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." {237} 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?