The war that the nation fights is already half won. Tzars, Kaisers, Kings and Governments may spend millions on perfecting their fighting machines, they may hurl those machines at one another, but unless they have behind them the united will of their subjects, their efforts are bereft of more than half their force. The victorious army is the one which enjoys the whole-hearted support of a people prepared to face any sacrifice for the sake of its cause. The moral factor is as important as the material or the ethical. History is full of instances of wars being won against heavy odds by the sheer enthusiasm of a people determined to win at all costs. For a modern example it is only necessary to glance at the Austro-Serbian campaign.

The Kaiser knew very well how essential it is for a nation to present a united front to the foe. Ever of a religious disposition, he realised how true was the text that a house divided against itself falls to the ground. And so he chose his moment carefully. Britain was on the verge of civil war over the Irish crisis; France was torn asunder with political passions; both would obviously prove easy victims. And Russia? Unfortunately for the Imperial plans Russia was in a contented state. But the defect could soon be remedied! Russia has a reputation for strikes and revolutions, two of the most valuable allies an invading army can have. And so it happened that July saw the renewal of labour troubles in Petrograd, Moscow and other large towns. The first sign that trouble was brewing came from the famous Putilov works, the Russian armament factory. For some time past Germany has been evincing a very keen interest in the factory, and not so long ago an insolent attempt was made to get the control of the works into the hands of German Jew financiers. Of course the attempt failed and Germany had to content herself with filling the place with her spies. There is little doubt that the German Secret Service was primarily responsible for the strikes of 1914. For no particular reason beyond vague references to the “rights of labour” and “the glorious revolution,” some thousands of Putilov workmen went on strike. Thanks to a vigorous campaign throughout the country by real and imitation labour agitators, their example was extensively followed. Workers in mills, factories and railways answered the call. Hundreds of thousands were on strike although there was still no formulated demands on the part of their leaders. The strikers were fed on the stock phrases and generalities of the demagogue’s programme. Soon rioting took place. The military had to be called out, and on several occasions at Petrograd the Cossacks came into serious conflict with the strikers.

Then suddenly the war clouds gathered. Russia appeared to have been caught at the most inopportune moment possible. The war danger arose at the very time when the strike movement seemed to be at its height. There is no doubt that Russia’s advice to Serbia in regard to the latter’s reply to Austria’s Note was to a large extent dictated by the unfortunate internal condition of the country.

But the nation rose to the occasion in a manner which even Russia’s warmest friend would hardly have dared to predict. The national danger forged a united people. The rioting and other disturbances ceased. The military remained in their barracks; there was no work for them in the streets. Then, as the international situation grew graver the strikers realised how insignificant, yet how dangerous, were their own squabbles, and they began to troop back to work of their own accord. Throughout that period of agonising suspense the Russian statesmen received no more inspiring news than this. It was the only ray of light that pierced the gathering gloom.

The people, realising that war was inevitable days before the Governments gave up hope of peace, acclaimed it with enthusiasm. Next to the Jews, the Germans, or Nemetz, as they are called, are the most hated foreigners in Russia. They are found in nearly every town and village, and their national habit of growing prosperous at the expense of their hosts has earned for them an honest hatred. The average Russian was only too pleased at the prospect of getting a chance of paying off a few old scores. In addition to personal dislike, the racial aspect of the war was also a very strong consideration with the Russian democracy. Pan-Slavism is a very real doctrine amongst the mujhiks, who have an unlimited faith in the heaven-sent destinies of their race. There is hardly a soldier in all Russia’s immense army that does not regard the freeing of all sorts and conditions of Slavs as his most sacred duty.

And there was the religious question to add to the nation’s enthusiasm. Russia is the most religious nation in Europe. Every home, no matter how humble, has its ikon. The festivals of the Church are real holy days, and not mere secular holidays. The Church itself is indeed the mother of the people. The simple, unquestioning faith of the mujhiks is without a parallel in Europe, except perhaps in the remote districts of Ireland. Religion is a reality with them; it enters into every action of their daily life. In the towns, of course, much of this faith has been lost, and there is a parade of unbelief which is apt to lead the casual observer to wrong conclusions. The real Russia is not to be found in the towns, but in the villages and hamlets and amongst the peasants. With them the war is a religious war. It is a battle between the Orthodox Church, which is the peculiar property of the Slavs, and the Western, which seeks to impose its tenets on the “true believers.”

It is from these simple peasants with their racial hatreds and rock-like faith that Russia draws nine-tenths of her soldiers. As fighting men they can be compared only with Cromwell’s Ironsides.

In the rural districts the popular enthusiasm for the war found an outlet in religion; in the towns it sought a more secular form of expression. Petrograd was the scene of unprecedented outbursts of popular jubilation. Crowds paraded the streets singing the National Anthem and cheering portraits of the Tzar. The French and particularly the British Embassies were besieged by cheering throngs. Every public appearance of the Tzar was the sign for vociferous outbursts of loyalty such as are rarely witnessed in Russia. Even the Empress, whose shattered nerves have kept her virtually a prisoner for years, had to come forward and bow her acknowledgments to the crowds. And, to crown all, the police, gendarmes and military were noticeably absent from the streets. The crowds were orderly, in spite of their patriotic fervour. Petrograd was as free and unrestrained as London. It was difficult to realise that only a few days before the spectre of revolution had stalked through the city.

