The Empress of Russia and Queen Alexandra

RUSSIAN MEMORIES

BY

MADAME OLGA NOVIKOFF
"O.K."

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
STEPHEN GRAHAM

AND FIFTEEN
ILLUSTRATIONS

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12 ARUNDEL PLACE HAYMARKET
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INTRODUCTION

BY STEPHEN GRAHAM

It is perhaps a little superfluous for one of my years to write an introduction for one so well known and so much esteemed and admired as Madame Novikoff. And yet it may seem just, if it does not seem vain, that a full-hearted tribute should come to her from this generation which profits by the result of her life and her work—the great new friendship between England and Russia.

She is one of the most interesting women in European diplomatic circles. She is a picturesque personality, but more than that she is one who has really done a great deal in her life. You cannot say of her, as of so many brilliant women, "She was born, she was admired, she passed!" Destiny used her to accomplish great ends.

For many in our society life, she stood for Russia, was Russia. For the poor people of England Russia was represented by the filth of the Ghetto and the crimes of the so-called "political" refugees; for the middle classes who read Seton Merriman, Russia was a fantastic country of revolutionaries and bloodthirsty police; but fortunately the ruling and upper classes always have had some better vision, they have had the means of travel, they have seen real representative Russians in their midst. "They are barbarians, these Russians!" says someone to his friend. But the friend turns a deaf ear. "I happen to know one of them," says he.

A beautiful and clever woman always charms, whatever her nationality may be, and it is possible for her to make conquests that predicate nothing of the nation to which she belongs. That is true, and therein lay the true grace and genius of Madame Novikoff. She was not merely a clever and charming woman, she was Russia herself. Russia lent her charm. Thus her friends were drawn from serious and vital England.

Gladstone learned from her what Russia was. The great Liberal, the man who, whatever his virtues, and despite his high religious fervour, yet committed Liberalism to anti-clericalism and secularism, learned from her to pronounce the phrase, "Holy Russia." He esteemed her. With his whole spiritual nature he exalted her. She was his Beatrice, and to her more than to anyone in his life he brought flowers. Morley has somehow omitted this in his biography of Gladstone. Like so many intellectual Radicals he is afraid of idealism. But in truth the key to the more beautiful side of Gladstone's character might have been found in his relationship to Madame Novikoff. And possibly that friendship laid the real foundation of the understanding between the two nations.

Incidentally let me remark the growing friendliness towards Russia which is noticeable in the work of Carlyle at that time. A tendency towards friendship came thus into the air far back in the Victorian era.

Another most intimate friendship was that of Kinglake and Madame Novikoff, where again was real appreciation of a fine woman. Anthony Froude worshipped at the same shrine, and W. T. Stead with many another in whose heart and hand was the making of modern England.

A marvellously generous and unselfish nature, incapacity to be dull or feel dull or think that life is dull—a delicious sense of the humorous, an ingenious mind, a courtliness, and with all this something of the goddess. She had a presence into which people came. And then she had a visible Russian soul. There was in her features that unfamiliar gleam which we are all pursuing now, through opera, literature and art—the Russian genius.

Madame Novikoff was useful to Russia, it has been reproachfully said. Yes, she was useful in promoting peace between the two Empires, she was worth an army in the field to Russia. Yes, and now it may be said she has been worth an army in the field to us.

When Stead went down on the Titanic one of the last of the great men who worshipped at her shrine had died. Be it remarked how great was Stead's faith in Russia, and especially in the Russia of the Tsar and the Church. And it is well to remember that Madame Novikoff belongs to orthodox Russia and has never had any sympathy whatever with revolutionary Russia. This has obtained for her not a few enemies. There are many Russians with strong political views, estimable but misguided men, who have issued in the past such harmful rubbish as Darkest Russia, journals and pamphlets wherein systematically everything to the discredit of the Tsar and his Government, every ugly scandal or enigmatical happening in Russian contemporary life was written up and then sent post free to our clergy, etc. To them Madame Novikoff is naturally distasteful. But as English people we ask, who has helped us to understand "Brightest Russia"—the Russia in arms to-day? And the praise and the thanks are to her.

