LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. tAccassiou mApm «"" IN THE LAND OF TOLSTOI. J 11 l':\ COUNT TOLSTOi. . IN THE LAXD or TOLSTOI EXPERIENCES OF FAMINE AND MISRULE IN RUSSIA. KY cIONAS STADLmCI AND WILL REASON. Eonlicin : JAMES CLAEKE .^ CO., 18 & 14, FLEET STEEET, E.C. 1807. ;!]t^'^. PREFACE. Amid the broken recollections of classic lore that begin to fade into the limbo of " the subliminal consciousness," as soon as we leave the discipline of our Alma Mater, is a Roman saying that it is better to do doughty deeds than to write about them. The bearing of this observation lies in the fact that it is my friend, Herr Stadling, whose experiences and gleanings in the land of Tolstoi are here set forth. He has borne the fatigues of travel, gone in and out of plague and famine-stricken huts, and gathered from eyewitnesses and authorities the facts that did not come under his own observation. These he recorded in a Swedish work, " Fran det Hungrande Ryssland." It has been my pleasant share, dui'ing a summer holiday on a pine-clad granite island between Stockholm and the Baltic, to co-operate with him in the rearrangement of the matter, to offer sugges- tions, and provide the whole with an English dress. While most of the matter is contained in the Swedish book just mentioned, it has been entirely rewritten, with complete change of form and many omissions and additions, for the English public. Some of the experiences in the relief work proper have been narrated in different language in The Century Magazine (June and August, 1894), and the story of Prince Kliilkov has appeared, in other words and shorter form, in The Sunday Magazine. The illustrations are reproduced from the originals used in the Swedish book. They are for the most part from photographs taken by Herr Stadling, and afterwards drawn by Herr J. Tiren, one of Sweden's foremost living artists. WILL REASON. Canning Town. -84738 CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH COUNT TOLSTOI. page Arrival at Bjasan — Tolstoi's Early Life — Education— His Opinion of the Universities — Unsiicccsful Efforts to Help the Peasants — Years of Dissipation — Establishes Schools on his Estate — Tolstoi as "Peace- maker" — Educational Work and Opinions — Influence in Russia, &c. — Tolstoi and his Critics ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 1 CHAPTER II. CAUSES OP THE FAMINE Contrast of Famines in Russia and Western Europe — Condition at the Emancipation — Broken Promises — InsufBciency of Allotments — Action of Landlords — Prince Vasiltchikov's Opinion — Proportion of Agriculturists in Russia and other Countries— Nomadism — Capitalism and the Peasants — Kulaclcs and their Usury — A'wJacfcs and Officials — Oppressive Taxation 12 CHAPTER III. TOLSTOI ON THE FAMINE. Tolstoi's Warnings to the Government — Their Reception — Government Measures and Tolstoi's Criticisms — The True Cause of the Distress — Russian Society— The True Remedy 29 CHAPTER IV. RELIEF WORK IN RJASAN. Countess Tolstoi's Letter— General Organifation — An Illustration of the Position — Defects of Government Relief— Tolstoi's Methods — Visit to a Famine-Stricken Village — Countess Maria Tolstoi and her Father's Work — "Traits of Civilisation "^Destitution, Disease, and Death — Miss Kuzminsky and the Mir — More Starving Villages — Tolstoi's Difficulties — S( me of his Helpers ... ... ... ... ... ... 41 CHAPTER V. TOLSTOI'S TABLE TALK. War — An Expensive Conscience — Modern Religious Sects — Religion and Invention — The Russian Sectarians—" The Cafe of Surat" — Attitude to Political Governments — Western Literature and Mammon — Forth- coming Books — Is Tolstoi a Christian ? — The Nature of his Christianity ... 61 X Contents. CHAPTER VI. SPEING SCENES IN SAMAEA. page On the Cars — Conditions of Eussian Travel — A Prison Car — Eelief Work in the City of Samara — Eailroad Punctuality — Mushik Hospitality — AMolokhan Meeting — My Lodgings with Count Lyeff Tolstoi — Famine Scenes— A Wakeful Night—" Vot Klop ! "—Visit to Petrovka— In a Snowdrift — Von Birukov — Feeding on Clay — " He must be the Devil ! " — Orphaned Children — Upper-class Opinion and Government Opposition — -An Address of Thanks — Birukov and the Priest — A Lenten Service — The Popes and the Villagers — A Cheap Marriage — The Pope and the Bell — A Peasant's Burial— The Burnt Sheepskin — Fine Feathers — The Eouble Note — Eastertide — Visit to a Horse-Farm —A Stormy Night — Black Thoughts — A Peasant Superstition — "Christos Voskresje ! " — Lack of Seed — A Farewell Visit— Count Lyeff Tolstoi — Th^ Honest Physician ! 75 CHAPTER VII. A POLICY OF DEATH. Ignorance and Superstition Due to the Government — Eepression of Schools — Schools under the Priests — An Extensive Curriculum — Attitude to Private Schools — An Educated Mushik — The Story of Semjanov — Educational Statistics — A Battle of Circulars — Ignorance and Disease — Superstition — Official Folly — Practical Consequences — A Sister of the People — The Hospital — Eavages of Disease — Eesponsibilities of the Church and Government 115 CHAPTER VIII. A DAY IN A FAMINE-STEICKEN VILLAGE. , (Specially contributed hy P. von Biruhoff.) Early Dawn — Starved Horses — Applicants for Eelief — A Terrible Story — In the Eating Eoom — Simplicity of Human Wants — A Hidden Izba — A Scorbutic Family — More Applicants — Weariness and its Effects — A Tangle of Thoughts 127 CHAPTER IX. ON THE VOLGA. The Steamer Pwsc/ifcm— Soldiers' Songs —Peasants "Hunting" — A Col- porteur — British and Foreign Bible Society — Influence of the Bible — A Peasant's Story of his Conversion — A " Cross Procession " — The Water Eoad to Exile — The City of Kasan — Tatars — Nishni Novgorod — A Sapient Governor — A Liberal Professor of Theology — The Advan- tages of OrlJiodoxy —Feast Days in Eussia— An Intelligent Official ... 140 Contents. xi CHAPTER X. AMONG GERMAN COLONISTS. page Skilful Boatmen — Adventures in a Eow-^oat — The German Colonies — Their Prospering? — and Decay — Mennonite Colonies — Their Principles — A Visit — An Oasis in th«» Desert — Peace and Plenty — A Miracle of Co-operation — Land fur All — Snccffsful Prohibition — A Wonderful Record of "Crime" — "No Priests, Policemen, Publicans, or Paupers" — Co-operation and Competition ... ... ... ... ... ... 151 CHAPTER XI. IN THE CITY OP SARATOV. The City — General TJstimovitch — A Stundist Meeting — A Prison-Evan- gelist — Detectives — A Notable Picnic — Consecration of the Volga — Calumny against Stundists — An Orthodox Missiouary — Holy Water ... 159 CHAPTER XII. PRINCE DMITRI KHILKOV. His Questionings — Abandonment of Property — Lif e as a ilfus^n/.-— Influence on the Peasants — Conflict with Landowners — with the Church — ^" The Damned Stundist "—Banishment by "Administrative Process" — Journey into Exile— A Well-meant Offer — Settlement of Baschkitchet — Activity during a Cholera Epidemic — An Official Medical Commis- sion — Imperial Persecution — His Confe-sion ... ... ... ... 161) CHAPTER XIII. ~ A RUINED FAMILY. Wealth and Rank — A Good Landowner and his Clever Son — Schooldays — Liberal Opinions and their Dangers — Disorder in the Schools — Acces- sion to the Estate — Scientific Research and Police Suspicion — At 'Moscow— A Cruel Plot — Solitary Confinement Uncondemned — The Sentence — Exile to Sib< ria — Destitution — Better Things — " No Rights" — Pplj^® ^J^f^ Love Affairs— Fate of a Refugee — Waste of Human Life — Loss of the Estate — A Young Girl's Religious Experi- ences — Education— Good Prospects — Struggle after Truth — Reading the New Testament — Persecution Vy Priests and Police — Exile — A Generous Revenge — Another Sister's Fate — And a Brother's — Mammon and Priestcraft ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 183 CHAPTER XIV. OLDER RUSSIAN SECTS. Tsardom and Orthodoxy — Reforms of Nikon— The Stanoven—Popovtsi and Bespopovtsi — The "Antichrist-Tsar" — Specimens of Hymns — Contempt of Suffering — Stranniki (Wanderers) and Beguni (Fugitives) — How xii Contents. PAGE They are Made — A Sectarian's Story — MoUchalniki (Dumb) — An Advocate's Experience — Prugoni (Dancers) and Chlisti (Flagellators) — Origin and Tenets — Initiation Ceremonies— Orgies— Sfcopfsi (Mutila- tors) — Mutilation — Samoistrebitjeli (Suicides)— JVje Nashi (Agnostics) — Their Behaviour towards Authorities 199 CHAPTER XV. LATER SECTS. Close Connection between Social Conditions and Religious Development — The Upper Classes and the People— The Schalapiiti — Religious Tenets — Communism — Conscience the Sole Lawgiver — Molokhani and Dukhohortsi — The Stundists; their Origin — Letter from a Persecuted Adherent — Testimonies to the Moral Life of Stundists — The Missionary Gathering in St, Petersburg — Bishop Nikanor — Outrages in Kiev — Prince Khilkov's Letters — General Usumovitch's Protest — Character Sketches- Ivan Tchaika — Ustim Dolgolenko— Panass Pactilimono- vitchTolupa 227 CHAPTER XVI. THE TWO WORLDS, PEASANT AND OFFICIAL. Two Nations in One — Study of "the People" — The "Mir" — Peasants' Views on Land Tenure — On Jurisdiction Generally — Later Corruption by Officialism — Tchinovniks and the " Mir " — Examples of Official Oppression — " Uriadniks " or Rural Police — Their Misdeeds — Wicked- ness in High Places — The Logoschino Affair — Experiences of a Russian Friend — Tolstoi's Description of Russian " Justice " 257 CHAPTER XVII. IS THEBE A REMEDY? A Conversation— A Russian's Views — The Fatal Breach — True Division of Labour — Healthful Development— Paramount Claims of Life — A Revolution Inevitable— " Go to the People " 277 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Count Tolstoi Frontispieck Tolstoi's Headquarters at Rjasan ... page 1 A MusHiK Family ... ... 17 A MusHiK on the Tramp 21 The Widow's Last Cow ... 25 Tolstoi Taking Notes 41 Consulting the Starosts 45 Waiting for Help 48 Countess Maria Tolstoi 49 An Eating-room 53 Frost AND Famine 56 Miss Kuzminskt and the Peasants 57 Before a Dismantled Izba ... 60 A Group of Tatars 76 The Younger Tolstoi's Headquarters at Patrovka 77 Tolstoi's Chief Helper 81 Applicants for Aid 84 Village Street in Patrovka 85 Starving Orphans 89 Government Buildings in Patrovka 92 Church in Patrovka 93 A Mushik's Funeral 96 Delivered by Death 97 Snowdrift at the End of April 101 Peasants Cutting Through the Snow 101 The Kumiss Farm 104 Herr Faltvabel ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 104 Jashka 105 MusHiKS Waiting for the Distribution of Sekd Corn 105 "The Graves of My Friends" ... 109 Count Lteff Tolstoi, Junior li:j XIV List of Illustrations. School, Children at Plat An Improvised Ttphus Hospital Cattle Grazing on the Steppe Inside an Izba General TJstimovitch and His Paper A Picnic Party Consecrating the Volga Title-page of "The Damned Stundist" ... A Street in Samara An " Oboz/' or Train of Sledges, Bearing Food Nonconformist Exiles in Transcal'casia ... A Transcaucasian Town Brotherly Help' PAGE 117 121 128 137 161 164 165 172 197 225 2a7 2 a FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH COUNT TOLSTOI. Arrival at Ejasan — Tolstoi's Early Life — Education — His Opinion of the Uni- versities — Unsuccessful Efforts to Help the Peasants in Years of Dissipation — Establishes Schools on his Estate — Tolstoi as " Peace- maker " — Educational Work and Opinions — Influence in Russia, &c. — Tolstoi and his Critics, It was on a cold, stormy morning in March, 1892, the year of the great famine, that I arrived at the railway-station of Klekotki, in the province of Rjasan. In company with Madame B., who was also bound for the same place, I at once set out to drive to the headquarters of Count Tolstoi, distant some twenty-six miles across the plains, where he was hard at work relieving the needs of the starving peasants. The grey, woolly clouds were chasing each other at great speed ; snow- wreaths whirled about us, and a heavy fall had hidden the road completely. At c>ne or two points in the landscape we 1 .84738 2 First Acquaintance with Count Tolstoi. could see a few trees that marked a landowner's dwelling, or a village witli its churcli cupola and row of small, grey huts. At one part our journey took us for two miles along a road built by the Empress Catherine II., lined on either side with stately trees. It was heavy driving through the deep snow, so that we did not reach the Eiver Don, on the further shore of which lay the village of Begichevka, our destination, until the afternoon. The moment was now drawing near when I was, for the first time, to meet Count Tolstoi — a moment to which I had been look- ing forward throughout my long journey as to one of the most interesting occasions of my life. I was about to come into personal contact with a man whose greatness not even his bitterest enemies can dispute, in whom many an earnest seeker after truth discerns a seer and prophet, marking the dawn of a new era in the history of man. Soon our driver drew up before a plain, one-storied wooden house, and called out, "Vot dom Tolstova ! " ("This is Tolstoi's house.") About the premises were a number of peasants, cart- ing loads of flour and grain. As we entered, we passed first through a kind of ante-chamber, densely crowded with tnushiks, waiting to see the Count, then into a larger apart- ment that served as a dining-room. Tolstoi himself was not in, but I was shown into his private room behind the hall — a small apartment simply furnished with a sofa, a cot-bed, a few plain wooden chairs, and a large table covered with account books and papers. I found myself occupying the waiting time in speculations as to the impression Count Tolstoi would make on me. I could not succeed in divesting myself of the " great man " idea of the Count, the aristocrat, the famous author, the yreat genius. All these hid from me the image of him as a man, the brother of men. After a few minutes, a young lady came in, and gave me a cordial greeting. I asked if she were the Count's daughter, but she replied, " No ; I am his niece. My name is Kuzmin- sky." While I was speaking with her another young lady entered, with an energetic expression and lively eyes ; she, too, greeted me in good English. First Acquaintance with Count Tolstoi. '4 '' Countess Tolstoi '? " I asked. "Tliey call me so," she said. At the same moment a deep voice was heard in the hall, and the Count himself stood before me, dressed in a large sheep- skin coat of the kind worn by the mashiks. With a hearty grip of his strong hand he bade me welcome, asked about my journe}', admired my Lapp dress, and showed me into a small room that I was to occupy. Then he told me to hold out my feet, and pulled ofiP my Lapp boots. This was done so simply that they were off before I thought of protesting. Yet the spectacle of Count Tolstoi, whose greatness had been filling my mind a moment or two before, pulling off my boots like a common servant left me breathless with surprise. Then things took their j^roper perspective, and I saw the naturalness of it, and learnt more from this little unaffected deed of helpfulness than from all the learned lectures I had heard or all the volumes of theology I had read. I was in the presence of a man who had devoted a whole life to passionate search after truth and reality, and had found '^the meaning of life " in following Him " who came not to be served, but to serve " ; a man who not only talks about " eg edit e et fraternite, but whose life is egalite et fraternite .'' I had come to do what I could to help in his work among the starving musliihs, but before giving an account of what I myself saw and heard while with this notable family in that sadly memorable famine year of 1892, it will be worth while to give a rapid sketch of the Count's life and character, as a man and the friend of men. Count Tolstoi, the author, is well known, and has received his place among the foremost geniuses of the day. Leo Tolstoi, the philosopher and social reformer, has been amply discussed both by those who regard him as a new prophet, and those who look on him as a fanatic and a crank. The man Lyeff Nikolaievitch is comparativeh' little known. He has, it is true, told us somewhat of himself and his struggles after truth in his Confession, and throughout his other writings are scattered incidents taken from his own experiences. But he lias said little or nothing of his work for his fellows, and what 4 First Acquaintance with Count Tolstoi. lie has told us has been liable to the failings of all auto- biography. He has spoken of his life as it looks to himself. But Oliver Wendell Holmes says somewhere that when we say there are two people conversing there are really six. There is A. as he appears to self^, A. as he appears to B^ A. as he appears to God, and the same with B. Tolstoi has given the first aspect ; the second is the one we must take. With our many burning social questions to-day, it is of more importance to us to know what such a man as Tolstoi has done and is doing to bring about their solution, than to be familiar with the characters in "Anna Karenina,'" and others of his novels. Moreover, I heard from some personal friends of the Count, that his descriptions of his " wild oats " are very highly coloured. To those who knew him, he belonged certainly to a fast set, but on his personal character there was no stain. As for the third aspect mentioned by Holmes, we must wait awhile for that, if we are ever able to grasp it. Tolstoi grew up without the knowledge of a mother's love ; she died when he was eighteen months old (he was born in 1828, August 28, old style) ; and his father left his family, which was a large one, when the little Lyeff Nikolaievitch was nine years old. So it happened that much of his early educa- tion was in the hands of relatives, of whom one, at least, is described as hardly fitted to guide a youth's first steps in the paths of manly virtue. In his home on his ancestral estate of Jasnaja Pol j ana, in the province of Tula, he was under the care of both a French and a German tutor, the former of whom remained in the family until, at the age of fifteen, the young Count entered the University of Kasan. For three years he studied philology, history, and Russian literature. But he soon lost faith in that " temple of wisdom," to which Puschkin's words were thoroughly applicable : ^^As everything- in Russia is purchasable, so examinations and degrees of learning also are a merchandise with the professors." Charac- teristic both of the state of things at the university and the views and tendencies of the young Count, is his description of the teaching given there. "Histoiy," he said, *' is nothing but a collection of fables and details often meaningless or First Acquaintance with Count Tolstoi. absurd. The positive in it is a mass of dates and names of no value. The death of Prince Igor, the snakes that bit the hero Clef, &c., — what are those thinofs but nursery tales, and who needs to know if Ivan the Terrible married the daughter of Tomruck exactl}^ on the 21st August, 1562, or if his fourth mamage, with Anna Alexijevna, took place in 1572? And yet they require of me that I shall know all this by heart ; if not, I get a shameful "one" on my certificate. And how they Avrite history ! All is arranged after a given pattern. . . . Ivan the Terrible, e.g., of whom Professor Ivan has had so much to tell us, was suddenlj^ changed in 1560 — something that has no interest whatever either for joix or me — from a noble, virtuous, and wise ruler, into a mad, licentious, and terrible tyrant. Why '? Hoav ? About this you may not even ask a question." Small wonder that the young student, athirst for truth, S3'mpathising warmly, though as yet half-con sciously, with the downtrodden and oppressed, regarded this "temple of learning " as a useless institution. No doubt his lack of interest in man}^ of the subjects had something to do with his being '"plucked" at an examination, but it is also certain that this was largely brought about by one of those intrigues so common in a corrupt society. A hostile professor — hostile because of family reasons — refused to give him his due where he was incontestably efficient. This incident strengthened his determination to leave the university