"'Oh yes. Tell her to come to live with me here.'
"You should have seen the joy of the mother when I brought her this very undiplomatic despatch, and the interest created amongst her fellow-prisoners!
"To help the wretched is a pleasure thoroughly appreciated by Russians. It is absurd to preach to us charity and compassion. We are brought up in those notions from our childhood. Christianity with us is not a vague term; it represents a very clear 'categorical principle' which forms a link between all of us, from the Emperor down to the humblest peasant. Our highest classes are very well represented in that respect. First comes our Empress Marie, the present Dowager Empress, who is the soul of charity and compassion. I never heard of any appeal made to her in vain. Nor could anybody, I think, be kinder than the Emperor. His aunt, the Grand Duchess Constantine, notwithstanding the endless demands on her generosity, once undertook to feed a thousand famine-stricken peasants in our district till next harvest. I could also give other examples from amongst the Imperial family.
"Then, coming to a lower rank, we had, for instance, the procurator of the Holy Synod, M. Pobédonostzeff, and his wife. The latter, though far from strong in health, takes care of a large school, visiting it almost daily. With the support and sympathy of her husband, she collected large sums every year in order to send to the prisoners of Sakhalin (our worst criminals) quantities of clothes, useful tools, tobacco and toys, writing materials and religious books. Our lower classes only care for 'divine literature,' as they call it. Religious books are in great demand in every part of Russia, which helps to defeat Nihilistic teaching, and saves the people from that criminal folly.
"Or take another well-known case: a man of good birth and worldly prospects, a distinguished Moscow professor, Serge Ratchinsky, who, without any of that self-advertisement which seems to be the necessary stimulus to similar efforts in Western Europe, buried himself in the country, and there founded a school which has served as a model for ten or twelve other schools in the same province, and which he superintends and guides with fatherly care, and in strictly Greek Orthodox views. He also organised a large temperance movement, which is now spreading throughout Russia.
"I could give numerous instances to show that philanthropy, far from being unknown, is widely practised in Russia. In fact, it permeates all our work, including the prisons.
"Our great Empress, Catherine II, used to say: 'Better pardon ten criminals than punish one innocent.' This became a favourite saying with us,and perhaps accounts for the leniency of our juries, which is often carried too far. For what right have we to endanger the public safety by allowing crime to reign unchecked?
"In England murderers are quietly hanged. According to us, this is going too far. How are you to manifest Christian compassion and love to sinners when they are so quickly and definitely disposed of?
"What chance have they to repent? Capital punishment is repellent to public feeling in Russia, and has been used in cases which, thank God! were quite exceptional and extremely rare. With us, only the very worst crimes are punished with imprisonment for life. Even for these it may at all events be said, 'While there is life there is hope.'
"Very great improvements have been introduced in our prison system. More are to follow. We see our shortcomings better than ignorantdilettantecritics, whose only object is to excite artificial indignation.
"These questions are very important and complicated; but, as Thiers used to say, 'Prenez tout au sérieux, rien au tragique.'"
It is difficult to write of Russian prisons without reference to the work of my great friend, Helen Voronoff. It has been said, and nothing could be truer, that her whole existence might have been summed up in the three words, "all for others." She killed herself by her devotion to her self-imposed duty as an angel of light in the gloomy recesses of Russian prisons.
MISS HELEN VORONOFFMISS HELEN VORONOFF
The first years of her life were devoted to teaching, but in 1906 she turned her attention to anothersphere of activity that had long attracted her, and which turned out to be her life's mission: the bringing of comfort and hope and spiritual light into the lives of criminals in prisons, more especially of political offenders. In spite of her weak health, and of the fact that she had already in her early youth been condemned to death by her doctors, she exhibited the most extraordinary physical and moral energy, and looked upon all fatigue in connection with her work simply as an unavoidable and unimportant detail in the carrying out of her divine mission.
She never hesitated before those excessively tiring and depressing journeys to the Schlüsselbourg Fortress, and other prisons, before wanderings through cold dark cells, and keeping long vigils at the bedsides of the dying. Her influence among the prisoners was so beneficent, that the authorities, in all cases, allowed her to come and go as she pleased, and to visit even the most dangerous criminals in their solitary confinement cells.
On one particular occasion that comes to my mind, two gaolers seriously opposed themselves to her entering a certain cell alone, since the prisoner confined there was a ruffian who literally boasted of having killed twelve persons, and whom it seemed most dangerous for an unprotected woman to approach. Miss Voronoff would not even listen to the gaolers.
"I must go to him quite alone," she insisted. "Your presence would show mistrust on my part and would only wound his feelings."
On her entry, the criminal looked up in surprise."Why have you come here alone?" he growled. "I have killed twelve people. Are you not afraid that I shall kill you too?"
"There is no reason why you should do that," was the quiet reply. "I have only come because I should like to help you a little. Your past sins can make no difference."
The prisoner seemed taken aback, and gradually allowed himself to be drawn into a conversation that lasted more than half an hour, after which, when his visitor rose to go, this rough outcast, touched and softened, begged her to come again.
Between her visits to the various prisons, Miss Voronoff spent all her time in correspondence and interviews with the relatives of the prisoners, and in untiring efforts to alleviate their sufferings and soften their fate. Many indeed are the bright moments that this consoling angel brought into the darkness of those hopeless lives!
Miss Voronoff left behind her (she died only recently) an interesting book of sketches entitledAmong the Prisoners. Never was a book published more worthy of being described as a human document. It is full of the charm and goodness of one saintly personality reacting upon the victims of a great tragedy. The following quotations that I have made from this book are so illuminating as to Russian character that they require no apology or explanation:—
"It was not until after a lapse of six years that I was once more able to visit the Wiborg Cellular Prison, in the consumptive ward of which I first began to work for poor prisoners. Then I was inthe company of Princess Maria Dondoukoff-Korsakoff. Now, this noble woman has gone to her reward, but everything around seemed to speak to me of her. There was not a bed in that ward upon which she had not sat (she seldom, if ever, used the chairs provided, feeling that in this way she was nearer to the patient). And many a sufferer had she comforted. Laying her hand upon his shoulder or his head, she would speak words which, delivered in her sweet and affable voice, could not fail to reach his heart. Ah! how many a heart was softened, how much physical pain relieved, how many souls gained back to God by her sweet ministrations!
"And now, with these dear memories crowding upon me, I visited once again the Wiborg Cellular Prison.
