By Paul Vinogradoff.
_The following letter to The London Times by Paul Vinogradoff,
Corpus Professor of Jurisprudence at Oxford University,
appeared on Sept. 14, 1914. Prof. Vinogradoff was invited to
return to Russia a few years ago to become a Minister of
State, but on going there he found the Ministry not liberal
enough for him, and returned to Oxford._
_To the Editor of The Times:_
SIR: I hope you may see your way to publish the following somewhat
lengthy statement on one of the burning questions of the day.
In this time of crisis, when the clash of ideas seems as fierce as the
struggle of the hosts, it is the duty of those who possess authentic
information on one or the other point in dispute to speak out firmly and
clearly. I should like to contribute some observations on German and
Russian conceptions in matters of culture. I base my claim to be heard
on the fact that I have had the privilege of being closely connected
with Russian, German, and English life. As a Russian Liberal, who had to
give up an honorable position at home for the sake of his opinions, I
can hardly be suspected of subserviency to the Russian bureaucracy.
I am struck by the insistence with which the Germans represent their
cause in this worldwide struggle as the cause of civilization as opposed
to Muscovite barbarism; and I am not sure that some of my English
friends do not feel reluctant to side with the subjects of the Czar
against the countrymen of Harnack and Eucken. One would like to know,
however, since when did the Germans take up this attitude? They were not
so squeamish during the "war of emancipation," which gave birth to
modern Germany. At that time the people of Eastern Prussia were
anxiously waiting for the appearance of Cossacks as heralds of the
Russian hosts who were to emancipate them from the yoke of Napoleon. Did
the Prussians and Austrians reflect on the humiliation of an alliance
with the Muscovites, and on the superiority of the code civil when the
Russian Guard at Kulm stood like a rock against the desperate onslaughts
of Vandamme? Perhaps by this time the inhabitants of Berlin have
obliterated the bas-relief in the Alley of Victories, representing
Prince William of Prussia, the future victor of Sedan, seeking safety
within the square of the Kaluga regiment! Russian blood has flowed in
numberless battles in the cause of the Germans and Austrians. The
present Armageddon might perhaps have been avoided if Emperor Nicholas
I. had left the Hapsburg monarchy to its own resources in 1849, and had
not unwisely crushed the independence of Hungary. Within our memory, the
benevolent neutrality of Russia guarded Germany in 1870 from an attack
in the rear by its opponents of Sadowa. Are all such facts to be
explained away on the ground that the despised Muscovites may be
occasionally useful as "gun meat," but are guilty of sacrilege if they
take up a stand against German taskmasters in "shining armor"? The older
generations of Germany had not yet reached that comfortable conclusion.
The last recommendation which the founder of the German Empire made on
his deathbed to his grandson was to keep on good terms with that Russia
which is now proclaimed to be a debased mixture of Byzantine, Tartar,
and Muscovite abominations.
Fortunately, the course of history does not depend on the frantic
exaggerations of partisans. The world is not a classroom in which docile
nations are distributed according to the arbitrary standards of German
pedagogues. Europe has admired the patriotic resistance of the Spanish,
Tyrolese, and Russian peasants to the enlightened tyranny of Napoleon.
There are other standards of culture besides proficiency in research and
aptitude for systematic work. The massacre of Louvain, the hideous
brutality of the Germans--as regards non-combatants--to mention only one
or two of the appalling occurrences of these last weeks--have thrown a
lurid light on the real character of twentieth-century German culture.
"By their fruits ye shall know them," said our Lord, and the saying
which He aimed at the Scribes and Pharisees of His time is indeed
applicable to the proud votaries of German civilization today. Nobody
wishes to underestimate the services rendered by the German people to
the cause of European progress, but those who have known Germany during
the years following on the achievements of 1870 have watched with dismay
the growth of that arrogant conceit which the Greeks called ubris. The
cold-blooded barbarity advocated by Bernhardi, the cynical view taken of
international treaties and of the obligations of honor by the German
Chancellor--these things reveal a spirit which it would be difficult
indeed to describe as a sign of progress.