and give himself up to the work of elevating the peasants on his paternal estate, which had, by a combination of causes, not necessary to detail, passed into his hands. He returned to Jasnaja Poljana in 1846, and Hung all his energy into the task of raising both the economical and moral standard of peasant life. He failed, in spite of his ample means, warm heart, and indomitable pluck. The peasants would not let him pull down their rotten, old tumble-down lints, even to put up new and convenient ones at his own cost ; they also refused to send their children to school. He found, as so many others have done, that good in- tentions alone are not sufficient to cope with ingrained evil. C First Acquaintance with Count Tolstoi. nor can the results of centuries of slavery be undone even in a lifetime. The disappointed youth resolved to go to Petersburg in the autumn of 1847, to continue his studies, intending this time to take a degree in law. But the juridical hair-splitting of Petersburg satisfied him no more than the fables of Kasan. He returned to his estate in 1848. It was at this period that the yearS of dissipation occurred that have been referred to above ; then followed his experience as a soldier in Caucasia, and his successful career as a novelist. Still, through all these varied years he retained his love of the people unchanged ; unlike some who have feebly tried to help the poor, and have drawn back into their selfish ease like a snail into its shell, at the first touch of what the}'' loudly proclaim as "ingratitude." In Caucasia, as well as in European Prussia, he was careful to keep himself in living touch with the people, not simply to study their life, but ta give them real aid and sj^mpathy. This love of men is reflected in his writings. He cared nothing for outward events nor- outward greatness, but for everything that influences the moral development of the individual, though so slight as to escape superficial observation altogether. In a word, this young author cared for »naji, and made living men and women the object of his genius. His first book, "Utro Pomestchika" (The Landlord's Morning), and those that followed are full of that deep sympathy with the oppressed and the poor, that love of the people, that Tourgenieff sneeringh' stigmatises as " hysterical." Shortly after the Crimean War (Tolstoi bore his part in the siege of Sebastopol), he visited Western Europe, in order tO' study the school systems in use there, with a view to his work of raising the life of the Pussian peasantry. On his return he began to establish schools on his own estate of Yasuaj^a Pol j ana. The same j^ear, 1861, saw the abolition of serfdom — in uame^ at least. Tolstoi probably saw more clearly than the rest of his countrymen the enormous difficult}' of making this paper- emancipatioji an actual fact, and thus realising the ideal of First Acquaintance with Count Tolstoi. the Reform Part}-. The first great difficulty was the settlement of the disputes that immediately arose between the landowners and the former serfs. The majority of the nobles were opposed to emancipation, and only a few had voluntarily liberated their bondsmen. To meet these diffi- culties the office of miravoj posrednik, or " peacemakers," was established, and the Count occuj)ied this office in his own district, which he filled with untiring zeal. This was the only civil post ever held b}-^ him, so far as we know. His unswerving sense of justice often brought him into conflict with the landlords, but he cared about opinions as little then as now. On the other hand, he often had to refuse the demands of the peasants, but their faith in him had become so strong that they always acquiesced in his decision. Besides this work, he threw himself heart and soul into his plans of education for the niushiks. As early as 1849 he had established a school for peasant children on his estate. Another succeeded in 1857, and the third in 1861. In this he himself conducted the instruction, with the help of four students from Moscow, and a German named Keller. From early morning till late at night he was engaged in active teaching, devising and trying new methods. The principal school was in his own house. All instruction was, of course, gratuitous, and the children were also frequently fed. In one form or another these schools have continued ever since. If closed as schools by the interference of police or jjriests, the children have been invited by the Tolstoi family "to tea," which feast included food for the mind also. In connection with this work of teaching, Count Tolstoi edited for many years a monthly magazine called " Tlie School," the contents of which were entirely devoted to education, and were of great interest. The fundamental idea of his " free schools " is the gradual realisation of the moral ideal, taken in its widest sense. Not so much development simpl}', as the harmony of development, should be the aim of all education. " Therein lies the eternal error of all pedagogic theories,'' says Tolstoi, *^that they make development 8 First Acquaintance with Count Tolstoi. per se, the development of some special side of the child's being, their object and aim." It is in the child itself, according to him, that the primary conditions for realising the ideal are to be found. *' We must listen to the voice of the people," he says. The more he learned to know the young minds unfolding under his care, *'^ listened " to their emotions, and watched the expression of them in their lives, the warmer grew his love for them, and his admiration for that simple poetry that surrounds childhood as an atmosphere. At the same time his faith in the so-called education of the upper classes, that carries them farther and farther from the true and natural, waxed weaker and weaker. " Are the peasant children to learn from us how to write, or we from them? " he asks in his paper. He had set a number of boys of eleven or twelve to write down their thoughts and observations on different matters, or describe their experiences, and had made the astonishing discovery that they exhibited, as he expresses it, " an artistic power to which not even a Goethe could attain." This discovery made an overwhelming impression on Tolstoi. " I was frightened, and at the same time happy as a treasm-e-seeker, who on Midsummer Night has found the St. John's wort — happy, because I suddenly saAv before me the philosopher's stone which I had been seeking for two toilsome years — the art of learning how to express one's thoughts ; frightened, because this art evokes new wants, and a whole new world of wishes, which, as I saw at once, did not correspond to the surroundings in which these children live." It was not only a solution of the educational, but also of the religious question, that Tolstoi believed he had found in the life of these peasants, from whom in this also we have more to learn than they from us. His paradoxes on the uselessness of what is commonly- understood as education, art and science, are not to be taken as a condemnation of education, art and science in themselves. In one of his later works he says, " Art is not to disappear, but to become something else, better and higher." It is only in the service of selfishness that they are bad. The best proof First Acquaintanck with Count Tolstoi. of this is in his own untiring work in his schools, in his distribution of books and tracts among the peasants, and his gigantic scheme of a popuhir library, which is to contain a digest of the best that has been written by the best men in all ages, to be published in a popular form at one penny a volume. After the radical change in his ideas and life, or rather the ripening of those ideas that had been germinating and growing within him all his lifetime, he devoted himself entirely to help and raise the downtrodden people by sharing their life. His attempt in Moscow, after his removal there in 1881, to aid the teeming masses of the miserabl}"^ poor and degraded in that city have been most graphically described by himself in his book " What to do? " Here he says : — " Through much painful struggle I came to see that I had a share in the cause of all this miseiy. I stood up to my ears in the mud, and wanted to pull others out of it ! I, the parasite, I, the louse, which eats into the leaves of the tree, want to promote the health and growth of that tree ! I now come to the following simple conclusion, that it is mj duty to reap and use the fruits of the labours of others ! '•By a long and roundabout way I reached the unavoidable result that was expressed a thousand years ago among the Chinese : ' If one man is idle, some one else dies of hunger.' " Tolstoi despaired of being able to help the poverty and vice that prevailed in the city, and seemed inseparable from populous towns. He therefore left Moscow, to lead the life and share the toil of the peasants. It is quite natural that such a man as this should have attracted many admirers and followers — many more of the former than the latter ! — and that he should also have drawn upon himself many vehement criticisms and bitter calumnies. It is difficult to over-estimate his great influence both in his own and in foreign countries, although this has been greatly Several " Christian commanities " have been established in different parts of Russia in order to put his principles into practice, and have thriven until they have been broken up by the police, or through the intrigues of enemies. A large number of his peaceful followers are now in exile either in Trans-Caucasia or Siberia, while others have ''^gone to the people," to share their life and toil in order to serve them and make their life richer and nobler. In England itself there is a powerful testimony to his influ- ence in the large sale of his books, and the eagerness with which the articles fiom his pen that have recently appeared in the newspapers have been read ; at the universities his book& are well known, and thoughtful working men are familiar with his ideas. Much of his philosophy may be rejected, many of his results may be held to have come to him solely through the abnormal conditions of the Russian society in which he has had his origin and passed the greater part of his life. The present writers, in admiring the man, by no means accept all his ideas^ vBut as a living force, as a man who thinks for himself and sets other people thinking too, it is difficult to compare him with any other figure of modern times. 1 Tolstoi's critics are many and of va,ried hue ; from the priests who frighten the peasants with stories of his branding all the TnushiJis who come to him for counsel and aid with the seal of the devil on their hands and foreheads, and the bishops who preach against him as Antichrist personified ; to the officials and politicians who represent him as a dangerous revolutionary, seeking to rouse the people to armed revolt ; and the gossips who circulate stories about his professing to be a vegetarian, while rising in the night to eat his beefsteak. A certain Russian professor, for example, has written a long series of articles in a Russian review, called the "Ruskaja Mysl,"" trying to explain Tolstoi's " peculiarities " from " his in- herited desire to live in the open air " ; hence, all his work among the people, his relief work, e.(/., among the starving^ millions during the great famine, is only " a kind of sport." We do not speak of thoughtful men who conscientiously First Acquaixtanck uitk Couxt Tolstoi. 11 dissent from his opinions. But when you have known this greatest son of Russia personally, and seen this nobly-born magnate and great genius daily devoting all the powers of his mind, all the strength of his indomitable will, all the Avarmth of his large and generous heart, to help and uplift the doAvn- trodden, oppressed, and degraded peasants, and have seen, on the other hand, the motley crowd of his critics and calum- niators, fops, mammon-worshippers, courtiers, and priests, Avith borrowed wisdom, drawing-room philosophy, fossil dogmas, cut and polished, and a Pharisaism that will almost put to the blush that of Judaic origin, it is as if a swarm of noxious insects were buzzing round a giant ditcher, toiling in the sweat of his brow to drain a stinking and poisonous marsh, and were raging over his attempt to destroy their para- dise in which they have grown fat, attacking his perspiring body, and seeking some open Avound received during his noble toil, in Avhich to instil their corrosive poison, and fatten themselves on his substance. CHAPTER II. CAUSES OF THE FAMINE. Contrast of Famines in Russia and Western Europe — Condition at the Eman- cipation — Broken Promises — Insufficiency of Allotments — Action of Landlords — Prince Vasiltchikoff's Opinion — Proijortion of Agricul- turists in Russia and other Countries — Nomadism — Capitalism and the Peasants — Kulacks and their Usury — Kulaclcs and Officials — Oppressive Taxation. Thirty-five millious of people starving, at the close of the nine- teenth century, with its marvellous network of railroads and other means of communication, its wonderful development in all the means of production, and its loudly boasted organisation of labour, in times of peace, and in a country endowed with unlimited natural resources ! This is so remarkable a i^henomenon, that it can only be explained by a concurrence of abnormal causes. It is well known that years of dearth and famine decrease both in intensity and frequency as civilisation and means of communication develop. In England, for example, during the fifteenth century, when in normal years food was cheap, labour well paid, and wealth, as it was known at that time, more generally diffused than in any century since, there were times when the crops failed through bad seasons, and the, population, limited hy its crude husbandry and without foreign or colonial cornfields to draw upon, suffered severely by disease and death. Under the cruel Corn Laws of later times, which shut out the people's bread to fill the pockets of one class, the same phenomenon was seen. In Western Europe, generallj^ during the middle ages, famines occurred on the average every eighth or tenth year, and were accompanied by great mortality among the poor. But in the present day, by the remarkable develop- ment of international trade and the opening up of gigantic Causes of thk Famink. 1; corn areas in different parts of the world, these 3'ears of dearth have become a thing" of the past, in such countries as have adopted the enlightened policy of interdependence, with some measure of domestic freedom. Kussia, however, is a remarkable exception to this rule. Of course, famines occurred in the olden time. In the Nikonian Chronicle, which covers the period between 1127 — 1^03, there are eleven years of famine recorded. In 1128 the population of Novgorod lived on the bark and birch of lime trees, and in 1229-80 a large part of Middle and Northern Russia was devastated by famine. But during the last two and a-half decades the years of dearth have increased to such an extent that in many parts the peasants may be said to be in a chronic state of famine. The semi-official journal, Novoje Vremja, for October 7, 1891, says that scarcely a year passes without a visitation of some part of the Empire. This is borne out b}' the terribly increasing mortality among the peasants. The average rate of mortality in the whole of Russia is about 84 per 1,000, and, contrary to the experience of Western Europe, where the death-rate is higher in the towns, in Russia it is the rural population that yields the higher figures. Among the peasants of Central Russia, for example, the frightful rate of 04 per 1,000 has been reached. In 1885 a Medical Congress was convened at Moscow for the purpose, among others, of investigating the causes of the growing mortality among the peasants. The Congress decided that it was due to the insufficent quantity and bad quality of the food. I.e., to chronic famine. The explanation of this extraordinary state of things can only be made by reference to the course of events since the emancipation of the serfs. During the period of serfdom, which is usually understood to date from the decrees of Boris Godunoff, tying the serfs to the soil on which they worked, to the abolition under Alexander II. in 1801, the peasants were certainly often subjected to great cruelty, but their masters had a direct pecuniary interest in keeping them from starvation. In the introduction to the Act of Emancipation, the Govern- 14 Causes op the Famine. meiit made tlie following well-sounding promise : — " To provide the peasants with the means of satisfjdng their wants and ■enable them to fulfil their duties toward the State " (i.e., to pay taxes) ; '^^ for this purpose they shall receive in inalienable possession allotments of cultivable land and other belongings, ■which in this Act are to be specified." How has this promise been kept ? The so-called *• clvorovije," or serfs attached personally to their lords, and not occupying any land, became proletarians in the cities. The serfs proper did receive allotments, which were handed over to the " mir," or village community, which was to be responsible for the payment of the "' redemption money " for the land as well as the taxes. The Government paid out the landlords in a lump sum, so that the peasants were henceforth responsible directly to the Government for •everything. The j)rice paid to the landlords was supposed to represent the capitalised " obrok " or rent (about 9-12 roubles per allotment). But the valuation was actually made, not on the market value of the land, hut on the supposed loss to the landlord caused hy the emancipation, which in most cases reached a much higher figure. To illustrate by a parallel, it would have been the same in the United States if, on the emancipation of the slaves, the liberated negroes had received allotments and been made to pay the cotton planters the purchase-money for their freedom, instead of simply a fair Tent for their land. This was the first hardship imposed on the unfortunate mushils. In the second place, the allotments were ridiculously insufficient to supply even their limited needs. To maintain a peasant family at least ten to fourteen hectares are required. (A hectare is about two and a-half acres.) To understand this apparently high estimate, as it would be considered in England, it must be remembered that out of the produce the peasant had to pay the extraordinary high rent referred .to above, and the Government taxes, which in Russia are, of course, far heavier than in England, and also that the survival of the " three field " system and other drawbacks of Russian .agriculture made the produce of far less value per acre Causes of thk Famine. than with us. But, as a matter of fact, one-fourth of the peasants received only 0-8 hectares to " each male soul " (i.e., adult able-bodied man), and about one-half received from two to three hectares. Even if free from debt and taxation, the peasants could not live on these plots more than 150-180 days in the year. Either then they must rent land, which is only accessible to them at unreasonably high prices, or leave their homes and become proletarians or slaves. But, of course, they were started with, a heavy debt, and the taxes are ruinously •oppressive. The annual "redemption money " has amounted to 185-275 per cent, of the real rentable value, and the taxation for the Army, the Church, and other Imperial purposes increases yearly. Moreover, the increase of population has led to a still further decrease in the size of the allotments, making- the position of the unhappy mushiks still Avorse. For it must be noticed, pace Malthus, that miserable ??i't4i|fik A- ji^,i7^?r5»'y^S. THE WIDOW S LAST COW. Causes of the Famine. 