"It has been much improved; now there are two wards for consumptive patients, whereas formerly there was but one, which was both overcrowded and airless. In fact, the place, I remember, on one occasion was so close as to overcome the Princess, who was obliged to lie down and recover before continuing her ministrations to the sick.
"Upon the occasion of this my first visit to the prison after six years, a touching incident occurred, which I should like to recall.
"Upon entering the ward I saw at once that there were three there who would not be long upon this earth, for they remained motionless as I advanced. But the others brightened up at my coming, trying to check their troublesome coughs, and even, where strong enough, raising themselves to greet me.
"During my conversation with them I asked ifthose so near their end had received Holy Communion. Upon this point I was reassured, and was much comforted to see how anxious were those not yet about to die that their fellow-sufferers should receive this consolation when the end approached.
"I noticed as I passed along the ward a specially young and handsome face, the face of one of the three about to breathe their last. I drew closer, and silently watched him for a few moments, fearing to rouse him, for his eyes were closed, and his breath was short and interrupted. Bright red spots burnt upon his cheeks.
"As I stood thus his neighbour called him, and, looking above his bed, I read the name, 'Paul Rostchin.'
"'Why do you disturb him?' I asked. The man explained that Rostchin expected me, and wished to ask me something, and that when he regained consciousness he would be very sad that he had not been roused to speak to me.
"'After some time, Rostchin opened his eyes. I shall never forget their expression. It was a mingling of pain and hope and entreaty. He tried hard to speak, but, although his lips moved, I could hear no sound.
"Gently I tried to soothe him, begging him to be calm, and telling him that I was in no hurry, and would wait until I understood what it was he wished to say to me.
"At last I caught one word, 'Mother.' 'Ah!' said I, 'you are calling your mother; you want to see her; perhaps I could find her. Where does she live?'
"'She is far from here,' he whispered, 'and cannot come.'
"My heart ached for him. It was pitiful to hear him in these his last moments calling for his mother. I bent over him and said:
"'Your own mother, as you say, is far from here; but God has sent me to comfort you. Can you not count me your spiritual mother, and confide in me, when I come to you and sit with you and listen to all you have to say?'
"His face brightened at the thought, and a little strength seemed to return. 'I have something,' he said, 'to tell her before I die.'
"Then I begged him to say to me what he wished to say to her, promising that I would hear it as though I were his mother. Hardly had I said this than the man on the bed at our right, being able to walk, got up and moved away, and the other, who was not equal to that effort, turned his back to us, that he might not hear. I was touched at the feeling displayed by these apparently rough, though simple Russian men.
"And then I made out from his laboured words his sad story. A good, kind, and loving mother abandoned for more than a year and a half, while he suffered in prison. His great wish now was to let her know how much he felt his guilt, and beg for her forgiveness.
"I listened, holding my breath that I might catch the halting words, and as he bared his soul, and made clear the confession he wished to make, it seemed as though a great weight fell from him; and when, from sheer exhaustion, he sank back and closed hiseyes, I knew that the tears were there, as he said brokenly, 'I shall never see her again to tell her this. I have only a few days, perhaps a week, left to live.'
"I never hold out vain hopes to the poor patients when they are about to die, so, seeing how near he was to his end, I did not undeceive him.
"Again I asked him for his mother's address, promising to write and tell her that he was dying, and asked forgiveness, and that I would ask her to reply immediately, so that he might hear the answer before the end. The face of the dying man shone with a great joy; the forgiveness of his mother was all he sought now upon the earth. Then, sinking back upon his bed, he murmured, 'If I get the answer, I shall take it with me.'
"Before leaving the hospital I made the sign of the Cross upon his forehead. His eyes were closed, but he whispered, 'Thanks, thanks.'
"Meeting the doctor on my way out, I inquired whether he thought it was worth while to suggest that the mother should come, or could he last so long. The doctor seemed unable to decide, saying he might live a week or he might die that day.
"Hurrying home, I despatched the promised letter, and for days awaited the answer. Each day I telephoned to the prison for news of the dying man, and each time I received the same reply, 'He is alive, but very weak.' And this for five days.
"On the sixth day, when I came home in the afternoon, my servant met me with the information that a very old woman, poorly dressed, in bast shoes anda wallet on her back, had been there asking for her son Paul.
"Rostchin's mother, upon the receipt of my letter, had determined to come in person to pardon her son. As the journey cost five roubles twenty copecks, she sold all her possessions, pledging even her felt shoes, thus being forced to travel in bast shoes, in spite of the intense cold. It was her first visit to a large town; she was bewildered by all she saw; but her mother's love helped her to surmount all obstacles.
"The next morning, very early, I went to her. In her anxiety to get to her son, she came to the tram with one golosh only over her bast shoe; the other she had forgotten. It was not until we were on the way that I broke the sad tidings to her that the hospital to which we were going was the hospital of a prison. 'Oh! Paul, Paul, my beloved son. My darling! How did you get to prison?' she sobbed. 'He was a warrant officer, and now he is in prison.'
"To me it was most touching that she did not once reproach him. She only pitied him without end. She warmly thanked me that I had not mentioned in my letter that he was in prison.
"'Oh, God! Oh, Holy Virgin Mary! Let me find him alive; let me but hear one word from him; let him look on me only one moment,' prayed the old woman.
"We found, on our arrival at the prison, that Rostchin yet lived, but to give an adequate description of the meeting between mother and son I feel is beyond me.
"When I led the poor woman into the room where Rostchin lay, and showed her the bed on which he was stretched, she staggered, and would have fallen had I not supported her. But her eyes fell on the picture of a saint, and, making the sign of the Cross, she approached the bedside of her son. He was so weak that he could not even turn his head, but tears rolled down his cheeks, and the poor mother, bending over him, gazed so earnestly into his eyes that her tears fell and flowed with his.
"'Forgive me, forgive me, my own mother. I am very guilty,' repeated the dying man.
"'My son, my dear son Paul, God will forgive you,' wept the sorrowing woman.
"I could stand the scene no longer, and I withdrew. When later I returned, some of the sick prisoners came up and thanked me for the great joy I had given to Rostchin.
"Once more was I thrilled to find such feelings in these poor prisoners, themselves suffering and outcast, yet rejoicing with their fellow-sufferer. It is easy to weep with those who weep, but when one's own heart is sad and suffering, is it so easy to rejoice with those that rejoice? Envy so easily creeps in.
