exhibit in contrast with them some examples of a force of energy, calm and tenacious, which serves to overcome all obstacles.  Cases of this may be fre­quently observed among the men, though that is but natural. Per contra, they are much more remarkable when found among the women. For the Russian woman has given some admirable examples of heroism. Struggling at times against much greater obstacles than her American sisters, she has succeeded
[154]  
in obtaining an important place, notwithstanding, in science, art, and literature.  Generally speaking, the intellectual emancipation of the Russian woman, at the present time, seems to us in advance of that of the German, French, Italian, or English woman.  The American woman alone, with her high mental culture, seems to us able to bear comparison with the Russian.

                   What is, in our day, the dominant trait of the Russian woman? It is very difficult to say. All traits meet in her. Unquestionably that of a formal sentimentality no longer predominates, as it did at the beginning of the nineteenth century; but it is almost impos­sible to determine just what type of woman is acknowledged to prevail at the present moment in Russia.

         III. Sentiment.

                   From the point of view of sentiment, we may say that a large amount of good nature
[155]  
is very characteristic of the Russian. Of all the peoples of Europe, this is, perhaps, one of the least cruel.

                   I know that such an opinion has almost the air of a paradox. The Russian people have an execrable reputation.  The knout, Siberia, the extreme severity of the govern­ment, intolerance, Poland, the sufferings of the Nihilists, the persecution of the unhappy Jews,—all this has given the Russian nation a reputation for universal cruelty.

                   In order, therefore, to have my opinion respected, it will be necessary to support it by facts. I shall allege, in the first place, that you never observe among the Russians any popular sport of a brutal character,— such as cock fights, bull fights, or even box­ing, or pugilism. Neither are customs like "lynch law" to be met with, which, though justified by the social exigencies of certain times, is nevertheless a very cruel practice. In this summary course of procedure, the
[156]  
penalty of death is very often inflicted for offences which, in truth, hardly merit so terrible a punishment. Another proof of the gentle nature of the Russian people is the security which reigns, both on the high roads and in the country districts. Within the memory of man, there has not been a region of Great Russia which has been permanently infested with brigands. Night and day, one may traverse the most lonely roads with a sense of perfect security. Crimes are occasionally perpetrated, but only in sporadic and individual cases. For centuries, now, there has not been seen in Russia a social condition such as was presented recently by Spain, the Kingdom of Naples, Sicily, Greece, and such as Turkey still presents. The only portion of the Russian Empire where highway robbery still exists, is in the southern part of the Caucasus; but there it is practiced by the indigenous populations, and more often by the Mussulmans.

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             Every one knows the feelings aroused in the lower classes of the Russian population by those who have been judicially convicted. It is pity, with which hardly an atom of hate or resentment is mingled. Finally, we must observe that Russia was the first to suppress the death penalty for offences against the common law.

                   It may be stated, further, that, in many cases, the Russian administration is rather badly run, precisely because of the natural good nature of the nation. The chiefs are sometimes so complacent that they not only cannot make up their minds to dismiss their subordinates, but often do not even have resolution enough to censure them. The public service naturally suffers. It is the same with pensions. The municipal and provincial council boards are extremely lavish with them. Very few people have within them the courage to refuse, categorically, such help when demanded, even though this may not be abso-
[158]  
lutely needed. Numerous abuses proceed from this kindness of character.

                   Whence comes it, then, that the Russians have a great a reputation for cruelty?

                   From several causes.  In the first place, we may observe in them the same trait in point of sentiment as in point of mental activity. The Russian is very unequal. If carried away, under certain circumstances, until he is quite beside himself, he may commit the greatest excesses. The Russian is less master of himself than the Anglo-Saxon. But these very acts of cruelty, which are very uncommon, make the greater impression the rarer they are. The public likes to generalize, and is apt to consider as an habitual trait of char­acter what is for the most part exceptional. I do not mean that there are no cases of cruelty among the Russian people, and that they are better than any others.  No; I only wish to say that, as is very commonly believed, they are no worse.

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             Aside from the inequality in his character, there are several other causes which lead to a belief in the cruelty of the Russian.  In the first place, facts of a political nature. When it is a question of reasons of state, the sentiment of pity seems to vanish. Severe legislation is believed to be necessary, in order to save the state, and thus all pity seems a culpable weakness. If our ancestors, in the Middle Ages and up to within comparatively recent times, had such harsh penal legislation it is not that individually they were any worse than we are; it was only because they believed such legislation indispensable.  Russia, having developed more slowly than other nations of the West, preserved longer certain archaic and cruel institutions, like slavery and cor­poral punishment. All the European nations have had, at some time, penal laws as barbar­ous as those of Russia; but they have sooner given them up. The sight of the Russian inflicting very severe punishments, already
[160]  
forgotten in the West, is the source of the inference that they were more cruel than the Occidentals. This was not the case; they were only less advanced in point of ideas. They still believed these barbarous punishments to be necessary, after the other nations no longer shared in their error.

                   And, then, the Russian government has an execrable reputation;  since nearly all the civilized countries have become constitutional, and Russia has not, the line has been drawn, as it were, between the Russian government and the others. The former is in nowise the most cruel, but it is believed to be so. And, then, the Russian government commits one great fault: it judges political offences with closed doors. There may thus naturally be put to their account a whole series of cruelties which they have never committed. I am convinced that the number of individuals sent to Siberia for political crimes, during the whole course of the nineteenth century, does
[161]  
not exceed, perhaps, three or four thousand persons.[3] But the figures current in public opinion in the West are infinitely larger. Of course these figures are hypothetical. People speak with the greatest fluency of fifty or sixty thousand persons a year. Human imagination has no limits!

                   The political prisons of Russia have everywhere an execrable reputation.  It is true that here and there revolting cruelties may be found.  Political convicts are deprived, unhappily, of all legal protection. Their fate depends upon the personal character of the individual who is in charge of their prison. And among these individuals are to be found some who are monsters. But, generally speaking, I believe that political prisoners experience no worse treatment in Russia than in other countries.

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If we examine closely certain special cases, we may convince ourselves that the Russian government is no more cruel than any of the others.

                   The reputation for severity of the Emperor Nicholas I is well known.  It was so terrible that a certain English author was amazed to learn that he was an excellent father of a family and was very fond of his children. It seemed to this author as if Nicholas I were a vampire, thirsting for blood. Let us see the facts. The Emperor Alexander I died, in 1825, without issue. His younger brother, Constantine, having renounced the throne, it reverted to the third brother, Nicholas. But Constantine's renunciation was not generally known. On the death of Alexander, the oath of allegiance to Constantine was taken by many official bodies in St. Petersburg. A few superior officers of the guard availed themselves of this circumstance to incite the troops against Nicholas, and to
[163]  
make the attempt to suppress autocratic power in Russia. This is what is called the Revolution of December. After Nicholas had subdued them, he caused the officers who had revolted against him to be tried. Five only were condemned to death and executed. Thus a revolt of the army against their legitimate sovereign (for that was how Nicholas I regarded it) caused the blood of but five persons to be shed, and this in barbarous Russia, and by one of her most cruel monarchs.

                   Let us see what was passing in the countries of the West at this same period.  I shall not speak of France and the Revolution. Such a comparison would be impossible. There, under a mere suspicion, people were sent to the guillotine.  The great poet André Chenier was beheaded for sympathizing with the Royalists, and also because he had written some verses against the members of the National Convention! But, long after the "Terror,"
[164]  
the French government had become no more beneficent. In 1824, four unhappy sergeants were executed in France only because they were members of a secret society. Is it neces-sary to recall the summary military execution by the Austrians in 1848 ? How many victims then perished! And no vulgar conspirators either, but noble warriors who had fought openly and bared their breasts to the enemy. But of all the European nations, Spain assuredly holds the palm for cruelty. In 1824, seven Free Masons were there executed, simply for having held a meeting! In 1831, a young man was hung for having cried⁽' Hurrah for Liberty!" A woman was hung in Granada for having embroidered a flag with the inscription, "Law, Liberty, Equality."  Such examples might be multiplied. But these which I have just cited are sufficient, it seems to me, to show that the Russian government is far, indeed, from being as cruel as those of Western Europe.  Simply because it is autocratic, while the others are
[165]  
constitutional, it enjoys a reputation which it does not always merit.

                   What I have just said is to prove what I have already advanced on the subject of the good nature of the Russian people. But, in consequence of the unevenness of character which is one of their dominant traits, this habitual good nature may be transformed at times into very great brutality, as I shall have occasion to point out when I come to speak of politics.

                   Next to their good nature, one of the most universal traits of the Russian people is a large share of melancholy and sadness. The life of the Russian is far from being a very happy one. The country itself is not cheerful. Dur­ing six months of the year, it is shrouded in snow, and, in Summer also, the coloring is rather dull.

                   The great pine forests which occupy all the northern part have a melancholy aspect. But even the caducous species which prevail in
[166]  
Russia (the birch, for example,) have not very brilliant tints. Elsewhere the surface of the ground is gently undulating. The country is completely lacking in relief and character. The eye glides, as it were, over infinite spaces which lose themselves on the horizon, and seeing no landmark, one is overcome as with a vague feeling of unrest.