STEPHEN GRAHAM.

Moscow,
27th August, 1916.

EDITOR'S PREFACE

The late W. T. Stead in saying to Madame Novikoff, "When you die, what an obituary I will write of you," was paying her a great compliment; just as was Disraeli, although unconsciously, in referring to her as "the M.P. for Russia in England." With that consummate tact which never fails her, Madame Novikoff has evaded the compliment and justified the sarcasm. Disraeli might with justice have added that she was also "M.P. for England in Russia"; for if she has appeared pro-Russian in England, she has many times been reproached in Russia as pro-English.

Of few women have such contradictory things been said and written, things that clearly show the gradual change in the political barometer; but her most severe critics indirectly paid tribute to her remarkable personality by fearing the influence she possessed. In the dark days when Great Britain and Russia were thinking of each other only as potential antagonists, she was regarded in this country as a Russian agent, whose every action was a subject for suspicious speculation, a national danger, a syren whose object it was to entice British politicians from their allegiance. Wherever she went it was, according to public opinion, with some fell purpose in view. If she came to London for the simple purpose of improving her English, it meant to a certain section of the Press Russian "diplomatic activity." The Tsar was told by an English journalist that he ought to "be very proud of her," as she succeeded where "Russian papers, Ambassadors and Envoys failed"; another said that she was "worth an army of 100,000 men to her country"; a third that she was a "stormy petrel." She was, in fact, everything from a Russian agent to a national danger, everything in short but the one thing she professed to be, a Russian woman anxious for her country's peace and progress.

In Serbia there is a little village whose name commemorates the death of a Russian hero, Nicolas Kiréef, Madame Novikoff's brother. In his death lay the seed of the Anglo-Russian Alliance. Distraught with grief, Madame Novikoff blamed Great Britain for her loss. She argued that, had this country refused to countenance the unspeakableness of the Turk in 1876, there would have been no atrocities, no Russian Volunteers, and no war. From that date she determined to do everything that lay in her power to bring about a better understanding between Great Britain and Russia. For years she has never relaxed her efforts, and she has lived to see what is perhaps the greatest monument ever erected by a sister to a brother's memory—the Anglo-Russian Alliance.

Nothing discouraged her, and at times, when war seemed inevitable, she redoubled her efforts. In all her work, she had chiefly to depend on her own ardour and sincerity. It was this sincerity, and a deep conviction as to the rightness of her object, that caused Gladstone to become her fearless ally. Politically he compromised himself by his frank support of her pleadings for peace and understanding.

For many years feeling ran too high in this country for a reasoned consideration of Madame Novikoff's appeals. "Peace with honour" talk became a meaningless catch phrase, otherwise it would have been seen that it was "peace with honour" that she advocated, and has never ceased to advocate, peace with honour, not to one, but to two great peoples.

Slowly the eyes of empire shifted from one continent to another, and gradually Madame Novikoff found her voice commanding more and more attention, until at last the Anglo-Russian Agreement paved the way for the present Alliance.

Her success is largely due to the methods she adopted. She gave and received hard knocks, and she never fell back upon her sex as an argument or a defence. She was fighting with men, and she fought with men's weapons, and this gained for her respect as an honourable and worthy antagonist. Even at the time when feeling was most strongly against her work, there appeared in the newspapers many spontaneous tributes to her ability and personality. The very suspicion with which she was regarded was in itself a tribute.

Later when Russia and Great Britain had drawn closer together, there appeared in the Press some of the most remarkable tributes ever paid to a woman, from which in justice to her and the Press I venture to quote a few of the many that appeared.

"If we were writing at a date which we hope is a good many years distant of the career of Madame Olga Novikoff, we should begin by saying that she was one of the most remarkable women of her time."—Daily Graphic.

