In Moscow the conservative element, represented by the Party of Commerce and Industry, is said to be strong; there are strong conservative elements in the town; on the other hand the Cadets are exceedingly hopeful. The result of the elections will be known to-morrow night. When the results of the elections were made public in St. Petersburg the attitude of the Right and of the October Party was curious. They said with one voice that it was not fair, that many of the electors had not received their voting cards, and that the elections should be cancelled. It was pointed out that possibly many of the Cadets had not received their voting cards either, but that they had taken the trouble to go and fetch them. Every possible explanation was given for the victory of the Cadets save the one that the majority of voters were in sympathy with their programme, and had therefore elected them. The situation recalled the state of feeling after the last General Election in England. During the weeks that preceded the elections the Cadets complained, and in many cases with good grounds, that their efforts in canvassing and electoral agitation generally were being seriously impeded by the police. Their one cry has been all along: “We are not revolutionaries. We are a political party. And we are being treated as revolutionaries.” (The Social Revolutionaries are not taking part in the elections at all.) Somebody lately pointed out to me that if, in spite of all the measures taken against the Cadets, they still succeed in obtaining a majority, the result of the repressive measures will have been to secure a representative Duma. He meant that whether the Cadets are right or wrong, it is evident that they are infinitely more energetic and more capable of action than their adversaries, so that if they obtain a moderate success we shall be justified in concluding that, had they been in no way impeded, they would have obtained an overwhelming success; in which case the Duma would have been representative exclusively of the more energetic opinion in Russia, and not, therefore, fairly representative of the whole opinion.

To understand their success one has only to read their programme. It is a little book which costs three kopecks, i.e., two-thirds of a halfpenny. It lays down shortly, precisely, and in perspicuous language everything which those people desire who wish for a radical change of régime in Russia: (1) The equality of citizens before the law. (2) Freedom of religion. (3) Freedom of speech and of the Press. (4) The right to hold public meetings. (5) The right to form clubs and unions. (6) The right of petition. (7) The inviolability of the individual and his domicile (habeas corpus). (8) Abolition of illegal punishments and extraordinary Courts. (9) Freedom of the citizen to leave his country and abolition of the passport system. (10) The incorporation of the above-mentioned rights in the fundamental laws of the country. These ten clauses, which could be written on less than half a sheet of notepaper (I have just copied them from the official programme), form the basis of their creed. Besides these there are further and more detailed articles concerning the political organisation of the State; among which there is one which lays down that the representatives of the people should be elected by universal, equal, direct suffrage carried out by ballot, without distinction of religion, nationality, or sex. (There is a qualifying clause as to whether the introduction of woman’s suffrage shall be immediate or not, which is not very clear.) The Cadets themselves say that their future behaviour depends entirely on the Government, and that they have no wish to go further to the Left unless the Government push them thither.

I went to look at the voting in one of the districts this morning. It took place on the third floor of a minor place of entertainment. A small crowd was collected outside, getting thick around the door; at the door and on the staircase were canvassers of the two camps, those of the Cadets being mostly students. Upstairs a long string of people were waiting to vote in alphabetical order, and in a further room, of which I could get but a glimpse, I saw a green baize table and some respectable people sitting at it. The whole proceeding was orderly in the extreme. There has been nothing in the town to-day to tell the casual tourist that elections are going on, although the interest in them is keen.

It is Palm Sunday, and therefore the customary fair is being held on the Red Place in front of the Kremlin, and as it has been a lovely day the crowd of strollers was immense. This fair is one of the most amusing sights to be seen in Russia. Two lines of booths occupy the space which stretches opposite the walls of the Kremlin. At the booths you can buy almost anything: birds, tortoises, goldfish, grass snakes, linoleum, carpets, toys, knives, musical instruments, books, music, cakes, lace, ikons, Easter eggs, carved woodwork, &c. There are besides these a number of semi-official stalls where kwass is sold to drink, and a great quantity of itinerant vendors sell balloons, things that squeak, penny whistles, trumpets, and chenille monkeys. The trade in goldfish was brisk (people often buying one goldfish in a small tumbler), but that in a special kind of whetstone which cut glass and sharpened knives and cost twenty kopecks was briskest of all. The crowd round this stall, at which the vendor gave a continual exhibition of the practical excellence of his wares by cutting up bits of glass, was dense, and he sold any quantity of them. At the bookstall the selection was varied in the extreme; I bought two cheap copies of “Paradise Lost” in Russian with wonderful illustrations, but there were also back numbers of Punch to be got, some fragments of the Cornhill Magazine, and the Irish State Papers from 1584 to 1588. One man was selling silvered Caucasian whips which, he said, had just missed being silver. One man sold little sailors made of chenille, which, he said, represented the crew of the Potemkin without the captain. There was one fascinating booth called an American bazaar where everything cost five kopecks, and where you could buy almost anything.

I did not, to my regret, find at the bookstall a magazine which, I am told, has recently been published for children—children in the nursery, not schoolboys. It forms part of a series of publications resembling the “Bibliothèque Rose” in France. This magazine, I am told, leads off with an article on Herzen (the famous writer on Socialistic questions), and then continues with a cartoon of a man in chains in a dungeon, having dreamt of freedom, and waking to find he is bound; another cartoon follows representing a gallows, or some other such cheerful symbol, and it ends with an article on America, in which it is explained that the children in the United States have initiated and are carrying on a movement and agitation in favour of the extension of suffrage to the nursery. This is what I think is called a sign of the times.

Certainly Russia is quite different from all other countries, and by saying it is the most Western of Oriental nations you get no nearer an explanation of its characteristics than by saying it is the most Oriental of Western nations. You live here, walk about, talk, and forget that you are in a place which is quite unique, until some small sight or episode or phrase brings home the fact to you, and you say “This is Russia,” as Vernon Lee in her exquisite book on “The Spirit of Rome” exclaims, “This is Rome,” when driving towards Monte Maggiore she hears the sound of the harmonium, and the school-children’s hymn issuing out of a piece of broken ruin covered with fennel. Such a moment has just occurred to me to-night, when driving home through the empty streets at 11 p.m. I passed a church as the clock struck, and I heard a voice speaking loud quite close to me; I turned round and saw a policeman standing on the pavement, having faced about towards the church. He was saying his prayers in a loud singsong; his whole body was swaying as he repeatedly crossed himself; in his arms he carried a twig of budding willow, which is the symbol of the palm-branches of to-day’s festival; these branches yesterday and to-day have been sold and carried about all over Russia. Palm Sunday here is called the Feast of the Willow-branches. When I saw this policeman saying his prayers I experienced that peculiar twinge of recognition which made me think: “This is Russia.”

CHAPTER XV
EASTER AT MOSCOW—THE FOREIGN LOAN

Moscow, April 15th.

I have spent Easter in various cities—in Rome, Florence, Athens, and Hildesheim—and, although in each of these places the feast has its own peculiar aspect, yet by far the most impressive and the most interesting celebration of the Easter festival I have ever witnessed is that of Moscow. This is not to be wondered at, for Easter, as is well known, is the most important feast of the year in Russia, the season of festivity and holiday-making in a greater degree than Christmas or New Year’s Day. Secondly, Easter, which is kept with equal solemnity all over Russia, is especially interesting in Moscow, because Moscow is the stronghold of old traditions, and the city of churches. Even more than Cologne, it is

“Die Stadt die viele hundert