                   History has been even more severe upon the Russian people than nature. Russia has been, during long centuries, exposed to the inroads and predatory incursions of the nomadic tribes of Asia. The last invasion of the Tartars of Crimea into Russia in Europe took place in the second half of the eighteenth century. Up to comparatively recent times, the Russian people have lived under an entire sense of insecurity and constant apprehension. To the invasions of the nomads is added another terrible enemy of the Russian, — fire. Russia has almost no stone, but possesses on the contrary immense forests. Naturally, most of the dwellings there
[167]  
have been built of wood. With wood, conflagrations are inevitable, and this plague destroys fifty million dollars' worth of property every year. Naturally, the country villages suffer most, and as there personal property is rarely insured, it will be seen that it is the poorest class of the population which is the most cruelly affected.

                   The fact that the Russian people have this constant sensation of international insecurity has been the means of driving it to granting so tege a measure of authority to the central government. As the officials have not been slow to abuse this power, the Russian people have been obliged to submit to innumerable vexations. Add to this, serfdom, which was introduced in 1596, and which has been the cause of the most horrible injustice and abuse. In consequence of these and many other circumstances, which it would be impossible for me to set forth here, the Russian people has in truth been one of the most unfortunate upon
[168]  
the face of the earth. History has stamped it with a large share of melancholy, combined with a profound resignation, and with a fatalism which is manifested in a thousand different ways. The Russian, at times, allows his life to glide along just at it happens, without even making an effort to react against his sad destiny. He seems to be constantly asking himself, "What is the use?"—to be constantly consoling himself with the reflection that "such is the inevitable order of things." On the other hand, when he makes up his mind to act, his fatalism causes him to have great faith in his lucky star. The "go ahead" of the Americans has its counterpart in the Russian "avos."[4]

                   It is said that fatalism conduces to acquies-
[169]  
cence. This is not always true, for that it sometimes provokes to action, we must admit. Together with evidences of an extreme conservatism, the Russian people give also at times proofs of an endless spirit of adventure, so to speak. The occupation of Siberia is one of the best examples of this. Single individuals have, during more than three centuries, been in the habit "of venturing into this region, and have been stopped only on reaching the polar ice and the waters of the Pacific Ocean. The occupation of the Russian Far East has been much more difficult than that of the American Far West, if only for the reason that the greater part of it was undertaken in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, before the advent of steam and telegraphy.

                   It is true, then, that melancholy and fatalism are characteristic traits of the Russian people, who certainly cannot be ranged among the cheerful nations of the earth. The Russian has also, however, times of mad exuberance,
[170]  
when he abandons himself entirely to pleasure. At such times the inequality of his character is apparent in its greatest extent.

                   There may be observed among the Russian people a large element of generosity. The Russians are fond of saying that the national mind is singularly free from all niggardly ele­ments. Exceptions are doubtless in evidence here and there; some are to be found who are very economical, and there are even misers, but that is not the dominant type of the nation. In the immense majority of the cases, the Russian is hospitable, and thinks nothing of the expense when it is a question of his own amusement, or that of others. A great many Russians, too, live beyond their means, and are in constant pecuniary embarrassments. And generosity in money affairs is duplicated by a universal generosity in personal relations. The Russian is generally very tolerant in social intercourse. He is lenient in judging the conduct of others, and easily overlooks violations
[171]  
of morality committed by his associates. Aus-terity has but a small place in his conception of things. Many foreigners, the English above all, are amazed at the tolerance which reigns in Russia with regard to social affairs. Society exercises but a feeble restraint upon the individual, and permits him to live as seems best to himself. Whether a person goes to church every Sunday or not, is something about which people trouble themselves very little in Russia. One might say that to compensate for their lack of political liberty the Russians allow themselves a very large share of social liberty.

                   Thanks to the good nature and tolerance of the nation, social intercourse is marked by a spirit of great cordiality among the Russians. Among their equals, they call each other by their Christian names, accompanied by that of the father, with a termination which shows the affiliation, as, for example, Alexander Nicolaevitch (Alexander, son of Nicholas). This custom lends great simplicity to the intercourse
[172]  
between individuals, for it is almost invariably used even between people of different hierarchical rank. Thus, in society, for instance, between officers and generals, when off duty. The appellations which are used in dealing with the common people are also very caressing: "batiouchka" (little father), "goloubtchik" (little pigeon), etc., etc.

                   In general, a certain democratic equality pervades the intercourse between classes even of a very different social status. There are, however, unfortunate exceptions to this. Many Russians belonging to the former generation have not yet given up the custom of addressing the common people with "thee" and "thou," though this remnant of former lack of courtesy shows, happily, an increasing tendency to dis­appear.

                   Having discussed their good qualities, I must now indicate some of the defects which are very frequent among the Russians. They are usually very careless, both in their dress, and more par-
[173]  
ticularly in their business affairs. They have little of the systematic temperament. They are also very prolix, and have no more idea how to introduce order into a statement of their ideas than into the management of their households. The Russians also have rather an indifferent idea of punctuality, and do not yet appreciate the value of time, for themselves, nor, unhappily, for others. Neither is their good faith very extraordinary, and in economic relations it is often necessary to take many legal precautions when dealing with them. "Time is money," and "Honesty is the best policy" are proverbs which have not as yet received a very general application in Russia. It must not be supposed, however, that the level of morality in business affairs is at all like that to be found in Spain. Certainly not! One may even point out some sufficiently conspicuous features of honesty. Thus, private individuals, in making payments, often give rolls of gold wrapped in paper. These are usually
[174]  
taken without being opened, and it is very rare that there is any cheating. This is no longer true, however, of cheques. These are carefully verified by the banks, before being paid.

         IV. Intellect.

                   We pass now to the domain of thought, which is the proper sphere of a national psychology. I shall dwell somewhat longer upon this; I shall speak of both philosophy and religion, but only briefly, of course, as comports with the limits of this article.

                   Beginning with philosophy, I shall observe, in the first place, that Russia has produced no great original philosophical system, like that of Descartes, of Leibnitz, of Spinoza, or Hegel. Doubtless the absence of the liberty of the press has in a certain measure contributed to this result. A Russian book, in which it was said that Jesus was merely the son of Joseph, a carpenter at Nazareth, would not be suffered to pass by the censor. It will be understood
[175]  
that under such conditions as these, it would be somewhat difficult to produce a complete system of philosophy, to state one's ideas with-out reserve, and with the purpose of saying only what one believed to be true. The fact, however, should be taken into consideration that Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz, and Voltaire wrote at a tune when censorship was hardly more tolerant than it is in Russia to-day. In reality, researches which are purely abstract into the domain of psychology or metaphysics, receive a sufficiently wide toleration in the empire of the Czars. Besides, if a Russian author were unable to have his philosophical works printed in his own country, there would have been nothing to prevent his having it done in a foreign one.

                   The absence of great philosophical systems may be easily explained, moreover, in other ways. Russian thought began to mature in the second half of the nineteenth century. But at that time the construction of great philo-
[176]  
sophical systems had been, so to speak, given up. The last great system of Europe,—that of evolution,—formulated by Herbert Spencer, is rather a systemization of the sciences, in accordance with a general plan, than a philosophical construction in the true acceptation of the term.

                   In any case, whether owing to the influence of obstacles of a political nature, or that thy historical era was not propitious, it is still true that Russia has produced no national philosophical synthesis. There is, as yet, no system which may be called the purely Russian philosophy. It is sufficiently difficult even to discover which of the great systems of Western Europe is really most highly esteemed in Russia, and possesses the greatest number of adherents. Heine said that the real philosophy of Germany was Pantheism. We should be quite at a loss to formulate any such proposition in regard to Russia. Without contrasting doctrines as op­posed to each other, such as Deism and Panthe-
[177]  
ism, one would find it very difficult to say whether the Russian mind is more mystical or positivist. A great number of observers, especially foreigners, would incline without hesitation to the theory of mysticism. The Russian mind seems to them to have something about it, the outlines of which are indefinite and not to be distinguished from the mystical.

                   This is the case, above all, in politics, as I shall have occasion to show later. To say, however, that mysticism is the most pro­nounced, or even the wholly predominant trait of the Russian mind, would not be absolutely true. There is in it, also, very strong current not only of realism, but even of positivism. A large number of Russians regard metaphysical and mystical abstractions with a contempt as profound as it is unfeigned. When statistics are taken of the blonds and brunettes among the Russians, it is seen that fifty-one in a hundred have dark hair, and forty-nine in a hundred have light hair. If statistics of the Rus-
[178]  
sian mind could be taken, it would perhaps be found, also, that out of one hundred individuals forty-nine were mystics, and fifty-one positivists. But, of course, such a table of statistics is out of the question. We must turn, then, to the publications and teachings of philosophy.

                   Of what has been written we must, of course, notice the different periods. Toward 1840, Russia was in great part Hegelian. Later, toward 1860, there was a violent outbreak of Materialism. Büchner and Moleschott enjoyed there an enormous prestige. A constellation of Russian publicists, with Pisemski at the head, threw themselves with ardor into the Materialistic movement, putting the greatest amount of fervor into undermining the ancient idols. It was, to a certain extent, from this intellectual tendency that Nihilism sprang. When, after the assassination of Alexander II, Nihilism again subsided, it seemed as if Russian thought turned away from great speculations.

