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And lie whimpered weakly.
But Herr Sehnialz had come to himself—that better self of his that he and his neighbors had somewhat lost sight of for a considerable number of years: such a salutary working had the shock already had on that crease in his character.
"Never mind, Hesselbarth," he said; "you haven't hurt me. And it served me right. I was a fool. I won't remember this, and I promise I will do my best for you in every way."
And he kept his word.
Some years after this an article appeared In "The Magdeburg Times." throwing doubt on the Immemorial claims of AltRoppendorf to the invention of chess. The anonymous author proceeded to pooh-pooh Altpoppendorf's chess legend, and advanced one of a different complexion to the following effect:—
In the evening of the day on which that Graf Albreoht von Kegenstein. Raubritter, proposed to carry Into effect the abduction of her Grace of Quedllnburg, a stranger rode up to the gates of the Castle of Regenstein and asked for an audience with the lord of the stronghold. Introduced into the Raubritter's presence, he recounted that the fame of his lordship's prowess at chess had come to his ears, and, being of the mind to try a bout with such a renowned champion of the noble game, he had turned aside from his road in the hope that his lordship would not
disappoint him of a trial of skill. Graf Albrecht was at that season in want of a worthy opponent, for he had been unfortunate enough lately, when in his cups, to hang his chaplain,—the only one of his suite who could bring things even to a draw against him. So the board was laid out, and the Raubritter and the Stranger set to. They played all night; and when the sun rose—her Grace the Abbess being now safe within her walls—the mysterious Unknown vanished,—not so quickly, however, but Graf Albrecht had recognized in the strong morning light the grinning and distorted countenance of his late chaplain. And when the attendants came in to their master, his hair was white.
The anonymous writer was refuted with great skill and boldness by the Herr Kantor Heinrlch Hesselbarth of Altpoppendorf, son-in-law of his Worship the Herr Schultheiss Sehmalz. The Herr Kantor, who, by the way, is renowned for his skill as a chessplayer beyond the bounds of his village,—they say at Altpoppendorf that his wife has made him what he is, and he does not deny it,—drove the nameless enemy in disgraceful rout The history of the discussion Is too long to enter Into here; but, generally speaking, Herr Hesselbarth showed conclusively that the new-found legend was never drawn from that old volume of which the pages are memories and traditions, and the book-markers the centuries. Oharles Oliver.
THE SECOND DUMA.
For the second time in twelve months, Russia has passed through an experience unique In the history of representative Institutions. She has held a general election under martial
law. The event, which has turned out to be a decisive victory for the popular parties, gives one proof the more of the political precocity of the Russian masses, and of their adaptability to conditions which would have stricken any Western democracy with despair. The conditions of last year were sufficiently difficult. Then, as now, almost the whole area of the Empire lay under coercive laws, of varying degrees of stringency; the right of meeting was restricted, if, indeed, it could be said to exist at all; the press was muzzled; outside every pollingbooth hung long lists of suspected persons, who were debarred from political rights, and prudent electors of progressive opinions either concealed their views under some colorless label, or passed the Interval between the second and third stages of the complicated process of indirect election, in timely Journeys, or in hiding. M. Stolypin's system of intervention has been more discriminating than that of M. Durnovo. It has been something more than a mere unthinking application of the traditional repression which the bureaucracy adopted In the past towards every movement of opinion. It rested on some calculations of strategy; it was an attempt to adapt the electoral tactics of a Bismarck or a Billow to the country of Plehve and Trepoff. The general scheme of repression remained—the various euphemisms which cover martial law, the press censorship, the restriction of public meetings, the drumhead courts-martial, which worked with a celerity and a ruthlessness unequalled In Europe since the French Terror, the machinery of arbitrary arrests, the constant procession of trains of exiles towards Siberia, the menace of the "Black Hundreds," whose function it was, under official patronage and police guidance, to terrorize the progressives of the towns.
But M. Stolypin did not simply make war on the Russian people, as his predecessors had done. He showed himself to be a sort of Liberal, a man of the new order, an apprentice to
Constitutionalism, by making war only on the majority of the people. He invented an ingenious system, by which every political party was required to register itself, and to provide Itself with a political "yellow ticket." He accorded the rights of registration, and the status of a legal party, to every shade of opinion, from the . "Black Hundreds," whose council of titled reactionaries and antl-semltlc priests organized all the secret "pogroms," to the tame Liberals of the "Pacific Regeneration" group. He refused this status to the one party which really had a great popular following, the Cadets (Constitutional Democrats), who formed the majority, and directed the tactics of the late Duma. His object, apparently, was to crush the Cadets between the extreme Left, which knew how to work underground, and the extreme Right, which was allowed to work in daylight. The official element, and the wealthier landowners, were shepherded In the "Octobrlst" group—a party of moderates which originally favored the Zemstvo movement, upholds the Duma as a deliberative assembly, supports M. Stolypin, and wishes to remain within the letter of the Tsar's concessions of October, 1905. For the tlmider Cadets, M. Stolypin was at pains to keep open the refuge of the cautious but sincere little group of aristocratic Liberals, known as the Party of Pacific Regeneration.
