tremendous preparations were being made, what hurrying to and fro there
was. It is astonishing to look back now to those serene and happy weeks
in the Altai and to feel the contrast of the innocence of Nature and
the devilish conspiracy in the minds of men. If there are devils in
the world, black spirits as opposed to white spirits, what triumph
was theirs, what hidden ecstasy as at the coming triumph of negation.
Behind the screen of this silence horns were blowing announcing the
great feasts of death, the blasting of the temples wherein the spirit
of man dwells, the orgy of ugliness and madness. But being, happily,
untuned to this occult world, we did not hear them.
[Illustration: MOBILISATION DAY ON THE ALTAI: THE VILLAGE EMPTIED OF
ITS FOLK]
It was holiday time, the end of July, the Englishman’s great liberation
moment when, even if he goes on working in office or factory, he
ceases to work hard and lazes at his work. His wife and family have
gone to the seaside. He will join them in a week or so. Meanwhile he
is “camping out at home.” The young man is buying stout boots and
greasing them for tramping, is scanning maps and guidebooks, and making
absurd tables of mileage, prospective hotel bills and expenses. The
teachers, with the children, are liberated from the schools, and the
former are gone on Polytechnic tours and what not, whilst the latter
chalk mysterious diagrams on the pavement and play hop-scotch, or play
“Wallflowers, wallflowers, growing up so high,” or “This is the way she
went.” The unfashionable but numerous marriages take place of those
who must make the honeymoon coincide with annual leave, and the happy
couples take Cook’s tickets to Strasburg, to the Tyrol, to Munich.
And those Russians who _must_ escape their fellow-Russians, and don’t
like the bad drains of their own watering-places, are off to German
baths and Bohemian and Austrian spas. Students are tripping across to
Switzerland. And on all in German territory the guillotine of war is
going to fall. At all the money-changers’ offices at Charing Cross
and in the City you can buy German marks, though there is not much
gold to be had. French gold, English, Russian can be had in almost
any quantities, and Cook’s will sell you German hotel tickets for all
August.
One lazy July afternoon I sat on the wooden steps leading up to my
veranda and talked with a Cossack on wars in general, what prospects
of war there actually were at that moment; and we concluded that there
might possibly be war with Austria. It was the idlest talk, but the
Cossack lives for a new war, and I did not like to discourage him. He
for his part rather hoped for a nearer war; one with China would suit
him, but he’d thankfully consider a war with Austria if nothing else
were available.
I went along the exterior street of the village to the little post
office facing the wall of the White Ones, as they call the Altai, and
talked with the postmaster about marals, and he closed the office
to go out and show me where his garden was. Here also were several
_maralniki_, and I found them when clambering up the ridges, and the
deer, seeing me, would scamper away. The village had a butter factory,
and I used to go there and wait during the last stages of production
for a pound of butter, and, sitting on a bucket upside down, chatted
with other villagers. Opposite the cottage where I stayed lived the
priest, and he often came across and talked. The church was the next
building after the priest’s house, and was a beautiful little wooden
temple built by the peasants themselves. I was quickly in the midst
of the life of the settlement, and when the news came I was at once
thought to be the obvious person to apply to for information. On the
30th of July, after a long day on the mountains, I slept serenely on
the overcoats on the floor of my Cossack habitation. Next morning came
the young horseman with the red flag flying from his shoulder, and the
tremendous excitement and clamour of the reception of the _ukase_ to
mobilise for war. As I wrote when I described this in “Russia and the
World,” the Cossacks were not told with whom the war was or would be,
and one of the first surmises that they made was that the war must be
with England--crafty old England, who always stood in Russia’s way and
was siding with the Turks again. Or she was afraid Russia was going to
attack India.
The real news came at last, and with it the necessity to return to
Europe as soon as possible. The war came across my summer as it came
across the summer of thousands of others, cutting life into two very
distinct parts. At the village of Altaisky I must draw my war line
dividing past and present, one part of life from this other new
astonishing part. The story of my journey has drawn to its close.