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For more than twenty years Russia has seemed to live without a philosophy. Herbert Spencer's theory of evolution has gained some adherents in Russia, as well as some of the other systems, but without penetrating as deeply into their minds as the Materialism of Buchner and Moleschott.

                   No remarkable original work, consecrated to philosophy, has appeared in recent years, in Russia. Tolstoi, after having written very remarkable novels, has published different articles on religion, in which he has been led to consider certain philosophical questions; but he has done so only in passing, without devoting any great amount of attention to them.

                   What is there in store for the future? After the lull and languor which have fallen upon Russian thought, at the present time, what may be expected to happen? Let me venture an hypothesis which I admit in advance to be a purely personal intuition. It seems to me that Monism will be the future philosophy of Russia.

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This doctrine appears to me to be the one which will be most probably accepted by all other countries, and, I think, it will end by conquering Russia also.

                   If, after the philosophy, I am asked what is the religion of the Russians, I shall be even more at a loss for a reply.

                   It may be said, in the first place, that there are almost as many religions in Russia as there are ethnical groups. In the Baltic provinces and in Finland, Protestantism prevails. Poland is Catholic. In the ancient principality of Lithuania, (the western Russia of the present) the nobility and the upper middle class are Catholics, the peasants in the country districts orthodox.[5] In the south there are the Mussulmans in Crimea, in the east Mussulmans again, on the banks of the Volga. Add to this four
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or five million Israelites, scattered throughout the western provinces of the empire, and Protestants again on the banks of the Volga, recruits from the German colonies.

                   Officially all great Russians are orthodox. Russia is still unhappily a confessional state in every sense of the word, and suffers the unfortunate consequences thereof. The laws are made to uphold orthodoxy. Above all, thfi Sovereign and his family must be orthodox.

                   The state protects this form of religion by a set of laws, which practically abolish liberty of conscience in the Empire of the Czars. Replying to a petition "which had been addressed to him in favor of toleration by an English society, Mr. Pobedonostzef, the procurator of the Holy Synod[6], replied that religious toleration was the
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fundamental rule of the Russian Empire. In making this reply, he was evidently playing upon words. It is true that Catholics, Mussulmans, and Israelites are authorized to practice their forms of worship in Russia. But any person who tries to convert a member of the Orthodox Church from his faith, even in the interest of another Christian profession, is liable to exile in Siberia. If the conversion be in the interest of a non-Christian religion, it is forced labor for eight or ten years. Toleration must be interpreted in a very narrow sense to be understood in the merely passive way in which M. Pobedonostzef understands it. Religious liberty consists in recognizing the
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sacred and inviolable right of the individual to preach what seems to him to be the truth.

                   Russia is, at the present moment, then, an orthodox confessional state, just as England was formerly an Anglican confessional state.

                   Let us see, now, what position is held in Russia by this orthodoxy, which the government takes under such excessive protection.

                   I do not think it will be paradoxical to affirm that orthodoxy is the religion of a very small number of the Great Russians. This is what I mean. Greek Christianity has been preached in Russia since the tenth century. And not-withstanding the long period which has since elapsed, it may be boldly asserted that it has not yet penetrated into the conscience of the whole Russian people; that is, to no greater degree than has Catholicism into the conscience of some of the Western nations, like the Italians, for example. Out of one thousand Russians, eight or nine hundred (counting the women also) would not know how to recite, even mechani-
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cally, the Nicene creed. If the individuals here referred to were asked in what they believed, their reply would be but little suggestive of Christianity. Of the one hundred Russians out of the one thousand who might know the Nicene creed, there would be, perhaps, barely ten who would understand its literal meaning, and one, perhaps, who would understand its doctrinal meaning. But, three quarters of the time, those who thus understand it entirely believe no longer therein.

                   In reality, Christianity is merely a veneer in Russia. It has not as yet penetrated to the consciences of the lower classes, and it is already given up by the upper classes of the nation. Conscientious Christianity is the portion of a very small minority belonging to the middle class and the inferior nobility. 'But we know how little important is dogma in religion. What man ardently seeks in a faith is, first, a protector and then that special and exalted emotion called religious sentiment.

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             The more unhappy a people is, the less they can obtain justice here below, the more do they appeal to Heaven for it. We have said before that the Russian people was but poorly provided in the matter of happiness. They live in a severe climate, which permits of little indolence and little of the doice far niente. On the other hand, much of Russia is but moderately fertile. The Russian people is no better off with regard to politics. The nation has practically no resource from the arbitrariness and exactions of officilHs, who take both their time and their money. It is natural that this people should feel more than any other the need of having recourse to divine protection. They address themselves to God, to Jesus Christ, to the Virgin, and to the Saints. Hence the great amount of devotion to be observed in Russia, the pilgrimages, the worship of miraculous images, the crowds of people who flock to the churches.

                   On the other hand, adoration is the act
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which satisfies the necessity for religious exaltation inherent in the human soul. The Russians give themselves up more ardently to exterior forms of worship than do the French, the English, or the Americans. This comes, it seems to me, from the fact that its civilization being less advanced, the only means of satisfying its emotional needs which it possesses, is religious worship. But these forms of worship have upon them a purely hypnotic effect. The Russian people understand almost nothing of what the priest is saying during Mass. They probably do not know even that the orthodox Mass is a commemoration, symbolical of the sacrifice made by the Son of God to redeem mankind. The Russian priests make every effort to give the parts of the Mass which are read in a totally incomprehensible manner. They are perfectly right in this, for if the words of the service were clearly understood they would appeal directly to the intelligence, and would not produce their intended effect, namely,
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a purely sentimental suggestion. The orthodox Mass is singularly ritualistic. It is no living condition, but is congealed within forms which have endured for eenturies. The Eastern Church sustains the principle that what is true cannot change. Thus she modifies in no particular either her form of worship or her dogmas. Preaching is disappearing more and more in the Russian Church. Sermons are given only on rare occasions. There are two reasons for this. First, because preaching has very little object, when it is asserted beforehand that there is not an iota of anything to change in the traditions of the past. Jesus, on the contrary, it is true, modified or obliterated that which had been "said to them of old time," by his own "I say unto you," and it was just to maintain this new doctrine, which had not been said to them of old time, that Jesus preached his sermons. If it had not been for that we would have had no reason for speaking. The second circumstance which has caused
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preaching to be given up by the Russian church is the distrust of the government. The priest who wishes to deliver a sermon must first write it, and then submit it to the approval of his bishop. Then only may he read it in church. But he is forbidden to say anything more than what he has put down in his notes; he may not improvise, or let himself go, under the inspiration of the moment, and speak freely. One may imagine that, under such circumstances, very few priests in Russia care to submit to the drudgery of delivering sermons, and when they do decide to do so, the faithful listen to them with the most profound weariness. First, because they are generally delivered in a cold, monotonous tone, and because, too, nine-tenths of the time they are utterly meaningless. The absence of liberty has killed the eloquence of the pulpit in Russia.

                   We may make still another observation which will show how little Christianity has entered into the Russian soul. For the nine centuries
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during which they have been Christians, the Russians have not introduced one atom of life into orthodoxy. Look at France and Catholicism. During the Middle Ages, and in modern times, France has repeatedly been a leader of Catholic thought. The University of Paris has, at different times, possessed the most remarkable theologians of Western Christianity. There has been nothing like this in Russia. There, they have accepted the Byzantine ritual without change. The Russians have confined their pride to interpreting the Greek texts with the most complete and servile literalness. The Russian Church has not, in its nine cen-turies of existence, given to the world either a great theologian, or a great doctor of the faith, or a saint who is at all remarkable or out of the ordinary, or a celebrated missionary, or even a great preacher. The only new element which the genius of the Russian people has introduced into the mummified body of the Orthodox Church is music. There, they have been crea-
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tive, and wonderfully creative. The celebrated musician, Berlioz after hearing Mass sung by the choir of the cathedral in St. Petersburg, cried out, "I do not know how they sing in Paradise, but it seems to me that it cannot be very much better than this." The music of the Russian Church, which developed especially at the close of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth century, forms an entirely original school; it derives inspiration from no other, and its grandeur is at times as wonderful as its originality. The Russian Church allows no instrument to be used in its service; not even the most divine instrument of man's invention,—the organ. The entire Mass is thus sung by choirs composed entirely of men, in which little boys take the soprano and contralto parts.

                   Is the Russian people, then, essentially religious or free thinking? Foreigners would all reply with one voice, "It is religious; it is even the most religious of the nations of Europe."

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   Certainly, to judge by appearances (the only thing by which a stranger can judge, since he must look on the outside only), the Russian people are very religious, for it is prodigal of its proof of devotion. But there are many signs, too, which indicate their complete indifference in matters of religion. You must know, first, that in Russia the Church alone holds the records of the civil State, and that she alone can dispense certain sacraments which are of the greatest civil and political importance. There is no marriage in Russia other than the religious one. Consequently, there is no other way of contracting a legal marriage than by going to church. Baptism is also of enormous importance. It alone can establish the affiliation which transmits hereditary rights, civil as well as political. In Russia the citizens are divided into several different social classes (peasants, artisans, merchants, nobles, etc.), whose privileges are far from being equal. There are, besides, the "non-
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Christians"[7] who are there deprived of a great number of rights.