27 the taxes and the last copeck. The poor men sold all they had, in their fright, till everything was paid, except two villages, where there was nothing left to sell. But it was of no avail. More than fifty peasants were first flogged and then thrown into prison. This happened on June 1, 1891, and is reported in the Petersburg paper Nedjela for June 21. In the same number you will find that the district officials, when they heard of the deficit, imprisoned the village staroda also, because, in official language, ' he had been guilty of negligence.' " " How can the peasants put up with all this ? " I asked. " They are far from satisfied with it," he said. *' They make war in their fashion against the landowners and capitalists, steal from them all they can, and take every opportunity of de- frauding them. They are in a great majority, but have no combination. On the other hand, the landlords and capitalists are allied Avith the soldiery, police, and authorities in general. It is already a war between two hostile forces, whose interests are opposed to each other, and it is only a question of time for this conflict to assume a fierce aspect. Tolstoi and his friends, and the different sections of the Liberals throughout the countr}', are working for peaceful reform ; the revolution- ary part}', on the contrary, desire an upheaval by any means whatsoever." I myself saw something of this j)itiless exaction of taxes during my stay among the famine-stricken districts, notably in the case of a poor widow. One of my mushik acquaintances informed me that the ispraviiil: (chief of police) was coming to the village to collect arrears of taxes, and would seize the last cow of this poor woman. I put my Kodak under my cloak, and hurried to the place. The ispnivnik had not yet come, but was expected every moment. The poor woman was standing with her arm thrown over the neck of the cow, which she had man- aged by great struggles to keep through the famine, and now it was to be taken from her " to support the State." I took a Kodak- picture of her as she stood, but when the ispravnik approached I judged it prudent to take myself and photographic apparatus off, much as I should have liked a portrait of tiie official him- self. Afterwards I saw his man leading the cow away, and 28 Causes of the Famine. had at least the satisfaction of assisting to console the widow for her loss. It must be clear to all, from these facts, that the bad crops were not the real cause of the great famine, but simply the incident that made ihe chronic need apparent ; the destitution itself is due to the causes indicated. *' Unless we are willing to let dust be thro^vn in our eyes," says the prominent Russian Professor Issajev, '^'^we must admit that under other conditions of civilisation and development, with a wiser use of our natural resources, we should not have left so wide a breach for the devastating forces of nature, such as the direction of the winds, the scanty rainfall, and the consequent drought." CHAPTER III. TOLSTOI ON THE FAMINE. Tolstoi's Warnings to the Goverument — Their Reception — Government Mf-asures and Tolstoi's Criticisms — The True Cause of the Distress — Russian Society —The True Remedy. Count Tolstoi liad for some time foreseen that such a famine must inevitably come, and had warned the authorities of it. He had also, long before thej had any correct ideas of the extent and nature of the distress, or had taken any measures to obviate it, laid before them such proj)Osals as would, if adopted, have lessened its terrible ravages to a considerable extent at least. Such were the establishment of public works on a large scale to give remunerative employment to the people ; the regulation of the prices of provisions by a fixed standard, and forbidding the hoarding of flour, &c., while the people were starving ; the opening of free eating-houses in adequate num- bers and capacity in the famine-stricken villages ; the organisa- tion of all available voluntary forces in rational relief work, &c. But the *^ powers that be" in St. Petersburg not only refused to listen to his warnings or to take his advice, but devised a fiendish policy of persecution against the noblest man their land contained. His warnings were treated as revolutionary threats, and made the basis of a report of a "widespread Nihilistic conspiracy." He had offered the Russian papers an article suggesting the best modes of meeting the distress ; they refused it. According to his usual custom, he allowed it to be published by the press of other countries. In England The Daily Chronicle gave an English translation, in which the meaning of one sentence was not made clear. Tolstoi had said that the peasants must not only be fed, but roused from their hopeless apathy and lifted up from their 30 Tolstoi on thb Famine. deep debasement. On this sentence The Moscow Gazette, the principal organ of fanatical and autocratic "^ obscuration," fastened, making the meaning to appear as 'Mhe peasants must be roused against the authorities.'' Prince Stcherbatoff, father-in-law of a former editor of The Moscow Gazette, wrote a bitter article, which that paper published, the purport of which was that "this evil " {i.e., Tolstoi and his work) " must be exterminated." This led to other attacks in the press, and if Countess Tolstoi had not journeyed to St. Petersburg and obtained a private audience with the Tsar, matters would pro- bably have been pushed to extremities. To one holding Tolstoi's faith, and it is faith, not mere opinion or sentiment, there could hardly be a more cruel mode of attack. Many letters came to him from all quarters after the article appeared in The Moscow Gazette, from university men down to simple peasants who could scarcely frame a legible letter, asking '^ Is it possible that our dear Count, who has taught us by word and deed to follow the teaching and example of Christ in not resisting evil, but blessing those that curse us, and doing good unto those that hate us, has fallen so far, as The 3Ioscow Gazette says, as to proclaim the doctrines of hate and bloody revolt, instead of the Gospel of love, self-sacrifice, and patient endurance ? " But the Count paid no attention to these attacks, and during my stay with the family I never heard from him or any of its members a word about the matter, or even the names of his persecutors. For some time the local authorities and the Government disputed as to the very existence of the famine, the former asserting and the latter denying it, until the matter was placed beyond denial by authentic accounts of numerous deaths from starvation in different provinces. In England, however, we can hardly throw stones at the Russian Government, since we have had our own authorities gravely asking whether there were actually men who had real difficulty in finding work, and regarding the negative " information " of their own red-tape bound bureaus as more reliable than the statements of those who passed their lives among the workers and knew their cir- cumstances intimately. Tolstoi on the Famikk. HI When the terrible character of the evil could no longer be disputed, the Government began to take steps for its relief. Tliej issued circulars to all the village authorities, who were to fill in the required details and return them to headquarters. From this information they expected to know who needed help, and to distribute the relief accordingly. Count Tolstoi, in criticism of these measures, pointed out that the failure on the part of the Government to understand the true causes of the distress made them unable to devise effective means of relieving it. Bad crops were not the cause, which lay deeper than the palliatives proposed by the Government could reach. "The activity of the Government, having for its outward object the feeding and preservation of the Avell-being of forty millions of men, is met (as we have seen) by insurmountable obstacles. "First. It is impossible to determine the degree of the people's need, since they may, in order to support themselves, show either a maximum of energy or complete apathy. " Second. Even were this determination possible, the amount of bread and money required for this purpose (at least one thousand millions of roubles) is so great that there is no hope of acquiring it. "Third. Granting the possession of this money, the gratuitous distribution of bread and money among the people would only weaken its energy and activity, which, more than anything else, is at this difficult time necessary, to maintain its well- being. " Fourth. Allowing the distribution to be so made as not to weaken the actiyity of the people, there is no possibility of distributing the relief justly, and in consequence those who are not needy will get the share of the really poor, the majority of whom will remain all the while without help, and perish." In another of his articles on the famine, which were not allowed to be published in Russia, he says : " It is in this vicious circle that the Government is moving, and there is no getting out of this circuhis vitiosus. For the task that the Adminis- 32 Tolstoi on the Famine. ti-ation and the municipalities have set themselves is nothing less than to feed the people. To feed the people ! Who is it, then, that has undertaken to feed the people ? It is we, the officials, who have taken upon ourselves to feed those who are always feeding and always have fed us, A suckling babe wants to feed its nurse, a parasite proposes to feed the plant that nourishes it ! We, the governing classes, who do not work and live upon what other people produce ; we, who cannot take one step without them, tve are now going to feed them ! The very idea has something grotesque in it. Not to speak of all other wealth, we may say that the bread is directly produced by the people themselves. All the bread existing is sown, raised, havested, threshed, and distributed by the people. How is it, then, that this bread is not now in the hands of the people, but in ours, and that we are obliged, by a peculiar and artificial process, to return it to them, calculating so and so much for each individual ? It is evident that we have taken it without paying for it, and have taken too much, so that we must now return it; but this restitution presents many difficulties. What then must we do ? I believe we must begin by not taking what does not belong to us. '' Some children had a horse given them, a real live horse, and they went out for a drive. They went on driving, driving, always driving, up hill and down dale. The horse was all in a perspiration ; it lost its breath, but always went on obediently . All the while the children shouted and cheered, boasted to each other as to who best knew how to drive, and always urged the horse to gallop. It seemed to them, as it always does, that when the horse galloped, they galloped, and they were proud of this gallop. So they amused themselves without thinking of the horse, forgetting that it lived and suffered. When they saw that it slackened its speed, they raised the whip, struck it, and shouted still more. But all things have an end, and the good horse's strength was exhausted. In spite of the whip, it slackened its speed. Only then did the children recollect that the horse was a living creature ; that it is usual to give horses food and drink. But they would not stop, and tried to find a way of feeding the horse while running. One of Tolstoi on the Famine. 33 them took a handful of hay from under the seat of the carriage, jumped down, and ran alongside of the horse, holding out the hay to it. But this was uncomfortable. He jumped back into the cai-riage, and the children devised other means. They took a long stick, fastened the hay to one end, and, sitting in the carriage, offered the hay to the horse. They thought of numberless ways, except what ought, above all, to have entered their minds : step out of the carriage, wait, and, if they really pitied the horse, unharness it. ^^Do not the well-to-do classes, in their relation to the labourers, in all times and in all countries, act just as those children in urging on the horse which carried them ? Are not the governing classes doing the very thing that these children did, in trying to feed the horse without stepping out of the carriage, when they are trying, now that it has spent its strength and must refuse to carry them further, to find means of saving the people, of feeding it without changing their relation to the people? They devise all kinds of means except the one that appeals to the mind and heart : cease to gallop, and step down from the horse, which they pity. " The people are suffering from hunger, and we, the governing classes, are very anxious, and desire to help them. For this purpose we form committees, hold meetings, collect money, buy floui* and bread, and distribute it among the people. But why do the people hunger? Is it possible that this should be so hard to understand? Is it absolutely necessary to calumniate them, as some arrogantly do, saj-ing that the people are poor because they are lazy and drunk? Or must we deceive ourselves by saying that the people are poor only because they have not assimilated our civilisation, but that from to-morrow we will set ourselves to the task of initiating them into all our science, hiding nothing from them, so that then they will doubtless cease to be poor ? Therefore we do not need to be ashamed of living at their expense, because it is simply for their own good ! " Must we hunt for the sun by candle-light, when everything- is so clear and simple, especially clear and simple to the people at whose expense we live and eat ? It may be allowable for 3 Tolstoi on the Famine. children to imagine that it is not the horse that carries them, but that it is they themselves who are going along ; but we grown- up folk can very well understand how the famine has come upon the people. The people hunger because we consume too much. To us Russians this fact ought to be all the clearer. Industrial and commercial nations, like the English, who live upon their Colonies, may yet be unable to see this clearly. . . . But as regards ourselves, our connection with the people is so immediate, so evident, it is so clear that our wealth is produced by their misery, or their misery by our wealth, that it is impos- sible for us not to see why the people are suffering from hunger. Is it possible that the people, in such circumstances, in which they are born, i.e., with these taxes, this insuJ0B.ciency of land, this neglected condition and this savagery, having to perform this immense amount of labour, the fruits of which we enjoy in the shape of comforts and amusements — is it pos- sible, I say, that these people can escape hunger ? "All these palaces, these theatres, these museums in the capitals, the cities, and small centres of population are produced by the people, who suffer and continue to produce all these things that are useless to themselves simply because they get their food thereby. That is, through this forced labour, they save themselves from the famine that is always hanging over their heads. Such is their constant position. We continually keep the people in a situation in which they never can keep themselves from hunger. This is our method of forcing them to work for us. This year the strain has beeii too great ; the bad harvest has shown us that the string has been pulled too tightly. But what has happened is nothing extraordinary or unexpected, and we ought to understand why the people are starving. Knowing the cause, it is very easy to find the cure. The principal means of cure is not eating up their portion. " This concern of society for the relief of the distressed people is like that of the founders of the Red Cross during war. Then the energy of some is devoted to massacre ; this massacre is considered as the normal condition. On the other hand, a new activity is brought into being, of a contrary tendency, having for its aim the healing of those who suffer from the Tolstoi on the Famine. 35 massacre. All this is excellent, so long as the "vvar, the ex- haustion and oppression of the people are considered as normal ; but when we pretend to pity the men killed in the war and the sufferers from the famine, would it not be simpler not to kill, and, consequently, not to invent the means of heal- ing? not to rob the people of their substance, and all the time we are so doing pretend to be concerned about their wel- fare? For the last thirty years it has become almost fashionable to profess a love for the people — for *our younger brother,' as they say. Our society persuades itself and others that they are greatly concerned about the people's condition, and express their ■concern in mutual reproaches for the lack of sympathy with ' the younger brother.' ' For thirteen years I have reproached others for their lack of love for the people; what further proof is needed of m}^ own love for them ? ' All this is a lie. Love of the people does not and cannot exist in our society. " Between a member of our leisured classes — a gentleman dressed in a starched shirt, an official, a landlord, a merchant, an oflB.cer, a scientist, an artist, on the one hand, and a peasant on the other, there is only one link; the one that makes all peasants — working-men in general, 'hands,' as the English call them — necessary to work for us. We cannot hide what we all know. "All the interests of each one of us — of science, of our occupation, of our artistic interests, of our family life — are such that we have nothing in common with the life of the people. The people do not understand the 'gentlemen,' and the latter, in spite of their belief to the contrary, neither know nor understand the life of the people. "Voltaire said that if people in Paris could kill a mandarin in China by simply pressing a button, very few Parisians would deprive themselves of this amusement. " Not to speak of the generations of workers who perish in the idiotic, painful, and demoralising work of the factories for the pleasure of the rich, the entire agricultural population, or at least an enormous proportion of it, is forced through insuffi- ciency of land for their maintenance to such a fearfully intense work that it destroys their physical and moral powers, simply for the purpose of giving to their masters the possibility of increas- 36 Tolstoi on the Famine. ing their luxury. It is with the same object that merchants compel the whole population to drink, and thus exploit it^ The people degenerate, the children die prematurely, and all in order that the rich, the " gentlemen," the merchants, may be able to live to themselves with their palaces, their dinners,, their concerts, their horses, their carriages, their flirtations, c^e. '* Why deceive ourselves ? "We have no need of the people except as an instrument, and our interests (by whatever argu- ment to the contrary we comfort ourselves) are always diametrically opposed to the interests of the people. ^ The more they give me as salary or as pension, i.e., the more they take from the people, the better for me,' says the officiah ^The more the people have to pay for bread and other necessary products, i.e., the worse off the people are, the better for me,' says the landlord. ' The longer the war lasts the more I shall make,' says the manufacturer. ^The less paid for wages, i.e., the poorer the people are, the better it will be for us,' say all the upper classes. What sj^mpathy can we have, then, for the people ? Between us and them there is no link but animosity — the link between the master and the slave. The better off I am, the worse for the people, and vice versa. " All life in Russia, all that is past, and is passing at present, confirms what I say. At this moment, when, as they say, people are dying of hunger, have the landlords, have the merchants, or the rich folk in general, modified their lives ? Have they ceased to exact from the people, to satisfy their own caprices, a work that is frequently false ? Have the rich given up ornamenting their palaces, eating luxurious dinners, riding their thoroughbreds, following the hounds, dressing themselves in the height of fashion 9 Do not the rich at this very time hold stores of seed and flour, expecting a still greater rise in the price? Are not manufacturers depressing the wages of their workers ? Are not officials receiving higher salaries ? Do not all the educated classes continue to live in the cities — for some purpose they consider very elevated — and to eat in them the means of living which are imported there, for lack of which people are dying? - "It is under these circumstances that we all at once begin to- Tolstoi on the Famine. 