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The Russian people still kept itself far away from political life, having little reason to take part in the work going on at other levels of society. Long-term suffering forced upon them their own sense of dignity; the Rus­sian people had suffered too much to agitate for a minor improvement in their position—better to remain a beggar in rags than to change into some­thing patched together from scraps. But if it took no part in the movement of ideas occupying other classes, this does not at all mean that nothing was transpiring in its soul. The Russian people breathed more heavily than before, and its countenance was sadder; the injustice of serfdom and pil­fering by civil servants became more and more unbearable. The govern­ment had disturbed the calm of the village commune with its compulsory organization of labor, and, with the introduction of rural police [stanovye pristavy] even the repose of the peasant in his own hut was restricted and supervised. There was a major increase in cases brought against arsonists, those who killed landowners, and participants in peasant uprisings. There was grumbling among the large number of religious dissenters; oppressed and exploited by the clergy and the police, they were far from making any major move, and yet one heard from time to time in these dead seas vague sounds heralding fierce storms. The Russian people's discontent of which we have been speaking is scarcely visible to a superficial glance. Russia always seems so tranquil that one would have difficulty believing that any­thing was going on. Few people know what is happening under the shroud in which the government wraps the dead—the bloodstains, the military ex- ecutions—when it is said, hypocritically and arrogantly, that there was no blood and no corpse under the shroud. What do we know of the Simbirsk arsonists, and the massacre of landowners simultaneously organized by a number of villages? What do we know of local uprisings, which broke out in connection with Kiselev's new administration?² What do we know of the de­struction in Kazan, Vyatka, and Tambov, where one had to resort to cannon?

The intellectual effort of which we spoke was not taking place at the highest levels of the state nor at its base, but in between the two, that is to say, between the lower and middle nobility. The facts we will introduce may not seem to have great importance, but it must not be forgotten that propa­ganda, like all education, is not flashy, especially when it does not dare to show itself in the light of day.

The influence ofliterature has noticeably increased, and penetrates much more deeply than before; it has not changed its mission and retains its lib­eral and educational character, to the extent possible under censorship.

A thirst for education is taking hold of the entire younger generation; civilian and military schools, gymnasia, lycees, and academies overflow with students; the children of the poorest parents strive to get into various institutes. The government, which as recently as 1804 enticed children into the schools with various privileges, now uses every effort to hold back the tide; difficulties are created at admission time and during exams; tuition payment is demanded; the education minister issues an order restricting the education of serfs. Nevertheless, Moscow University has become a ca­thedral of Russian civilization; the emperor detests it, sulks over it, and each year exiles a batch of its students. He never visits it when in Moscow, but the University flourishes and its influence grows; in bad repute, it ex­pects nothing, continuing its work and becoming a genuine force. The elite among the youth in neighboring provinces come to the University, and each year an army of graduates spreads throughout the country as civil ser­vants, doctors, and teachers.