"Rostchin did not live long after the visit of his mother. Having received her pardon, he became calmer, asked for the clergyman, and once more received the Holy Sacrament. His death was that of a good Christian. His sufferings were great, but he remained still in the same peaceful disposition. Before he breathed his last, he repeated again and again, 'Forgive, forgive!'
"It is interesting to note that his mother did not remain until the end, but, having pardoned and blessed her son, asked to be sent back to her home.
"This is characteristically Russian. Having satisfied herself that his soul was prepared to meet his God, she was less anxious about the dying body, asking only to be informed when God had called him away.
"I let her know when all was over, and in reply received a simple and touching letter, in which she begged me to 'go to his grave, take from it a handful of earth, and send it to me.'
"What treasures lie hidden in the faithful soul of the simple Russian!"
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."
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?
In the year 1905, Russia had the misfortune of experiencing a revolution at home. The majority of the people, of course, understood the criminal folly of that movement, and the insurgents were mostly misguided dreamers who did not realise the rascality of their leaders, such as Gapon and others. Many of them, indeed, afterwards looked back with deep regret and even shame, on their folly. I haveknown some of them, and it is difficult to say with what deep feeling of commiseration I listened to them, and now remember their words. If there be exaggeration and contradiction with regard to the numbers of the punished Communards, there is similar difficulty in fixing the numbers of our own culprits. Upon that point I am not going to insist. Even one death is often the cause of endless pain.
In England I have only once seen any mention of that Court of Appeal by which Russian political prisoners who repent of their ways may solicit the Imperial clemency.
The exact title of that institution is "The Court of Petitions addressed to the Emperor," or "The Court of Imperial Mercy." It was founded in the sixteenth century in the reign of John IV, under the control of Alexis Adasheff (whose life and character have so brilliantly adorned the pages of Russian history) and his friend and ally, the Rev. Father Sylverst, who was another bright star of that period. But, after their disappearance from the field of action, the institution failed to be marked by the same zeal and success as previously. Once more was it shown that, in every human effort, personal character plays a greater part than the written law. For, however perfect may be the law, its application must be varied by circumstances, and is thus greatly dependent upon the personal character of its administrators.
Fortunately, however, Peter the Great, with his masterly genius, recognised the importance of such a Court in an autocratic country where the power of doing generous work is in the hands of a ruler whostands above conventional formalities, or obsolete customs, of parties or of newspapers. Nor did Peter the Great fail to realise that an exact knowledge of real facts was of vital importance to the proper exercise of such power. To secure this, therefore, he introduced new and very drastic regulations and reforms.
He made it a rule that the head of the Court was to be bound by a solemn and patriotic oath of fidelity to his charge. At the same time he was to be allowed a larger initiative, by which his personal power was increased. He became entitled to delegate powers to other administrative offices and courts, by which the work of the institution became more decentralised.
But although it was thus understood that appeals to the Emperor personally were to be allowed only in special cases, yet little by little these personal appeals became more and more numerous, and were with difficulty controlled by the head of the Court.
When the Empress Catherine the Great ascended the throne, that wonderful monarch resolved that she would personally receive all appeals to mercy. But it soon became evident that such a task was beyond the powers of even her exceptional energy. Catherine herself relates that on one occasion she found it impossible to reach church, owing to the crowds of petitioners who knelt before her with petitions in their hands.
Such a condition of affairs, of course, could not possibly continue. In the following year the Empress appointed three high officials, called State Secretaries, to whom she gave detailed instructions whichshow the great pity she felt for such petitioners. The secretaries were to communicate personally with the petitioners "kindly, patiently, indulgently," and to extract from them all necessary details and explanations. For this purpose reference had sometimes to be made to the separate tribunals before whom special cases had to go. But sealed letters addressed privately and confidentially "in His Majesty's own Hands" (as the Russian expression goes), still reach the Emperor without any intervention. And this happens even now.
Not long ago I heard of a boy, a poor little coach-driver, who addressed a pitiful letter of this kind to the Emperor Alexander III when he was in the Crimea, and not only was the letter received, but the request generously granted.
To return to old times, the Emperor Paul, while young and in good health, tried to imitate the great Empress Catherine, and endeavoured to come into contact with people who appealed to his mercy. To facilitate this a large, yellow iron box was attached to one of the ground-floor windows of the Winter Palace (Petrograd) in which petitions were to be deposited. This box had to be periodically opened by the State Secretaries, and the contents submitted to the Emperor for orders. Some, when too absurd, were partially torn and returned through the Post Office. Others were published in thePetersburg Gazette, with the reason for their refusal. In 1799 the same Emperor Paul issued a rather strange ukase, forbidding the presentation of unreasonable requests. No doubt the question of what was and what was not reasonable was not aneasy one, and the unfortunate box could hardly hold the burden of its strange correspondence. It obviously became necessary to dispense with this original method of communication.
In the time of Alexander I, thanks to the great Speransky's efforts, a "Commission of Appeals" was established, and in the time of the Emperor Nicholas I the "Court of Petitions" was reformed more or less on the basis upon which it now exists. The members are appointed by the Emperor himself. To their former duties have been added others relating to orphans and lunatics. Certain rules have to be observed by petitioners, and they must have lived in the realm not less than one year.
By the wish of His Majesty the reasons for refusals to grant favours are sometimes given, but this law cannot always be observed.
The Emperor has recently given orders to enlarge the Court's sphere of work by accepting appeals to Imperial mercy for criminal charges, and administrative misdemeanours.
Finally, I will note the fact that in the year 1908 there were 65,357 petitions through this Court, out of which 64,174 were fortunate enough to obtain the Imperial order for immediate attention. As a rule there are about 65,000 petitions presented yearly. Imperial benevolence (mercy) shown to children amounts to 10,000 cases in famine years.
During the war His Majesty ordered from the coffers of the "Court of Petition" no less a sum than 178,000 roubles for the wounded soldiers.
"If anyone were to tell the Russian people that the Emperor had not the power to help them, theywould never believe such an assertion," observed Baron Budberg (the late head of the Petition Department), "and may that belief in His Majesty's power always remain with the Russians." The Emperor's remark on this statement was that Baron Budberg was right.
"Let those who require my mercy come to me with their sorrows in confidence."
And many, many are the thousands who have been made happy—thanks to that Court of Appeal.