87 assure ourselves and others that we pity the people very greatly, and that we want to help them out of their misery, which we ■ourselves have brought upon them, a misery which is necessary to us. " This is why those people's efforts are in vain, who with ■unchanged lives desire to come to the people's aid by distri- buting the wealth they have first taken from them. * '.r V •'■■^ * "If a man of the leisured classes really wants, not to help, but to serve his people, the first thing he ought to do is to understand clearly his relations to them. When nothing is undertaken the lies, though they remain lies, are not very hurtful. But when, as now, one wants to serve the people, the first thing to be done is to reject the lies and get to under- stand our relations to them. And when these are clearly seen, i.e., the fact that the people give us the means of life, that their poverty is caused by our riches, that their hunger comes from the satisfaction of our appetites, we can begin to serve in no other way than by ceasing to do what ruins them. " My thought is this : it is love only that can save men from all miseries and calamities, including famine. But this love must not be limited to words, it must be expressed in actions. And these deeds of love consist in giving one's morsel to those .that hunger, as not only Christ but also John the Baptist has said, i.e., to make a sacrifice. Therefore, I think that the very best thing to be done by those who understand the need of • changing their mode of life, is to go this veiy year and live among the starving peasants and spend a certain time with them. " I do not say that all who wish to help the mushiJcs ought absolutely to take up their abode in a cold hut, dwell among vermin, live on ' lebeda ' (a kind of weed) , and die in two months or a fortnight ; I do not say that whoever does not do this, does nothing useful. But I say that to act exactly' thus, to live among them and die in two months or two weeks, would be very good, very beautiful, just as beautiful as to carry pardon and die among tlie lepers, as Father Damien did. But I do not say that every one can or ought to do this, and that 38 Tolstoi on the Famine. all else is nothing. I say that the more a man's actions approach this, the more profitable will thej be to himself and others, and that whoever approaches the ideal, however little, will do good. There are two extremes ; on the one hand to give one's life for our fellows ; on the other, to live an entirely unchanged life. Between these two extremes all men are to be found ; some who act as Christ's disciples have left all to follow Him; others are like the rich young ruler, who turned and went away when he heard the Master speak of a chant^ed life. Between this we find the different Zaccheuses, who change, but only partially. But to become like these last we must always aim at approaching the first. '^ All who understand that the way to aid the starving peasants is by breaking down the barriers that separate us from them, and on this account change their mode of life, necessarily rank themselves somewhere between these limits according to their physical and moral powers. Some, as soon as they come into the country, will eat and sleep with the sufferers ; others will live apart, but establish eating rooms and work there ; a third set will help distribute the provisions and flour ; a fourth will give money ; a fifth — I can imagine such persons — will live in a famine-stricken village and do nothing but spend their income and help the casual starvelings that come in their way. " I do not know, and I do not wish to say, if the people, the e ntire people, shall have enough to feed upon. I cannot know this, for independently of the famine, an epidemic may break out to-morrow, or an invasion cause the death of the people ; or to- morrow a nutritious substance may be invented capable of feeding the whole world ; or, simplest of all, I may die myself to-morrow, without having found out if the people have had enough food or not. The important thing is that I have not been charged with the task of feeding forty millions of people- in a certain territory, and that I cannot attain this outward object, viz., to feed and save from calamity a fixed number of men, but that I ought to think of saving my soul, and bring my life as near my conscience as possible. I cannot do more than one thing : to use my powers as long as I live for the service of my brothers, regarding all without exception as my brothers.. Tolstoi on the Famine. 39 " Strange to say, as soon as we turn from the task of solving" questions of the outward life, as soon as we forget the forty millions, the price of bread in America, &c., in order to consider the problem that is true and proper to man, the question of the inner life, all the preceding matters are solved in the best manner. All the starving millions would thus be fed in a satis- factory way. On the other hand, the activity of the Govern- ment, having onl}' an external object, the feeding of forty millions, is met, as we have seen, by insurmountable obstacles. " No other activity can avoid these impediments in the way of Government action . . . and attain to great results that are inaccessible to Government action, than that which has an inward object — the salvation of the soul — and which always consists of sacrifice. It is this that, in the face of starvation, impels a peasant woman in a famine-stricken village, when she hears beneath her window the words " For Christ's sake" (commonly used by beggars), to hesitate before causing discontent, to take her single loaf of bread, as I have seen more than once, put it on the board, cut off a piece a3 large as the palm of her hand, and give it, making the sign of the cross at the time. " For this inward activity, the first obstacle — the impossibility of determining' the desr^ee of the need — does not exist. The orphans of heaven ask for alms; the woman knows they have no resources and gives. What is impossible to an official, who is concerned with lists and documents, is easy to those who live among the needy and have in view only a small number whom they can help. " The second obstacle — the enormous number of the poor — exists as little as the first. There are always poor people, and the whole question is, what portion of my powers can I devote to them ? The woman who gives alms does not need to calculate how many millions of poor there are in Eussia, what is the price of American flour, &c. There is a single question for her : how to use her knife on the loaf so as to cut off a smaller or larger slice. Small or big, she gives it, knowing that if all helped according to their ability every one would have a piece of bread, no matter how great the number of the poor. 40 Tolstoi on the Famine. " The third obstacle exists still less for the peasant woman. She does not fear that the slice of bread given to the orphans of heaven may weaken their energy and make them used to begging, for she knows that these children understand very well what that slice of bread that she cuts for them costs her — they see that she gives her last, or almost her last bread. " Neither does the fourth obstacle exist. The peasant woman is not concerned as to whether she really must give to those that now stand at her window, or if there are others in still greater need, to whom she should give this slice. She pities the children of heaven, and gives to them, knowing that if all did the same there would be none dying of hunger, either now in Russia, or anywhere at any time. *^It is this kind of activity, having a moral object, that has always saved, and always will save, men. And it is this that ought to be adopted by those who want at this painful time to serve others. '' It saves people, because it is that smallest of seeds that pro- duces the largest tree. One, two, or a dozen men living in the country, and helping according to their power, can do very little. But this activit}^ is contagious ; it is because of this power of communicating itself to others that an activity inspired by love is so important. An outward activity, expressing itself in gratuitous distribution of bread and money, according to official lists, only engenders bad feeling, greed, jealousy, hypo- crisy, untruthfulness ; whereas a personal activity of love evokes, on the contrary, the noblest sentiments — love and will- ingness to make sacrifices. . . . Herein lies the force of the activity inspired by love, tbat it is contagious, and therefore its influence is limitless. As one candle lights another and thousands of candles are thus set burning, so one heart kindles another, and a thousand hearts are set burning. Millions of roubles of the wealthy will achieve less than will a small abatement of greed and a little increase of love in the great mass of men. Love has only to increase, and the same miracle will take place that was accomplished in the distribution of the five loaves ; all will be able to satisfy their hunger, and there will still be food to spare." TOLSTOI TAKING NOTES. CHAPTER lY. EELIEF WOEK IN EJASAN. Countess Tolstoi's Letter — General Organisation — An Illustration of the Position — Defects of Government Reli^^f— 'I'olstoi's Methods — Visit to a Faniine-Strickea Village — Countess Maria Tolstoi and Her Father's Work — "Traits of Civilisation " — Destitution, Disease, and Death — Miss Kuzininsky and the mir — More Starving Villnges — Tolstoi's Difficulties — Some of His Helpers. '•' Dear Sir, — It is so difficult to give advice iu such a matter as beneficence. Any help in such a distress is welcome, and an organisation of relief for the f amine-stric ken in Eussia could 42 Belief Work in Rjasan. do very mucla good. But organisations (private) are not per- mitted in Russia ; every one does for the help of the people what he can. *'If any one w^ould like to send considerable sums of money, it could be sent either to the committee of the Grand Duke Tsarevitch in St. Petersburg, or to the committee of the Grand Duchess Elizabeth in Moscow ; or if you prefer to direct money in private disposition, my husband and all my family would do our best to spend it as usefully to the profit of the national distress as possible. " I think that if you would come to Russia yourself, you could help very much, as personal help is wanted nearly as much as money help. Bat the life in those famine-stricken villages is very hard ; one must bear very much inconvenience ; and if you have never been in Russia and have no idea what a Russian village is, you will not endure life in it. '^ The famine is dreadful ! Though the Government is trying to do as much as possible, private help is very important. The horses are dying for want of food, the cows and all the cattle are either killed b}^ the peasants, or are falling dead from starvation. A very small part of them will be left. "We were thinking, if we were to receive considerable sums of money, of buying horses when spring comes in the South of Russia, so as to give our peasants the possibility of working. Our peasants can do nothing without cattle. But those are only plans. At present we have so much to do to keep the people alive. How dreadfully sad it is to see our poor suffering peasants so helpless and looking for help, so full of hope when they meet any one who shows them pity and interest ! If you try. Sir, to do anything God will bless you.- — Yours very truly,, " Countess S. Tolstoi. "January 20th (Old Style), 1892." It was this letter, in answer to one of mine, that had brought me over to Russia, with contributions from English and American friends, to help in what small way was possible the Tolstoi family in their energetic and self-denying efforts among the starving mushiks. In the following pages I give some Relief Work in Rjasan. 43 account of what I saw, from notes jotted down at the time in my diary. But a few words of introduction are needful to explain something of the system on which the Count and his helpers proceeded. I met the Countess Tolstoi at their house in Moscow on my journey through. Here she carried on the correspondence concerning the relief work, while her husband held his head- quarters at E-jasan, and the young Count Lyeff Lvovitch made Samara his centre of active operations. Countess Sophia Andreevna Tolstoi is tall and stately-looking, and retains the freshness and elasticity of her j-outh to a remarkable degree. Her power of work is simply wonderful. I saw a great pile of letters and telegrams she had received that day from all parts of the world. Some related to the department of relief work under her own care, which may be called the wholesale department ; she was responsible for buying the immense quantities of different food-stuffs required, and despatching them to Ejasan and Samara. Others consisted of appeals for help from starving districts, but most were concerned with the financial part of the work, contributions from friends in different countries, inquiries, &c. In all this she was without the help of any secretary. " It has grown to be a habit with me," she said, "to answer all letters myself. Otherwise I cannot feel perfectly satisfied." As regards the relief work proper, carried on by the Count and his son, it must not be imagined from what has previously been quoted from his criticisms of official methods, that Tolstoi himself neglected organisation or method, depending entirely on individual impulse. He recognised the futility of it all as a cure, but for the present purpose of helping the starving peasants in their terrible emergency he was quite alive to the importance of so ordering the work as to be most efficient. His view of ihe case was well put in the conversa- tion I had with him on the matter. He said : "I will use an illustration to give you an idea of the state of things. Suppose this little round table placed in a distiller}' and covered with bottles of different sizes, all of which are filled with spirits. Beneath the table is a fierce heat that causes 44 Relief Woek in Rjasan. the contents of the bottles to evaporate, after which, in the cold air above, it is condensed and discharged in two streams, one going into the great reservoir of the capitalists, the other into that of the Government. Now, since all these bottles have been emptied, and are, therefore, unable to produce any- more, thej must, of course, be filled again to some extent in one way or another. A large pail is therefore taken, dipped into the great reservoir, and its contents poured over the bottles on the table, but the greater part falls outside the bottles. We are novr trying to put funnels into the bottles to avoid this running outside." A more intimate acquaintance w^ith Government methods helped me to understand the significance of this figure. Flour was distributed monthly, according to prescribed rules. In many cases the drinking habits of the miserable mushiks led them to sell it at once for vodka, and in some it was at once seized by pitiless creditors. Supposing that neither of these calamities occurred, it lasted only for fifteen or twenty days, leaving the poor family to starve until the next distribution. Hence the sickness and death-rate went up with a bound in the latter part of each month. Much sickness was also caused by the lack of fuel among the mushiks, who were thus forced to eat the food raw, having no means of cooking it. There is no wood in this part, and straw is the fuel used, which of course had suffered the fate of the crops generally. Still worse was the system of selection employed by the Government. No help was given to "labourers"; i.e., those able to work, or to those possessing horses and -cattle. It was entirely left out of consideration that there was no work for these unfortunate people to do, and no food for their cattle. Again, there was little hope for the " black sheep," that is, the sectarians, the Stundists, persons of non- Russian extraction, and all who were not jjersonce gratce to the ^' powers that be " or their representatives. Further, exj)enses were shamefully heavy, and large quantities of flour were stolen, adulterated with sand, chaff, &c., or allowed to spoil. I noted more than one case of this kind that came under my own observation. Relief Work in Ejasan. 45 Tolstoi's " putting in funnels " meant, then, the relief of those overlooked by the officials, and whatever might be done to remedy these defects. It was not easy. Even the discovery of the most needy was far from being as simple as it looked. To our notions, all the musJdhs would have qualified en masse under that heading, but to the Russian workers there were grades, " and in the lowest depths a lower deep " ! Another obvious idea was to apply to the starosta (head man of the STAROSTS. MABIA TOLSTOI. MISS KUZMINSKY. CONSULTING THE STAROSTS. village), or to the pope, but alas! the starosta is not always one in whom there is no guile, nor is the pope always a saint. The only reliable method was for the Count and his assistants to go into the villages themselves, and compile from individual inquiries the lists of names and details needed for wise and efficient aid. Then these were verified by the calling together of the entire village community, or mir, when the lists were gone through and discussion held 46 Relief Wokk in Rjasan. as to the best means of relieving the most distressed. It is pro- bable that these tables were the most exact statistics in Russia. The principal means of relief was by eating-rooms, where two meals a-day were served free to the most needy. Where the villagers had a supply of flour, warm food only was served ; in other places warm food and bread. Special rooms were opened later for the children. Another branch was the supply of fuel ; about four hundred cords of wood were distributed during the winter, either free or in return for work done. Then the horses were cared for as much as possible ; large numbers were sent to other parts where fodder could be got, and three hundred were placed in a large stable built for the purpose. Work materials in the shape of flax and bast were supplied to the niushiks, that they might both work at their own clothing and make shoes, which the Count bought at full price, for distribution among the poorest. Then there was the provision of seed and replacement of stock, with a view to prevent, as far as possible, a repetition of the famine. This was usually done on condition of a moderate return being made after the following harvest, and the income from this source was destined towards establishing homes for destitute children. The work in Samara was on the same model. I can now proceed to give incidents taken from the notes in mj" diary. Before 6 a.m. the starving mushiJcs began to gather at the headquarters. Half-an-hour later they filled both the yard and the ante-room, where they stood with heads uncovered, silently waiting their turn to see the Count. Tolstoi himself, his daughter Maria, her cousin Miss Kuzminsky, and two others were busy writing down the names of the applicants or distri- buting relief. The ravages of the famine among the members of the evil-smelling, motley crowd were evident in the haggard looks of some and the swollen faces of others. The young Countess had been up very early in the morning to attend to household matters before joining in the relief work, which lasted until the time came for breakfast, and after that for visiting the villages. Breakfast (at 9 o'clock) consisted of Relief Work in Rjasan. 