He had been on a journey through Europe, and was now on his return from Livadia, still under the impression of two extended interviews which the young Tsar had granted him. He had not been received as a journalist, but as a privileged guest in accordance with the wish of the late Emperor, Alexander III. About ten years before, a perfectly false idea of the Russian autocrat had gained currency with the British public. He was described as morose, violent, and insincere. And it was particularly supposed that he was all ready to let loose the horrors of a universal war. Stead, the journalist, had succeeded in dissipating this impression. In the year 1888 he had been accorded an audience at the imperial court at Gatchina, and the Emperor had engaged in an exceedingly frank conversation with him. When Stead returned to England he was able to announce with the utmost particularity that Alexander III was quite the opposite of the popular conception of him; that he was an enemy of all falsehoods, and imbued with the strongest detestation of war. These representations entirely changed public opinion, and must have helped to avert the ever-present danger of war. From what Stead told me of the impression made upon him during his audience with Nicholas II, I felt warranted in concluding that the young Emperor was thoroughly in earnest in the matter of the manifesto. I complained to him of the lack of comprehension, the stupidity, and at the same time the hostile spite with which the message was received, for the disappointment to me had been unprecedented; I had so firmly believed that, with the exception of a small circle, the world would surely break out into jubilation at having the hope so nearly fulfilled of being freed from the mountainous weight that oppressed it. To this Stead replied: “The manifesto is a mirror—a kind of magic mirror. You hold it up before men whose nature you wish to learn, and according to the judgments they pronounce on it, it reflects clearly the image of their spirit and their character.” “But since almost everywhere a petty, ugly picture is shown,” I went on complaining, “since the purpose manifested by the Tsar is to be counteracted by mistrust, indifference, open and secret resistance, the lofty work may fail....” “Are you of so little faith?... You?... Such a declaration may be delayed. But can it be silenced? Never! I myself, as I have made this journey through the cities of Europe, began to grow faint-hearted, but what I learned in Russia has restored my courage. The Emperor, I have faith to believe, now that he has put his hand to the plow, will draw the furrow, and his three ministers are with him in the matter. One is Kuropatkin, the Minister of War, whose ambition it is to reduce armaments; the second is Witte, Minister of Finance; the third, Count Lamsdorff, pupil and follower of Giers, the efficient force in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.