Before, however, leaving the subject of Russian Central Asia I would
give the thoughts and reflections that the journey has suggested, and
especially those referring to Anglo-Russian rivalry in empire, the
questions of India and Constantinople, the future of our friendship and
of the two empires.
APPENDIX I
RUSSIA AND INDIA AND THE PROSPECTS OF ANGLO-RUSSIAN FRIENDSHIP
The prospects of Anglo-Russian friendship are very fair at the
moment of writing, the after-the-war prospects. Generally speaking,
international amity or hostility has heretofore depended on the absence
or presence of clashing interests. Russia does not stand on our road of
Empire, and has never fought us and could never fight us commercially
as Germany has done. Our only doubt about Russia has been as to her
possible designs on India. Fifty years ago there were few Englishmen
who did not entertain expectations of eventual war with Russia, and
after the annexation of Merv, and the running of the Central Asian
Railway thither, Beaconsfield was obliged to assure us that the keys
of India were to be found in London, and consisted in the spirit and
determination of the British people. We felt we were secure because we
could fight Russia and did not fear her. As Lord Curzon wrote in his
book on Russian Central Asia:
“The day that a Russian army starts forth from Balkh for the passes
of the Hindu Kush, or marches out of the southern gate of Herat _en
route_ for Kandahar, we may say, as Cromwell did at Dunbar: ‘Now
hath the Lord delivered them into my hand.’”
Our other bond of security lay in the fact that the Russians knew they
could not successfully attack us. Though it must be said now, after
our thwarted efforts against the Turks on Gallipoli and our experience
in Mesopotamia, that it is not clear that we could count on winning a
distant war of invasion. Though we are increasing daily in military
power and sagacity, as a result of fighting the Germans, we are not so
military a nation as we were in the days of the Crimean War. But the
invasion of India by Russia may well be put out of the head once and
for all. No statesman in Russia ever seriously contemplated it, and
in this country those statesmen who thought of it either decried the
idea or used it as a political bogey. As Namirovitch Danchenko said
recently: “From my seventy years’ knowledge of Russian life, I should
say that the people who dreamt about the conquest of India could be
found in Russia only in a mad-house.” No serious steps were ever taken
to thwart Russian imperial policy in Central Asia, and all that fear
has brought about was mistrust and a refusal to enter into partnership
with Russia in certain schemes in Asia.
The Russians have been ready to trust us for a long time, and they
were anxious for an Anglo-Russian agreement even at the time when
the invasion of India bogey was most in the air here. Probably the
Germans, those persistent enemies of Anglo-Russian friendship, were
responsible for a great deal of subterranean propaganda in England.
Many in England were pro-Russian--Gladstone (though, of course, even
Gladstone asked for a war credit on one occasion of fear of Russia),
Carlyle, Froude, Kinglake--there was a real basis of sympathy. But
the poisoners of the mind of the British people succeeded. What an
interesting glimpse of popular feeling is found in Burnaby’s “Ride to
Khiva” if we read it now. There is a certain poignancy in his remarks.
Consider this passage to-day:
“Another peculiarity in several Russians which I remarked ... was
their desire to impress upon my mind the great advantage it would be
for England to have a civilised neighbour like Russia on her Indian
frontier; and when I did not take the trouble to dissent from their
views--for it is a waste of breath to argue with Russians about this
question--how eager they were for me to impress their line of thought
upon the circle of people with whom I was most immediately connected.
Of course, the arguments brought forward were based upon purely
philanthropic motives, upon Christianity and civilisation. They said
that the two great Powers ought to go together hand in glove; that
there ought to be railways all through Asia, formed by Anglo-Russian
companies; that Russia and England had every sympathy in common which
should unite them; that they both hated Germany and loved France;
that England and Russia could conquer the world, and so on.