The brunt of the repression fell on the Cadets. The Vlborg Manifesto, with Its advocacy of passive resistance, alienated their Right wing; Its hasty abandonment disgusted the Left. It was followed by a threat of political persecution against all who signed It. and the result was that nearly all of their more distinguished members were disqualified as candidates. They faced the electors a prescribed and divided party, with untried and often unknown men in its front rank. Printers were forbidden to work for them; their electoral literature had all to be written or typed, and newspapers were suppressed for daring to publish the names of their "ticket" at the primary elections. They were even refused the facility of printed ballot papers accorded to all the "legal" parties—a serious handicap in a country where a large percentage of the electors is illiterate. During the greater part of the period since the dissolution of the first Duma, they could hold no meetings, and even towards the close of the campaign, when a few meetings were tolerated, any criticism of the Government was punished by heavy fines. Some classes of electors were disfranchised in the mass, notably the railway employees; everywhere the registers were revised and "purified," and many of the more prominent Liberal leaders, like Professors Milinkoff and Kovalevsky, were disqualified on technical objections, which the Higher Courts quashed too late to allow of their adoption as candidates. The same tactics were, of course, adopted towards the Socialists. But the Socialists of all shades have been long accustomed to work as a persecuted party. They have carried the methods of conspiracy to a high pitch of perfection. Their secret presses, their anonymous committees, the reckless daring of their student allies, who look on the road to Siberia as the path to glory, and of working-men ready to exchange misery for martyrdom, enabled them to work the elections precisely as they would have worked a strike or a military mutiny. The Cadets, a party of professional men, Liberal land-owners, and middle-aged merchants, were handicapped in this competition by their very respectability. Branded as an illegal party, they none the less refused to adopt revolu
tionary methods, or to make common cause with the Socialists. Their Left wing, it is true, did in many districts form a coalition with the Social Democrats. But Professor Milinkoff made bitter speeches about "the red rag," and in Moscow and St. Petersburg Radicals and Socialists quarrelled as hotly as though they bad been electioneering in Hamburg or Berlin.
The result of the elections is certainly a crushing defeat for the Government. With all its manipulation of the register, despite the aid of the police, the official parties return to the Duma a feeble minority. The Opposition, be they Polish Nationalists, Cadets, Left Coalition, doctrinaire Social Democrats with rigid German principles, Russian Social Revolutionaries, or peasant members of the Party of Toilr will be united in opposing the bureaucracy, in demanding the resignation of M. Stolypin, and in pushing forward a programme of responsible government, personal liberty, universal suffrage, and compulsory land purchase. The strategy of the Government has resulted in the return of a Duma more extreme, more violent, less homogeneous than the last. But, unhappily, it would be quite premature to say that for that reason it has failed. it may on the contrary have succeeded in creating a Duma which will give it a plausible pretext for a second dissolution, a longer period of arbitrary repression, and a more drastic manipulation of the franchise. The Cadets of the Centre will hardly be what they were a year ago, an imposing majority, entitled to form a commanding and responsible Ministry. The exclusion of nearly all the members who had gained experience in the first Duma may prove in the end as fatal to democracy as was the self-denying ordinance by which the members of the first Constituent Assembly in the French Revolution pledged themselves to refuse re-election. Mouromtseff, Millukoff, Vinaver, Kovalevsky, among the Liberals, Plekhanoff, Aladyn, Anaikin among the Socialists, are outside this Duma. The new members are untried men who, in most cases, escaped persecution by their obscurity alone, and evaded the political police by posing on the official lists as "moderates," "independents," or "doubtfills." The Duma is dead; but it has suffered a transformation, and not a resurrection. Russian opinion is quite prepared for its immediate dissolution. it would be more consonant with M. Stolypin's German strategy, to play upon the feuds which divide the Liberal Centre from the Radical and Socialist Left . To legalize the Cadets after reducing their strength, to group them, in return for a few superficial concessions, with the Octobrist Conservatives, and the aristocratic Polish Nationalists against the Socialists of the Left, and then to appeal in Prince Billow's manner to the middle-classes against the revolution,
would be, from bis standpoint, an intelligible, and perhaps a promising policy. Even Professor Millukoff announces that parliamentary government is not a prominent point in the Cadet programme. But we know as yet too little either of the real spirit of the elected Cadets, or of the political wisdom of the Socialists, to predict their power of circumventing M. Stolypin's strategy. The aim of men like Professors Millukoff and Kovalevsky, is certainly to acclimatize the spirit of English and French democracy in Russia. They are among the ablest political thinkers in Europe, and it must be as clear to them as it is to us, that a progressive party riven by internal feuds can hope at best for the fate of German Liberalism, which has allowed itself by slow stages of compromise, to become the declared enemy of the working-classes, and the tool of the bureaucracy. The real question for the Second Duma is, whether its model shall be the Belchstag or the House of Commons.