"Whatever the reader's political predilections may be, he is unlikely to dispute the claim of Madame Novikoff to rank as one of the most remarkable women of her generation."—Daily Telegraph.

"No one will deny the right of Madame Novikoff to a record in history: ... For nearly ten years her influence was probably greater than any other woman's upon the course of national politics."—Daily News.

Madame Novikoff, "who for so many years held a social and political position in London which few women, and no ambassador, have ever equalled."—Observer.

"From beginning to end Madame Novikoff's record is clear and honourable. There is not the slightest evidence of any intrigue on her part, of any effort to use the statesman she influenced for underhand purposes, or to work for or against any particular individual in her own country."—Westminster Gazette.

"It is seldom that anyone sees such a fruition of his labours as does this marvellous lady, who has worked all her life for one thing and almost one thing only—an Anglo-Russian understanding."—Daily Mail.

And now in the autumn of her life (it is impossible to associate the word winter with so vital a personality) Madame Novikoff has seen her years of work crowned with success. To-day she is as keen in regard to public affairs, especially where her beloved Russia is concerned, as she was in the days when her life was one continuous fight with the war-spirit. In the preparation of these Memories I have seen something of her application, her industry and her personality. In the past I have often asked myself what was the secret of Madame Novikoff's remarkable success. But now I know. Time after time when we have seen things from a different angle, I have found myself accepting her point of view before I was even conscious of weakening.

Of all the compliments ever paid to Madame Novikoff, the one that probably pleases her most is that which recently appeared in a London daily written by a famous writer upon Russian life, who described her as "a true Russian."

This is not an autobiography; for Madame Novikoff has always refused to undertake such a responsibility. In the first place she thinks it would be too long, and in the second too personal. "I have been talked about quite enough," she will say, "without starting to talk about myself." In 1909 there appeared The M.P. for Russia, edited by the late W. T. Stead, which told much of her association with her distinguished friends, Gladstone, Kinglake, Villiers, Clarendon, Carlyle, Tyndall, Froude and others. "These have been taken," she says, "and I am left." But she has continued her work, and many of her friends have told her that at this time, above all others, she should tell personally something of her Russian memories. As she phrases it, "For forty years I have been wandering in the Wilderness, and now I have been permitted the happiness of entering the Promised Land. At last the gates have been opened. We are now brothers-in-arms."

THE EDITOR.

CONTENTS

[EDITOR'S PREFACE]

CHAPTER I
[THE RUSSIAN SPIRIT]

July 1914—Enthusiasm at Moscow—My Ambition Realised—England and Russia Allies—A War of Right—Wounded Heroes—Russia's Faith in Victory—Our Emperor's Call—England's Greatness—I am Introduced to Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli—"The M.P. for Russia in England"—Mr. Gladstone's Championship—An Unpopular Cause

CHAPTER II
[THE AWAKENING OF RUSSIA]

A New Era—My Brother Nicholas—Hadji Ghiray: Hero—Terrible News—A Heroic Advance—My Brother's Death—Aksakoff's Famous Speech—Russia Aflame—A Nation's Sacrifice—My Heart-broken Letters—Mr. Gladstone's Response—Mutual Suspicion—My Visits to England

CHAPTER III
[MR. GLADSTONE AND I STRIVE FOR PEACE]

The Real England—The St. James's Hall Meeting—Remarkable Enthusiasm—Mr. Gladstone's Speech—He Escorts Me Home—Newspaper Comment—Lord Salisbury and General Ignatieff—Mutual Regard—The Turks Displeased—An Embarrassing Tribute—The End of the Constantinople Conference—Mr. Gladstone Compromised—War Declared—"What Will England Do?"—Bismarck's Policy—Prince Gortschakoff's Opinion

CHAPTER IV
[MR. GLADSTONE]