“It was a line of reasoning delightfully Russian, and though I was
not so rude as to differ from my would-be persuaders, and lent an
attentive ear to all their eloquence, I could not help thinking that
the mutual sympathy between England and Germany is much greater
than that between England and Russia; that the Christian faith
as practised by the lower orders in Russia is pure paganism in
comparison with the Protestant religion which exists in Prussia and
Great Britain; that Germany and Great Britain are natural allies
against Russia ... that Germans and Englishmen understand by the term
‘Russian civilisation’ something diametrically opposite to what is
attributed to it by those people who form their ideas of Muscovite
progress from the few Russians they meet abroad.”
Burnaby’s remarks seem pretty foolish in 1916. And his views are
representative of the views of many English in 1875. Prussia, whom he
admires so, had just crushed the French whilst we stood by. The Boer
War had not come. The Kaiser had not sent his telegram to Kruger. Our
military conceit had not been taken out of us; and so, when Russia
offers Britannia the hand of friendship, Britannia round her draws her
cloak and folds her arms.
But Russia was sincere. She admired the English. She alone of
Continental nations appreciated the spirit of Dickens and our
Victorian novelists. England was still the foolish friend of Turkey,
it is true, but she was not _perfide Albion_. Nor was she simply “Mr.
Cotton,” as Ibsen dismissed us, or “a nation of shopkeepers.” From the
first Russia has had some sort of _flair_ for the English gentleman,
has seen the best thing in our race; and their wish for friendship
with us has been a sentimental matter, not a desire for commercial
partnership, not a bond of sympathy between revolutionary Russia and
our Socialists. The desire for friendship with England dates to before
the emergence of our Socialists as a party in England. It is a genuine
craving for mutual understanding between the real Russia and the real
England.
Fortunately, that desire on Russia’s part found an answer on this side.
We became friends--we are now brothers-in-arms against a common foe.
If the shedding of blood for a common ideal strengthens friendship,
we should be good friends for this generation at least. Those who
are young now will keep in remembrance the stress of these days, the
sacrifice, the common sadness, the shared triumph. Holy Russia has
become near to us, and, despite all machinations and insinuations, will
remain near. And, with the hope of making things more easy, let me
indicate the points of resistance to Russian friendship still remaining
in our national life.
I. _India._--A number of our people, chiefly on the Unionist side in
politics, still fear Russian designs on India, and for that reason
deny Russia the right to Constantinople and the Straits, should
she take them. In doing this they unwittingly play the German game,
which is to reserve Constantinople for Germany. There are several
European journalists in the pay of Germany, and among other things
they do for their money is the stirring up of British suspicion about
Constantinople and Russia. The fact is that this is Russia’s legitimate
outlet, her front door, and there can be no settled peace in Europe as
long as it is barred up or liable to be barred. It is also the seat and
capital of the Russian faith, and what in 1876 Dostoieffsky answered to
the question on what high ground Russia demanded Constantinople from
Europe is still true:
“As the leader of Orthodoxy, as protectress and preserver of
Orthodoxy, the rôle predestined for Russia since the days of Ivan
III. ... that the nations professing Orthodoxy may be unified under
her, that the Slav nations may know that her protection is the
guarantee of their individual personality and the safeguard against
mutual hostility. Such a union would not be for the purpose of
political aggression and tyranny, not a matter of commercial gain.
No, it will be a raising of Christ’s truth, preserved in the East,
a real new raising of Christ’s Cross, and the conclusive word of
Orthodoxy at the head of which will be Russia.... And if anyone holds
that the ‘new word’ which Russia will speak is ‘utopia,’ worthy only
of mockery, then I must be numbered among the Utopians----”
Still, it must be said that at the present moment Constantinople does
not seem likely to fall as a fruit to the Allies or to Russia, and
unless Bulgaria should turn upon her unnatural allies there is not much
question of St. Sophia becoming Christian again. We ought only to keep
in mind that Russia has striven for Constantinople not to have a base
from which to oppose us, but in order to keep the door of her own house
and to be Queen of the Eastern Church.
