Russian Dreamers—Fighting a Curse—First Steps—An Interesting Encounter—A Great Reform—Its Acceptance by the Peasants—The Cabman's interrogative—He Begs me to Intercede with the Tsar—The Temptation of Drink—My Peasant Teas—The Drink Habit—Our Courageous Emperor
There are some people who accuse me of being a dreamer, and I confess they are not altogether wrong. For many years I "dreamed" of an Anglo-Russian understanding; it was the great dream of my life. I could have wished that it had been realised without the shedding of rivers of blood and the wasting of tens of thousands of lives; still, I have been spared to see my dream come true, and I can only hope that out of this terrible sacrifice good may come.
Some of my friends were as inveterate dreamers as I, notably Mr. M. Gringmuth, the editor of The Moscow Gazette, who, in 1908, announced his determination of struggling energetically against drunkenness in our beloved Russia. "We must convince our Government," he said, "of the absolute necessity of stopping this evil and of finding better sources of revenue—sources more worthy of a great country."
I remember with what thankfulness I read these patriotic words. In alcohol I saw a greater enemy to Russia than Nihilism and all its kindred influences. It was the secret enemy eating into our country's very vitals. Then came the day when, with a stroke of the pen, our Tsar did the greatest thing that any monarch has ever done for his subjects—he killed the foe that had been for generations menacing millions of homes.
There have been many dreamers in Russia who, like Mr. Gringmuth, have fought the common enemy. I remember in the year 1899 I was travelling in Finland. It was a bitterly cold September day, and I was glad when we reached Terioki (a station an hour's distance from Petrograd) to get some refreshment. Sitting in a corner of the room I was enjoying my cup of tea, when suddenly I heard a rough and imperious voice.
"A glass of gin (vodka). Be quick!"
"But we have no gin," replied the waiter. "We sell no alcohol here."
"What is the meaning of this? Well, then, give me some wine."
Again the waiter answered quietly, "We sell no wine at this station."
"Dear me! How absurd!" exclaimed the rough voice. "Well, then, give me some beer at once."