Ever since the first revolutionary outbreak in 1825, the so-called Insurrection of the Decembrists, the Russian populace has had one great ideal, one ardent all-embracing aim—the overthrow of the autocracy, the impersonification of evil, injustice, and tyranny. This goal has been the sense of life, the justification of man’s existence, the holy spirit elevating and purifying the miserable subjects of the Czar, the solace for the eternal humiliation, the compensation for the unique martyrdom of that unfortunate nation.
A great, an inestimable rôle has been played by Russian literature in the education of the public. Though restricted by draconic rules of the bigoted state censorship, it succeeded in speaking to the public in an Aesopic tongue, training the readers in the gentle art of understanding between the lines. It preached idealism, self-sacrifice, unbounded devotion and love to their suffering compatriots, and unlimited deadly hatred for the common foe—the Tyrant.
The elevating influence of that idealistic literature has been displayed most manifestly upon Russian youth, particularly upon university students. The susceptible young souls followed the call of their great teachers and guides, and plunged with zeal and ardor into the battle. Selfishness, life’s diversions and conventionalities had no place in their puritanic minds. To fight for freedom was their only “sport”; to enlighten the masses, their sole “amusement”; to die on the scaffold for the Ideal, the climax of happiness.
In that enduring bitter struggle there have been but two sides, two antagonistic camps—the government and the people. On one side rude force, violence, and outspoken retrogression; on the other—notwithstanding minute differences in party platforms and theoretical principles—an all-uniting ocean of lofty ideals, spiritual forces, great hopes, boundless altruism.
Noblesse oblige. The great common cravings and aims must needs have cultivated a high standard of morals and intercourse among the people. The able correspondent of The London Daily Chronicle, Henry W. Nevinson, who had had the opportunity of closely observing Russian life during the unforgettable red years of 1905-1906, justly remarked:
To have a cause like that (the Revolution), to dwell with danger for the sake of it every day and night, to confront an enemy, vital, pitiless, almost omnipotent, and execrable beyond words—what other cause can compare to that, not only in grandeur, but in the satisfaction of intellect and courage and love and every human faculty? So tyranny brings its compensations.
IV
The general strike and uprising of October, 1905, compelled the obstinate Czar to “grant” a tolerable constitution. It seemed that the long struggle had come to an end, that the desired goal having been reached, the bitterly fought-for concession having been attained, there was no reason for continuing the bloody war between the government and the people. The Manifesto of 30 (17) October, 1905, pledged liberty of speech, press, and public meetings, equal rights for all, and a representative government with a comparatively liberal election-system.
Only those who happened to abide in Russia during the autumn months of 1905 are able to comprehend the indescribable joy of the population at the announcement of the Manifesto. An intoxication of happiness reigned all over the country, strangers embraced and kissed each other, everyone was addressed with the hearty “comrade,” a sincere feeling of brotherhood and mutual love overfilled all hearts, and from Finland to farthest Siberia, from the polar regions to the Black Sea, over the entire vast empire thundered the exalted cry: “Long live liberty!”
The enchantment, however, was of a short duration. The people soon found out that they had put too much confidence in the paper pledge of the Czar, and that they should not have laid their weapons aside. The solemn promise declared from the heights of the throne was broken. One after one the pledged liberties were taken away, and a wave of brutal repression and massacre swept over the tormented land. Only too late one could recollect with the American Russologue Joubert, the ever-new aphorism of Bertrand: “The tree of liberty can grow only when it is watered with the blood of the tyrants.”