                   Since the certificate of baptism constitutes the sole act of the civil state, its importance may be readily understood.   A Russian be­longing to a family which is officially orthodox may be in vain the most liberal thinker in the world; it would be impossible for him to neglect having his child christened, for without that, it would not be considered legitimate.

                   The Russian clergy are not paid by the State.    The expense would be beyond its means. There are nearly three hundred and twenty-five thousand parishes in Russia. Now, if each had a single priest, and he were given but five hundred dollars a year, it would necessitate under this head alone an annual expenditure of one hundred and sixty-two million dollars, which would be about a third of the
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ordinary Russian budget. For their support the priests in the country have had assigned to them two sources of revenue: a plot of ground, which they may cultivate on their own account, and sometimes with their own hands, and the frame in sacraments. The priest seeks, naturally, the greatest amount of profit possible. He sometimes exacts for christenings, and particularly for marriages, fees which the peasants are not always able to pay. Bargaining begins.  There are cases where young people are not able to be married for weeks and months, because they are unable to pay the sum demanded by the priest for the religious ceremony.  It will be understood that such circumstances result in sufficiently unpleasant relations between the pastor and his flock. And, notwithstanding these exactions, the Russian priest remains generally very poor, for the reason that the sheep which he may shear have unfortunately but very little wool.  The Russian priest is ill-informed
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and rarely of much elevation of character; he is married, and has many family cares and by reason of all this, inspires but little respect in the faithful. By some he is detested as one who is continually taking advantage of them, and by others he is little respected on account of an obvious lack of moral supe-riority. The relations between the clergy and the faithful have thus no deep cordiality or sympathy in Russia.

                   Then, too, the churches are usually poor and plain.  They are not open until the hour for service, and then are filled with people. The Russian (man or woman) in his hours of moral distress and anguish may not enter a church to collect himself and to pray. There are found none of those corners, isolated and at the same time inspiring, which are to be met with in so many of the edifices of Western Europe. On the other hand, it never occurs to any one to take counsel with the priest in moments of difficulty, because the orthodox
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clergy has so little prestige, and is so little respected. The priests, on their side, never go into the different families to speak words of kindness and consolation.

                   In consequence of this series of circumstances, the Russian is but moderately in sympathy with his national Church. There are millions of peasants in the country who might pass as utterly indifferent in matters of religion. Nor is the Russian woman more religious than the man. This is no more true of the lower than of the upper classes. It is never in Russia, for example, as it often is in France or Italy, where the husbands may be free thinkers, and the wives very devout, and even bigoted. The priest (contrary to what is seen in Catholic countries) obtains no power through the influence of women; in general his influence in society amounts to almost nothing.

                   There may be observed in Russia, even among the common people, the most complete
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irreverence in regard to holy things.    The manner in which the peasants speak of the service and the priests borders at times upon the most biting sarcasm and the most absolute indifference.

But, nevertheless, a thousand facts bear witness that a deep religious need torments the Russian soul, even to its inmost recesses. This is proved, first, by the multiplying of religious sects. Among the Catholics in France, Austria, and Italy there are no longer heretics or "non-conformists."[8] The last Western sect, Old Catholicism, has exhibited a very moderate amount of vitality. It died out in a few years. German Protestantism, too, seems to be irrev­ocably fixed within the limits established at
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the time of the Reformation. No breath of anything new has come to break through them.        

                   The Orthodox Church in Russia, as a theo-logical and dogmatic institution, is utterly dead. It confines itself to its forms of worship and the ritual. We might say that it was supported in a certain measure by right of succession, being preserved for economic and political reasons.  The portion of the Russian population which has the deepest religious needs finds nothing to satisfy them in the established Church, which has been for cen-turies congealed within cold and hieratic forms. The aspirations of the Russian people, then, in matters of religion, rise far beyond the established Church, and are often in hostility to it.   When the priest of a village is too eager for gain, when his conduct proves a source of scandal, when revolt and indig-nation are excited against him, peasants then separate from their pastor and throw themselves into the sects of non-conformists, as
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happened in England at the time of the Reformation.   Some one appears, and begins to preach new doctrines based upon his own private interpretation of the Holy Scriptures. It is thus that innumerable sects have been formed in Russia.  It would take too long to enumerate them here.   They have all taken as a foundation the Old and New Testaments; but later, in the course of their development, they have reached the greatest extremes. Some have returned to the forms of the primitive Church, and have no clergy. Others have become reconciled to Protestantism.  Others still, by the strangest aberrations, have ended in practices which are monstrous and unnatural.[9]

                   Whatever may be the aberrations of these sects, the intensity of their religious life is very great.   One finds, too, among their ad­herents all the admirable qualities of the
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neophyte; an extraordinary sense of honesty, unlimited devotion, and a spirit of sacrifice amounting to martyrdom.   A number of Russian sectarians has recently arrived in America. They are the "Doukhobory" (wrestlers with the spirit). They have preferred to leave their country rather than submit to the military service, which they believe contrary to the teachings of the Bible.

                   The Russian non-conformists are the honor and glory of their country.  If anything could show the depth of power, of seriousness, of nobility, and of perseverence which exists in the Russian people, it would be these wonder­ful men. Unhappily the present government, misled by an immoderate love of external and bureaucratic symmetry, far from understanding that the non-conformists are the salt of the Russian earth, persecutes them in a thousand ways, which are sometimes as cruel as they are ineffectual.

                   Thus, after maintaining that the Russian
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people is one of the most indifferent in matters of religion, I proceed to make exactly the opposite assertion.    And this contradiction does not spring from my own mind; it is in the facts themselves.    Among an immense people like the Russians, all kinds are to be met with; sceptics as well as apostles, full of faith and enthusiasm.

         V. Politics.

                   From religion to politics the transition is not so abrupt in Russia as in the countries which are non-confessional.   As the United States of America is preeminently the representative of the republican form of government, Russia is the recognized representative, so to speak, of the autocratic. Thus, the political writers of almost every country have founded upon this fact a series of far-fetched opinions, and have built thereon veritable sociological romances.   They have advanced the phenomenon of heredity, of the innate inclination
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of the race, and a thousand other factors, equally imaginary, to prove that the Russian people have been moved to absolute mon-archy ad eternam.   They have piled demonstration upon demonstration to show that the only form of government conceivable by the Russian mind is autocracy, and that any other people in the world might pass from absolute monarchy to more liberal institutions. The Russian people, however, can never do so, as they allege, because of a certain peculiar mentality of their own.

                   This assertion will not survive for a moment an examination of the facts, if one take the treble to look at these closely and will not content himself with indulging in mere invective.

                   In the first place, autocracy is relatively a recent fact in Russia.  The ancient Russian populations lived under the administrative of the clan.    They then passed under the government of the city. The political authority
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of a certain region was concentrated in a cen-tral town (oppidum), which was usually fortified. The organization of the Russian city was republican. A popular assembly (the "veche"), whose conferences were rather tumultuous, gave a general approval to the measures which were proposed to it by a kind of senate.  The Russian "veche" recalls, in many ways, the primitive assemblies of the Roman people in the Forum.

                   In the ninth century Norman adventurers tempted their fortunes in Russia, as they had previously done in England, France, and Italy. One of these Scandinavian bands, commanded by a chief named Rurik, founded the first monarchy in Russia.   The monarchial principle is, then, a foreign importation into the country.    All the supposed predispositions of the Russian "race" for this form of government are thus purely imaginary.   Rurik, after having installed himself at Novgorod (which was, in his time, a republic with quite
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a flourishing trade), pursued his conquests. He descended as far as the Lower Dnieper, and made for himself a vast Empire.   That is to say, he levied tribute upon different Russian cities.   In accordance with the Germanic conception of that time, government was not looked upon as a public office, but as a matter of private ownership. Thus, the descendants of Rurik divided up their father's possessions as the sons of Louis Ie Debonnaire divided up the Empire of Charlemagne.  The princes of the house of Rurik received as their share different cities, and each created for himself a sort of kingdom.  But the primitive organization of the Russian city was not destroyed by the Norman invasion. Some of the towns succeeded in driving out the descend-ants of Rurik, and restored the republican form of government.  Novgorod retained this form until 1480, Pskof until 1509.

                   Others of the cities kept their princes, but without conceding to them absolute power.
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The relations established between the prince and his people are not accurately known to us. Thus, in spite of the presence of the princes of the house of Rurik, the popular assemblies (the "veche") continued to exist in many of the cities.  We hear of these assemblies where the prince appeared and decisions were made in common.    In other places the "veche" disappeared very early.   It is probable, then, that the relations between the prince and his subjects were not very clearly or distinctly determined.   It appears, also, that the most diverse conditions prevailed in the different cities, and that very often everything depended upon the personal qualities of the reigning prince.