47 lasha (a kind of porridge), bread-and-butter, potatoes and other vegetables, tea and coffee, the young Countess Maria acting as hostess. Her elder sister, Tatiana, had also been at headquarters, but had had to return home on account of failing health. Maria Lvovna or " Masha," as the Count calls her, is a devoted follower of her father. It had been arranged that I should accouipanj^ the Countess Maria on her round through the villages. Dressed in a polashubok (see illustration), felt boots, and a cap of Siberian lambskin, she opened the door of my room and called out " Ready." In my Lapponian dress I came out and took my place at her side in a saiii, a primitive and unpainted sleigh, drawn by a well-fed, little black horse. Just as we were starting, I found that I had forgotten my gloves. '^ Here, take mine," said the Count, who stood by the side of the sleigh. Off we went at whirling speed, the Countess holding the reins herself. I believe that Russian ladies beat those of all other countries, even in America, in horsemanship. I have often seen them driving a troika, or sleigh, with three horses abreast. Certainly the Countess knew how to drive. In a few minutes we had passed the Don and were out on the desolate plains. The air was keen and biting, and a blinding snowstorm swept over the steppes ; the road was destitute of the customar}- marks, and we soon lost our way. After driving for some time with the snow whirling about us so that we could not see the length of the horse, she drew rein and said, '' I think we must turn back home. Soon we shall see nothing." ^' Do you know the direc- tion of the village to which we are going? " I asked. " Yes." *'Then let us try to get there." "All right. Get up, Malchik! " (Little Boy). Off we sped westward along an ice-covered ridge, and after a time found the road again. The Countess told me that she had worked for a number of years among the peasants trying to help them. She had had a school for peasant childx'en on their estate, but as she did not teach them to cross themselves nor to worship tlie pictures of the saints, the priests had her school closed. Then she invited the children to her house to tea, and continued to teach them over the tea-table. 48 Relief Wokk in Rjasan. Talking about their home and the large number of strangers coming to see her celebrated father — often, no doubt, out of mere curiosity — I remarked that he was said to deny the immortality of man. " This," I said, " I have never been able to understand, as being incompatible with his view of life and way of living." WAITING FOR HELP. "My father deny the immortality of man ! " she exclaimed. " You should have heard him recently in a circle of friends. As our shadowy dreams, he said, are to our present life, so this shadowy life is to our future existence." Speaking of God she said, " They try to define what God is and what He is not, bub whatever beautiful and grand words they use, I say Relief Work in Rjasan. 49 that He is infinitely more than that. I like best of all to call Him Father. Is it not beautiful to think that the highest good is our Father ? " Our conversation turned to the literaiy works of the Count, COUNTESS MARIA TOLSTOI. ^nd she told me how he came to write his satirical play, " The Fruits of Civilisation." " It was one winter night, and we had just finished our work for the day. * Let us have some fun/ said my sister Tanja. * Yes, let us improvise a spiritualistic seance' Father joined ill, and wrote down a sketch of the play to be improvised ; 4 50 Relief Work in Rjasan. this be afterwards finished, and it was published under the title of ' The Fruits of Civilisation.' " The play was performed three times ; once was in Yasnaja Poljana, and a second time in the town of Tula, the Count's eldest daughter, Tatiana, playing the part of Tanja (the heroine being named after her). The third time it was played by a company of aristocratic amateurs at Tarskoje Selo, the summer residence of the Tsar, in the presence of sixteen grand dukes and duchesses, and other high dignitaries, numbering about 250 persons — of course, "for a benevolent purpose." It was a great success. The high-born audience- laughed, and applauded the biting satire, the point of which was directed against their own society ! What a grotesque scene ! On the Emperor's private stage, the victory of the people is represented by members of the highest aristocracy T But who in these circles thinks of this bitter self-mockery '? Pungent means are required to amuse persons enei'vated by idleness, epicurism, and licentiousness — so they laugh at the amusing surface, without being touched b}' the author's dee])' pain and sympathy with the oppressed, that throbs through the whole piece. By this time we saw through the storm a long row of what looked like snow-covered mounds. It was the village of Pinki. Approaching nearer, we found that the mounds were peasants' huts, half buried in the deep snow-drifts. The village looked poor and desolate in the extreme. No smoke was rising from any of the huts, every other one of which was roofless. No living body was seen about; all appeared to be ruin and death. We stopped at one of the izhas, in which the Count had opened a school and eating-room. For some time after our entrance we could see nothing distinctly, but our feet told us that the naked soil served as floor. When our eyes grew accustomed to the gloom we saw a number of benches, and standing between them aboutthirty children, silently looking at us. The teacher, an intelligent young man, approached and saluted us. In one corner were a couple of elderly people. From the neighbourhood of the oven came heavy breathing and coughing, and, lying on top of it, we saw three children^ Relief Work is E.jasan. 51 covered with bhick small-pox. I sugo-ested that these ought to be removed at once, and the Countess replied that it would be done as soon as possible, but as there were no hospitals, and almost everj house was infected, it was not easy to isolate the sick. These poor children had been brought to the school, "because it was warm there." Leaving the Countess to attend to the school and eatinj^- room, I went through part of the village from house to house. In izba No. 1 I found one cow, three elderly people, one of whom was lying on top of the oven, sick with typhus, by the side of two children in the last stages of black small-pox. In No. 2 was a child Avith black small-pox, an old man with typhus, and two women whose bodies were all swollen. No cattle — all starved ; no fuel, no food. In No. o a curious sight met my eyes. When I entered the small hut, the earthen floor of which was frozen hard, I saluted, but got no reply, nor could I see anyone. I was about to go, but heard heavy breathing, and a sound like sweeping proceeding out of the oven. All at once a pair of feet wrapped with rags protruded, and in a moment a big mushik crept out of the opening, followed by a sickly-looking woman, shivering and pressing her right hand on her brow. I asked what was the matter. " Golova holit " (my head aches), she answered. " Have you no children ? " " Yes : look here ! " she said, bursting into tears and pointing to what looked like a bundle of rags on top of the oven. It proved to be two children, one on the point of death from hunger or consump- tion, and the other in the extremes of black small-pox. The man, tall and strongly built, stood with drawn stony face and hollow eyes, his tangled hair sticking out in all directions, motionless on the frozen floor, a picture of hopeless apathy. No cattle, no food, but what was given from outside. No. 4. Two grown people and two children, both ill. As she moved the rags that covered one of the children the mother burst into tears, and I saw great drops rolling doAvn the cheeks of the poor disfigured girl herself. Something stuck in my own throat as, unable to utter a word, I gave the poor woman a silver coin and passed out. 52 Relief Work in Ejasan. No. 5 contained a woman, disfigured by a disease shockingly common among the peasants, and two sickly and forlorn- looking children. No. 6 sheltered three families, one cow, one horse, and two sheep, all huddled together to protect themselves from the intense cold. It was a strange sight to see the fine-looking dyadushJca, or grandfather, with snow-white hair and beard, climb out of the crib to which the horse was tied, come tottering up to me on his aged limbs, and salute with a deep bow. I told him that friends of the musldhs, in foreign lands, had sent me with help to their suffering brothers in Russia. In a feeble and trembling voice he said, "^ What good people ! May God bless you ! " On my return to the school I found it changed into an eating-room, filled with about forty person s, ,young and old, who sat down to eat, after crossing themselves and saying their prayers. The dinner, consisting of black rye bread and pea soup, tasted very good. When the Countess had arranged for the opening of an eating-room for little children we started to return home. ''What is your impression from your first village visit ? " asked the Countess. "Terrible," was all I could say. "Are you not afraid of catching small-pox and typhus ? " "Afraid ! It is immoral to be afraid. Are you afraid? " she replied. " No, I have never been afraid of infection while visiting the poor," I said. " It is terrible to see such hopeless misery. It makes me sick only to think of it." " And is it not shameful for us to allow ourselves so much luxury while our brothers and sisters are perishing from want and nameless misery ? " she added. " But you have sacrificed all the comforts and luxuries of your rank and position, and stepped down to the poor to help them," I rejoined. " Yes," she said, " but look at our warm clothes and all other comforts, which are unknown to our suffering brothers and sisters." Helief Work in Rjasan. 55 " But what good would it do to them if we should dress in rags and live on the edge of starvation "? " "What right have we," she retorted, "to Jive better than they ? " I made no reply, but glanced wonderingly into the eyes of this remarkable girl, and saw there a large tear trembling ; something seemed to press on my heart and threaten to choke me. '^ But how is it possible that the authorities permit such a terrible state of things ? " "1 don't know," was the short and significant answer. In the evening the Count seemed quite downcast. "I feel really ashamed of this work," he said. "We don't know Avhat real help there is in it. We ai'e prolonging the existence of a number of the starving peasants for some time, but their misery will go on all the same ! " "You also help them spiritually," I said. "You are doing a good work." "I don't preach," he said. "I am so bad myself that I -cannot preach to others. And we do not know what is good and what is not; when we think we do something very good, it may be quite the reverse. The real good is in the will and the motives of our deeds." Next morning I started out with Miss Kuzminskj' on a visit to two villages to arrange for the distribution of wood. The plan adopted was as follows: It was left free at the homes of the most destitute. Those not so badly off had to fetch it from the railway station, and from the least needy some return in work was expected. We reached the first village after a rapid drive of two hours over the snow-covered plain in a bitter cold, and stopped at the house of the starosta. Inside we found him, his wife, four •children, the grandfather, one cow, one foal, and three sheep, gathered in one room, lighted dimly by an opening of about eighteen inches in diameter. A large table stood on the soft earthen floor, and a bench ran along one side of the room; there were no chairs. We paid some visits at individual izhas, and then the mir was summoned to the starosta' s house. This was a work of no great difficulty, as almost the entire population of the 56 Eelief Work in Ejasan. village was following us as we went. Soon the izba was crammed with musliiks. Miss Kuzminskj took her place behind the table, and bj request I sat beside her. Then the proceed- ings began. Miss Kuzminsky had a list of the most need3% To- the first, a poor widow with four children, all nodded assent, crossing themselves. Then came Alexis B . There was a low murmur through the room, and a miisliik said, " Certainly FROST AND FAMINE. he has no fuel, but neither have any of us, and he has a horse." Ivan K was mentioned. " Otchen hedni! " (Very poor). So the entire list was run through, opinions being freely given on each case, while the sheep and the cow ever}' now and then ex- pressed their opinion in their own language. Miss Kuzminsky made an excellent president, calling the speakers to order when they spoke too many at a time, or wandered from the subject. The mushiks themselves behaved in a gentlemanly Relief Wokk in* Rjasax. 57 manner, and when they grew a little warm, there was nothing of the disorder that would ensue in European gatherings, if each one's character was canvassed as openly as at these meetings of the mir. The atmosphere was simply stifling, parti 3^ owing to the vermin and the cattle, and I was astonished that Miss Kuzminsky could stand it for over an hour without the least MISS KUZMINSKY AND THE PEASANTS. complaint. In this village also we found many sick folk, mostly suffering from black small-pox or typhus. On another occasion I went out with another guide, a young nobleman who had joined Tolstoi's band of workers. It was an intensely cold Saturday morning, and a greenish-yellow band along the eastern horizon threw a dim light over the snow-covered plain. We were bound for a distant village that had appealed for helj). Soon our shaggy little horse was white with frost. The sun rose and gilded everything with his 58 Eeliep Work in Rjasan. light, but a sense of desolation oppressed us as we drew near the village. No smoke was rising anywhere. Most of the izhas were roofless, having been stripped for fuel. No living creature was to be seen, except two or three skin-covered skeletons of horses, picking a blade or two of old and rotten grass in front of a recently-dismantled izha, and a few forlorn- looking dogs, almost too starved to move from their places on the dirt-heaps in front of the huts. Death or desertion had emptied many of these, and in almost every house we entered there were persons sick of typhus, small-pox, &c. All the help received from the authorities was consumed, most of the cattle had died, and for food they used a kind of bread made of dried and powdered grass, chaff, straw, and leaves from trees. Those who were not ill with fever, &c., were almost too weak to move or speak. We reached home just before Count Tolstoi, whose good spirits were in great contrast to our weariness. He talked and laughed merrily, and his eyes fairly beamed with joy. The cause of his delight was soon told. He had finally overcome all obstacles and established his children's eating-room. A simple matter this, to our ideas, but it had cost him many a weary day of struggle against difficulties. The mere procuring of suitable food was hard enough, but there was also the ignorance, superstition, and folly of the mushiks, and the bitter opposition of the clergy to overcome. The mushiks wanted the children's food brought to their homes, but Tolstoi kaew well that in that case the children would get but little of it . Then the priests frightened them with tales of learned theologians having conclusively proved out of the Book of Eevelation that Tolstoi was veritably. Antichrist. The story of his branding the mushiks on the forehead to seal them to the power of the devil has already been alluded to ; in this foolish and wicked story which was preached from the pulpit, it was said that the Count paid the peasants eight roubles apiece as purchase- money. Only the Sunday before a Bishop had delivered a special sermon in the second-class waiting-room at the railway station at Klekotki, before a crowded audience, dishing up all these fables and denouncing the Count in the strongest terms Relief Work in Rjasan. -59 as Antichrist, who was seducing them with food, fuel, and other worldly goods. The Orthodox Church, he said, was strong enouofh to "exterminate Antichrist and his work." No wonder that many were frightened. But one of the mushiks in m}' hearing, settled the matter to his own satis- faction in a very logical way. " If the Lord," he said, " is like his servants, the popes and officials who oppress and rack us, and Antichrist is such a person as Tolstoi, who freely feeds us and our children, I had rather belong to Anti-Christ, and I shall send my starving children to his eating-room." Later on, the peasants sent their children by thousands. After our late dinner, while the Count was busy and the mushil-s, crowding as usual to his headquarters, I took a walk, and noticed a gendarme, probably stationed there to keep a watch on what was going on. Besides this open representative of the Government of Petersburg, there was a crowd of detectives, swarming in or about Byegitchevka. Sometimes they would come disguised as applicants, asking for help and denouncing the authorities ; sometimes as friends, volunteering their services. The Count's experienced eye, however, soon detected these, and he politely told them that they were not w^anted. The evening of the same memorable Saturday saw a gather- ing of helpers and friends from different quarters, who had come to spend that night and part of the following Sunday in consultation and friendly intercourse Avith their master. Of this highly interesting group, of whom two were women, none were above middle age, and all were educated, some possessing a high degree of learning, and all from prominent families. One had been a Fellow of Moscow University and was about to be nominated to a professorship, when he suddenly quitted the University and " went to the people." In mmhik dress he shares the peasant's life and toil, helping them iu every possible way, believing this to be a better object of life than the attempt to beat Greek and Latin into the heads of the Russian upper class youth. Yet he was no dreamer, but a man of imperturbable calmness of mind, acute understanding, and deep knowledge of human nature. Two years ago, he 60 Relief Work in Rjasan. travelled, mostly on foot, through all the provinces of this vast empire, visiting and studying all kinds of sectarians, working- his way as a day-labourer, and securing in return only food and lodging. BEFORE A DISMANTLED IZB.l. CHAPTER \\ TOLSTOI'S TABLE TALK. War — An Expensive Consciencer-Modern Religious Sects — Eeligion and Invention— The Russian Sectarians— " The Cafi' of Surat" — Attitude to Political Governments — Western Literature and Mammon — Forthcoming; Books— Is Tolstoi a Christian ? — The Nature of His Christianity. At evening, sitting round the boiling samovar or the tea-table, Count Tolstoi would converse with his friends on different sub- jects. Out of kindness to me, the conversation was often carried on in any of the Western languages, but when it grew ani- mated it insensibly glided into Russian, which I bat imper- fectly understood. What I did not understand, however, was for the most part kindly translated by one of the company. Naturally, the terrible distress and the incidents of relief work formed the staple matter of conversation, but at times other topics were introduced. Here I give a merely f ragmentar3' account of some talks on more important subjects. Speaking of modern militarism. Count Tolstoi asked me once about the feeling of the people in my country towards the Russians. I told him that the pagan idea that certain nations were our natural enemies, and the abominable system of educating chil- dren in that unchristian belief, was gradually giving way to sounder and more Christian views, and added that our people certainly had no enmity towards the Russian people, and that many of our most thoughtful men were looking to Russia when in these days they wanted to find those who could afford to keep a conscience and follow its behests. After a moment's silence, the Count said, *' I like that expres- sion — to afford to keep a conscience. But I tell you, it is very expensive ! " Then he spoke of his great hopes for the future, from the gradual change in popular opinion in favour of Chris- 62 Tolstoi's Table Talk. tian relations between the nations, i.e., that they are awaken- ing to the fact that we are all brothers, and cutting themselves loose from the pagan official tradition, inculcated and supported by the established