His Last Utterance.—His Fearlessness—-His Opinion of Russia and England—A Christian Revolution—Cardinal Manning's Tribute—Gladstone and the Old Catholics—The Question of Immortality—Mr. Gladstone's Remarkable Letter—A Delightful Listener—His Power of Concentration—Hayward and Gladstone—Their Discussion—Miss Helen Gladstone—We Talk Gladstone—The Old Lady's Delight—I Miss my Train

CHAPTER V
[SOME SOCIAL MEMORIES]

My Thursdays in Russia—Khalil Pasha's Death—Lord Napier and the Lady-in-Waiting—Madame Volnys—My Parents-in-law's ménage—An Exceptional Type—Prince Vladimir Dolgorouki's Embarrassment—The Grand Duchess Helen—A Brilliant Woman—The Emperor's Enjoyment—The Campbell-Bannermans—A Royal Diplomatist—Mark Twain on Couriers—In Serious Vein—Verestchagin—"The Retreat from Moscow"—The Kaiser's Remarkable Utterance

CHAPTER VI
[THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS I]

A Pacific Emperor—An Imperial Fault—The Pauper's Funeral—The Emperor's Visit to my Mother—My Dilemma—The Emperor's Kindness—He is Snubbed by an Ingénue—The Emperor's Desire for an Alliance with England—Prince Gortschakoff's Rejoinder—The Slav Ideal—Russia and Constantinople—Bismarck's Admiration—He Discomfits a Member of the Reichstag

CHAPTER VII
["AS OTHERS SEE US"]

"A Russian Agent"—"To Lure British Statesmen"—A Charming Tribute—The Press at Sea—Wild Stories—A Musical Political Agitator—"An Unofficial Ambassador"—Baron de Staal's Indifference—Prince Lobanoff's Kindness—Count Shouvaloft's Dislike of my Work—Prince Gortschakoff and the Slavs—Baron Brunow and the French Ambassador—English Sportsmanship—A Shakespeare Banquet

CHAPTER VIII
[JEWISH RUSSOPHOBIA]

The Jews and the War—Their Attitude in 1876—Their Hatred of Slavism—The Problems of Other Countries—English Sympathy—The Guildhall Meeting—The Russian Government Blamed—Tolstoy and the Jews—My Jewish Friends—A Curious Tradition—Self-protection

CHAPTER IX
[ENGLAND AND THE GREAT FAMINE IN RUSSIA]

My Russian Home—The Horrors of Famine—The Peasants' Heroism—Starving yet Patient—The Society of Friends—I am Invited to Meeting—Magnificent Munificence—Among the Starving—Terrible Hardships—Some Illustrations—Living in Dug-outs—The Stoical Russian—Cinder Bread

CHAPTER X
[MUSICAL MEMORIES]

My Mother—Her Musical Friends—I Study with Masset—His Generous Offer—Litolff's Visit—My Mother's Musicales Develop into a Conservatoire—Rubinstein's Anger—His Refusal to Play for the Grand Duchess Helen—The Idols of the Musical World—A Friendly Jealousy—My Stratagem with Liszt—Glasounoff's Kindness—the Musicless

CHAPTER XI
[THE ARMENIAN QUESTION]

A Fatal Treaty—Gladstone's Opinion—The Concert of Europe—The Unspeakable Turk and His Methods—England's Responsibility—Mr. Gladstone's Energetic Action—Lord Rosebery Resigns—Gladstone's Astounding Letter—"I Shall Keep Myself to Myself"—"Abdul the Damned"—"A Man whose Every Impulse is Good"—The Convention of Cyprus—Russia and England

CHAPTER XII
[THE SOBERING OF RUSSIA]

Russian Dreamers—Fighting a Curse—First Steps—An Interesting Encounter—A Great Reform—Its Acceptance by the Peasants—The Cabman's Interrogative—He Begs me to Intercede with the Tsar—The Temptation of Drink—My Peasant Teas—The Drink Habit—Our Courageous Emperor

