Dostoyevsky's Call—His Retort to a Dandy—Russia and the Revolution—The Court of Imperial Mercy—How Political Prisoners may Solicit Pardon—The Coach-driver's Letter—The People's Belief in the Emperor—A Typical Russian Appeal—Military Offenders—How they have Justified the Emperor's Clemency—Political Prisoners and the War
The name of Dostoyevsky is fortunately well known in England, so perhaps I may be allowed to relate an incident in connection with him.
He called on me one afternoon and began talking of his life in Siberia, and the wonderfully beneficial effect it had had upon him. We were interrupted by a flippant young dandy, just arrived from abroad, who chattered animatedly about his impressions of various ballets and theatres. I thought he would never stop, and felt rather angry. Dostoyevsky, however, listened attentively, his wonderful, dark velvet eyes, with the deep expression so peculiar to them, fixed kindly on the gossiper. After a while he remarked, "I am interested in what you say. There is life in you, artistic instinct and good nature. If you could spend thirteen years in a Siberian prison, as I have done, it would be most beneficial to you, and might make you a useful, energetic member of society."
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Dear Dostoyevsky! How often have I remembered that strange remark, and how often also have I thought that prison life indeed sometimes makes people serious, patient and religious. Of late, unfortunately, one has often been haunted by questions connected with prisons. My late friend, W. T. Stead, expressed the pious opinion quite seriously, how useful it would be if everybody—innocent as well as guilty—were made to spend one or two months in prison.
Of all horrible wars, the most horrible, I think, is internal strife, for the suppression of which, Governments always use strong measures. Are they to be blamed for measures taken with the object of saving their country from dismemberment? I think not—though indeed, personally, I am happy not to be obliged to mete out justice on such occasions. But then, I always think that to judge one's neighbours fairly is no easy task. When Thiers had to save France from the Commune, he unhesitatingly killed several thousand Communards—some say 200,000 were punished, some say 20,000, there are also people who speak of only 2000. But who can use the word "only," when it is followed by thousands of killed?
In the year 1905, Russia had the misfortune of experiencing a revolution at home. The majority of the people, of course, understood the criminal folly of that movement, and the insurgents were mostly misguided dreamers who did not realise the rascality of their leaders, such as Gapon and others. Many of them, indeed, afterwards looked back with deep regret and even shame, on their folly. I have {238} known some of them, and it is difficult to say with what deep feeling of commiseration I listened to them, and now remember their words. If there be exaggeration and contradiction with regard to the numbers of the punished Communards, there is similar difficulty in fixing the numbers of our own culprits. Upon that point I am not going to insist. Even one death is often the cause of endless pain.
In England I have only once seen any mention of that Court of Appeal by which Russian political prisoners who repent of their ways may solicit the Imperial clemency.
The exact title of that institution is "The Court of Petitions addressed to the Emperor," or "The Court of Imperial Mercy." It was founded in the sixteenth century in the reign of John IV, under the control of Alexis Adasheff (whose life and character have so brilliantly adorned the pages of Russian history) and his friend and ally, the Rev. Father Sylverst, who was another bright star of that period. But, after their disappearance from the field of action, the institution failed to be marked by the same zeal and success as previously. Once more was it shown that, in every human effort, personal character plays a greater part than the written law. For, however perfect may be the law, its application must be varied by circumstances, and is thus greatly dependent upon the personal character of its administrators.
Fortunately, however, Peter the Great, with his masterly genius, recognised the importance of such a Court in an autocratic country where the power of doing generous work is in the hands of a ruler who {239} stands above conventional formalities, or obsolete customs, of parties or of newspapers. Nor did Peter the Great fail to realise that an exact knowledge of real facts was of vital importance to the proper exercise of such power. To secure this, therefore, he introduced new and very drastic regulations and reforms.
He made it a rule that the head of the Court was to be bound by a solemn and patriotic oath of fidelity to his charge. At the same time he was to be allowed a larger initiative, by which his personal power was increased. He became entitled to delegate powers to other administrative offices and courts, by which the work of the institution became more decentralised.
But although it was thus understood that appeals to the Emperor personally were to be allowed only in special cases, yet little by little these personal appeals became more and more numerous, and were with difficulty controlled by the head of the Court.
When the Empress Catherine the Great ascended the throne, that wonderful monarch resolved that she would personally receive all appeals to mercy. But it soon became evident that such a task was beyond the powers of even her exceptional energy. Catherine herself relates that on one occasion she found it impossible to reach church, owing to the crowds of petitioners who knelt before her with petitions in their hands.
Such a condition of affairs, of course, could not possibly continue. In the following year the Empress appointed three high officials, called State Secretaries, to whom she gave detailed instructions which {240} show the great pity she felt for such petitioners. The secretaries were to communicate personally with the petitioners "kindly, patiently, indulgently," and to extract from them all necessary details and explanations. For this purpose reference had sometimes to be made to the separate tribunals before whom special cases had to go. But sealed letters addressed privately and confidentially "in His Majesty's own Hands" (as the Russian expression goes), still reach the Emperor without any intervention. And this happens even now.
Not long ago I heard of a boy, a poor little coach-driver, who addressed a pitiful letter of this kind to the Emperor Alexander III when he was in the Crimea, and not only was the letter received, but the request generously granted.
To return to old times, the Emperor Paul, while young and in good health, tried to imitate the great Empress Catherine, and endeavoured to come into contact with people who appealed to his mercy. To facilitate this a large, yellow iron box was attached to one of the ground-floor windows of the Winter Palace (Petrograd) in which petitions were to be deposited. This box had to be periodically opened by the State Secretaries, and the contents submitted to the Emperor for orders. Some, when too absurd, were partially torn and returned through the Post Office. Others were published in the Petersburg Gazette, with the reason for their refusal. In 1799 the same Emperor Paul issued a rather strange ukase, forbidding the presentation of unreasonable requests. No doubt the question of what was and what was not reasonable was not an {241} easy one, and the unfortunate box could hardly hold the burden of its strange correspondence. It obviously became necessary to dispense with this original method of communication.
In the time of Alexander I, thanks to the great Speransky's efforts, a "Commission of Appeals" was established, and in the time of the Emperor Nicholas I the "Court of Petitions" was reformed more or less on the basis upon which it now exists. The members are appointed by the Emperor himself. To their former duties have been added others relating to orphans and lunatics. Certain rules have to be observed by petitioners, and they must have lived in the realm not less than o............