People in England often talk about red tape. It is not for me to judge whether their complaints are well founded—but naturally, when one comes in contact with official pedantry, one is inclined to grumble and lose one's temper, though this as a rule does not mend matters. But to get the better of red tape—ah! that is useful and pleasant. There are occasions even when it may become a great blessing, as in the following, which I hope I may be allowed to relate:
In Russia, the Court of Appeal to Mercy allows everybody to appeal to the mercy of the Emperor. It is not difficult to understand that there are great differences in the nature of such appeals, and, in Russia, as likewise in England, prisoners are not allowed to publish their grievances, and still less their appeals to the head of the State. However, by a very happy mistake, such an appeal from the political prisoners slipped, at the end of last year, into one of our best Petrograd papers. The following is a translation of this appeal which may be of interest to English readers:
"Your Imperial Majesty, most merciful Tsar. Inthis tragic hour of our beloved Russia's destiny, we, the prisoners in the Petrograd prison of solitary confinement, approach the footstool of your Majesty's throne, our hearts full of love and boundless devotion, our suffering souls burning with prayers for the victory of our heroic Russian troops.
"Within the walls of this prison, we are paying the penalty of our sins. We are far from our homes, far from the heart of the Russian people, doomed to confinement and exile; the only light in our darkness is our faith in the mercy of God and the Tsar.
"It is not for us to judge of the sorrow we have caused our beloved country—but in the moment of her great trial our Russian hearts beat with but one care: that of her well-being. We have, indeed, no personal cares.
"We have read with tears of deep emotion these words of the Imperial call: 'In this hour of trial let all internal disagreements be forgotten,' and we pray that God may move the heart of the Emperor and the heart of the people, to forget also our past sins, to return to us the privilege of taking our places in the ranks of those who arise and go forth in all the fullness of their youth and strength to defend the honour and glory of our country.
"It is not a lack of courage to suffer our punishment which prompts us to make this appeal for mercy; we were condemned at various times, and have never before dared to voice any such prayer—but these tragic days, in which countless numbers of our physically weaker brothers are laying down their lives on the battlefield, fill our souls with oneprofound desire. Most merciful sovereign, call us into the ranks of your loyal army, and, having paid for our sins with our sufferings, we will join our brothers, inspired with an unshakable faith in your Imperial goodness and mercy.
"The dawn of this national war has awakened our souls, has renewed in us the sense of our duty and our right to defend Russia, side by side with all Russians.
"May the war renew our lives for the benefit of the Russian people, or accept them as an offering to our Russian soil. In the silence of our solitary cells, we pray that God may save and keep your Imperial Majesty, and all the August Imperial family."
This appeal, thank God, was not overlooked by His Majesty. I myself know of two cases where former prisoners were allowed to go to the war, where they acquitted themselves splendidly—so much so, that one of them, whose case is known to me, now wears the Cross of St. George for bravery.
A decree of His Majesty has already been applied to another section of prisoners, the military offenders. This special decree gave to the commanders of the various military districts the right to take into active service for the duration of the war such of the military prisoners in their jurisdiction whom they consider deserving of the right to win, by bravery in the field, the possibility of future pardon.
This right has been widely utilised, with the result that of 4786 military prisoners, 4091 had, by January 1st, 1915, been taken into active service. Of these, 1203 have remained under their particulardistrict commanders, most of them working in munition factories, and the remaining 2888 have been distributed among various regiments at the front, and in the reserve; the actual number of military prisoners still confined is 393.
There are, of course, criminals and criminals, and among them are many who represent a real danger to society, and who, in other countries, would be sentenced to death immediately after their trial. Our legislation, however, remembers the saying of Catherine the Great, "Better pardon ten who are guilty, than kill one who is innocent." We also think that every culprit should have time to repent, and thus to be able to meet death with greater calm, and confidence in God's pardon.
After the outbreak of the Great European War many political prisoners in Russia made appeal to the Tsar to be allowed to fight for their country against the Germans. Many people in Russia would have welcomed a general amnesty to political prisoners for this purpose. There are among these men many who deeply regret their political mistakes and past illusions.
They have offended against her laws, but still love and wish to stand by her in the hour of trial. The country would gain much by such an amnesty. New forces would doubtless rise to the surface, with new feelings of gratitude for the opportunity thus afforded them of helping Russia, and of sacrificing their lives for the national cause.
Some ten years ago, in the days of our revolution, almost half of Russia was acting, as many of us thought, mistakenly and foolishly, and making evenserious sacrifices for this folly. Fortunately, such a regrettable state of affairs did not last long, and I was soon able to dream of founding a society for the reclamation and return to Russia of those who had outlived their ideas of revolution and who, after all, loved Russia, right or wrong. Unfortunately, this scheme met with numerous obstacles. Such a society would have required not only many members, but also a cautious committee, one not liable to fall into traps—and I failed to procure them.
Since the beginning of the war this question has again been constantly in my mind, and I have spent many hours in discussing it with my friend, Helen Voronoff, and she was entirely of my opinion in the matter.
We read together a most touching petition signed by 110 political prisoners, confined in a Petrograd prison. It was composed by one of themselves, and handed round among the prisoners for signature.
It seems to me that such petitions should not remain unheard.
A Remarkable Personality—The Grand Duke's Graciousness—His Tact and Sympathy—The Wounded Soldier—A Censored Book—Prince Oleg and my Brother Alexander—A Talented Child—A Strange Premonition—The Prince's Interest in Public Affairs—His Studious Nature—The Prince Wounded—His Joy on Receiving the Cross of St. George—He Becomes Worse—The End
The late Grand Duke Constantine (known in the literary world as "K.R.") was a man of remarkable character and personality, richly endowed alike in imagination and those qualities that make for friendship.
He was, of course, widely known and admired for his remarkable musical and literary talents, and not in Russia alone, while his famous drama,The King of the Jews, revealed in addition a powerful intellect, combined with deep religious feeling. This greatest and last of the Imperial poet's works has been translated into several foreign languages. It has awakened universal admiration, and has been enthusiastically praised by the Press of most European capitals. All this, however, is too well known to need repetition. Let me, therefore, turn to another and still more personal aspect of the Grand Duke's character: the extraordinarily attractive graciousness and the sympathetic intuition that endeared him to all who had the privilege of coming intointimate contact with him. Here, indeed, was a precious and priceless quality—the gift of unfailing tact and exceptional intuition, the power always to say the right thing at the right moment, and to enter warmly and cordially into the thoughts and feelings of others.