Suppose a man, not color-blind, nor altogether insensible to recent modes of taste, after gazing with dazzled eyes on the sort of set-piece of garden fireworks still sometimes found on terraces in front of large country houses —the stars and crescents of tagetes and lobelia and coleus ranged about a central sun compact of a thousand scarlet geraninms—suppose him suddenly transported to a mossy flagged path between borders of cottager's flowers, white lilies against the dark background of a yew bush, a damask rose leaning across a clump of lavender, pansies straggling over an edging of pinks and daisies—he would in all probability exclaim delightedly in
favor of the old-fashioned flowers. The epithet which he would almost inevitably use is one of those irrational stock phrases which have to suffice for the conveyance of much meaning in the happy-go-lucky businesses of the world. "Old-fashioned," with its detestable variant "old-world," will not stand a minute's analysis. Our latest novelties of six-inch begonias, or mopheaded chrysanthemums, even while they electrify the show-tent, are oldfashioned for those gardeners who shall call our time antique. The simpler, more modest flowers which we are pleased to invest with that halfregretful charm owe their attraction to the gaudier and bolder developments of our day; it is the geometrical pyroteehny on the front lawn which gives the lilies and pansies of the cottage alleys their distinction of careless and retired grace. We are arbitrary and short-sighted even in the differences which we make; we take for earliest antiques things which our fathers experimented with; there are others from which time seems unable to remove the air of novelty. Within fifty years we have seen the verbena hackneyed almost to extinction, and again beginning to appeal to a new generation as quite a pretty neglected thing, a revival of Paxtonian graces. it is difficult to imagine that any length of time will bring such things as fuchsias or petunias into the same category with violets or pansies, even with stocks or Canterbury Bells. Though "old-fashioned" be an absurd symbol, the class which it expresses is definite enough. A "rigid purist would probably confine his list of the order to the older summer-flowering roses—the damasks and mosses, the Provence and Galllca hybrids—the white Queen and the orange lilies, tulips, pansies, violets, wallflowers, Canterbury Bells, pinks, double daisies, hollyhocks, paeonles of the officinalis tribe, poppies, lavender, pot-marigold, flag iris, lupins, and a few whose names are part of their claim to be included—such as Sweet William, Honesty, Heartsease, None-so-pretty, or London Pride; Thrift, Love-in-a-Mist. Love-lies-bleeding. An easier critic might admit sweet peas, China asters, stocks, snapdragon, auriculas, mignonette, some of the mallows, and a few more that stand near the doubtful line. There is a good deal of significance in the names of garden-flowers; some of those given above are classical, and many of them go excellently in verse: gillyflowers and Love-in-idleness (though too many people have the vaguest notions of what they are) have
as much music in them as smell. There are others that will not grow on Parnassus: we shall never learn to scan Rudbeckla lacinlata, nor Kuiphofla Tuckl, and the fact implies something. A careless observer of the seri studiorum, who nowadays take up gardening with such easy enthusiasm, would probably expect the chosen few to be all hardy "herbaceous" kinds, looking after themselves for half a lifetime without much care from the gardener. As a matter of fact, though with one or two exceptions all those named are quite hardy in average British winters, yet only some half-dozen are real perennials; some, with due care as to dividing and re-planting, are long-lived; some are biennial, the rest merely annual. All are robust and easy to grow— with the sad exception of the white Queen illy and the hollyhock, and, in some grounds, of the tulip, which are threatened with extinction from specific diseases—but it is no part of the old flowers' nature to fend entirely for themselves and to let the gardener off from his charge; the regular practice of an art which conceals itself among the stoutly pushing stems and thickspread leaves is perhaps more needful here than anywhere else, to bring in the human element which distinguishes the garden from the wild.
Few things would better repay intelligent gardeners who have space and the wherewithal than the planting of borders or quarters with the less progressive flowers. in general, the modest proportions and chaste hues of the older race would be an antidote to the exaggerated force and coarser tone of many of the modern strains, and might suggest a philosophic theory of a balance of losses and gains. Amongst roses, set a Madame Plantler against Frau Karl Druschki, and the candid mind will