                   The princes of the house of Rurik disputed the heritage of the founder of their dynasty, just as the Carlovingians disputed the heritage of Charlemagne.   Even as Charles the Bald reestablished, at a certain time, the unity of the Western Empire, so did several of the
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Russian princes reunite a number of principalities, and attempt to restore the unity of the Empire of Rurik. But this attempt was neither a very determined nor a very permanent one, and was, moreover, never crowned with very lasting success.   The only thing, established in a settled and permanent manner was the supremacy of the city of Kief. The prince who reigned there was considered the head of the family of Rurik, and, as such, exercised a sort of hegemony, something after the fashion of an honorary presidency.   He held the title of Grand Prince. The actual authority of the Grand Prince over the other principalities amounted to practically nothing, but his moral authority, if we may so express it, did not fail to be sought after by the Russian princes, who, for a long time, disputed the sovereignty of Kief and the title of Grand Prince, which accompanied it.  The dynasty which reigned at Moskow ended later by appropriating this title to itself in an exclusive manner.

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             Such was the situation in Russia in the twelfth century. She offered the spectacle of a series of almost independent principalities, with institutions which were badly administered but in no sense autocratic. The advent of the Mongols occurred, and modified this state of affairs.

                   The descendants of Rurik never completely lost the idea of the unity of their Empire. They considered themselves members of one body, and felt themselves different from both the Asiatic tribes of the East, who were usually nomadic, and the settled populations of the West (Poles, Lithuanians, Germans, and Swedes). Thus, upon the arrival of the Mongols, the princes of the house of Rurik joined together to withstand them. They made but a feeble resistance, however, in consequence of the complete absence of any unanimity in their institutions. The Russian principalities knew not how to defend themselves, and all fell under the domination of the Tartars. The Republics
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of Novgorod and Pskof alone succeeded in preserving their independence.

                   The Mongols did not suppress the Russian principalities, but contented themselves with levying tribute upon them. But, none the less, the Mongol yoke was a very heavy one, because very despotic. Security disappeared forever for the people of Russia. Delegates from the Mongol Khan were continually coming to demand the payment of new taxes. The least resistance brought down upon them expeditions which made a merciless use at every point of fire and the sword. And, further, bands of Mongol marauders constantly overran the country, and conducted forays on their own account.

                   A universal law of sociology receives its confirmation in the history of Russia. And this law is, that the power accorded to the central government is the direct result of the political insecurity of a country.

                   When the Russian populations were oppressed by the Mongols, they sought, naturally, the
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protection of their reigning princes. To them they looked to put an end to the incursions of the bands of marauders. The power of the princes would naturally increase from this very fact, for they must be furnished with the means of protecting the people, that is, they must have a stronger army.

                   Among all the Russian princes, those of Moscow (in consequence of circumstances which it would take too long to explain here) were found to best understand the protection of their subjects. Their reputation as faithful protec­tors spread throughout the whole of Russia, and secured for them both prestige and authority.

                   In the same way that the Germanic princes contended with one another over the territories in the heart of the Germanic Empire, the Russian princes waged war over those in the heart of the Empire of the Mongols. The princes of Moscow were aided by a series of fortunate circumstances. They made numer-
[209]  
ous conquests, aggrandized their state by dispossessing other princes of the house of Rurik, and became the most powerful in Russia. Their ambition increased with their power. They assumed the title of Grand Princes, and claimed again that moral hegemony which formerly belonged to the sovereignty of Kief. The princes of Moscow had difficulties also with their Mongol suzerains, and, as soon as they felt themselves sufficiently powerful, entered into conflict with them. They engaged in a number of battles, and in some were victorious.

                   The Russian people now began to foresee a possibility of ridding themselves of the Mongols by the hand of the princes of Moscow. They saw clearly that without a concentration of all the political power of the Russian people the removal of the Mongol yoke was impossible. They saw, too, that their safety lay in the unlimited power of the Grand Prince who reigned at Moscow. Thus, naturally, anything
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which increased his authority was looked upon as beneficial, while all that tended to weaken it was considered injurious, and therefore subversive.

                   Thus was the idea of autocracy implanted in Great Russia. It was not, as has been too repeatedly asserted, the result of an idiosyn-crasy of the Russian "race," It was, quite simply, the result of certain historical circumstances. The law that political concentration is the direct result of insecurity of frontier may be demonstrated reversely by England, the exact opposite of Russia as to political institutions. The one is the most constitutional nation in Europe, the other the most autocratic. But England is, too, the country which is best protected by nature; Russia is the least so. Complete security for Russian territory was obtained only in 1881, after the defeat of the Tekke-Turcomans. Thus, only for nineteen years have the Russians enjoyed the inviolability of their political frontier, which is a
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natural possession of the English, thanks to their insular position. Liberty was early established in Great Britain for the reason that there has never been any necessity for conceding great military power to the king. The same may be said of the United States of America. It is their isolated situation, beyond the reach of European aggression, which has had a large share in enabling them to assume that admirable political decentralization and that personal liberty, which hav|e contributed, in such large measure, to their prosperity. France is another proof of what I am saying. Her continental situation offers less security than that of England; thus, her organization has necessarily remained for a longer time autocratic.

                   The present situation in Russia is, so to speak, diametrically opposed to what it was in the past. After living for centuries under the shadow of continual Asiatic invasions, it is Russia herself who now menaces her barbarous neighbors on her eastern frontiers. Russia
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enjoys to-day an external security greater than that of almost any other European power. In case of a general war, Austria, Germany, and Italy might have to fight on two sides of their borders, Russia on but one. Russia cannot be surrounded. For this reason, and, thanks to the vast extent of her territory, she is, so to speak, unconquerable.

                   Since Russia now enjoys a security greater than that of her neighbors, extreme concentration of power is no longer necessary. It would seem as if the principle of autocracy must lose much of its prestige in the eyes of the cultured classes. And it is so to a certain extent. But in human affairs the sublata causa, tollitur effectus is not to be instantaneously applied. After an institution has lost its "raison d'être," it may still, through force of tradition and inertia, retain much of its power.

                   Such is the present situation in Russia. There are already many persons in the country who appreciate the great advantage of popular
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representation, and look eagerly for its coming. But it is well to recognize that a large number of Russians still persist, eternally as it were, in political conceptions of a totally different kind. We are not speaking of the state officials, who are afraid of losing their places, should popular control be established. These individuals are out of the discussion. They oppose the establishment of a parliament, not as a matter of principle (for in their inner con-sciences they recognize its advantages), but from the promptings of a purely selfish interest. The high officials who are in this category are, it is true, very influential, but I am of the opinion that their desires would not prevail, were it not that a large number of individuals among the upper class cling to autocracy on principle, and not from any personal advantages to be derived therefrom.

                   Every society nourishes within its breast some individuals with antisocial tendencies. It is these persons who conscientiously put their
[214]  
own interests above those of their country. But these individuals cannot be continuously the most powerful in the nation, for if this were so, the forces impelling toward dissolution would preponderate over the forces contrib-uting to cohesion, and society would be dissolved.

                   We must thus recognize that if the autocratic principle still survives in Russia, it is because a large number of Russians consider it beneficial for their country as a whole.

                   The sources whence this idea proceeds are many, but they are the result, one and all, of historical circumstances.

                   The Russian mind has followed the same course of evolution as that of other countries. There may be observed here, to a certain extent, two of the three states of Auguste Comte, the theological phase and the metaphysical phase. This is what has happened. While the other nations of Western Europe had already received the positive phase, toward the
[215]  
end of the eighteenth century, Russia has not, as yet, even in our day, attained to this. And, again, this does not proceed in any way from an innate quality of the Russian race, but from circumstances purely material and social. Rus-sia is very poor, and its population is widely scattered. For this reason, as well as many others, which I cannot now enumerate, education has spread very slowly. The number of those who are illiterate reaches the scandalous figure of seventy-eight out of a hundred. The higher education is much less widespread than the primary. Briefly, the positive method of reasoning is sufficiently rare in Russia, as yet, and the theological and metaphysical methods reign paramount. A large number of Russians are still imbued with a great deal of mysticism, and, above all, alas, with much intellectual indefiniteness. Their faculty for analysis is very feeble. They have, as yet, but a poor idea of how to class social phenomena, and to give them those clear outlines which are char-
[216]  
acteristic of the science of positivism. The Russians bring into the State the ideas of the family, and make of them an ideal which is politically hazy and incapable of realization. This ideal may be formulated thus: a sovereign, father of his subjects, governing well in consequence of his affection for them, and, in consequence of a consciousness of his duty as an autocratic ruler, towering above all the rest. The Russian mystics have a profound contempt for a parliament. They call this a low and vulgar institution, where takes place a series of compromises and bargaining between the different interests at stake. Now this sort of transaction is degrading. A government lowers itself when it condescends to such maneuvers. The Russian mystics affirm that a government, really worthy of the name, should consider the interest of the mass of the people. Only an autocrat can accomplish this mission, because he alone has no need to enter into a compromise with any one. Bargaining and the do ut des
[217]  
offer no temptation to him. He can accomplish the good of all without sacrificing the interest of one class to that of another.