One incident alone marred the demonstrations. On August 4th, news reached Petrograd of the scandalous treatment undergone by the Russian diplomatic staff at the hands of the Berlin mob. Enraged beyond control a huge crowd descended on the Nevski Prospect and after demolishing a German cafÉ and several German-owned shops, made a resolute attack on the Embassy. The police were overpowered, the gates forced and the work of destruction began. The flagstaff was torn down, the Prussian Eagle and several pieces of statuary were unceremoniously thrown into the Moika Canal; furniture, pictures, linen, books, everything that was inflammable was heaped on the ground and soon a huge bonfire was raging. Amidst a roar of cheering a large portrait of the Kaiser was hurled into the flames. The orgy continued until the police and military appeared in force. But the most significant feature of the affair was the discovery in the cellars of large stores of firearms and revolutionary propaganda—concrete evidence that the suspicions that Germany was fostering internal troubles in Russia to serve her own ends were only too well founded.

The most impressive of all the many scenes emphasising the facts that not only the Russian nation but all Slavdom is united against the Teuton menace, and that a new Russia is being built up as a result of the common cause and danger, occurred on Saturday, August 8th, when the Tzar received the two Houses of the Duma at the Winter Palace. Early in the proceedings, striking evidence was given of the new order of things. Party quarrels, personal jealousies and political enmities were forgotten. The leader of every party came forward and announced that he and his followers would support the Government by every means in their power. Even M. Purishkivich, the implacable leader of the Anti-Semite movement, abandoned his principles and praised his Jewish fellow-subjects.

The Tzar’s speech was simple and direct, but it was significant because of the stress it laid upon the racial and religious aspects of the war:

“In these great days of alarms and anxiety through which Russia is passing, I greet you. Germany, following Austria, has declared war on Russia. The enormous enthusiasm and the patriotic sentiments of love and faith to the Throne, an enthusiasm which has swept like a hurricane through our country, is a guarantee for me, as for you, I hope, that great Russia will bring to a happy conclusion the war which the Almighty has sent.

“It is also in this unanimous enthusiasm of love and eagerness to make every sacrifice, even life, that I am able to regard the future with calm and firmness. It is not only the dignity and honour of our country that we are defending, but we are fighting for our brother Slavs, co-religionists, and blood brethren. In this moment I see also with joy that the union of the Slavs with Russia progresses strongly and indissolubly.

“I am persuaded that all and each of you will be in your place to assist me to support the test, and that all, beginning with myself, will do their duty. Great is the God of the Russian Fatherland.”

The effect of that ancient Russian saying was electrical. The whole assembly burst into a storm of cheering; this was followed by “God save the Tzar,” sung with a fervour which obviously affected his Majesty. Finally that most beautiful of all Russian anthems, “Lord, save the People,” was sung. Tears streamed down the cheeks of the deputies, as, with voices choking with emotion and faith, they sang the simple words of the anthem.

Such a scene of patriotic fervour and national determination had not been witnessed in Russia since the Napoleonic war of 1812.

The practical enthusiasm of the nation was no less marked than the sentimental. The wealthy classes contributed liberally to the various relief funds, and made many sacrifices to help the country in its time of danger. In spite of the inconvenience and dislocation of trade caused by the military preparations, complaints were never heard. The whole nation seemed to have combined in a common determination to see the war through to a successful conclusion.

The gathering of the harvest provided an instance of this practical enthusiasm. Russia being the world’s largest producer of wheat, barley, rye, and oats the matter was a very urgent one. Moreover, Russia is self-supporting, and the failure of the crops would mean the ruin and starvation of thousands during the winter months. Most of the men had been called to the colours, and there was a serious danger of large portions of the crops, especially in the more remote districts, being allowed to rot for lack of labour. The problem was attacked with a practical spirit unusual in the Russian with his Asiatic fatalism. The zemstvos, the military, and the local authorities co-operated in dealing with this problem. Women, boys, and old men were set to work. Tramps and prisoners were forcibly transformed into temporary harvesters. By means of a central bureau in each district it was possible to keep in touch with every farm, no matter how remote, and to ensure that no crops suffered through lack of labour. As a result of these measures the whole harvest was successfully gathered, and the nation was able to face the coming winter with the satisfactory knowledge that, in any event, its food supply was assured.

Perhaps the most remarkable effects of the war on the nation was the complete change which came over its attitude towards the Jews. Partly by reason of ancient religious intolerance and partly because of the fact that the Jews, thanks to the thriftless and unbusinesslike methods of the Russians, have managed to accumulate much of the national wealth, the Judiev hitherto have been regarded with fierce animosity and subjected to pitiless persecution. The story of the pogroms is one of the most hideous chapters in the history of any people. It was fully expected in many quarters that the national enthusiasm engendered by the war should find an outlet in a repetition of these horrors. Vienna indeed was so confident that it officially informed the world that Vilna was the scene of a terrible outbreak of anti-semitism. The report was a lie. The Jews were no longer the best hated race in Russia; that distinction had been wrested from them by the “Nemetz.” Everywhere a new tolerance and a new respect for the Jews was apparent, especially when news came of their heroic deeds at the front. Their enthusiasm for the war and devotion to the Tzar rivalled that of the Russians themselves. A quarter of a million of men—the largest Jewish army ever assembled since the fall of Jerusalem—were with the Tzar’s forces. Throughout the country the Jews set a splendid example in contributing to the relief funds and in removing distress caused by the war. Hence the Jew has become almost popular. Even when, as a mark of Imperial appreciation of their loyalty, ukases were issued relieving them of many of the disadvantages under which they suffered, and practically admitting them to the full citizenship of the Russian Empire, hardly a protesting voice was heard. Indeed, in many respects, the war has been for Russia a blessing in disguise. It has completed the work of the past few years. On all sides reforms have been effected and a new Russia has emerged. The old ideals and the old standards have passed. But the change has been unconscious, and the Russians, with their chronic fatalism, have not realised they have been taking part in events which have practically transformed the old autocratic regime into one which is almost democratic. Some external shock was needed to rouse the nation to a sense of its new glories. The war provided that shock, and Russia and the world have realised that a new era has dawned in the dominions of the Tzar.