A year in Russia

by Maurice Baring

“No,” answered the peasant; “I think they are sent by the devil.” The priest said that the universal dominion of the Jews was at hand. The tradesman contested this, and said that in Russia the Jews assimilated themselves to the people more than in other countries. “The Jews are cunning,” said the priest; “the Russians are in a ditch, and they go to the Jews and say: ‘Pull us out.’” “If that is true,” said the tradesman, “we ought to put up a gold statue to the Jews for pulling us out of the ditch. Look at the time of the pogroms, the rich Russians ran away, but the richest Jews stayed behind.” “They are clever; they knew their business. If they stayed you may be sure they gained something by it,” said the merchant from Kursk. “But we ought to be clever, too,” said the tradesman, “and try and imitate their self-sacrifice. Look at the Duma. There were twenty Jews in the Duma, but they did not bring forward the question of equal rights for the Jews before anything else as they might have done. It is criminal for the priests to attack the Jews, and if they go on like this the people will leave them.”

“Whereas,” said the merchant from Kursk thoughtfully, “if they supported the people the people would never desert them.” “The priests,” said one of the other nondescript people, “say that Catherine the Second is a goddess; and for that reason her descendants have a hundred thousand acres. General Trepoff will be canonised when he dies, and his bones will work miracles.”

The guard joined in here, and told his grievances at great length. They discussed the assassinations of Hertzenstein and Admiral Chouchnin. “Hertzenstein never did any one any harm,” some one said; “Chouchnin condemned hundreds and hundreds of people to death.”

At one of the stations a fresh influx of people came, among others an old peasant and a young man in a blouse. The old peasant complained of the times. “Formerly we all had enough to eat; now there is not enough,” he said. “People are clever now. When I was a lad, if I did not obey my grandfather immediately he used to box my ears; now my son is surprised because I don’t obey him. People have all become clever, and the result is we have got nothing to eat.” The young man said the Government was to blame for most things. “That’s a difficult question to be clear about. How can we be clear about it? We know nothing,” said the old peasant. “You ought to try and know, or else things will never get better,” said the young man. “I don’t want to listen to a Barine like you,” said the old peasant. “I’m not a Barine, I am a peasant, even as thou art,” said the young man. “Nonsense,” said the old peasant.

The discussion was then cut short by our arrival at St. Petersburg.

CONCLUSION

This book admits of no real conclusion, since its sole object is to throw a few sidelights on a struggle which is still going on, and which is possibly still in its infancy. My experience of it so far leads me to believe that there are only two sides in this struggle (although at first sight it appears to be infinitely more complicated), and that these two sides are the same which have split up all countries in all times under various names such as Roundheads and Cavaliers, or Reds and Whites.

In Russia the two classes are the defenders and the opponents of the Government, or rather of the autocracy. The former base their contentions on the affirmation that Russia is an Oriental country and that Western institutions are unsuited to the Russian people. Parenthetically, I must mention that I am not alluding to the extreme reactionaries—to those people who wish to go back to institutions which existed before the time of Peter the Great. I am referring to intelligent people who, while belonging to no political parties, simply disbelieve in the Liberal movement in Russia, consider it to be the hysterical cackling of an unimportant minority, and think that the whole matter is mere stuff and nonsense. The opinion of these people is certainly worth considering, not because they are more impartial than others who belong to parties, since their ideas are equally based upon prejudice, but because they may be right. These people say that all talk of a Constitution is beside the mark. They argue thus:

“We must have a Constitution, just as we have an Army and a Navy, because the idea soothes the revolution-haunted breasts of foreign financiers, but we shall never have a real Constitution because we don’t want one. Reforms? Oh, yes, as many as you please, on paper, signed and countersigned, but they will remain a dead letter, because they are not adapted to the character and the spirit of the nation. You cannot force Russian peasants to own land in the way Western peasants do. You can make laws telling them to do so, but if you force them you will only drive them to rebellion. Russia is like China; you can draw up a Constitution for Russia, but when it is carried out you will find that the only practical difference between the old state of affairs and the new is that the writing-table of the Minister of Foreign Affairs is to be oblong instead of round. People say that the Russian people is good and that its Government is bad, but the faults of the people are not the result of the inherent vices of the Government; the vices of the Government are the logical result of the faults, which in their turn are the inevitable complement of the good qualities, of the people. The desire for Liberal reforms based on Western examples is merely a fictitious agitation of a minority, namely, the ‘Intelligenzia’ or middle class, who have forgotten and lost their native traditions and instincts and have adopted and not properly assimilated the traditions and instincts of Western Europe. They have ceased to be Russian, and they have not become European. They have taken the European banner of ideals, but they do not know what to do with it; they cannot hold it up in their weak Slav hands. The result is words, words, words. This chatter will continue for a time, and when people get tired of listening, it will cease. As for the people, the real people, they will settle their affairs with those immediately connected with them, with their landlords, &c. The Government will make plenty of reforms on paper and have a Duma; but everything will go on exactly as it was before. Because you cannot change the character of a people, and the form of government they enjoy is the result and the expression of their qualities and of their defects.”

Such are the arguments I have often heard advanced by these people, and I say once more that they may be right. Three years ago I was firmly convinced that they were right, and even now I have an open mind on the subject, although two years of close contact with Russians of all classes have led me to change my own opinion, and to agree with the other equally impartial people, who are just as Russian and have just as much knowledge of the country and experience of their fellow countrymen, and who flatly deny the whole thing. According to this school, the comparison with China is wrong because the Chinese are intellectually a highly civilised nation, and the proportion of them who can read and write is large. The present régime in Russia is not the natural expression of national characteristics, but a fortuitous disease which has been allowed to spread without ever having been radically treated. Neither Autocracy nor Bureaucracy is a thing which has grown out of the immemorial traditions and habits of the Russian people; Autocracy was the product of a comparatively recent change in Russian history, and Bureaucracy the accidental result of the further changes introduced by a man of genius. The Government made certain things impossible: such as education for the peasants, laws for the peasants, justice, &c.; then, when the results of these prohibitions began to make themselves felt, turned round and said: “You see what these men are like; it is no use giving them anything because they are hopeless; they are like niggers and must be treated as such.” This has been the proceeding of the Government: to prevent, prevent, and prevent again; and then, when the explosion resulting from the prevention occurred, to observe how right they had been in preventing, and how necessary it was to prevent more and more, because it was the only thing the people understood. In this blindness and obstinacy, year after year deferring the payment of their debt, they have let the interest accumulate; and when they eventually have to pay, far more will be required of them than they need originally have surrendered.