                   Naturally, when the mind of the mystic rises to such dizzy heights, he loses all sense of reality. The ultimate result of such vagaries can but be an entire weakening of the society in which they are produced. It is enough, indeed, to place, for one moment, our foot upon the solid rock of positive facts, to witness the immediate disappearance of all such mirages. The sovereign cannot accomplish everything by himself. He must delegate his powers to an immense staff of officials. How is it possible for him to control their actions, so as to be assured that they conform to his benevolent and paternal designs? It is evident that the control of some of the officials by others is abso­lutely ineffectual. For control of any kind to be effective it must be exercised by disinterested persons, those outside, by individuals, that is, who are not officials. On the other
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hand, the mystics never take the pains to study accurately natural phenomena. They do not see things as they really are. From the moment when we apply ourselves to the study of nature in a positive spirit, we understand that each little atom in the universe is in a constant dynamic state. It seems to be trying to attract everything to itself. It is just the same with society; each individual is in the dynamic state in regard to his fellow-creatures. He endeavors to compass his own best welfare. It is from the union of such efforts, in opposition, some to the others, that social institutions are born. The Russian mystics make a very great mistake when they imagine that parliamentary com-promises are a proof of moral debasement. They are, on the contrary, but checks and counter checks, by means of which a social equilibrium, that is to say, the greatest possible respect for the rights of the individual is maintained.

                   M. Pobedonostzef, Procurator of the Holy
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Synod[10] has recently published a series of articles which have been translated into French under the title of '' Questions religieuses, sociales et politiques."[11] In them he gives expression to the opinion that if all the representatives of the people were saints, the parliamentary regime would be the very best kind of all. But as the representatives of the people are usually of a more than doubtful morality, the parliamentary regime is the worst. Here is an excel­lent example of the reasoning of the mystic. How is it that M. Pobedonostzef does not see that the argument may be turned directly against absolute monarchy? If all the officials appointed by the sovereign were perfection itself, absolute monarchy would be the best of all forms of government. Is it possible
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that M. Podebonostzef would have us believe that it is sufficient for an official to be appointed by an absolute sovereign to ensure his being immediately clothed with all the virtues, and that the Holy Spirit would descend upon him, as it descended formerly upon the apostles? Truly, with ideas like these it would be impossible to create a positive and realistic political system, for if miracles be admitted, the whole scaffolding of the social science falls as does a castle of cards.

                   Many Russians have minds which are clouded and visionary, and for the reason that monarchy, with its right divine, is more to their liking than the concrete and realistic forms of a parliamentary monarchy.

                   Another factor which has contributed toward maintaining the prestige of autocracy in Russia is Panslavism.

                   From the seventeenth century, but particularly since the reign of Peter I., the sciences, letters, philosophy, and art of Western Europe
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have made their way into Russia. These same branches of mental activity existed also, it is true, in the ancient Muscovite Empire, but in a rudimentary form, in sad contrast, indeed, to that which emanated from Europe. Russia was as if hypnotized.  She lived for more than a century and a half under the com-plete fascination of the West. It seemed to the Russians that never would they be able, not merely to surpass, but even to equal their models. Naturally, no human being, and no society, can live while constantly sacrificing its personality. In reality, an abdication of this kind must lead, in the long run, either to a species of mental death (in ordinary terms to idiocy) or else the vital forces must react, and come to acknowledge this personality. Now, the Russian people has far too large a share of individuality for the reaction to fail to set in. It occurred in the first half of the nineteenth century under the name of Panslavism. The too great servility of Russian thought to
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that of the West brought about, by a natural propensity, an excessive reaction of the national pride. The Panslavists maintained that Russia was entirely different from, and superior to, the other nations of Europe. But when it became necessary to come forth from the clouds and to indicate the positive points in which this difference consisted, the Panslavists fell back principally upon these two facts, communal property and autocracy. In certain regions of Russia, the parish lands are, at specified times, divided among the members of the rural community. The Panslavists proceeded to affirm that individual ownership of land, as was the rule in the other countries of Europe, opens the door to pauperism. It divides society into two great classes, clearly differentiated, the non-owners, devoted to incurable poverty, and the owners, who live by taking advantage of the wretched people. The fundamental principle of such an organization is, then, unjust sovereignty.  And, because it is unjust, this
[223]  
organization is imperfect and odious. There is nothing of this kind in Russia, say the Pan-slavists. In consequence of the communal divisions, every Russian is necessarily a land owner. A proletariat becomes forever impossible. Contrary to that of the West, the fundamental basis of Russian society is justice. As the Panslavists, at first, could discover no distribution of land among the Western nations, they loudly proclaimed that Russia alone possessed this admirable organization, and that, consequently, she was superior to all the others.

                   It is hardly necessary to state that these arrogant delusions will not for a moment bear the light of criticism. The communal ownership of land is not the exclusive privilege of Russia. It is an archaic and imperfect form of landed proprietorship which has existed everywhere, at less advanced epochs of social evolution. Furthermore, all Russians do not form part of a rural community. There are thus proletarians in Russia. And finally the mere
[224]  
fact of possessing the usufruct of a hectare of poorly cultivated land (and communal land will always be so) will hardly insure the com-forts of life to an entire family. And, in truth, in spite of this far-famed communal ownership, the Russian peasant is the poorest and most miserable of all Europe.

                   But the Panslavists did not perceive all these objections, and proclaimed that communal proprietorship placed the Russian people upon a lofty pedestal of justice and brotherhood.

                   Beside communal ownership, the Panslavists discovered another superiority belonging to Russia. This was, that the States of Western Europe were all founded upon brute force, while Russia alone was not. The States of the West were established by Germanic warrior chiefs who had taken possession of the Roman provinces. The Franks founded the kingdom of France, the Angles that of England, the Visigoths that of Spain, and so on.  But Russia was not a part of the Roman Empire;
[225]  
she never suffered these great invasions. In the ninth century some Swedish adventurers, it is true, had come into Russia. But Rurik and his companions did not come as conquerors. They were invited by the citizens of Novgorod.

                   Thus, while the States of Western Europe are based upon military conquests, and therefore upon violence and brute force, the Russian State is founded upon the free will of its citizens, therefore upon justice, upon a purely noble and fraternal basis.

                   It may be understood that a military chief who had forcibly annexed rebellious populations could not govern except through fear, and in his own interest. This warrior chief never troubled himself about the well-being of his subjects. He looked upon them as a flock, to be shorn to the utmost, as a simple means of procuring for himself the greatest amount of wealth. Such a political foundation for a State being given, there was no possibility of cordial relations being established between
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the sovereign and his subjects. The greatest antagonism must reign between the monarch and his people. It is from this very antagonism, according to the Panslavists, that parliamentary governments have arisen.   The populations being too much oppressed revolted. They exacted guarantees from their rulers, and these guarantees were what were called constitutional charters.

                   Quite different was the evolution of Russia, according to the Panslavists. Since the foundation of her common law is not brutal and violent conquest, no antagonism can exist between the sovereign and his subjects. Thte monarchs of Western Europe desired solely their own good and not that of their subjects. But a Russian autocrat who would not care for the good of his people is inconceivable, say the Panslavists. A Russian sovereign who should put his own interests above those of his subjects, would be a contradiction which is in itself quite impossible.

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             It is through this kind of argument that the Panslavists have established, anew, a capital distinction between Russia and the other nations. These other reprobate nations have sovereigns who desire the unhappiness of their subjects, and who consequently cannot love them. Russia, on the contrary, is the righteous nation par excellence. Her sovereign wishes only the welfare of his subjects; he loves them, he is their father. To establish the rights of the citizens against the sovereign is of some use when the sovereign wishes evil to his subjects, but to establish them when he desires their good is useless, and is to little purpose. On the other hand, to prevent the sovereign from compassing the good of his subjects is to desire ill to the nation; it is to create tendencies which are antisocial. Consequently, any attempt having for its object the limiting of the power of the monarch, being antisocial, is criminal and subversive.   And, consequently, autocracy is the "Holy Ark" of the Russian nation;
[228]  
it is the institution which differentiates it entirely from the other nations of the West, and which places it anew upon an elevated pedestal of greatness and justice.

                   Thus reason the Panslavists. It is with this as with the division of communal land; it is hardly necessary to demonstrate that their arguments are not founded upon a knowledge of history and social science. In the first place, Rurik was as wholly a warrior chief as Robert Guiscard. The foundation of the Scandinavian domination in Russia is the same as that of the Norman rule in Neustria or at Naples. The princes of Moscow afterwards acquired the other Russian principalities by fire and sword, exactly as the kings of France acquired their possessions.  The foundation of the Russian State is as much, then, violent and brutal conquest as that of the Western States. And, further, the Russian State is composed of a large number of hetero­geneous ethnical elements, who have not all
[229]  
even yet received the right of citizenship. If, then, the sovereign of Russia is the father of his subjects, it is well to recognize that his affection is very unequally bestowed upon his children.

                   Little as the theories of the Panslavists may savor of positivism, they have, in large measure, contributed toward increasing the prestige of the autocratic idea in Russia.

                   Another fact which contributes to the same result is the democratic tendency of the Russian people.