churches, that we are enemies. Speaking of the religious question, he referred to the fact that Protestant churches have been and often are quite as intolerant as the Roman and Greek churches, and that Nonconformist denominations have the same tendency. He showed thorough acquaintance with the Nonconfoi^mist and Pietistic movement in Western countries. In his view, this movement in its first beginnings fulfilled an important mission in rousing the people from their spiritual stupor, and breaking the fetters of eccle- siastical tyranny and formalism. But already it has largel}^ lost its power for good by failing to follow the teaching and example of Christ ; it has followed the example of the State churches in allowing organisation and mone}^ to play a more prominent part than practical Christianity. It is this stepping aside from Christ's Christianity which has at all times led to the decline of religious denominations. Modern ecclesiastical and denominational Christianity, with its politics, its religious business-system, its dogmas, its formal- ism, its intolerance, is altogether artificial and opposed to the true interests of man. Christ's Christianit)', on the other hand, satisfies his deepest needs, both in his private and social relations. Tolstoi had received books and papers descriptive of them- selves, both from the Salvation Army and the Mormons. Of the latter he said : " I have read their books with much inte- rest. It is remarkable what a prominent part invention plays in the different religious systems. It differs largely, however, in degree. With Joseph Smith we might sa}^ that it con- stitutes 90 per cent., whereas with Moses it amounts to 10 per cent." Concerning the modern Christian sects in general, he said: " Above all things Christians ought to put themselves into a natural relation to one another and the world at large, i.e., to follow Christ and realise His teaching in daily life, instead of wasting their time and energy in organising sects, build- Tolstoi's Tahlk Talk. G;i ing churches, supporting clergy, and fighting each other's dogmas." Of the present religious movement in Russia, which has cer- tainly raised the Sectarians to a much higher level than the Orthodox pfasantry, Tolstoi has a high opinion. He gave interesting accounts of peasants who have both grasped and retained a firmer hold upon j)i'actical and central Christian ideas than man}' learned theologians. One night he read a deeply interesting letter from an old Stundist peasant, who had taught himself to read and write at the advanced age of sixty. in order to be able to read the Bible for himself. This letter is translated and given in the account of the Stundist move- ment later on in this book. When he had finished reading it, he said, " I tell you, these men are real heroes ! " Russian peasants very frequently consult the Count, either personally or in writing, about their perplexities on religious or moral questions, or come to him as a friend to confide their opinions to him, and discuss the matters in poini. His sympathies, like his views, are broad enough to compre- hend wliat is good and true in all men and creeds. This is shown both in his writings and his conversation. True, he criticises narrowness and combats error, and that not infre- quently in vigorous terms, but this is not for the mere pleasure of o Imposing others. His desire is to prepare the wa}' for truth and make openings for the light. To come into personal con- tact w^ith this man, and listen to his words, is to feel at once that 3'ou are under the spell of a passionate lover of truth and righteousness. There is a fable written by the Count, and published in the Vestnik Eurojn, called " The Cafe of Surat," which will be of interest, as it contains the ideas he frequentl}' expresses in different forms in his conversation, and may fitl}- find a place in his " table talk." The Cafe of Surat. In the Indian town of Surat was a cafe, where travellers and strangers from all parts used to resort, and many folk were gathered together. 4J4 Tolstoi's Table Talk. One day there entered a learned Persian theolog'ian. He had spent his whole life in studying the being of God, and had both read and written many books on the subject. He had thought, read and written so much about God that he had lost all power of right thinking, and became muddled in his head to such a degree that he had lost faith in God altogether. When the Persian King heard of this he banished him from his kingdom. After having belaboured his brains all his life concerning the First Cause, this unhappy theologian had bgcome so confused that instead of perceiving that he had himself lost his mind, he began to think that no greater mind ruled the world than his own. This theologian had a slave, an African, who accompanied him everywhere. When the theologian went into a cafe, the African remained outside in the court, and sat on a stone in the sun ; so he sat at this time driving away the flies. The theologian threw himself on a divan, and ordered a small cup of opium, which was brought to him. When he had fi nished the whole cup, and the poison began to work in his brain, he turned to his slave and said, ^' Now, wi-etched slave, tell me, is there a God or not ? " " Of course there is," said the slave, and pulled out a little wooden idol from his girdle. ^' Here is the God that has pro- tected me all my life in this world. It is made of a bough of that holy tree that is worshipped everywhere in our land." The other customers in the cafe heard the conversation between the theologian and his slave, and were astonished. The question seemed to them odd enough, but the slave's answer more so. A Brahmin, who heard what the slave said, turned to him, and exclaimed, '^Miserable fool! how is it possible to believe that God can be hidden in a man's girdle ? There is only one God — Brahma. That God is greater than the whole world, for he created the whole world. Brahma is the one great God, the God to whom temples have been raised on Ganges' sh ores ; the God who is served only by his priests, the Brahmins. These priests alone have knowledge of the true God. Twenty Tolstoi's Table Talk. C5 thousand years have already passed, and how many revolutions have taken place in the world, yet these priests have remained what they always were, because God, the one true God, protects them/' So spoke the Brahmin, believing that he had convinced them all. But a Jewish money-lender, who was present, answered him. *'Nay," said he, "the temple of the true God is not in India. And God does not protect the Brahmin caste. The true God is not the God of the Brahmins, bat of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ; and the true God only protects His own people, Israel. From the beginning of the world God has continually loved and does love our people only. And though our people are now scattered throughout the whole world, that is merely to try them, and God will, because He loves us, gather His people again in Jerusalem, and once more rebuild that wonder of the ancient world, the temple at Jerusalem, and raise Israel to the lordship over all other nations." Thus said the Jew, and burst into tears. He would have gone on with his speech, but an Italian who was there broke in on him. *' You do not speak the truth,"' he said to the Jew, "you do not describe God rightly. God cannot love one nation more than another ; on the contrary, if He did in former 3'-ears protect Israel, eighteen hundred years have now passed by since God's wrath was kindled against His people, and as proof of this wrath of His, He cut off their existence and scattered them over the whole world, so that their faith is not only no longer spreading, but only exists in a few places. God shows favour to no nation, but He calls all who wish to be saved into the bosom of the Roman Catholic Church, outside which there is no salvation." So spoke the Italian ; but a Protestant clergyman, who was among the company, changed colour and answered the Catholic missionary. " How can you say that salvation is only to be found in 3'our religion ? Learn to know that they only can be saved who 5 <>6 Tolstoi's Table Talk, serve God in spirit and in truth after the law of Jesus, according to the Gosj)el." A Turk, a customs officer in Surat, who was sitting smoking' his pipe, turned at this to the two Cliristians with an earnest look. " It is useless for you to be so certtiin of the truth of your Romish religion," said he. " Your faith has already been superseded by Mohammed's teaching for six hundred years l^ast. Moreover, as you can see yourself, Mohammed's correct doctrine is spreading more and more both in Europe and Asia, •even in enlightened China. You yourself recognise that the Jews are rejected of God, and that the proof of it is that they are abased, and their faith is no more on the increase. Only those who believe on God's last prophet shall be saved — and of these Omar's followers alone, and not those of Ali, for these are unbelievers." At this remark the Persian theologian, who belonged to All's sect, wished to reply. But at that moment a general dispute arose between all the strangers of different religions and creeds. There were Abyssinian Christians, Indian Lamas, Ishmaelites, and fire-worshippers. They all disputed about the essence of God, and how He ought to be worshipped. Every- one maintained that only in his land was the true God known and worshipped as He should be. All quarrelled and shouted at one another. A certain Chinese alone, who was there, a disciple of Confucius, sat quietly in a corner and took no part in the hubbub. He drank his tea, and listened to what the others were saying, but himself kept silence. The Turk, who caught sight of him during the dispute, turned to him and said : " Help me, dear Chinese. You are silent, but you can very well say something to support my contention. I know that just now different religions are being introduced into China. Your merchants have more than once told me that you Chinese look upon the Mohammedan religion as the best of all, and willingly embrace it. Come to my assistance, and say what you think of the true God and His prophet." " Yes, yes ! " chimed in the others, as they turned to him. The Chinese Confucian shut his eyes, thought awhile, and Tolstoi's Table Talk. 67 then opened them, while he drew out his hands from the wide sleeves of his dress, folded them on his breast, and began to speak in a quiet, mild voice. "Gentlemen,-' lie said, '* it seems to me that it is just their own pride that more than anything else prevents men from agreeing in religious matters. If it will not weaiy you, I will make this clear by a parable. I journeyed from China to Surat by an English steamer, which was on a voyage round the world. On the wa}*- we stopped at the east coast of Sumatra to take in water. At noon we went ashore and sat b}' the seaside under the shade of some cocoa palms, not far from some native villages. There were representatives of several different nationalities in the company. While we were sitting there a blind man came to us. He had become blind, as we learnt later, from looking too long and keenl}^ at the sun. In consequence of his continual gazing at and thinking about the sun he had at the same time lost both his sight and his reason. Since he was perfectly blind he had become fully convinced that there was no sun at all. He was accompanied by his slave, who settled his master in the shade of a cocoa palm, picked up a cocoanut, and began to make a night-light from it. He made a wick out of the fibre, pressed oil from the nut, and dipped the wick in it. While he was occupied with this the blind man sighed and said, ' Well, slave, what do you think now? Did I not tell you that there is truly no sun at all? See how dark it is, yet men say that there is a sun. But if so, what is the sun ? '" " '1 don't know what the sun is,' said the slave ; ' it doesn't matter to me ; but there is a light, I know that. Here is a night-light that I have made, that gives light enough for me to serve you with, and get things ready about the cottage,' and he held up his cocoanut shell, '^Here,' he said, '^is my sun.' "A lame man was sitting there with his crutches. He listened, and began to laugh. * You have surely been born blind,' snid he to the sightless man, ' if you don't know what the sun is. I will tell you what it is. The sun is a fireball, and this fire- ball rises every day out of the sea, and goes down every even- 68 Tolstoi's Table Tai,k. ing among the mountains of our island. We all see it, and you would too^ if vou had your sight.' '^ A fisherman, who also sat there, said to the lame man, 'It is very evident that you have never been outside your island. If you weren't a cripple, you would have been to sea, and known that the sun does not go down among the mountains on our island, but just as it rises out of the sea in the morning, so it goes down into the sea every night. I am felling the truth, for I see it with my own eyes every day.' *' An Indian heard him. 'It amazes me,' he said, 'how a sensible man can talk such rubbish. How can a fireball pos- sibly sink into the sea and not be quenched ? The sun is truly no fireball — the sun is a god, and that god is called Diva. The god drives in a chariot round the golden mountain Speruvia. Sometimes it happens that the fierce serpents Ragn and Keta attack Diva and swallow him, and then it gets dark. But our priests pray that the god ma}^ be delivered, and then he is set free. Only ignorant men like you, who have never been out of it, could imagine that the sun shines only on your island.' " A captain of an Egyptian vessel, who chanced to be there,, struck in. ' Nay,' he said, 'that, too, is folly. The sun is no god, and he does not only go round India and that golden mountain of j^ours. I have sailed far and wide, both in the Red Sea and the Arabian Gulf ; I have also been to Madagascar and the Phillipine Islands, and the sun shines on all lands, and not India only. He does not go round any particular mountain,, but rises by the Japan Isles — that is just the reason they are called Japan, because in their language it means "The Sun's Birth " — and sets far away in the West, beyond the British Isles. I know this, because I have seen it myself, and have heard a great deal about it from my grandfather, and my grandfather sailed to the world's end.' " He would have gone on talking, but an English sailor from our ship interrupted him. " ' There is no country where they know so much about the sun's course as in England. The sun, as we all know quite well in England, doesn't stop anywhere, but keeps on going round the world.' But not knowing how to explain it quite Tolstoi's Table Talk. t>9 clearly, he pointed to the pilot, and said, 'He's a much cleverer chap than I, and can explain the way of it more •clearly.' " The pilot was an intellig-ent man, and had listened in silence to the conversation till he was appealed to. But now, as they all turned to him, he began to speak, and said : * You are all mis- taken, both you and the rest. The sun does not go round the •earth, but the earth round the sun ; besides this, the earth turns round its own axis, so that in the course of twenty-four hours Japan, the Phillipine Islands, and Sumatra, where we now are, also Africa, Europe, Asia, and many other countries beside, turn towards the sun. The sun shines not only on the earth, but on many other planets which are like the earth. Those of you who are willing to be convinced of this have only to look up into the sky and then on yourselves here ; you will no longer believe that the sun shines only for you or your own land.' So spoke the wise pilot, who had travelled Avidely round the world, and gazed much into the heavens. ''Yes, the mistakes, divisions, and strife of men concerning religious questions come from pride," went on the Confucian. *' As it is with the sun, so also about God. Everyman will have his special god, or, at least, one for his native land. Every nation desires to shut up in its own temple what the Avhole world cannot contain. And can any temple compare with that Avhich God Himself has built to unite in it all people in one religion and one faith? All human temples are built after the pattern of that temple — God's world. In all temples there are founts, arched vaults, lamps, pictures, inscriptions, law- books, offerings, altars, and priests. In what temple is there such a baptistery as the ocean, such a vault as the sky, such lamps or candles as the sun, moon, and stars, such pictui*es as living men who love and help each other ? What inscriptions concerning God's goodness are so easy to understand as the blessings that God has everywhere lavished on us for our hap- piness ? What law-book is so plain and clear as that writte n in man's own heart ? Where are offerings of such worth as those offerings of self-sacrifice, that loving human beings make for their neighbour's sake ? And where is the altar that can 70 Tolstoi's Table Talk. compare with a good man's heart, on which God Himself receives the offering.? The loftier man's thought of God, the better his knowledge of Him, And the better he knows God, the more nearly will he approach Him, and resemble Him in His goodness, merc}^, and love to the human race. But let not him who sees God's full light, that fills the whole world, condemn or despise the suj)erstitious man, who in his little idol sees only a ray of the same light ; neither let him despise the unbeliever who is blind and sees no light at all." So spake the Chinese, the disciple of Confucius, and all in the cafe were silent, and no longer disputed as to which religion was best. So ends the parable. The position of Tolstoi and those who think with him with regard to the political government of the world has been greatly misrepresented in many quarters. It is true that they repudiate all worldly authority in general, because they are convinced of the equality of all men, and regard the unnatural relations that now prevail between the masters and the bemastered as a consequence of evolution on wrong lines. But a violent revolution against the present powers would be equall}^ contrary to their principles, because they believe the command *^ Resist not evil" to be fundamental in morals. On these grounds thej^ disapprove utterl}^ of the '"j^hysical force " policy of the terrorist party. Tolstoi and his friends do not think much of Western litera- ture. They say that like everything else in the present sj'stem of society it is dominated by money-power, and consequently betrays great laxity of morals. According to them, money plays the most powerful part in the production of books. The object of their making is money, and because they are made to sell, their contents are such as to be pleasing instead of true» The judgment of the critics is biassed, and these influence the choice and sale of books. Moreover, the publishers, who are powerful and wealthy themselves, exercise great pressure on the j)ress and critics generally ; and the retail booksellers are also under the same pressure of pecuniary motives. Hence it follows that the vast flood of Western literature that issues. Tolstoi's Table Talk. 71 from the press is tainted in its source, and poisoned throughout by the deadly influence of Mammon. The most revolting- example of this they consider to be the composition and sale of hymns to the love of God and books concerning Jesus, all with a view to amassing money ; a proceeding that is in most violent contrast to the whole life and teaching of the Master. Everj'^- one knows that Tolstoi himself is consistent in this ; that he retains no copyright in his works. It may not be so generally known that in Russia his books, forbidden by the censor to be l)rinted, are written out by hand at immense cost, and distri- buted at a price much below the value of the labour of coj^ying- them. It seems scarcely credible that this laborious process should be necessary in these days of automatic compositors and rapid presses, yet who knows whether the influence of the works so copied and circulated in manuscript is really less