I will quote an instance: I am deeply devoted to the memory of my two brothers, Alexander and Nicolas, but, realising that this fact is of interest to no one but myself, I seldom speak of it. The Grand Duke, however, seemed to have read what was written in my very soul. I had the privilege of conversing with him at some length on only two occasions, but they were occasions I shall never forget. The other occasions were passing and rather superficial. The first time, he spoke to me at length of nothing but the Slav question and the death of my brother Nicolas. The Grand Duke remembered all the details of my brother's untimely end in Serbia.
THE GRAND DUKE CONSTANTINE NICOLAÉVITCHTHE GRAND DUKE CONSTANTINE NICOLAÉVITCH
On the second occasion—-alas! I was destined never to see the dear Grand Duke again—our conversation was dedicated to the memory of my brother Alexander and to Old Catholicism and Slavophilism, to which my brother devoted his whole life, and of which he spoke even in his very last moments. I must add that I had edited two large volumes of my brother's works in Russian, but had hesitated to send them to the Grand Duke, contenting myself with offering him my Berne editions of Alexander Kiréeff's French works, which, as far as I know, are unobtainable in Russia. With his usual amiability, the Grand Duke had thanked me by letter—andnow, how indescribably kind and charming was the manner in which he reproached me for not giving him all I had edited!
There was another trait in the Grand Duke's character, which, to me, had a peculiar charm: I refer to his ever-ready sympathy and interest in all cases where his influence or help might be of advantage. It goes without saying that neither my brother nor myself ever appealed to this kind interference unless we had thoroughly investigated the case in question. The Grand Duke was aware of this, and his help was always immediately forthcoming, without any needless delays or formalities, and without a trace of the distressing red-tapeism that is elsewhere often responsible for so much mischief and sorrow.
One meets with just this same kindness and compassion when one approaches our beloved Emperor. One has only to be absolutely free from all egotistical aims, and to be known as were my two brothers—and once this is so, no appeal to the Imperial sympathy is ever neglected or fruitless.
It is, of course, exceedingly difficult to reach His Imperial Majesty, not only because of his exalted position as Emperor, but also by reason of his being overwhelmed by work. He hardly ever limits himself to an eight-hours' day labour. An eight-hours' day would be almost a rest to our Emperor. There is no Trades Union rule for the protection of Kings.
But let me return to my kind Grand Duke.
Perhaps I may be allowed to quote two incidents that took place a few weeks before his death. There had been brought to my notice a wounded soldier,whose case was particularly tragic. His friends considered nothing so desirable as to have him received in the hospital founded by the Dowager Grand Duchess Constantine, the mother of the Grand Duke. I wrote to His Imperial Highness on the subject, and in the course of the same day received a kind reply, informing me that the matter had been arranged and that the soldier would be at the hospital in a few hours' time.
The second incident was concerned with the publication of a book. In all cases where members of the Imperial family are involved, certain formalities have to be observed by our censors—failing which the book may have to be greatly altered, or suppressed. Anyone connected with literary work knows that such alterations are sometimes extremely costly and troublesome. A dear friend of mine, who had very little money to spare, had written a book that was threatened with difficulties of this order. I wrote to the Grand Duke explaining the facts, and here again everything was immediately and satisfactorily arranged.
I could give countless other instances, but the above, which I have taken at random, are sufficiently characteristic.
I have often had occasion to speak of the Grand Duke, and have always noticed with the deepest pleasure that the mention of his name awakened everywhere, even among people who knew him but slightly, feelings of sincere affection and devotion. The fascination exercised by his personality was unfailing. His literary gifts appealed to poets, his musical talent to musicians—but to me, his mostcharming and touching quality was that deep, indescribable sympathy and insight which seemed to enable him to read people's souls. Such sympathy, such intuition, is a great living force! Yes—God sometimes sends into the world exceptional people, who can never be replaced, and whose very memory radiates like a warm, shining light, where their footsteps have passed.
Of such, unquestionably, was our never-to-be-forgotten Grand Duke Constantine.
On one occasion he wrote the following letter, which I quote as showing the charm with which he expressed himself:
DEAR AND HIGHLY-ESTEEMED MADAME NOVIKOFF,
Again I take up the pen to thank you heartily for the new series of valuable and curious autographs, with which you so graciously enriched my collection, that I already owe to your generosity. The Ikon of Christ of Andrea del Sarto, before which your brother always prayed, forwarded to me by General M. E. Keppen for Pavlovsk, is placed here at the Palace Church, on the Chancel, where all our family attends church service and where your dear brother often prayed as well. This beautiful Image will remain a prayer memorial to Alexander Alekseevitch, who lived so many years in his favourite Pavlovsk. I hope you will acquiesce in the choice I made for this most valuable Image of Christ the Saviour—in the Pavlovsk Church.
Allow me to kiss your hand, asking you to keep me your kind friendship in the future.
Your heartily devoted, etc.,CONSTANTINE.
On October 27th, 1914, I received from him the following note: "It is just a month to-day since our beloved son was wounded—not 'slightly' as seemed at first to be the case, but mortally. God gives and God takes away. May His name be blessed now and for ever more."
It will be seen by the date of this note that Prince Oleg, then only twenty-one years of age, was one of the early victims of the war. At the time I little thought that the Grand Duke himself would soon follow his gifted son, Prince Oleg Constantinovitch.
Until the recent appearance of his biography, the fame of Prince Oleg was too little known, and it certainly had not travelled far outside Russia.
To me, this charming Prince was particularly dear; for I had seen him taking such affectionate care of my brother, Alexander Kiréef, who was already blind, ill and dying. The young man used to come, and talk to him, the principal defender of "Old Catholicism," of the efforts to revive the pure teachings of the Church, as it was before the division of the churches in the ninth century. No subject was dearer to my brother's heart, and, seeing the beneficial influence of these conversations, the young Prince returned to the subject many times in my presence.
One day he said: "General, nobody has ever been so useful as you in supporting the Old Catholic movement. You are my father's friend, and I am as proud of you as he is."
Yes, I shall never forget with what loving eyes the young man gazed into the clever beautiful facebefore him, where the eyes were already dim and on the point of being closed for ever. How terribly vividly some moments come back to our memory.
The talented child of a talented father, it was early evident that Prince Oleg had inherited the brilliant gifts of the Grand Duke. It is barely two years sinceThe King of the Jewswas produced with immense success at the Hermitage Theatre in the Winter Palace at Petrograd, the Grand Duke himself, as well as his sons, taking part in the performance.