CHAPTER XIII
[MISCELLANEOUS MEMORIES]

My Embarrassment—A Spy—I Am Easily Taken In—A Demand for Fifty Pounds—A Threat—I Defy the Blackmailer—A Warning—Gladstone's Refusal to meet Gambetta—My Husband's Dilemma—Russian Views on Duelling—Kinglake Challenges Prince Louis Napoleon—My Brother's Views—Kinglake's Charm—The Value of an Englishman—The Dogger Bank Incident

CHAPTER XIV
[THE PHANTOM OF NIHILISM]

England's Sympathy with the Nihilists—Cabinet Ministers' Indiscretion—Mr. Gladstone's Incredulity—I Prove my Words—Mr. Gladstone's Action—A Strange Confusion—A Reformed Nihilist—His Significant Admission—The Nihilist's Regret—The Death of Revolutionary Russia—The Greatness of the Future—The Reckless, Impulsive Russian—The Russian Refugees at Buenos Ayres—They Crave for a Priest

CHAPTER XV
[RUSSIAN PRISONS AND PRISONERS]

Our Convict System—Misunderstood in England—Siberia, an Emigration Field—A Lax Discipline—Capt. Wiggins' Opinion—A Land of Stoicism—My Experiences as a Prison Visitor—Divine Literature—Helen Voronoff's Work—A Russian Heroine—Her Descriptions of Prison Life

CHAPTER XVI
[POLITICAL PRISONERS]

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

CHAPTER XVII
[THE GRAND DUKE CONSTANTINE AND PRINCE OLEG]

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

CHAPTER XVIII
[BULGARIA'S DEFECTION AND PRISONERS OF WAR]

Russia Blamed for the Balkan 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

CHAPTER XIX
[THE RUSSIAN PARISH]

The Revival of Parish Life—The Ancient Russian Parish—A Peaceful Community—Slavophils and the Parish—The Metropolitan and the Emperor Nicholas I—The Independence of the Church—Father John of Kronstadt—A Blessing to Russia

CHAPTER XX
[RUSSIA AND ENGLAND]

A New Era—The Russian Ideal—The Trick of Double Nationality—Lord Kitchener's Legacy—The Armenian Inventor—The Kaiser and Double Nationality—The Future of Prussia—Russia's Hope of Victory—Germany's Influence on Anglo-Russian Friendship—Days of Suspicion—Lord Clarendon's Opinion—An ex-Cabinet Minister's Boast—Russian Memories of England—A Glorious Future

ILLUSTRATIONS

[ The Empress of Russia and Queen Alexandra . . . Frontispiece ]

[ W. E. Gladstone (April 5, 1892) ]

[ Nicolas Kiréeff ]

[ Myself in 1876 ]

[ Seminary for 125 School Teachers built by Alexander Novikoff at Novo-Alexandrofka ]

[ Sr. Olga's School for Girl Teachers at Novo-Alexandrofka ]

[ My Son, Alexander Novikoff ]

[ Nicolas Rubinstein, Anton Rubinstein ]

[ The Clergy and Choir of Novo-Alexandrofka, 1900, on the Day of the Consecration of the Church ]

[ Alexander Kiréeff ]

[ Church built by Alexander Novikoff on his Father's Grave at Novo-Alexandrofka ]

[ Miss Helen Voronoff ]

[ The Grand Duke Constantine Nicolaévitch ]

[ St. Olga's School for Girl Teachers at Nova-Alexandrofka ]

[ Myself with my Faithful Max at Brunswick Place, N.W. ]

RUSSIAN MEMORIES

CHAPTER I
THE RUSSIAN SPIRIT

July 1914—Enthusiasm at Moscow—My Ambition Realised—England and Russia Allies—A War of Right—Wounded Heroes—Russia's Faith in Victory—Our Emperor's Call—England's Greatness—I am Introduced to Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli—"The M.P. for Russia in England"—Mr. Gladstone's Championship—An Unpopular Cause

I was in Moscow when our Monarch's mighty voice sounded in defence of little Serbia. I was driving near the Tverskoi Boulevard, when a shouting crowd rushed past me, and burst into a neighbouring restaurant.

