"Political murders (says he) produced a certain commotion in the Russian Government so long as it believed that it had to deal with a strong threatening power. The moment it was realised how wretchedly small was that handful of men who resorted to murder merely because of their weakness and inability to undertake something on a larger scale—since that moment the Russian Government shows no signs of any kind of anxiety. It determined upon a strong system, which it unflinchingly carries out. Of course the life of the Emperor and of his different officials is spoilt by the perpetual expectation of danger, but in spite of this the Government will certainly never make any concessions to the Terrorist. A legal Government recognised by the whole country naturally objects to subordinate itself to whims....
"The Russian Emperor has not usurped his power. That power was solemnly conferred upon his ancestors by an overwhelming majority of the Russian people, who have never since shown the remotest desire to withdraw that power from the Romanoff dynasty. The law of the country recognises her Emperor as one above any kind of responsibility, and the Church of the country invests him with the title of her temporal head.
"Ten years of hard struggle have proved beyond possible doubt that all the revolutionists may well perish, one after the other; but Russia was dead against supporting them. The life of a Terrorist is a terrible one; it is that of a hunted wolf in momentary expectation of death. He suffers perpetual alarm from detectives, has to use false passports, to live in hiding, to resort to dynamite, to meditate murder.... Such a life necessitates the abandonment of all matters of most vital interest. All ties of affection under such circumstances are torture. Study is out of the question. Everybody, except the few ringleaders, has to be deceived. An enemy is suspected on all sides. No, the best among us, had they lived long enough to see the results obtained, would not have failed to give up such a struggle. We committed a terrible crime in demoralising Russian youth. One of our revolutionary chiefs—himself already doomed—to whom I expressed my present views as frankly as I am now doing, urged me to save our younger generation, and to exhort them to give up premature meddling with politics, and instead to prepare themselves for a useful life by hard study."
What good advice! "Think, observe, learn; do not trust words and shallow theories. That is what I now say to the inexperienced youth," says Mr. Tikhomirov. "I am utterly indignant," he continues, "when I hear remarks of the following kind: 'Let them make riots. Of course it is foolish, but what does it matter? There is not much weight in all these fellows, and a riot is still a protest.' For my part, I now look upon these things quite differently."
After explaining at some length the stern duties of the rising generation, after earnestly entreating them to form their character and their principles, to study hard, to avoid the influence of political charlatans who simply exploit their ignorance, Mr. Tikhomirov goes on to say that "Russia has a great past, but a still greater future." He is, however, not blind to our shortcomings, of which a very serious one among our youths is their want of prudent resistance to mischievous influences. Their want of thought makes them accept every new political aphorism, however absurd.
"As soon as the universities are quiet for eight or nine months," he continues, "pressure is put upon the young students to make some absurd demonstration, some riots, something, and they listen to such instigations. Our censors are not infallible; but censorship is an institution whose importance is exaggerated. The principal mistake lies in ourselves. We Russians have an unlimited confidence in every new theory, in every hypothesis, no matter how superficial, how foolish. The so-called 'Intelligenzia' are far inferior in common sense and practical questions to the simple Russian peasant, who possesses few notions, few facts, but whose mental faculties and sound judgment have not been spoilt. The fantastic element, deplorably developed in our middle classes, reaches its zenith amongst our revolutionists. What young revolutionists repeat now I, alas! used to think several years ago. Russia would immensely gain if her young people, instead of meddling with politics, resolved to spend some five or six years on a regular course of lectures and in studying their own country, her present position, and her history. Hundreds of Russian undergraduates perish merely thanks to evil influences from without."
This, unfortunately, is only too true. Such instigators have neither pity nor judgment. Any kind of riot equally serves their purpose, provided it makes mischief and commits foolish reckless boys. Mr. Tikhomirov, describing the difference between the students of 1840 and 1860, shows how superior were those of the former year. Their aspirations were much higher. He relates an anecdote which is charmingly characteristic: "Some undergraduates of the old school were engaged in an animated discussion one day when dinner was announced. 'How can you disturb us?' reproachfully exclaimed one of the orators, who afterwards became a celebrated Russian writer. 'We are just settling the existence (das Sein) of God, and you summon us to ... dinner.'"
What Mr. Tikhomirov says about the duties of a citizen may be endorsed by every wise patriot. "From the question of culture I now pass to that of autocracy. Whatever constitutes a man's general views, the moment he proclaims himself as opposed to the Tsar he belongs to the welcome set, he is 'one of ours.'"
This reminds one of the Irishman who, on landing in America, declared: "I do not know what is the form of government here, but I am against it."