420 Mr. Stephen Graham [April 16, 



The Russians are unashamed. Men and women confess volun- 

 tarily to having committed crimes or behaved abominably upon 

 occasion. The man who lives an immoral life does not do so secretly 

 to his wife. The black sheep of the family is not hidden in the 

 background, "never mentioned," or subscribed for and sent to a 

 distant colony ; he is sitting at the table and is quite cheerful, and 

 everyone takes him for granted. No one is ashamed to borrow or to 

 be tremendously in debt ; no one horror-struck at the idea of visiting 

 the pawn-shop. All which exemplifies the love towards individuals 

 and individual destiny. 



This is why Russia is so free. It is almost a platitude to say that 

 conventions determine the extent of personal freedom much more 

 than the laws of the realm or the behaviour of the police. Yet it is 

 a fact lost sight of when people t.ilk of tyrannous government. In 

 Russia love is towards the individual much more than towards the 

 State. There is indeed no particular love towards the State. "We 

 uphold the State ; to us the pohce and the police-system are almost 

 sacred. We often condemn individual behaviour in the name of the 

 State. We abhor " shirkers," " rebels," " breakers of the peace." 

 Hence our comparatively limited British freedom. We believe in 

 order. Our freedom is freedom within bounds. We allow ourselves 

 to be disciplined along definite lines. In Russia it is different. 

 There freedom often amounts to chaos. Even Russian order, 

 poryadoh, that which comes from Petrograd, is something borrowed 

 from Germany to keep the nation together. Russians have no 

 instinct for order. Watch our best troops marching — they give you 

 the idea that each soldier has been turned out from a factory, and is 

 of one and the same type and size. They march like moving pat- 

 terns. But the Russians march anyway ; their order is of the lowest 

 kind. It is even tolerated to have wives and mothers marching in 

 the ranks with their husbands and sons, carrying their bundles. 

 Some men are marching ; others are running. Each man has his 

 own individual expression in his countenance ; he has not merely a 

 regimental expression. Russia does not care for ranks, for blocks of 

 houses, for formal gardens, for churches with pews. She likes the 

 individual to do as he pleases. Hence a divine disorder, a glorious 

 promiscuity. The church perhaps shows the quickest picture of 

 national life — the kaleidoscopic mingling of people and colours, the 

 wonderful crowd encompassed by the frescoed walls, the faces of the 

 saints, the great cloud of witnesses. 



The same picture, though modified by Western influence, is shown 

 in the theatre. Russia wishes the disenchanting of the footlights, 

 the participation of the public in the action of the drama, the 

 removing of stalls and chairs — a divine disorder in the theatre. She 

 believes in the emotional communion of the theatre — the actors in- 

 spired by the people, the people inspired again by the actors, the 

 dance and interplay of human thoughts and emotions. Shut your 