                   Russia is a vast plain, nearly destitute of any beautiful material for building purposes. The castle, the seignioral dwelling, erected upon a hill which is visible from a great distance, built from material capable of resisting the wear of centuries, and exhibiting architectural beauties which are the pride of the district,— this kind of dwelling, it has not been possible to build in Russia. The castles on the banks of the Rhine, even when in ruins, preserve
[230]  
still a powerful and picturesque individuality, which renders them celebrated for miles around. The name of the Count of Rheinfels, pronounced in former times in the presence of a peasant of Nassau, would produce in his mind the idea of a very powerful noble, because the magnificent Castle of Rheinfels, of which this count was the owner, was known and admired throughout the entire region. In England, the seignioral dwellings of some of the nobility are among the most remarkable of the architectural monuments of the country, and their owners share in  the  celebrity of their castles.

                   It has never been, and is not yet, so in Russia. The homes of the boyars were formerly of wood or brick, and almost always little remarkable in point of architecture. Then, too, the life of the nobility was not conspicuous, and made but small impression upon the people.

                   On the other hand, the law of primogeniture has never been implanted in Russia.

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             No matter how illustrious a family, from the single fact that the title passed to all the male descendants, it might be borne by some individuals whose condition of fortune was of the most moderate. The title, for the same reason, lost its prestige.

                   It must be said, further, that the source of the Russian nobility is not always of the purest. It originates, for the most part, in administrative or military offices. The lowest of the peasants may enter the service of the State; if he attain a certain grade in the administrative hierarchy, he acquires hereditary nobility. But state officials receive but a moderate amount of esteem, admiration, and sympathy; and for a very good reason. This administrative nobility enjoys but a small amount of prestige. Add, further, that the nobles in Russia had for a long time been in the enjoyment of a privilege as useless as it was odious. They alone had the right to own serfs. They abused this right in a revolting manner, and very
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naturally, therefore, were not much loved or respected by the masses of the people.

                   Thus the Russian nobility had no traits which brought them out in a certain powerful relief from the other classes of society; they had neither prestige nor popularity, and for these reasons the Russian people has become demo­cratic, and upon this democratic sentiment the few attempts in the annals of Russian history to limit absolute power have foundered. They proceeded from a small number of dignitaries in high places and a select number of enlightened people. But these chosen ones were not upheld by their immediate associates. The greater part of the governing class have ranged themselves behind the Emperor, and have sustained his unlimited power through fear of an oligarchical government vested in a small group of nobles.

                   These are the circumstances, which I have so rapidly outlined, that have moulded the autocratic tendencies, and even now uphold
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them. It may be seen, therefore, that such tendencies are the consequence of historical circumstances, and that they have nothing of the qualities which it is pretended are innate in the Russian "race."

                   Let us now consider the value of Russia as zoon politikon.  We are forced to recognize, in truth, that in this respect her value is but of a moderate kind. Apart from the Emperor Peter I., Russia has produced almost no remarkable political personality. The greater part of her statesmen have been conserva-tives. Very few among them have been in the least progressive, or have had broad minds, together with that wonderful eagle-eyed penetration which sees clearly the aspirations and needs of the times, which dares even boldly project itself into the future. The larger number of Russian statesmen have been of a timid spirit, filled with narrow prejudices, forever taken up with an archaic ideal which history in its majestic onward march has already
[234]  
thrown aside among the ruins and disregarded possessions of the past. And, further, imitating in this the dull and monotonous plains of their country, Russian statesmen have been of little distinction, and have shown no personality to speak of. And if they have sometimes come out from their framework of mediocrity, it has been, for the most part, alas, through an exag-geration of their tyranny and extravagance.

                   From another point of view, however, it is not to be denied that the Russians possess some very valuable political qualities. One of these is a strong spirit of subordination, which causes them, the greater part of the time, to put the interests of the State above their own. There is barely an example in Russian history where the governor of a province has rebelled against the central authority of the State, and has endeavored to cut out, to form for himself from the general mass a personal domain. Russia has never offered the sad example of the egotistic and anarchical opinions which so
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frequently occur in the history of Poland. The spirit of strict discipline with which the governing classes in Russia are imbued has undoubtedly contributed, in great measure, to establish their dominion over so vast an extent of territory.

                   But to be conquerors is not everything, those that have been conquered must be governed. Now, the Russians have been much less skilful in the latter than in the former task, in consequence of some of their good qualities it may be, but, above all, because of one of their greatest defects. Russia has but a faint conception of law and justice. In this she is the exact opposite of the Roman people. It is this main defect which renders Russian domination so odious and insupportable to the people who must submit to it. A thousand circumstances concur to produce this unfortunate result. I have already said, that the Russian is usually open-hearted and very generous. Rapacity, sordid avarice, dull and vindictive cruelty, enter but slightly into bis character. He is hospit-
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able, not supercilious, much given to sympathy, and very courteous in his social relations. Because of all this, he coalesces easily with the foreign populations'coming under his rule. It is because of these qualities, for example, that the Russians have better understood how to keep their supremacy over their Mussulman subjects in Turkestan than the English over theirs of India. But the Russian character is very uneven. And, further, his political conceptions are, as yet, indefinite, mystical, impregnated with paternalism. If under certain circumstances a conflict of interests arises between him and the people under his domination, he breaks out in sudden passion, and indulges in measures of extreme brutality. These measures are, then, all the more surprising to the population, because they are so accustomed to indulgence and good nature. Then, when the moment of anger has passed, the Russian unbends, comes to himself again, and without always repealing his unrighteous acts, he allows them
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quietly to fall into desuetude. A regime of this kind is of all orders the most precarious for those governed, and consequently most intolerable. The populations under Russian subjection, being never able to foresee from what quar-ter, in the minds of their masters, the wind may blow, live in continual anxiety and constant apprehension. Beside the fact that this is in the highest degree disagreeable for the governed, it is, also, in the highest degree con-trary to the true interests of the governors. In fact, with no feeling of security for the morrow, no one dare undertake those business enterprises of a more extended character which are the basis of the material prosperity of a country.

                   The Russian State has been established by violence, by strokes of individual authority. Thence proceeds; the illusion that the renewal of these brutal attempts is the Alpha and Omega of political wisdom. Very many Rus-ians, even among the most cultured classes, have an idea that it would be impossible to
[238]  
insure general prosperity unless governments were to take, at certain times, measures described in Russia as administrative, that is to say, measures which are illegal. This idea, which is securely anchored in the Russian mind, shows how refractory it still is as to any perception of true justice, and to what extent the Russian is still, after all his efforts at civilization, a "political animal," and of a very ordinary quality.[12]

         VI. Present state.

                   After having glanced rapidly over the more or less permanent traits of the Russian nation, I should like, before finishing this hasty sketch, to add a few words upon the situation of the moment.

                   First of all, with reference to economics, Russia is in a fair way to accomplish an important transformation. She is passing from the purely agricultural stage into the industrial.
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   England is the country in which this phase has attained its highest development. Out of one hundred Englishmen seventy-one live in cities and twenty-nine in the country. In Russia the proportion is more than the reverse of this: fifteen persons live in cities and eighty-five in the country districts. But in consequence of the strides which manufacturing has made, the population of the cities continues to increase. A working class is beginning to be formed. The "bourgeoisie" is growing. These movements are already plainly visible, but they are being brought about slowly. In consequence of a thousand impediments produced by bureaucratic centralization, everything in Russia advances at a snail's pace. Things have been set going, however, and, as Russia possesses vast mineral wealth (still very largely unexplored), manufactures cannot fail, sooner or later, to rise to great importance.

                   Another important event in Russian history is the establishment of a network of railways,
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which from this time forward are destined to extend over the entire country. Doubtless the Russian network is still modest, indeed, compared to that of America,[13] but such as it is, it has already produced a fairly immeasurable revolution. Russia was formerly an amorphous country. Some of her regions were practically inaccessible, because of their immense distance from the sea. On the other hand, during a certain number of weeks in the Spring and Autumn, communication ceased almost entirely. All this is a thing of the past, thanks to the railroads. These transport men and goods at one and the same time. Through this means a constant and continually flowing current of ideas is established between the different parts of Russia, and has reunited them as with an organic bond.

                   In spite of the frightful obstacles which over-
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whelm them, the press and publishing trade are making great progress in Russia. Russian editions do not yield much in point of elegance to those of Western Europe. Here is another sign of the times; very expensive publications have begun to have a financial value in Russia. A Leipzig house, combined with another in St. Petersburg, is now publishing an immense encyclopaedia, after the model of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." More than a million dollars have been invested in this enterprise, which, however, is very profitable. Twenty or thirty years ago, no such thing as this would have been possible. I cannot enlarge upon these matters which are not exactly in line with my subject. I mention them only to show that economic'power (which is the foundation of the development of the mind) is increasing in Russia, even though slowly.

                   What is the present tendency of the Russian mind? In order to answer this question we must go back a few years.