The next point, and where the question of India causes us to be
suspicious, is that of Persia. Here, happily, some understanding has
been obtained and spheres of influence allotted; but our distrust has
stood in the way of the consummation of one of the most interesting
schemes of the century: the trans-Persian railway. If this railway had
been built before the outbreak of this world-war, it would have been
of extraordinary value to the Allies, an effectual means of checking
the inflammation of Islam. There will be little money left when the
war is over, but certainly the overland route to India should be
one of the first big civilising schemes to receive attention. World
railways, instead of little bits of lines, belong to the future of the
Old World, and we can have them now or put it off for another era. It
depends on the faith and imagination of our generation. Then Persia
falls inevitably under European surveillance, and there is no reason
for English and Russians at the outposts of Empire to compete and be
jealous and suspicious and to squabble.
For the rest, Russian Central Asia raises no further problems. It is a
peaceful, growing Russian colony, shut away from the chances of attack
by foreign Powers--likely to remain for a thousand years one of the
most peaceful places upon earth. Unlike India, it is comparatively
empty and its peoples are decaying. The railways which Russia has
built were built in order to subdue the Tekintsi and the Afghans. The
railways which she is building have in view only the convenience of the
colonists, the development of the colony, and trade with China. Russia
is slow out there, and she is laying the sound foundations of a healthy
and happy colonial country.
II. _Rivalry of Empire._--Whatever be the direct issue of the war
with Germany, one indirect result seems certain: England will have
more empire, whilst Germany will have less, and Russia will not
lose anything. Two great empires will emerge more clearly, facing
one another because of the dispersal of the German ambition. There
seems to be only one possibility of German extension, and that
lies in the chance of Germans and Austrians turning on their own
allies and absorbing Bulgaria and Turkey. But that chance must be
considered remote to-day. The Russian and the British Empires will
stand facing one another in friendly comparison. The Russian Empire
is self-supporting, it has no need to import the necessities of
life--food, fuel, raiment; whereas we could support ourselves, but
do not, not having reconciled our self-hostile commercial interests.
For many a long day Russia will export for British consumption corn,
butter, eggs, sugar, wool, and wood, to say nothing of other things.
And when at last we succeed in making our own Empire independent, the
Russians will eat their butter themselves and there will be more white
bread on the peasant’s table. It will be no calamity for Russia.
I was speaking on the future of the Russian Empire at one of our
leading Conservative clubs in London last winter, and I was surprised
to note a very important feeling of opposition toward Russia. Those
who were interested in manufactures wanted the tariff against
British goods reduced, and those who were Imperialist in spirit felt
a certain jealousy and suspicion of the Russian Empire. Several
speakers warned Russia that she had better give up the dream of having
Constantinople--it would be bad for her health if she were to have it.
But the most significant utterance came from an ardent tariff reformer,
who did not know how far love of Russia was compatible with love of
the British Empire, for more Russian grain coming to us meant less
Canadian grain, and so on. If we gave Russia any preferential treatment
as regards her exports to us, we handicapped our own colonies. We ought
to give our colonies preferential terms, but how would the Russians
feel if we asked for reduced tariffs for the import of our manufactured
goods into Russia while at the same time we put a tax on the produce
they sent to us. That problem is a serious one, and it cannot be
doubted that the best policy for us is to make ourselves self-dependent
as an Empire whatever it may cost us in foreign favour. Russia must
not misunderstand our efforts to consolidate the Empire, and I do not
think she will. The diminution in our import of food-stuffs from Russia
will be gradual, and will be made up partially by the increased import
of other things which Russia has in superabundance. Yet even as regards
ores and mineral products we have to learn to be self-supporting. The
war itself, which shuts us off from Russia and throws us upon our own
resources, has sent us to our own colonies. We are beginning to find
in the Empire not only our food, but also the raw materials required
for our products. Take, for instance, the case of asbestos. The only
first-class quality of asbestos in the world comes from the Urals, and
it is a product of great value industrially. During the war it has
been very difficult to get it from Russia. The result has been that we
have found a very good though still inferior quality in Rhodesia, and
may quite conceivably obtain all our best supplies from that colony in
time, the lower grades coming from Canada, which begins to have a great
output. But our tendency to be self-dependent will tend to rid Russia
of many exploiting foreign companies, and for that the Russian people
will be thankful. They want to experience what gifts they have for
doing things for themselves.