One of the effects of such a frame of mind is to strike the victim of it
with blindness. This symptom has been manifest in the stupendous
blunders of German diplomacy. The successors of Bismarck have alienated
their natural allies, such as Italy and Rumania, and have driven England
into this war against the evident intentions of English Radicals. But
the Germans have misconceived even more important things--they set out
on their adventure in the belief that England would be embarrassed by
civil war and unable to take any effective part in the fray; and they
had to learn something which all their writers had not taught them--that
there is a nation's spirit watching over England's safety and greatness,
a spirit at whose mighty call all party differences and racial strifes
fade into insignificance. In the same way they had reckoned on the
unpreparedness of Russia, in consequence of internal dissensions and
administrative weakness, without taking heed of the love of all Russians
for Russia, of their devotion to the long-suffering giant whose life is
throbbing in their veins. The Germans expected to encounter raw and
sluggish troops under intriguing time-servers and military Hamlets whose
"native hue of resolution" had been "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of
thought." Instead of that they were confronted with soldiers of the same
type as those whom Frederick the Great and Napoleon admired, led at last
by chiefs worthy of their men. And behind these soldiers they discovered
a nation. Do they realize now what a force they have awakened? Do they
understand that a steadfast, indomitable resolution, despising all
theatrical display, is moving Russia's hosts? Even if the Russian
Generals had proved mediocre, even if many disappointing days had been
in store, the nation would not belie its history. It has seen more than
one conquering army go down before it--the Tartars and the Poles, the
Swedes of Charles XII., the Prussians of Frederick the Great, the Grand
Army of Napoleon were not less formidable than the Kaiser's army, but
the task of mastering a united Russia proved too much for each one of
them. The Germans counted on the fratricidal feud between Poles and
Russians, on the resentment of the Jews, on the Mohammedan sympathies
with Turkey, and so forth. They had to learn too late that the Jews had
rallied around the country of their hearths, and that the best of them
cannot believe that Russia will continue to deny them the measure of
justice and humanity which the leaders of Russian thought have long
acknowledged to be due to them. More important still, the Germans have
read the Grand Duke's appeal to the Poles and must have heard of the
manner in which it was received in Poland, of the enthusiastic support
offered to the Russian cause. If nothing else came of this great
historical upheaval but the reconciliation of the Russians and their
noble kinsmen the Poles, the sacrifices which this crisis demands would
not be too great a price to pay for the result.
But the hour of trial has revealed other things. It has appealed to the
best feelings and the best elements of the Russian Nation. It has
brought out in a striking manner the fundamental tendency of Russian
political life and the essence of Russian culture, which so many people
have been unable to perceive on account of the chaff on the surface.
Russia has been going through a painful crisis. In the words of the
Manifesto of Oct. 17, (30,) 1905, the outward casing of her
administration had become too narrow and oppressive for the development
of society with its growing needs, its altered perceptions of rights and
duties, its changed relations between Government and people. The result
was that deep-seated political malaise which made itself felt during the
Japanese war, when society at large refused to take any interest in the
fate of the army; the feverish rush for "liberties" after the defeat;
the subsequent reign of reaction and repression, which has cast such a
gloom over Russian life during these last years. But the effort of the
national struggle had dwarfed all these misunderstandings and
misfortunes as in Great Britain the call of the common fatherland has
dwarfed the dispute between Unionists and Home Rulers. Russian parties
have not renounced their aspirations; Russian Liberals in particular
believe in self-government and the rule of law as firmly as ever. But
they have realized as one man that this war is not an adventure
engineered by unscrupulous ambition, but a decisive struggle for
independence and existence; and they are glad to be arrayed in close
ranks with their opponents from the Conservative side. A friend, a
Liberal like myself, writes to me from Moscow: "It is a great,
unforgettable time; we are happy to be all at one!" And from the ranks
of the most unfortunate of Russia's children, from the haunts of the
political exiles in Paris, comes the news that Bourtzeff, one of the
most prominent among the revolutionary leaders, has addressed an appeal
to his comrades urging them to stand by their country to the utmost of
their power.
I may add that whatever may have been the shortcomings and the blunders
of the Russian Government, it is a blessing in this decisive crisis that
Russians should have a firmly knit organization and a traditional centre
of authority in the power of the Czar. The present Emperor stands as the
national leader, not in the histrionic attitude of a war lord but in the
quiet dignity of his office. He has said and done the right thing, and
his subjects will follow him to a man. We are sure he will remember in
the hour of victory the unstinted devotion and sacrifices of all the
nationalities and parties of his vast empire. It is our firm conviction
that the sad tale of reaction and oppression is at an end in Russia, and
that our country will issue from this momentous crisis with the insight
and strength required for the constructive and progressive statesmanship
of which it stands in need.