than that of the enormous mass of jjrinted literature that issues from the 2)ress of Western Europe ? Tolstoi told me once that he desired to write two books before his death. One was to be a kind of counterblast to the increasingly martial spirit of the time, that seemed almost j)ersonified in the young German Emperor. This has since been published under the title of " The Kingdom of Heaven is Within You." It is, as the Count meant it to be, a kind of summing up of the case against all use of physical force. The other, that has not yet appeared, was to be the history of some Russian colonists, who had unknowingly settled out- side the frontier of Eastern Siberia. There, away from all interference from Government officials, they had built up a little commonwealth of their own by the simple development that sprang from the natural satisfaction of their common needs, and passed several y*»ars in peace and quiet happiness. But one fine day the authorities discovered them. It was true they were beyond the frontier and outside the Russian jurisdiction, but that was a small difficulty in the eyes of the paternally benevolent Government. They simply shifted the frontier so as to include the colony, and thus conferred on the unwilling people the inestimable blessings of life under an autocratic 72 Tolstoi's Table Talk. despotism, with its accompanying delights of excessive taxa- tion, police supervision, forced military service, landlordism, established ecclesiasticism, &c. Yet some jDeople do not know when they are well off. From that day the happiness and prosperity of the colonists has become a thing of the past. The question has often been put by prominent religious people in England, " But is Tolstoi a Christian ? " Well, that depends entirely on your conception of what a Christian is. If it is a matter of creed or ritual, no doubt Tolstoi would have to be rejected by most of the divisions into which nominal Christians have fallen. Tested by the standard of the Greek Church, he is not, for he has no belief in the validity of their ecclesiastical traditions, the powers of the priests, the efficacy of their pardons, the utility of saint worship, &c. Or by the Romish test, he thinks nothing of the infallibility of the Pope, the Immaculate Conception, the power of priestly absolution, of ecclesiastical bannings or blessings. He is outside the Anglican fold, for he has no faith in "orders," or in the apostolical succession. " Evangelicals," so called, cannot claim him as one of them, for he does not accept their theories about the insj)iration of the Bible or the exact relations of the Persons of the Trinity, or their favourite explanation of Christ's work of salvation. What is left of the Christian faith, you ask ? Tolstoi is not so much concerned with beliefs about, as faith in, God and Jesus Christ. He believes in God as a child believes in his father. That is, he trusts His wisdom and His love, although he feels unable to give metaph3"sical definitions of these attributes, and precise explanations of the manner in which they work. To him God expresses all that is good, noble, true, pure, and beautiful. He believes in Jesus Christ as the Leader of men through the difficulties and perplexities of this world, as the Deliverer from what is really evil, as the Way of Life. He tries to follow Him, to obey His commands, that his own life may grow, and his faculties be developed to a fuller understanding of the truth. This may be wofully insufficient, according to the views of those who themselves think they possess clear and true Tolstoi's Table Talk. 78 doctrines, and that "except a man so believe he cannot be saved/' but it is remarkably like what Christ required of men Himself. And of the two, this simple faith, this earnest endeavour to he and to do right, costs a man far more than the effort merely to fhinii right. Moreover, judged by the standard of dogma, Tolstoi could not be a Christian, according to one division of Christians, Avithout being a heretic according to the others, but in sight of this attempt to live his life in harmony with the teaching of Christ, he is at one with all earnest and sincere men of every denomination whatever. It is true that Tolstoi can no more avoid dipping into doctrine occasionally than the rest of us, and his recently published book on " The Four Gospels " shows that he, too, can be led by the use of subjective methods to critical results that can hardly stand the test of objective facts. It is true that in his "Kingdom of Heaven is Within You" he uses arguments that seem to many of us to be invalid, and draws inferences from Christ's words that strike us as unwarranted, and that in his books generally he expresses opinions that are no more certainl}- true than other men's opinions; and, of course, he believes in them, as we all believe in our own, and very rightly, so long as we really think them, and do not merely reflect the opinions of those about us. This is no more than to say that Tolstoi is human ; that he is not himself the Truth, but only a disciple seeking to find and obey the Truth ; that he is not the Light himself, but one who is earnestly trying to open out his whole life to the Light, that under its vivifying rays he may grow as God meant him to grow, that the dark places of wrong within him may be purified by the Light, and all that is good bear much fruit. Only a disciple, yet, with all his faults and errors, of which probably no one is more conscious than himself, nearer the Master by far than many of us who wisely sit in judgment on them ; a disciple who, by his renunciation of the riches, jDower, and dominion of the world that came to him by birth, by his sturdy and uncompromising struggle against what he honestly believes to be evil, by his self-sacrificing deeds 74 Tolstoi's Table Talk. of mercy and love among- " these least," has honourabh^ earned the right to the name of ^^ Christian," which, with multitudes of "professors" more orthodox than he, is merely a conventional label of respectability, a badge assumed light-heart edl}^, a wearing of the Master's colours that is belied by a carelessness about the faithful execution of His orders. CHAPTER VI. SPRING SCENES IN SAMARA. On the Oars — Conditions oF Russian Travel — A Prison Car — Relief Work ir> the City of Samara — Railroad Punctuality — Mushik Hospitality — A Molokban Meeting — My Lodgings with Count Lyeff Tolstoi — Famine Scenes — A Wakeful Night — " Vot Klop I " — Visit to Petrovka — In a Snowdrift — Yon Biriikoff — -Feeding on Clay — " He must be the Devil ! " — Orphaned Children — Upper-class Opinion and Governinent Opposition — An Address of Thanks — Birukoff and the Priest — A Lenten Service — The Popes and the Villagers — A. Cheap Marriage — The Pope and th*' Bell — A Peasant's Burial — The Burnt Sheepskin — Fine Feathers — The Rouble Note — Eastertide — Visit to a Horse-Farm — A Stormy Night — Black Thoughts — A Peasant Superstition — "Christos Vo^kresje I "— Lack of Seed — A Farewell Visit— Count LyetY Tolstoi — The Honest Physician ! Early in March, 1892, on a bitterly cold morning, I left Count Tolstoi's headquarters in the Government ot Rjasan, to accompanj his son Lyeff Lvovitch and another young- nobleman, Paul von Birukoff, to the young Count's centre of operations in the government of Samara. "Where shall we meet next? "said Tolstoi to me as we parted; "perhaps in Sweden, or beyond the Mississippi ! " As we went towards the rail way station of Klekotki in our sleighs, we met a lon^ ohoz, or baggage-train, of more than a hundred horses, bringing fuel and food for the relief work. Our own train, according to the habit of Russian railwaj'S, was several hours late. We travelled third-class, following the Tolstois' usual custom, taking our baggage into the car with us. Long distances prevail in this country, so a traveller's equipment usually consists of portable bedding, food, and a tea-set : you can get hot water on the cars. Every nook and corner of the train was crowded with luggage and packages of different kinds. The passengers, also, were of assorted varieties — Russians proper, Mordvinians, Tcheremiss, Tatars, and Bashkirs. Of these, the Tatars held a dis- 1& Spring Scenes in Samaka. tinguished pre-eminence in mv eyes, bj reason of their cleanliness and politeness. The young Count called them "real gentlemen," and told me that they were the most honest and sober people in all Eussia, and consequently filled positions of trust as a rule. He gave a good character also to the Bashkirs, but in my own experience I found them of a slyer and more cunning disposition than the Tatars. The A GEOUP OF TATARS. Mordvinians and Tcheremiss are of Finnish race, inhabiting the forest regions of Kasan and its neighbouring districts, which have been their home as far back as history reaches. Nominally orthodox, they are at heart pagan, and in secret still offer sacrifices to the spirits of the forest. They were very picturesque in appearance, with their olive faces, black moustaches, dark Mongolian eyes, and white caftans of coarse woollen homespun. The Tatars and Bashkirs are Moham- Spring Scenes in Samaea. medans ; they and these semi-pagan tribes, inchiding also the Votyaks and Tchuvashi, thoir neighbours, are on a very high moral level, being industrious, sober, and honest. I could not sleep at all the first night. The smell, the vermin, and the presence of diseased rmishiks were too much for me ; I had frequently to go out on to the platform — the cars are of the American pattern — on account of nausea. But th(^ famine had one incidentally good result : there was THE YOUNGER TOLSIOI S HEADQUARTERS AT PATROVKA. a general absence of drunken people ; the first I noticed was a priest. During the night a prison car, whose small windows were protected by iron bars, and on each of whose platforms stood two (jendarmes in grey, armed with rifle, revolver, and sword, was attached to our train. It was filled with convicts bound for Siberia, including both genuine criminals and those whost^ political or religious opinions made them obnoxious in the eyes of a suspicious Government. I noticed, when I got a glimpse through the double doors, some comely girl faces among the crowd of rough and shaggy mushik heads. Even children are 78 Spring Scenes in Samara. not infrequently sent to Siberia for political or ecclesiastical reasons. Birukoff had broug-lit bandages and antiseptics, and •occupied himself each day with washing and dressing the sores of the mushiJcs, and speaking words of cheer to them. The second night, also, I could not sleep a wink ; it was not merely the heat and the stifling, poisonous air, but there were a number of suspicious individuals about, and thieving is of very common occurrence on the cars. The third night tired nature would be denied no longer, and I slept soundl3% At five a.m. the Count woke me to see the Volga bridge, and an hour later we were in the city of Samara, whose elevated position on the east bank of the Volga, and public buildings and churches, give it a striking appearance. We stox3ped here a day to transact some business. The place was crowded with starving mushiks, suffering from spotted typhus, black small-pox, and scurvy, begging for bread by day and sleeping in hovels and cellars at night. Very many of the rich had fled to Paris or Nice. Private relief- work was chiefly carried on by foreigners. Two Germans, Herr Koenitser •and Herr Wakano, fed respectively fifty and a hundred people daily. An Englishman, Mr. Besant, with means brought from Great Britain, gave each day two meals to four hundred of the sufferers. The Russian helx^ers were mainly sectarians ; a Molokhan lady, a widow, worked assiduously and quietly, according to her means, among the poor. It was the same in the province. The English Friends, supported Prince Dolgoru- koff's medical expedition to Eastern Samara, and dispensed much help through their agents. The young Count Tolstoi's funds, by which he carried on his extensive work, came mostly from foreign countries, chiefly England and America. At one a.m. we were at the railway station, but the train was (not. All was quiet as death. In the second-class waiting-room we found a number of men, women, and children, covering about a quarter of an acre of flooring, making night musical by snores in various keys, surrounded by immense piles of luggage. Lyeff Tolstoi came in with the tickets, after sending an express telegram to the place to order horses, and told us the train was Si'KiNG Scenes in Samara. 79 belated seven hours ! In stoic calm he spread his cloak on the floor and joined the company of sleepers, and after a cup of tea we did the same. At nine the coming of the train was announced for mid-day ; it ^jrovedto be two p.m. Tlie cold was 30*^ Reaumur (about ^S-aO*^ Fahr.). On the Avay a priest told us that in his villag-e, which contained 1,(500 people, there was only one horse left ; all r,he rest were starved or killed. At Bagatoye we left the train, it being then dusk. We found that one of our cases of canned goods had been stolen, and that the exjjress telegram, despatched from Samara twenty hours before, had not yet been forwarded. We had, in conse- quence, to send for conve3^auces to the nearest village, Saniy each drawn by two small shaggy horses, tamdem fashion. On the way the Count beguiled the time by telling me stories of the nomadic races who had lived on these steppes, and fought heroically for their freedom. We lodged that night with a musliih acquaintance of the Count's, who seemed to be considerably above the usual run. Not only was his place much cleaner than was common, but it had a plank flooring. We slept on the tioor in thick blankets, the lamp overhead burning all night. In the morning our hostess poured water over our hands as we washed, a Russian custom of hospitality. After a breakfast of tea and bread we pushed on, and soon arrived at Pakovka, the village which Count L3'eff used as his centre. His headquarters consisted of a one -storied izba, divided by partitions into three small rooms ; one for sleeping, one for entry, reception-room, and kitchen, and one for dining-room, parlour, and office. The second was constantly crowded with mushiks. No sooner had we arrivad than we were besieged. The Count went to work at once, and all the time I was with him he took but few hours of rest by night or day. That was Saturday. One of our drivers had been a fine, neatly-dressed youth, who had told me of his connection with the Molokhan sect, and on my expressing a wish to be present at one of their meetings had offered me a hearty welcome. Birukoff and I went next day, at 9 a.m., and found in a large izha about two hundred people collected ; the women and children were toge- 80 Spring Scenks ix Sajiara. ther nearest the doors, and the men inside. They had been told of our coming-, and on our entrance rose together in greet- ing ; our coats were taken, and we ourselves led right through and given seats at the table. Like most of the sectaries, the ap- pearance and demeanour of these powerfully-built, though now emaciated folk, indicated a higher degree of intelligence and culture than that of the Orthodox peasants generally. As soon as we were settled, the congregation rose again, and struck up a very strange kind of chant. The words were from a chapter of the New Testament, read out verse by verse by one of the leaders. The music was a kind of canon or round, of which the motive remained the same, but which was subject to variations to suit the different words of the text. Like all Eussian songs, it was in a minor strain, and made a deep im- pression on me, despite its j)rimitive, almost wild character. These simple, wailing tunes have been shaped during centuries of remorseless persecution, and express the striving after light and freedom of many thousands of souls. They were now sung with great feeling and life by the whole assembly. I give an attempt at reproduction of the motive of the chant : — i :P^ S ^H>!W^ :f^ -**^# -^-it_ ^- i ^ w T=?~ ^2* -*-*■ After the singing, one of the leaders read Matt, xxv., con- taining the parables of Jesus concerning the Virgins and the Talents, making short and practical comments as he read. Then the meeting was open to all, and several of the older members ex- pressed their views tersely and to the point. I must say I found this mode of proceeding more instructive and helpful than many of the set theological sermons I have listened to, although these mushiks, who had frequently taught themselves to read in advanced years and under extreme difficulties, had no other source of instruction than the Bible and their observation of Spring Scenes in Sasiara. 81 life. I translate some of my notes, in which I jotted down a few of their comments : — " The fire in the virgins' lamps is insight into truth. But it is not enough to have Jire j one must use, and, above all things, have oil. What is this oil ? It is the ivill to do good expressing itself in action, i.e., good deeds. We can have light and great insight, and not live up to it, like those spoken of in STAKOST. TOLSTOI'S CHIEF UELPEK. P. VON BIUUKOFF. CODNT L. TOLSTOI. another parable, who build their house on sand, that is, hear the word without doing it afterwards. This is the most impor- tant matter in the whole of Christianity, yet is most often neglected by those who profess to be Christians, who occupy themselves with a lot of doctrines and ceremonies rather than doing the will of God. The kernel and centre of good works is love to God and man, love showing itself in self-sacrifice for 6 82 Spkixg Scenes in Samara. the suffering brother, as is proved by Christ's words concerning the last judgment — only those who have fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited the sick, &c., will enter into His glory." Birukoff also, at request, not only commented on the passage, but gave an address on the words, " The Law and the Prophets were until John ; from that time the Gospel of the Kingdom of God is jDi'cached, and every man entereth violently into it." There was not room in Tolstoi's izha for more than himself and chief helper, Ivan Alexandrovitch Berger, so I had to get quarters elsewhere. I found these in the afternoon, in the izha of the village " Pisar," or scribe, a young unmarried man and his widowed mother. I had breakfast with these good people, but dinner and supper with the Count. Another member of this household I shall always remember with affection. He was from our first acquaintance one of my most intimate friends, shared my bed frequently, took tea and milk out of my saucer, and was always brisk and cheerful, however gloomy our sur- roundings. True, Vaska was " only a cat," but he has many a time brought me no little comfort when returning from scenes of hunger, disease, and death. The free kitchens in Samara district were on the same plan as those of Rjasan, except in minor points where local circum- stances led to alteration. Here, too, deputations from distant villages came with appeals for help, and when the workers returned from their rounds they brought the same tales of typhus, scurvy, black small-pox, &c., caused by the famine. Here is a sample of a day's work, extracted from my diarj^, Wednes- day, March 24. 6 a.m. The bells call the Orthodox to early mass. It is Lent, and this early Mass is celebrated every day. The head- quarters are already besieged by a crowd of applicants. Not professional beggars, with well-worn, stereotyped petitions and blessings, but a timid manner of making their wants known, " Our food is all gone long ago ; we are starving. Help us."^ '' My wife and children are sick, and I have nothing for them ; help us with a little tea and sugar, and something for hisha and soup ! " " "We have a horse and cow, which are starving. Sl'RIN.., '-^Hj.i. VILLAGE STREET IN PATROVKA. district of villages, but when we made inquiries the whole *' store " consisted of " only three bottles containing some unknown liquid " ! Two physicians, two surgeons, and six volunteer nurses constituted this expedition. They took dinner and supper with the Count, and though the accommodation was cramped the company' was good, and all went well. It was late that night when I reached my "room." This was a small corner behind the oven, on the top of which my host and hostess slept. But I found sleep hopeless. The pictures of the saints I had seen in the daytime seemed to move about in lifelike fashion. I shut my eyes many times in hopes of dropping off, but they opened of their own accord 86 Spring Scenes in Samara. just as often. The church bell tolled " One.'