Mr. Tchelisheff having been aroused to interest, theoretically, by America, via Dr. Alexyeeff, as is fairly proven, it was only natural that he should proceed to make the personal observations on the practical, social side of drunkenness which he mentions in his Times interview. He noticed, during the great famine of 1891, that it was the drunkards who had squandered their grain and pawned their possessions to the keepers of the dramshops who robbed other men's granaries and houses, burned, rioted, and murdered; while the men who did not drink had plenty of food and grain to hold out. We are informed from Russia that even during its still brief reign prohibition has resulted in remarkable improvement in health, living conditions, and bank accounts.
Mr. Tchelisheff is, as I have said, a noteworthy figure in history. He would be a remarkable figure in any land; but for those who are not acquainted with Russia, the rise of a man born a peasant, educated solely by his own efforts on stray newspapers and books which fell in his way in his schoolless village, and absolutely lacking in money or influence, ("svyazi"—connections, is the Russian version of "pull,") to the position of multi-millionaire and co-worker with the Emperor, is amazing almost beyond belief. In reality, it is as simple as the rise of an American newsboy, of an Edison or a Carnegie to a position of power in the United States. Fate, circumstances, as well as their own personality are the factors in all these cases; and in every similar case.
Moreover, there is in Russia no eternally impassable barrier of caste, but there is a genuine democracy which is not easy to define, but is very easily felt. For instance, the title of "Prince," (to which, unlike that of "Count" or "Baron"—conferrable—one must be born, runs the rule, with exceptions for such national heroes as Suvaroff,) counts for nothing or approximately that, unless its owner possesses, in addition, the wealth, character, learning or other characteristics which would render him a man of mark without it.
There are other interesting instances of peasants who have risen high in Russia, and Mr. Tchelisheff is their worthy successor. The founder of the great silversmiths' firm of Ovtchinnikoff was a serf. His successors have made it their rule, "out of gratitude to God," to maintain and educate a certain number of poor boys, who, when their intellectual and technical training is completed, are free to remain with the firm as valued artists or to go forth independently. When the Emperor Alexander II. celebrated the twenty-fifth anniversary of his accession to the throne, all the Sovereigns of Europe sent him magnificent presents. These are assembled in his library, at the Winter Palace, Petrograd; and in the centre—accorded that place by the Russians with equal good feeling, good taste, and justice—is a large group in solid silver, representing a huge mass of rock upon whose pinnacles stand figures representing the different parts of the empire—Little Russia, Siberia, and so forth. The inscription reads: "To the Tzar-Liberator from the Liberated Serf." It was made by the Ovtchinnikoffs and presented by another ex-serf, who had become a millionaire railway magnate.
Mustard Seed No. 2 from America to Russia falls into a somewhat different category. It more nearly resembles one of those grains of antique wheat found in a tomb and sprouting vigorously when finally planted in congenial, helpful soil. I trust that my comparison may not be regarded as disrespectful. One could not, willingly, be disrespectful to the calendar, any more than to the thermometer!
Russia, by adhering to the Julian Calendar and refusing to adopt the Gregorian, has now fallen thirteen days behind the rest of the world. It falls behind about a day for every century. There are several reasons why Russia has not, up to now, remedied the serious inconvenience caused by this conflict of dates. One is—the Gregorian Calendar is Roman Catholic, and named after a Pope. It is, also, inaccurate. Worst of all, the rectification might—almost infallibly would, under ordinary circumstances—cause trouble at the outset, especially in one incalculably important direction.
Russian scientists long ago worked out a new calendar far more accurate than the Gregorian for thousands of years, and when the change is made that calendar will be adopted. The fundamental difficulty lies in the fact that all the people whose saints' days must inevitably be skipped for the first year in the process of rectification will inevitably feel that they are being robbed of their guardian angels, that they are "orphans"—a mournful word greatly beloved of the Russian masses under multiform circumstances, both material and spiritual—and orphaned in a peculiarly distressing and irrevocable way. They might even feel when their saints' days came around quite correctly the next year that some spurious adventurer—Angel of Darkness—was being foisted upon them.
Fanatics and professional mischief-makers would certainly seize with avidity upon such a godsend of a chance, unparalleled since the days of Peter the Great's father, when the Patriarch Nikon had the errors of the copyists in the Scriptures and church service books corrected. But the present war has fused all parties, united all hearts in patriotism, loyalty to, and confidence in their Emperor and created a fervid inclination amounting to enthusiasm to accept even the most drastic reforms he may make cheerfully, unquestionably, as for the good of the fatherland.
On the matter of the calendar reform America has for many years past been exerting a steadily increasing influence. During the past twenty years the steady flow of immigrants from Russia and other countries belonging to the Orthodox Catholic Church of the East, (Greco-Russian,) has increased to a great volume, and it seems destined to attain still greater proportions when the war is over. These people are obliged to work and keep holiday by the Gregorian calendar and to worship by the Julian. This entails hardships.
For example, a devout Russian who has been forced to remain idle on our Christmas and New Year's Days must sacrifice his pay—sometimes risk or lose his job—if he wishes to observe the feasts of his own church. A reform of the calendar would be hailed with joy by innumerable such immigrants, who have been over here long enough to consider calmly the practical aspects of a temporary dislocation of saints' days. The ecclesiastical authorities in this country have frequently protested, in print, both here and in Russia, and I have been informed that the Holy Synod has been appealed to, more than once, to induce it to cast its influence into the balance with that of the scientists and the governmental authorities, who have been discussing the matter for years past, and hesitating over the probable consequences of action—a case of peasant joining hands with the rulers of Russia, once more like Mr. Tchelisheff and the Emperor Nicholas—or the people of the United States and the President—to secure a needed reform!