"What does it all mean?" I exclaimed. "Is it a riot? do they want drink?"

"Oh no," said the bystanders. "They only want to call out the orchestra and make them play the national hymn."

I stopped my carriage.

The orchestra appeared, and played our God save the Tzar, while the whole crowd, wild with enthusiasm, joined in.

Delighted and touched, I followed them. Most were singing and shouting "Hurrah," some praying and making the sign of the cross, while the throng continually increased.

Similar scenes occurred daily in various quarters of the town. One evening, an idle crowd had assembled near St. Saviour's Church. A priest appeared with a cross. The whole crowd fell on their knees and prayed. Such moments one cannot forget—indeed one can only thank God for them.

People say that in Petrograd the demonstrations were still grander. It may be so—but whenever the Emperor visits Moscow, and speaks there with his powerful, animating voice, the old capital rises to unapproachable heights of enthusiasm and to resolutions of unbounded self-sacrifice.

A few days later I realised that the great ambition of my life was about to be realised, not only by an entente, but by an alliance between Russia and the country that has given me so many friends and shown me such splendid hospitality. Yet how differently everything had happened from what I had anticipated after the signing of the Anglo-Russian Agreement. It was not the gradual drawing together of the two countries that each might enjoy the peaceful friendship of the other: but the sudden discovery that they had a common foe to fight, a common ideal to preserve, a common civilisation to save.

Years ago I wrote, "I want to be a harbinger of peace, of hope, of prosperity to come," and yet here was my great ambition being realised to the sound of the drum and midst the thunder of the destroying guns.

History was repeating itself. As in 1875, a Slav nation was being oppressed, threatened with annihilation, and the great heart of Russia was moved. I remember so well those days forty years ago when our Foreign Office tried all it could to stop the reckless chivalry of the Russian people—determined as all classes were to sacrifice everything, life itself even, for the sake of their oppressed co-religionists, the Bulgarians.

In that August thirty-eight years before (1876), Petrograd itself (always more cautious and reserved than Moscow) showed an enthusiasm for the cause of the Christian Slavs that daily gathered strength. It pervaded all classes from prince to peasant.

The sympathy of the masses had been evoked by the atrocities, committed in the usual unspeakable Turkish fashion, in Bulgaria. That sympathy, however, bore chiefly a religious, not a political character, and as in almost all great national movements our Emperor identified himself with his people. Public collections were being made for the sick and wounded.

Officers of the Red Cross and ladies of the Court and society went from house to house requesting subscriptions.

At railway stations, on the steam-boats, even on the tramways, the "Red Cross" was present everywhere, with a sealed box for donations. Every effort was made to animate feelings of compassion for the suffering Christians, and to swell the funds for providing ambulances for the sick and wounded.

And now in 1914 another great national emotion had swept over three hundred millions of people. This was not a war of greed or gain; it was not concerned with some insult levelled at Russia or the violation of her frontiers; it was the result of a deep religious sense of justice in the hearts of the people. It was what in England would be called "the sporting instinct" which forbids a big man to hit another smaller than himself.

No power could have held back the chivalrous Russians from going to the aid of threatened Serbia. All recognised that a terrible and fateful day had dawned, and throughout the dark days of the autumn of 1915, the people never flinched from the task they had undertaken. They were pledged to save Serbia.

Russians believed, still believe and will always believe, in the sacredness of an oath given in the name of God. Certain words indeed are not meaningless sounds! To such sacred promises naturally belongs also the oath of allegiance.

For centuries confidence and harmony reigned between all the Russian subjects. Now, the blasphemous Kaiser was trying to abolish every moral and religious tie. Could anything be more cruel and mischievous?