Prince Oleg was clearly marked out as belonging to the elect of the earth, and by his early death not only has Russian literature been deprived of a future shining light, but the most cultured circles of Petrograd society are the poorer for the loss of a personality, touching and lovely in its goodness and unselfishness, and its youthfully enthusiastic and unswerving sense of duty and obligation.
The young Prince's biography concerns itself with the reminiscences of Prince Oleg's early governesses and later tutors, with his diaries and rough sketches, countless unfinished stories and poems, and also with a particularly interesting undertaking in connection with Poushkin's works.
Poushkin was the boy's ideal from his earliest days, and it was this love for the great poet and his works that gave him the desire to enter the same Lyceum (College) at which Poushkin had been educated. This desire was realised, the completion of his course happening to coincide with the centenary celebrations of Poushkin's birth. On leaving, Prince Oleg presented to the Institutiona personally executed facsimile of all the Poushkin manuscripts, carefully treasured in the Poushkin museum, which were written while the poet was a student at the college. The young enthusiast afterwards conceived the idea of editing the whole of Poushkin's works in this fashion, bringing them out in loose sheets and unbound folios, and distributing them among museums and book-lovers. The work was carried out mostly by means of the most detailed and perfect photographic reproduction, not even omitting the smallest line, point, or blemish in the paper. Unhappily this labour of love was not destined to be completed, but as much as has been done is a wonder of execution and a real literary treasure.
For the general reader, perhaps the most attractive pages of the biography are those that deal with the Prince's early years, recent as they are.
"I sometimes try to imagine," he writes in one of the diaries of his childhood, "what would happen in my own immediate circle if I were to die. What would my friend do? I suppose he would grow pale and thin, and would fret terribly. I see him in imagination, mounting the steps of my catafalque to bid me a last good-bye, and I see mama's expression as she follows him with her eyes.
"And then, suddenly, it seems curiously pleasant to have all these people thinking of me so regretfully! There flashes across my mental vision a copy of theNovoye Vremya, and I see on the first page, in large letters, the announcement of my death. I notice also that there is a reproduction of my photograph—and for a moment, I stop to wonder whichphotograph they will publish. All this gives me extraordinary satisfaction.
"But the pleasantest thought of all is that theNovoye Vremyawill print an obituary notice saying that I took my Degree at the Lyceum, that I won the Poushkin medal, and that they liked me there. Perhaps even Radloff himself may write a memoir of his late pupil. At this point, I stop ... really, I was going too far, it is very ridiculous, and I am ashamed of myself! I wrinkle my brow, and try to decide seriously whether I should really be willing to die just now. My inner consciousness tells me that actually, it would be stupid to die before having accomplished anything. No, not for the world ... I don't want to die without fame, without having done anything, without deserving to be remembered by anybody."
How touching this is—especially now, when one can regard it as something like a presentiment.
Interesting from another standpoint is the description by the then thirteen-year-old Prince Oleg of the reception by the Emperor, at the Winter Palace, of the Deputies of the first Duma in 1905. The young, awakening soul of the child trembled with awe and ecstasy. His eyes, fixed on the Emperor, noted every shade of tone and expression, and his description, too long for quotation here, is glowing in the extreme.
On February 10th of the same year he writes:
"Something unusual is in the air. It is said that on the 19th there will be a rising in the whole of Russia. Recently M—— sent a secret telegram to Simferopol. A message has also come from theCrimean Division—they have caught a Revolutionist. They say there is a plot to blow up Livadia. There has been a rising in St. Petersburg and disorders in the suburbs of Moscow. On the 4th Uncle Serge was murdered. Poor Uncle Serge! mama has written us horrible details—she says we have lost a true friend. This awful incident has made a deep impression on us all. May it be God's will that everything should right itself somehow. Disorders in every town! How painfully this must affect mama! It is a long time since I last received a letter from her."
Then a page about Port Arthur!
"What have we lived to see! Stoessel has surrendered Port Arthur! It appears there was no possibility of holding out any longer. Kondratenko is killed. Yes, many heroes have fallen at Port Arthur."
How significant and how true are the following words, which show a remarkable insight in a boy so young:
"Our Government is composed chiefly, not of Russians, but of Germans—and, of course, Germans do not care what becomes of us. Naturally, the result is that Russians lose. We are too careless—we do not sufficiently educate ourselves. It is imperative that every Russian should work at himself and educate himself from his childhood."
When one considers that the writer of the above lines was barely thirteen years old, one cannot but wonder as much at the serious trend of his thoughts as at the simplicity of his style.
Here is another charming page from about the same period, a little earlier:
"To-day I received a letter from my tutor, I.M. It was so touching that I nearly burst into tears—but of course I restrained myself. How stupid I was, when, at first, I was glad of the war! [Between Russia and Japan.] How much suffering, how many orphaned families it has occasioned! At the beginning I wanted to run away and go to the front. If, during our journey to the Crimea, it should be God's will to send me to the war now, I should still be happy. To-day at lunch they were saying that there were only 10,000 left in Port Arthur, that Port Arthur cannot hold out. At six o'clock in the evening, I shut myself up in my room and prayed that God might help us. I took my Prayer Book, and thought to myself, 'I will open it just at random, and read. Perhaps I may chance on something suitable, just for the war.' I opened the book and read, 'Special prayers for times of war!'"
The above is an extract from a diary.
"The education of the young Prince and his brothers," says theNovoye Vremyain an interesting article on the life of Oleg Constantinovitch, "was very systematic and thorough. They rose at half-past six, were taken for a morning walk in the park, and at eight were already at their lessons. Each lesson lasted forty minutes, and between it and the next there was an interval of twenty minutes. There were from four to five lessons daily. Luncheon was at one, and from two to four the young Princes rode daily with their uncle, the Grand Duke Dimitri. From four to seven preparation for the followingday, at seven dinner, then forty minutes' reading with one of the teachers of foreign languages, then drawing and dancing. An arduous day's work indeed!"
Here is another charming extract from the diary:
"We must study hard and prepare ourselves. Perhaps we must work even more seriously than did the rulers of to-day in their youth. There are hard times coming—and hard times call for serious preparation. The further we get from the year of Christ's birth, the harder grow the times, and the harder the times, the more necessary a thorough preparation."
These are wonderful words from a boy of twelve.