III. _The Trade Treaty._--Russia will be so much in debt to us
financially at the end of the war that there will be a tendency to
regard her as an insolvent liability company possessing valuable
assets. Some of our business men may want to treat her as such and
appoint a trustee, so to say. There is a movement to inflict upon
Russia a trade treaty similar to that, or even more humiliating than
that which Germany called upon her to sign. The bond of friendship with
Russia cannot be a commercial halter round her neck. She would quickly
resent foreign financial control, no matter from what quarter it might
be exercised. Russia will be all but bankrupt after the war, and all
that she will have lost will have been lost for the common cause. We
should be generous to her and see what can be done, not to tie her and
bind her industrially and financially, but for us all. Russia herself
is ready to make a kindly treaty providing us with real advantages over
Germany, but she could not make a treaty whereby arrangements would be
made for the paying off of her financial war debts to her allies.
IV. _The Basis of Friendship._--The basis of friendship with Russia is
not really trade, and no provision needs to be made to make a trade
basis. We had plenty of trade with Germany or Germany with us, and that
did not make for friendship. On the contrary, the question of trade and
of haggling over money is almost certain in the long run to lead to
estrangement, or, at least, mutual dis-esteem. There has been a growing
trade, but that has not led to the growing friendship. Friendship has
been founded on real mutual admiration. We like the Russians, and
they like us. The positive side of Russia profoundly interests us. Of
course, we are not vitally interested in the negative side, the rotten
conditions of life in certain classes, the faults of Russia, the seamy
side of the picture. We are thoroughly aware of the ugliness of the
negative side of our own life, and we would ask--do not judge us by
that, that is not England. Similarly, in Russia we are interested in
beautiful and wonderful Russia, in Holy Russia, not in unholy Russia.
This positive side is comparatively unrealised here, for gossip and
slander make more noise than truth, but in it is a great treasure both
for Russia and for ourselves in friendship. On the whole the prospects
are good.
APPENDIX II
THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE AND THE BRITISH EMPIRE
The moment of peace will be the moment of reconsideration. We shall
want to know where we all stand, and we shall want to face the
facts--financially, individually, imperially. We shall want to know
what we have got, what we owe, what sort of empire we have to make
or mar in the succeeding years, what are its resources, what its
possibilities, and ours. One may remark, in passing, what very good
work is being done by the Confederation of the Round Table.[F] The
calculation is exercising many patriotic British minds. First of all be
it remarked, in order to remove misconceptions, we British people are
not by any means the most numerous white people. We have in our Empire
something like 63 million whites, whereas Russia has at least 140
million, Germany has 65 million, and the United States have 82 million
of mixed race. We compare favourably with the United States because we
are homogeneous and much more calm in soul, and favourably with Germany
because she has no land for expansion, though it must be remembered
that if Austria and Germany should unite, the Germans would have almost
as large a white population as Russia, and certainly a very much more
active one. There remains Russia, with its enormous population and its
astonishingly extensive territory. Russia has ample room for ten times
her present population, and she has it at her back door, as it were.
She has no oceans to cross. The railway goes all the way or can go all
the way from Petrograd to the uttermost ends of her earth. She has also
calm, and can develop without worry. As an empire, compared with ours,
she has tremendous advantages. Her people are not impatient to be rich,
the strain of her race is not confused through foreign immigration, she
is shut off from mongrelising influences, and tends to grow with pure
blood and a clear understanding of her own past and her own destiny.
She has less chance of making mistakes. And, as I have said, her
problems are much simpler. It is not difficult to keep the stream of
colonisation moving into the emptiness of Asia when the railways are so
good as to carry one six thousand miles for thirteen roubles, a little
over a sovereign.