Apart from the details of political and social reform, is the
regeneration of Russia a boon or a peril to European civilization? The
declamations of the Germans have been as misleading in this respect as
in all others. The masterworks of Russian literature are accessible in
translation nowadays, and the cheap taunts of men like Bernhardi recoil
on their own heads. A nation represented by Pushkin, Turgeneff, Tolstoy,
Dostoyevsky in literature, by Kramskoy, Verestchagin, Repin, Glinka,
Moussorgsky, Tchaikovsky in art, by Mendeleiff, Metchnikoff, Pavloff in
science, by Kluchevsky and Solovieff in history, need not be ashamed to
enter the lists in an international competition for the prizes of
culture. But the German historians ought to have taught their pupils
that in the world of ideas it is not such competitions that are
important. A nation handicapped by its geography may have to start later
in the field, and yet her performance may be relatively better than that
of her more favored neighbors. It is astonishing to read German
diatribes about Russian backwardness when one remembers that as recently
as fifty years ago Austria and Prussia were living under a régime which
can hardly be considered more enlightened than the present rule in
Russia. The Italians in Lombardy and Venice have still a vivid
recollection of Austrian jails; and, as for Prussian militarism, one
need not go further than the exploits of the Zabern garrisons to
illustrate its meaning. This being so, it is not particularly to be
wondered at that the eastern neighbor of Austria and Prussia has
followed to some extent on the same lines.
But the general direction of Russia's evolution is not doubtful. Western
students of her history might do well, instead of sedulously collecting
damaging evidence, to pay some attention to the building up of Russia's
universities, the persistent efforts of the Zemstvos, the independence
and the zeal of the press. German scholars should read Hertzen's vivid
description of the "idealists of the forties." And what about the
history of the emancipation of the serfs, or of the regeneration of the
judicature? The "reforms of the sixties" are a household word in Russia,
and surely they are one of the noblest efforts ever made by a nation in
the direction of moral improvement.
Looking somewhat deeper, what right have the Germans to speak of their
cultural ideals as superior to those of the Russian people? They deride
the superstitions of the mujikh as if tapers and genuflexions were the
principal matters of popular religion. Those who have studied the
Russian people without prejudice know better than that. Read Selma
Lagerloef's touching description of Russian pilgrims in Palestine. She,
the Protestant, has understood the true significance of the religious
impulse which leads these poor men to the Holy Land, and which draws
them to the numberless churches of the vast country. These simple people
cling to the belief that there is something else in God's world besides
toil and greed; they flock toward the light, and find in it the
justification of their human craving for peace and mercy. For the
Russian people have the Christian virtues of patience in suffering;
their pity for the poor and oppressed are more than occasional
manifestations of individual feeling--they are deeply rooted in national
psychology. This frame of mind has been scorned as fit for slaves! It is
indeed a case where the learning of philosophers is put to shame by the
insight of the simple-minded. Conquerors should remember that the
greatest victories in history have been won by the unarmed--by the
Christian confessors whom the Emperors sent to the lions, by the "old
believers" of Russia who went to Siberia and to the flames for their
unyielding faith, by the Russian serfs who preserved their human dignity
and social cohesion in spite of the exactions of their masters, by the
Italians, Poles, and Jews, when they were trampled under foot by their
rulers. It is such a victory of the spirit that Tolstoy had in mind when
he preached his gospel of non-resistance, and I do not think even a
German on the war path would be blind enough to suppose that Tolstoy's
message came from a craven soul. The orientation of the so-called
"intelligent" class in Russia--that is, the educated middle class, which
is much more numerous and influential than people suppose--is somewhat
different, of course. It is "Western" in this sense, that it is imbued
with current European ideas as to politics, economics, and law.
It has to a certain extent lost the simple faith and religious fervor of
the peasants, but the keynote of popular ideals has been faithfully
preserved by this class. It is still characteristically humanitarian in
its view of the world and in its aims. A book like that of Gen. von
Bernhardi would be impossible in Russia. If anybody were to publish it
it would not only fall flat, but earn for its author the reputation of a
bloodhound. Many deeds of cruelty and brutality happen, of course, in
Russia, but no writer of any standing would dream of building up a
theory of violence in vindication of a claim to culture. It may be said,
in fact, that the leaders of Russian public opinion are pacific,
cosmopolitan, and humanitarian to a fault. The mystic philosopher
Vladimir Solovieff used to dream of the union of the churches with the
Pope as the spiritual head, and democracy in the Russian sense as the
broad basis of the rejuvenated Christendom. Dostoyevsky, a writer most
sensitive to the claims of nationality in Russia, defined the ideal of
the Russians in a celebrated speech as the embodiment of a universally
humanitarian type. These are extremes, but characteristic extremes
pointing to the trend of national thought. Russia is so huge and so
strong that material power has ceased to be attractive to her thinkers.
But we need not yet retire into the desert and deliver ourselves to be
bound hand and foot by civilized Germans. Russia also wields a sword--a
charmed sword, blunt in an unrighteous cause, but sharp enough in the
defense of right and freedom. And this war is indeed our
"Befreiungskrieg." The Slavs must have their chance in the history of
the world, and the date of their coming of age will mark a new departure
in the growth of civilization.
Yours truly,