The following words, also written in his diary, this time in the train when homeward bound after a summer spent abroad, are interesting in their charmingly expressed and idealistic patriotism:
"We are already nearing beloved Russia. Behind us is France, with her joyous, charming, talented people, with Paris, Versailles, and Napoleon's tomb. Now we are passing through this dull Germany, in an hour we shall have crossed the Russian border. Yes, in an hour I shall be in Russia, that dear land where there breathes something sacred, unknown in other lands, on the face of whose soil are scattered churches and monasteries, in the mysterious twilight of whose ancient cathedrals there rest in silver coffins the bones of her sons, in whose dim shrines the faithful kneel constantly at prayer before the solemn sacred images of her saints. In my beloved Russia there are still dreamy forests, immeasurable steppes, and impassable marshes.
"There are moments in one's life when suddenly with a deep, passionate impulse one realises how one loves one's country. In those moments one longs unspeakably to work, to help, to do something worthy, to devote one's life to the service of Russia!"
A later extract from his diary is the following:
"We are five brothers and are all going to the war with our regiments. This fact pleases me immensely, for it proves that at a trying moment the Imperial Family knows how to rise to the occasion.
"On the 20th of July, Germany declared war against us. On the same day we were commanded to assemble at the Winter Palace at 3.30. The streets were crowded and there was tremendous cheering as we passed. In the Nicolaevsky Hall there were first prayers, and then the Manifesto was read. During the prayers the whole assemblage sang, 'Save us, O Lord,' and 'God save the Emperor!' [the Russian National Anthem.]
"At the moment when the Emperor drove up to the Palace, the whole dense crowd on the great square on their knees. We were all overcome and wept with emotion."
The Prince never had the slightest presentiment of his death, and was afraid only for his brothers. "I am constantly anxious," he wrote, "about Kostia, Gabriel and John, but perhaps principally about Igor. For myself, I fear nothing. Something tells me that no bullet will so much as touch me."
God willed it otherwise! The Prince was wounded during an attack on Vladislavov by the Second Division of the Guards. Our side started the firing.The Germans retreated, but were stopped by a detachment of our Hussars. At this point Prince Oleg, longing for action, eagerly begged his commander, Count Ignatieff, to allow him with his men to rush forward and seize this handful of Germans.
For a long time the commander refused to accede to this request, but, at last, allowed himself to be persuaded and gave in. Misfortune came immediately. Prince Oleg, fired with youthful enthusiasm, rode fast and far in advance of his men. The Germans were caught up, five of them were killed, the rest surrendered. Suddenly, a wounded trooper fired from the ground. A report—and the Prince fell. Alas, the wound, taken at first to be quite slight, turned out, on closer examination, to be only too severe, and very soon—possibly through the unavoidable delay in operating—blood poisoning set in. The operation was performed at Vilna, after a long and weary journey, first in a plain jolting cart, the only conveyance at hand—and then in the train. The Prince regained consciousness very quickly and felt well. A telegram arrived from the Emperor, conferring on him the Order of the Cross of St. George; also came a telegram from the Grand Duke Nicolas.
"It was good to see the Prince's joy," writes an eye-witness of the scene, "and the pride with which he showed me both these telegrams."
In the evening the Principal of the Military College at Vilna visited the patient and congratulated him on having suffered and been wounded for his country.
"I am so happy," exclaimed the Prince in answer. "So happy. This was most necessary. It will encourage the troops to know that the Imperial House is not afraid to shed its blood."
The Prince was very animated and beamed with joy at the consciousness of his own suffering for his beloved country. At times it was evident, in spite of his effort to hide the fact, that he was in great pain.
Here is a very interesting letter from the Grand Duke Constantine's aide-de-camp, who was with the Prince during all these terrible days. This letter is published by theMoscow Gazette:
"At about one o'clock in the night, I was told that the Prince had just awakened. I immediately went to him. He was pale as death. At the sight of me a troubled, welcoming smile lit up his youthful features. 'Nicolas!' he exclaimed. 'Here you are at last! Heavens, how glad I am now that you have come! Now you shall not leave me again. I will not let you go.'
"'Of course I shall not leave you,' I answered with emotion. 'Here we shall stay together till we are quite well again.'
"'Yes ... yes ... together ... till I ... get ... well....'
"So convinced was he that his recovery was to be speedy and certain. One had to swallow one's tears and to hide one's grief.
"'Has Igor told you everything?' he continued. 'The Emperor has given me the St. George. I am so happy! There is the telegram, there, on the table.'
"I sat down beside the bed, as he asked me, and tried to talk; but soon noticed that he was falling into a state of semi-consciousness. At my slightest movement, however, he opened his eyes and exclaimed: 'There, he is gone—and I said I would not let him go!'
"At about eight o'clock in the morning the Prince grew more restless. He constantly asked to be moved from one side to the other, now putting his arms under his head, now embracing me feverishly and stifling a cry or a groan.
"A telegram arrived, saying that the young hero's parents were on the way to him and would be with him at five o'clock. At midday the doctors examined the patient again and found the pulse good, and the poisoning not advancing. There was still hope. At about four o'clock, however, a change for the worse suddenly set in. The breathing became more frequent and the pulse weaker. There were signs of sepsis and delirium. The train by which the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess were arriving was two hours late. In the meanwhile the patient's strength was failing minute by minute and it became necessary to recur to the aid of injections to stimulate the heart's action. His lips were constantly moistened with champagne, and in order to hide from the Prince the hopelessness of his condition, we filled our glasses and told him that we were all drinking with him to his speedy recovery. It was horrible beyond words, and never in my life shall I forget those few sips of champagne in the presence of the dying Prince!
"Clear consciousness alternated with delirium.At seven o'clock he suddenly threw his poor little thin arms round my neck and whispered, 'Like this.... Like this ... together ... to meet them.' I thought at first that he was wandering, but no! He was alluding to the arrival of his parents. At last they came. For one moment he recognised them. The Grand Duke had brought his dying son the Cross of St. George from his Imperial uncle.
"'The little white cross! ... The little white cross! ...' whispered Prince Oleg, and he bent forward slightly and kissed the shining enamel. We pinned the Cross to his shirt. Presently the patient began to gasp for air, and it was clear that the end was near. Those awful moments of silent waiting, those last short breaths ... how terrible is the mystery of death. At 8.20 the young life closed...."
A deep and real love breathed in all his life, doubly touching through the purity and transparency of the innocent heart in which it throbbed. Perhaps his soul, looking down from Paradise, can see the tear-dimmed eyes of many Russians gazing sadly up to Heaven's gates through which the beloved young hero has passed.