* The lampadka, burning before the saint in " the holy corner " of the outer room, spread a dim light, and through a crack in the wooden partition I could see an ugly old saint staring at me, while on the oven's top my hosts snored lustily. I tried to sleep again, but it was no use. I lit my lamp, looked at my watch — it was 2 a.m. — and tried to read, but my thoughts wandered. I glanced at the wall, and there was life and motion ! I had already tired myself out in warring with the vermin, which taught me to suffer in silence. Therefore, I left these travellers in peace. I thought of the morning, when at last I could get out of this dark and stifling prison into the fresh air and light of the sun. I peeped into the other room, and was surprised to see that the lampadha of the holy Nicholas was going out, so I decided to let my little lamp, which illumined no saint with shining halo, but a swarming multitude of , burn on till the sun should supersede both lamp and lampadka. With longing after the sun and the fresh air I at last fell asleep. f. After spending the night once in another peasant's house, my good host asked me in the morning if I had slej)t well. When I said "No," he inquired if I had been visited by ''Mop." Not having heard the word before, I asked what it was. Rising quickly and running to the wall, he picked off a bug and brought it to me in his hand. " Vol Mop " (this is Mop), he said. He looked astonished when I expressed my strong aversion to *^B flats," declaring "they are good for cleansnig the blood." Saturday, March 27. — As I sat at breakfast, the door opened, and a small, piping voice was heard on the other side of the partition : " Barin gatav ? " (Is the gentleman ready ?) " Sei tschess" (Immediately). The voice belonged to a little, lively and agreeable little mushik, who was to drive us over to Birukoff's headquarters at Petrovka, some twenty miles away over the steppes. We found a strong headwind blowing, and out on the steppes the storm was very bad, so that it was with the utmost difficulty that I could see the horse in front of us. It was a wonder to me how Vasutka, m}-- driver, who looked like a little snow goblin on the sledge, could find the way. In Spuing Scenes in Samara. 87 one valley we did lose it, and the poor horse struggled helplessly in the soft snow. Vasutka began to beat the poor animal, who struggled hard, shivered, and looked piteously round at us. " Stop that," I cried to him, and jumped out to unharness the horse. The cold seemed to me much harder to bear out on these steppes than the same degree of frost on ouv own northern fells ; my hands began to freeze as I outspanned the horse, and it was with the greatest difficulty that I kej^t my face from becoming frost-bitten. We managed Avith ropes to haul the horse out of the drift on to some harder tracks, but had to rej)eat the process several times. The horse was getting exhausted, and it seemed probable that we should have to spend a day and night in a snowstorm out on the steppes. "Vasutka, do you think we shall get out of this ? " " GosjJod znajer " (God knows) . ^^ Are you afraid?" " JSfitchevo ! " This last word is hardly trans- latable ; it is a kind of vocal shrugging of the shoulders. However, at last we hit the road again, and by good hap kept it until we reached our journey's end." ^ Birukoff was out, but the peasants, after gaping and whis- pering about my outlandish dress and broken Russian, showed nie to his room. It was about 10ft. by 6ft. His box-bedstead was made of roughly-nailed boards ; there were two wooden .stools and a table, on which lay a Russian New Testament, a French philosophical treatise on Pythagoras, and some lists and account books belonging to the relief work. In about half-an- hour he came home, tired and hungry, but cheerful as usual, and we had a late dinner. Like his master Tolstoi, BirukofP is a vegetarian, and lived on the same food that he served to the peasants. The usual crowding in of applicants took place during the meal, and after attending to them we wi'ut off to a committee meeting cimcerning some new eating- rooms. The members of this committee impressed me very favourably by their bearing and speech. They clearly felt tliat they were not in the pres- ence of officials, Avhom they hated and feared, but turned to Birukoff as a friend; he, on his part, met them with unfeigned cordiality and respect. I was introduced, and the object of my 88 Spring Scenes in Samara. journey explained, after the business was finished. One and all rose up, and in cliorus thanked me, and asked me to convey tlieir thanks to all the friends abroad who had contributed through me. It was evident from what was brought forward at this meet- ing, that in spite of all denials from certain quarters, numbers were dying directly of starvation, and not simply from diseases occasioned by the famine. It also appeared that many families had mixed clay with the bread. I keep a sample of this as a grim memorial. When we came out there was a considerable crowd assembled to see *^ the first foreigners who had visited their village." I was by this time so used to the curiosity of the peasants that it roused my wonder when I was not followed by a crowd. This happened to me once, where I saw women and children peeping round corners or out of windows, and then hastily drawing back. The riddle was solved when I reached my lodging. My companion, with whom I had been speaking in German, told me that the women in the village had said, " He doesn't use Christian speech, and he is not dressed like a Christian. He must be the tjort (devil) himself." Von Birukoff had had to overcome endless opposition from the different authorities before he could succeed in his work ; yet he had ti^iumphed to an extraordinary degree, and astonished me with his indomitable doggedness and pluck. He had charge of the north-eastern wing of the Count's army of warriors against pestilence and famine. Already he had established forty eating-rooms, and hoped to double that number. One of the most heartrending features of the famine was the multitude of orj)haned children, whose parents had fallen victims to starvation or typhus. In Samara alone they num- bered many thousands, and, without friends or relatives, wandered from village to village seeking help for themselves and little brothers or sisters. Many were fed in the Count's eating-rooms, but it was impossible to help more than a small number of the great multitude. Here is an entry from my diary: April 14th. Got no rest during the night. About midnight a number of starving people,. ^fi' mmBi^- ' ir*:P^ "^ohcin'&i^^'k STARVING OhPHANS. i i Si'KiNG Scenes in Samara. 91 wandering from village to village in search of bread, came and asked for food. The pitiable folk seemed in hopeless despair. In the outer room thej kept talking and whispering, now and again breaking out into sobs and crying. The number of starving beggars roving about is increasing alarmingly. One crowd after another has passed through the village during the day, very inany of whom have been children. As I was eating my breakfast this morning I saw a large number of child- beggars approaching my lodging-place across the plain. It was no new sight, but very painful on that sunny April morning to see these 2)iuclied and starving little ones. One girl of about nine, carrying a little child, looked as if she might have been thirty or more. A little way off stood a boy, looking on the ground Avith a sorrowful expression. "Where do you come from, little children? " I asked. " From the village of G " (in the neighbourhood). " Who is the little one in your arms ? " I asked the girl. " My little brother." '^ Where are your parents ? " "They have died in the 'disease ' " (spotted typhus). " Have you no relatives ? " *' Many have died in the disease, and others have gone away." " What is your name? " I asked the boy just mentioned. "Ivan Petrovitch A." " Where are your parents ? " " I have no parents ! " And the poor little fellow burst int o tears. The other children told me that his father died a month ago, and that his mother was buried yesterday. All of them, I discovered, were orphans. Yet it was one of the things that astonished me most in Russia, to hud that so many of the upper-class people in the y cities tried to deny the existence of any extraordinary famine, and that while the cities themselves were swarming with the starving peasants. Once a well-fed and warmly-clad " gentle- man " on the cars said to me, in an authoritative tone, " The distress of the mushiks is not so great as people make out. They are accustomed to no other condition, and are contente d and happy. The mushiks are cattle.^' 92 Spring Scenes in Samara. Not only so, but at first the authorities prohibited the giving of relief by private persons, and when that was no longer possible invariably gave them the cold shoulder, and even set detectives in large numbers to spy on their proceedings. In Moscow, for example, a certain Madame Marosova, who offered to support 10,000 famine-stricken people at her own cost, u-as forbidden to do it, and one of Colonel Paschkoff's large establishments, in which 500 people were fed daily, was closed by the police in the famine year 1892, in Petersburg, under the eyes of the Procureur of the Most Holy <|p^ ■*^, GOVEK^ME]ST LUlLLilKGS ]N PA'IIiOVKA. Synod and of ihe " Little Father " of the Eussian people. Even in the destitute villages out on the steppes of Samara detectives were watching those who were devoting all their powers to feeding the hungry, while official representatives of these *' powers (of darkness?) that be," who were doling out a horrible mixture of chaff, sand, and dirt, instead of the flour provided by Government, were left unmolested. Of course, I do not know what these "ministering spirits " reported about our work, but 1 am sure that if they told the truth they could in no way describe the methods of relief as " dangerous." The Royalty of the addresses of thanks from the peasants ought to 1 Spring Scenes in Samara. 93 have satisfied the very Pobiedanostseff himself. Here is a specimen. ADDRESS OF THANKS. On behalf of the meeting in the village of Samovolovka in the district of Patrovka, and in the name of jjersons belonging to the eating-room, who number fortj, no more and no less. CHURCH IN PATROVKA. and who, from their whole sincere heart, and with the unanimous consent of the entire meeting, have the honour of thanking First, and above all, the Heavenly Tsar, and Next to Him the Earthly Tsar, Alexander Alexandrovitch, ■with his whole family, and the Most Holy Synod, with all its nearest councillors, and finally We have the honour of thanking Your Highness Count 94 Spring Scenes in Sa3iaka. Tolstoi, and you, Mr. Merchant, Paul Ivanovitch, for all your benefactions to us, for your food ; and if we liad not received alms from both, quarters, from His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, and from Your Highness Count Tolstoi, we would have been in a terrible state, we would hardly have been alive. From our whole, sincere, and grateful heart we again thank you, and we remain very satisfied with your arrangements, and we will thank you many times for many years. We shall be very, very content. Some weeks after my visit to Petrovka, the following incident happened there. I had it, not from Birukoff himself, who, like Tolstoi and his helpers generallj^, makes it a rule never to tell about how they are treated by priests and officials, but from another, a thoroughly reliable person. Herr von Birukoff went one day on certain business to the house of a Kulach in the village, where he met the priest of the place. The host set tea, and wine and vodJca before them. The priest took both tea and vodhi, but Birukoff, being an abstainer, took tea only. The former soon got "si little fresh," and began throwing out innuendoes against Birukoff and his helpers. " People come now from all parts," he said, " and give so much food to the mushihs that they completely spoil them, but they never go to church, but set the peasants a bad example, and do not live according to the Bible." " What do you mean ? " said Birukoff ; " speak plainly, and don't insinuate." " Well, I mean that you care nothing for church or Bible, and live like heathens." '^ 1 love and revere the New Testament," said Birukoff, "and earnestly try to carry out its contents in my life. I always carry a New Testament with me and read it eveiy day. Have you a Bible ? " And he took out his Testament and put it on the table before the priest. " I have my Bible on the desk in church." " Yes, and there it may lie. You don't read it yourself, nor teach the people from it, nor try to fulfil its contents in your life. What fruit does your Bible bear if it lies in the church ? Neither your own nor your people's life shows any fruit of the Gospel." Then Birukoff read some portions of the Sermon on Spring Scenes in Sajiara. 95 the Mount and other parts of the New Testament which teach how a Christian should live. Then tlie priest got into a rage, snatched the Testament iind flung it out of doors, exclaiming " Does the Gospel bear such fruit then 9 " and flung himself out by the same way. * -jf ^ ^ * It is " the great Lent," with its nuiltitude of services. Earl}' and late the Pope, dressed in his "rjassa," a long gown with wide arms, a long staff in his hand, and accompanied at a distance by the " psalm-singer," walks slowly and majestically to the church, where the bells are rung in rapid time. Behind the priest and his pomoststchik come troops of people of all ages in single file, bowing and crossing themselves as they enter the chui'ch. It is " Blagovestshjenije," Annunciation Day. An icy cold wind drives the newly-fallen snow over the plains as I go with the crowd to church, which is filled to its utmost capacity. The barbaric Eastern splendour of the interior, the number of saints in their silver frames, the gaudy decorations, the costly robes of the priest, and the elaborate ritual contrast painfully with the malodorous motley crowd of ragged, emaciated, and dirty men, women, and children. These incessantly bow and cross themselves, and kneel before the pictures, while the priest walks round those of the Virgin and the Christ, swinging " the holy Kad jilnitza " or censer, and the "psalm-singer" sings the Mass with a strong " giii-bass " (produced through drinking much gin). Powerful as his voice is, it is drowned b}^ the coughing and the screams of the babies. On either side of the " iJconastasis," a large screen before the altar, stands a small desk within a rough wooden enclosure, where a man is busy all the time selling " holy " wax candles. The poor usually buy the cheapest kind, at about five copecks, and light them before their favourite saints. A brisk business is carried on in this kind of merchandise, the value of Avhich is greatly enhanced by the priest's " consecration." The net proceeds are divided betwen the clergy and the church. There is a strong draught through the church, yet the air is unspeakably foul. The whole service, with its mechanical ceremonies, its prayers, and chanting in a language imintelligible 96 Spring Scenes in Samara. to the people, the emaciated and haggard appearance of the congregation, many of whom were disfigured by syphilis and small-pox, and all of whom bore the unmistakable impress of degradation and slavery, make the most painful impression on me. During the famine the people attend church more assiduously than usual, hoping by this to conciliate the Deity. For the priests they have neither love nor respect ; it is merely ignorance and A MUSIIIK'S FUNERAL. superstition that hold them under their sway. The popes, as the village priests are called, belong to the " white priesthood," and are compelled to marry; the members of the "black priesthood" live in enforced celibacy. The popes have no salary, but have ample power of deriving a good income from the comj)ulsory fees for the numerous religious ceremonies. The nice parsonage in our village testified to better times in the past, and the well- fed appearance of the priest showed that, although his income had been badly reduced, he had not been inconvenienced by starvation. Ceremonial fees vary according to circumstances ; Spring Scenes in Samara. 97 baptism of an infant costs from fifty coj)ecks to several roubles ; a wedding five to twenty roubles, a funeral one to ten roubles. The rich pay much, larger sums. Then the priests receive a great deal in kind. Ten times a year they make their rounds through the villages, when each family must contribute some- thing. At the great festivals he comes to hold "moleben " or DELIVERED BY DEATH. prayers in their homes, when they must give him at least twenty-five copecks, some pastry, ten eggs, &c. In this village there are four hundred homes, so he does not do so badly. It must not be supposed that these offerings are all given willingly ; on the contrary, the priest has often to threaten and quarrel with the peasants before he can collect them. Some- 7 98 Sprinu Scenes in Samara. times the dead lie unburied for days, because their friends cannot pay what he asks. A baptism or wedding may be more easily postponed, but in the end the peasants have to give in. Where sectarians are numerous it is most difficult for the- priest to get so much, but the police are on his side, and he can get them harassed, imprisoned, or even banished. Take as an illustration the following conversation between peasants, telling of their different priests. One narrates how, in the village of F , a peasant went to the priest to arrange for his wedding. " Ten roubles," demands the priest. The peasant haggles about it. " Well, you shall have it for five then, not a copeck less." Three roubles are offered, on the- plea of poverty, but the ]30pe will not give way for a long time ; at last, however, he agrees, and on the appointed day they meet for the ceremony. The priest begins. According to Eussian custom the couple should be conducted round the analoj or reading-desk three times, but the priest stops after the first round. ^^Little^ father," says the bridegroom, *' according to law thou shouldst take us three times round the desk." " Three times for three- roubles ! " exclaims the priest. " One is enough for thee." Then the bridegroom notices that the priest does not hold the crown over their heads, according to custom, and says, " Little Father, why dost thou marry us without a crown ? " " Wilt thou, then, have a crown also for three roubles ? Thou are jesting, little brother. This will do." At the end the priest should give the couple a little wine, but none is forth- coming. The peasant stretches out his hand for some, saying,. " A little wine, little father ! " " So," shrieks the priest " thou wouldst have wine, too, for three roubles, thou little rascal ! " Nor is any given. So the edifying ceremony ends. The other peasants shook their heads, saying, " Voj, voj,''' such a " 'oatuscliTta " (little father). " With us," begins another, " the priest is better in that respect ; he does not gnaw the flesh from our bones, but '" "What then?" The peasant shuts his eyes and shakes his head. " Does he drink ? " Spring Scenes in Samara. 99 '' Drink ! Drink ! And when he gets his spells, oh ! And he is fearful when he gets drunk. Then he fights and carries on like a mad dog. One night, not long ago, when the village had barely gone to rest, the large church bell began to ring. The whole v illage ' rolled out ' to see where the fire had broken out. "VVe all looked round, and could see nothing. We ran to the church steeple, and there we saw the hatuschl-