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             The shameful defeats suffered in the Crimea, in 1854 and 1855, had shown, with the most absolute clearness, how fatal had been the ultra-conservative policy of the Emperor Nich-olas I. A powerful liberal reaction set in under Alexander II. A series of beneficent reforms was the result: the suppression of serfdom, in 1861; the reformation of the courts of justice and the introduction of the jury system, in 1864; provincial self-government for the provinces, in 1865, and the suppression of preliminary censure at St. Petersburg and Moscow in the same year.

                   These reforms created a new spirit. Toward 1872, the Russian youth were at the boiling point. They desired to enter upon a sort of crusade to free the peasants from their ignorance. Youthful apostles went abroad over the country, preaching among the workmen in the towns theories that were liberal and more or less subversive. If the Russian government had been endowed, at that time, with even a par-
[243]  
tially clear sense of justice, it would have understood that to preach what seems to him the truth is the primordial right of every human creature. On the other hand, if the Russian government had possessed the most elementary principles of sociology, it would have seen at once that the Nihilist apostleship had no sort of chance of amounting to anything serious. Indeed, to modify the political ideas of seventy millions of illiterate men would require an enormous amount of money and immense efforts, protracted for generations. What could be accomplished by some thousands, or rather by some hundreds, of young Nihilists, spread about through the country districts of Russia? Their propaganda would quickly disappear in the vast ocean of ignorance around them, with-out leaving further trace than would a small brook in the Atlantic. The government had only to shut its eyes. The youthful enthusiasts would have been freed from their social illusions; and in a very little while they would
[244]  
have abandoned their premature attempts. This is just what did happen in many cases. Many young preachers became very quickly disgusted, and gave up their apostleship among the peasants, seeing that it could lead to nothing.

                   Unhappily, the Russian government had no sufficient amount of liberalism, nor of foresight. The reactionists who surrounded the noble and generous Sovereign, the great-hearted Alex­ander II., began to frighten him, and advised measures of merciless severity against the Nihilists. The young persons who were preaching in the country districts were arrested, put in prison, subjected to the most rigorous treatment, and, in consequence of sentences rendered behind closed doors by special tribunals that offered no guarantee of impartiality and equity, were transported to Siberia. In the face of such persecutions as these the Nihilists resisted. They transformed themselves into a secret society and opposed to the severities of the government, assassinations and outrages even
[245]  
more daring. Holding the Emperor Alexander II. responsible for the policy urged upon him by his advisers, they became enraged against him personally, and made repeated attempts to kill him.

                   In the meanwhile, the Turkiah War broke out. The Russian army suffered great privations. Nevertheless, in time, they triumphed, and arrived under the walls of Constantinople. In February, 1878, Russia was breathlessly await­ing the accomplishment of her destiny and the crowning of her historical mission. For an immense majority of the Russians the war of 1877 had all the effect of a new crusade. A glorious hope had taken supreme possession of their hearts. Every moment the capture of Constantinople was looked for and the end of the Mussulman power on our continent. It would seem as if the inauspicious work, accomplished in 1453 by Mahomet the Conqueror, were about to be undone by the hand of Holy Russia. It seemed as if Europe were about to
[246]  
enter into possession of that eastern basin of the Mediterranean which had formerly been her most splendid domain.

         Alas, how cruelly deceived were the Russian people, in maintaining these glorious expectations! Constantinople was not occupied, the Mussulmans were not driven out of Europe, and even the independence of Bulgaria was effected in but a limited and narrow way.

                   Discontent followed these misconceptions. The plots of the Nihilists were renewed, and aroused further exasperation on every side. The more nervous and severe the government appeared, the more did the terrorist party redouble its audacity.

                   Alexander II. was a monarch who was too enlightened, whose heart was too tender, not to feel that the mere civil administration is not everything in the life of a great nation. Toward the beginning of the year 1881, Russia was living in a state of extraordinary tension. Each day a change in the regime was expected. A con-
[247]  
stitution was the universal theme; and it was even said that one had been already drawn up, and that it would be promulgated before long.

                   Unhappily the plots of the terrorists did not blow over. The narrow-minded and stupid fanatics who led the movement appeared to be utterly blinded. They neither saw nor heard anything of what was passing around them, and pursued their vengeance against such a Sovereign as Alexander II. As ill-fortune would have it, the odious crime of the 13th of March, 1881, was successful.

                   This great crime was naturally succeeded by a furious political reaction, which lasted without interruption throughout the reign of Alexander III., and bore the acknowledged seal of a narrow Muscovite nationalism and of an ortho­dox clericalism even more narrow still. The institutions of Alexander II. were nearly all revised in the direction of reaction. Self-government in the towns and provinces was limited, the independence of the jury percepti-
[248]  
bly restricted. The unfortunate Israelites were deprived of most of their privileges; they were excluded from the municipal councils of the cities; their admittance into the middle and primary schools, and to the committees, was restricted. They were driven out en masse from certain parts of the Empire, in which, thanks to the toleration which reigned under Alexander II., they had been able to establish themselves. The severities of the censorship were redoubled. Many of the most influential journals were suppressed. Military law was established in the large Russian towns which gave privileges to the provincial governors and the prefects of customs which were often abused.

                   While, about 1873, the apostle who went about the country carrying good news to the people was the most striking character in Russian life, under Alexander III., it was the "careerist" who became the characteristic type. This type, which, in France, Alphonse Daudet has named the "Struggle for Life," was repre-
[249]  
sented by the young official, with no kind of moral aspiration, with no sort of ideal, seeking to obtain, by every imaginable means, the greatest possible number of material advantages. Men of this type multiplied as rapidly as weeds. A leaden gloom fell upon Russian society. People lived, from day to day, in a sad, monotonous fashion, without having even a glimpse of anything better.

                   Revolutionary plots grew less frequent, little by little, and finally ceased entirely, at least as far as the public knowledge extended. In any case, there were no more astounding political assassinations. This was one of the singularly happy features of the reign of Alexander III. Let us hope that the progressive party in Russia has already perceived how odious and foolish and disadvantageous it is to resort to brute force.

                   Alexander III. being now dead, the hopes of the liberals strongly revived. They thought that the reactionary party would, on the acces-
[250]  
sion of Nicholas II., be broken up, as had happened after the death of Nicholas I. Nothing of the kind occurred. The men who had surrounded Alexander III. remained in power during the reign of his son, and the greater part of them are in power now. The course of political opinion did not change. Some reactionary measures were still taken. Nationalism in a narrow sense continued to flourish. None of the exceptional measures which had been enacted against the unhappy Israelites were repealed. Thus, apparently, everything is going on since the death of Alexander III., just as it did during his life. But, however, it is not quite that! We are conscious, in spite of everything, that the force of the reaction is blunted. It is not as yet receding; but it is, however, no longer advancing.

                   Russia is at the turning-point. Russian thought has become a stagnant pool. The liberals have not to a marked degree the courage of their convictions, nor do the reactionaries
[251]  
dare engage in any too great violence. We live from day to day,;and no one knows whither one is tending. It seems even as if people were delighted not to go anywhere. Some legislative measures of very slight importance have been enacted. But no one seems to have the courage to attack the great political problems, ripe for so many years. Life formulates its imperious demands, but the government, in its inability to act, seems to wish to stop up its ears and close its eyes. Russia continues to linger along in superannuated and nearly vanished institutions, hardly worthy of the eighteenth century, and continues to be an archaic state. The breath of no powerful and generous idea seems to animate this country. Not a single man, no great character, no conspicuous personality, appears to captivate the crowd and to vibrato in the hearts. The novel is reduced to a superficial impressionism, which paints daily life exactly as it is, without in the least attempting to interpret it. It would seem as if the novel-
[252]  
ists are chiefly ambitious to reduce themselves to the level of photographic machines, and to carefully avoid all traces of an independent thought.

                   At this present moment, Russian society seems to be without aspiration, and with no ideal of any kind. There is not a single great question about which intellectual war is waged. The most sacred principles count but sceptics and unbelievers. It would seem as if the chosen few of Russian society (among whom, in other times, such powerful currents of thought have been produced) had lost the faculty of feeling the beating of their own heart. An atmosphere, dull and gray, pervades the whole. There is absolute stagnation.

                   For how long will this state of things last? Ten, twenty, thirty years? Who will be the deliverer? Who will come to drag Russian society from its dull and lifeless state? Alas, no one can answer this question.

                   One event alone has been as a ray of light on
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this dark and gloomy sky, — the circular of the 24th of August, 1898, and the conference at The Hague, which was the result of it. Unhappily, neither has this event succeeded in rousing Russian society from its torpor. Many people in Russia expressed themselves on the subject of The Hague conference with a pessimism both scornful and ironical. Furthermore, the noble attempt of the Emperor Nicholas II. has hardly passed out of the domain of theory. Russia has not disarmed a single regiment; quite the contrary. This year the number of recruits called to active service is greater than last. And Russia has also experienced a recrudescence in naval affairs, a more foolish madness even than militarism. The construction of ironclads has been resumed with great ardor.

                   Russia is at present going through one of the dullest and most spiritless periods of her history. The Russian people have, I am sure, too much exuberance of vital power not to react eventually. Some day the nation will resume
[254]  
its forward march. Of that there can be no shadow of doubt. But just now, Russia seems as if motionless, hesitating and irresolute between progress and reaction.

(Written in 1901.)