Russia is loyal to her sons. She will never forget them.
Russia Blamed for the Balkans Muddle—Bulgaria's Treachery—Gen. Grant on the Russians and Constantinople—Bulgaria's Dissatisfaction—The Reign of the Fox—The Treatment of Prisoners of War—The German Method—The Allies' Failure—Lack of Organisation—Insidious German Propagandism—Britain and Her Prisoners in Germany
Many people blame Russia for what is going on in the Balkans. They may, perhaps, be more right than one would imagine, but probably not quite in the way they suppose! In political, as in private life, there are moments when one must be guided only by the criterion of one's own duty and conscience, whether one pleases the world or not, whether even one is openly blamed or not. Russia, unfortunately, has not always observed this principle.
It seems to me that in politics nothing is so dangerous as to be more carried away by cosmopolitanism than by patriotism, and to forget one's own feelings and duties in one's desire to please some other Power. Cosmopolitanism kills patriotism. I have spent many winters in England, and have known many Englishmen, but I have never met a true Briton who would boast of being a cosmopolitan and not a patriot. Happy England!
They tell me that there are prisons and lunaticasylums in this country. Naturally—even in this happy land there are madmen and criminals—but they are considered and treated as such. In the present situation all the harm has been brought about by our past diplomacy, anxious, as it has always been, ever since the Turkish war of '76, to please the European Concert.
At this moment, of course, we fervently adhere to the policy of the Allies—and for this, indeed, one can only say "Thank God!" The aims and objects of the allied nations are identical, and we have one common end in view: victory over our enemy at any cost. This fact is not based on any vague, cosmopolitan craving to win the approval of some wretched concert, but is founded on the most ardent and determined sense of patriotism.
Now let us consider what is just now the real position of Bulgaria, and how this position has been brought about. 'Yes, the incredible has happened, the liberated slave has turned against the hand that gave him freedom, the but recently enchained captive fights side by side with his oppressors, and uses his armed forces against his brothers. We turn away in horror, and cry "Treachery!" The cry is taken up and repeated, its echo resounds everywhere, and it seems at first sight as though nothing could be said in defence or justification of an act so inexcusable. Our indignation, indeed, is just; but before we condemn an entire nation, let us look round for a moment and consider whether we cannot point the finger of our scorn and contempt at an object more deserving of such feelings than an ignorantpeople victimised by falsehoods and intrigues, and drawn against its will into an adventure of which it is already tiring.
In the first place, European diplomacy, guided by Lord Beaconsfield, opposed Russia's imminent triumphant entry into Constantinople. In connection with this fact, I am tempted to recall the following incident.
Several years after the end of the war, ex-President Grant called on me in Paris, and put to me the following question:
"Can you explain how it happened that the Russians did not occupy Constantinople, when it was obviously entirely in their hands?"
"Alas!" I replied, "I have no pleasant explanation to offer. We never expected such a voluntary abdication of power. In fact, some of our military people telegraphed to Moscow, saying, 'To-morrow Constantinople will be occupied for several days.' The general conviction is that our Government, misled by news from abroad, telegraphed orders to our Generals not to advance."
General Grant, who was listening attentively, smiled, and said:
"Well, I can only say one thing. Had I been one of your Generals I should have put the order in my pocket, and opened it at Constantinople three or four days later!"
Soon after the Constantinople mistake we again foolishly yielded to the demands of the European Concert, when the San Stéfano Treaty was opposed, and once more this was a terrible blow to our patriotic feelings, and a real misfortune to Bulgaria.
By Count Ignatieff's scheme, the Treaty of San Stéfano raised the whole of Bulgaria on this side and on the further side of the Balkans to the rank of a Principality. Bulgaria breathed again, and a bright future seemed about to dawn for her—when suddenly, once more thanks to the demand of European diplomatists, the newly liberated State was sawn asunder alive, and the best, the richest portion of its territory found itself once more under the Turkish yoke. As if this were not enough, it was insinuated, with an entire disregard for national attachments and views, that Russia must not dream of nominating a Russian orthodox Prince to be the Ruler of the new Principality.
No Russian messages or manifestations of sympathy are allowed to find their way into Bulgaria, for the Austrian has reason to fear the Russian influence. The remembrance of what Russia has done is not quite dead; there is still a spark among the ashes, and perhaps even a faint breeze might revive the dying embers. Many people, indeed, are of opinion that there is profound truth in the following words recently pronounced by General Radko Dmitrieff, the Bulgarian General who is fighting in the Russian army against one common foe, the only foe a true Slav can acknowledge at this moment.
"Once the Bulgarians can be made to understand that they have been deceived, that Russia is no enemy, but rather, now as ever, their traditional friend, also that when the time comes for regulating frontiers and boundaries the Allies will be just and generous, great changes may be expected. Theremay, indeed, be a repetition of that famous incident during the Battle of Leipzig when the Saxons, fighting on the French side, suddenly changed front and went over to the enemy. I should not be at all surprised if something similar happened in the near future." Yes. Bulgaria ought to follow General Radko Dmitrieff's advice—if she wants to be pardoned and saved.
A large section of the people is already bitterly discontented with the Government, and there have already been demonstrations in Sofia in favour of peace. During one demonstration that took place outside the Royal Palace, the demonstrators had to be dispersed by the police and a detachment of cavalry, several people being killed. In the best-informed Bulgarian military and political circles, also, great restlessness and uneasiness is being shown, and the whole state of affairs seems exceedingly unstable and uncertain. The poor Bulgarians, indeed, are in a helpless and inextricable position. From the moment of their liberation they have been in the hands of German Princes, who, encouraged by the German Press, have been spreading the falsehood that Russia is not to be trusted, and that she is rather an enemy than a friend!
Ferdinand has used every opportunity to emphasise this idea, and since the outbreak of the present war has steadily influenced the people into the belief that the Allies would, in the event of their success, crush Bulgaria out of existence. It is, indeed, probable that the fate and fortunes of the Bulgarian people do not touch Ferdinand very deeply—he, an Austrian, a Catholic, cares little forthe welfare of his orthodox State subjects. His object is to unite the Bulgarians with their former oppressors; but such a union, even if it is, to all appearances, established, can certainly never be sincere. Ferdinand has learned from his German masters (first-rate masters, indeed, in such matters!) how to demoralise the poor uncultivated Bulgarians: demoralisation is not too strong a term—for Europeans who serve Turkish interests and persecute Christians are renegades of the worst description.