In the last book I wrote, which was also about Russia, there was a preface in which I said that I had no political opinions and that my only object was to give a record of things seen. In spite of this Conservatives said my book was a revolutionary pamphlet, and Liberals--English Liberals of course--Russian Liberals knew better--declared it was an apology for reaction.[1] What better proof could I have had of its fundamental impartiality? But impartiality is unpopular. People prefer to see dogmatic opinions nailed like a flag to one side or the other; they cannot bear being told that both sides are right--and wrong. They do not much like being told that one is quite indifferent as to what people’s political opinions may be, because one is interested in them as human beings. In saying that such impartiality is unpopular, I have greatly understated the question. If one takes an impartial view of certain questions which inspire violent partisanship; if, for instance, one is opposed to vivisection and at the same time one has no sympathy with anti-vivisectionists--if, for instance, one believes in the innocence of Dreyfus, and the Dreyfusards inspire one with disgust, or if, as in this case, one sympathises with the Russian Liberals and yet considers that their apologists in England talk incredible nonsense--it is almost impossible to get a hearing at all. Both sides reject you, because you refuse not to admit that there are weaknesses and a certain measure of right on either side. The partisan cannot bear this to be said. His side must be altogether right, the other side must be altogether wrong; and if you venture to say that such a view is exaggerated and incomplete, you are howled down. People, and especially English people, are extraordinarily sensitive on this score (curiously enough), when a foreign country is in question. They regard every foreign country as being divided into two camps, the angels on one side, the devils on the other. In Russia the angels are all Revolutionaries, the devils are all Reactionaries. You, who have been in Russia, know that this is not the case. People in Russia, as elsewhere, are all made of the same stuff: their opinions are largely due to circumstance. But we English have a passion for meddling with other people’s business, without understanding what that business is. This is especially the case when any complex problem arises in a foreign country, such as the Dreyfus case or the Russian Revolution. Some people call this our great traditional sympathy with “nations rightly struggling to be free.” Unfortunately such sympathy being generally based on a total misapprehension of the questions at issue, very often does more harm than good. For instance, when not long ago in the House of Commons it was debated whether or no the King should pay a visit to the Emperor of Russia, and some one suggested that were the visit to be cancelled the immense majority of the Russian people