Everywhere it was the same. When I visited the wounded in my Tamboff country place, our poor soldiers, in answer to my queries as to their wants and desires, answered quite simply, not in the least realising the nobleness of their feeling:

"If God would only make us strong enough to go and punish the infamous enemy. You do not know the harm done to our fields, our churches, our brothers."

The tone of this and similar remarks was very striking. One of the wounded was a Mohammedan. I do not know whether it is wise or not, but the Mohammedans in Russia are treated exactly like other Russian subjects, and they know that in serving Russia they may attain the highest military positions, as did, for instance, General Ali Khanoff, and others of the same creed.

Russia, as a whole, has an unlimited faith in victory. The Russian Emperor's New Year's address echoed far and wide, like a clarion call, through the ranks of the Imperial army and fleet. All doubts vanished beyond recall, for the utterance of the Sovereign was more decided, definite and determined than any that had gone before. Here are words that must ring like a knell in the ears of exhausted Germany, trembling under the strain of her last efforts.

"A half-victory—an unfinished war"—this was the hideous phantom before which the hearts of our brave soldiers sank, and which, like a ceaseless nightmare, disturbed the rest, even of our most illiterate peasants. Far and wide, indeed, Russian hearts to-day thrill and respond to their beloved Emperor's call:

"Remember that without complete victory our dear Russia cannot ensure for herself and her people the independence that is her pride and her birthright, cannot enjoy and develop to the full the fruits of her labour and her natural wealth. Let your hearts be permeated with the consciousness that there can be no peace without victory. However great may be the sacrifice required of us, we must march onward unflinchingly, onward to triumph for our country and our cause."

The air vibrated with the echoes of these splendid words—and the bereaved mothers, sisters, wives, weeping in the loneliness and despair of their broken hearts, look up and smile again, because Russia's blood has not been shed in vain. The news travelled on the wings of the wind, and over countless distant, unknown graves, it brought its message to our fallen heroes: "You shall be revenged, brave warriors; your souls shall celebrate the moment of triumph, together with your living brothers!"

It is good also to know that we are not alone in our determination, that our Allies are with us, and share our views.

Therefore, if we assume that Germany's entire population numbers about seventy millions, the outside limit for the numerical strength of her army can in no circumstance exceed ten millions, this being already 14 per cent of the whole nation, and a completely unprecedented percentage of the nation's manhood. Such figures, indeed, represent an entire people in arms—a people, however, that has taken upon itself the impossible task of measuring its strength against that of three other mighty peoples, armed, also, to the teeth. In this uneven struggle, Germany must ultimately, in spite of Austrian, Bulgarian and Turkish help, meet her ruin, and bleed to death.

We, in Russia, look forward to the future without fear. We stand united as one man. All political strifes and disagreements are forgotten; there is no division of parties, no discussion of any affairs of State except those connected with the war. "War war, war, till victory, till triumph. There lies our future, and so shall it be." With these words our Home Secretary, Monsieur Khvostoff, concluded his recent speech to the members of the Press Bureau. The same sentiments are echoed everywhere. We are determined and hopeful, and ready for every sacrifice, because, to quote our Empress Alexandra in her New Year's telegram to the Secretary of State, "A war that has been forced on us by our enemies, and that has attained dimensions unprecedented in history, naturally calls for immense sacrifices. But I know that the Russian people will not hesitate before these sacrifices, and will fight on nobly until the moment when God's blessing will bring to the glorious warriors who are shedding their blood for their fatherland and their Emperor, the peace that shall be bought by complete victory over our foes."

By these words may English people discern the spirit of their Russian friends, their faith in victory.

The difference between 1876 and 1914 is our attitude towards Great Britain. Whereas forty years ago we suspected, even hated, her, now we see her in her true colours. She is doing for Belgium what we once did for Bulgaria, and from a sense of right and political honour. She could have remained neutral, safe in her sea defences, devoting her time to capturing the trade of the combatants. Instead of which she chose to risk all in honouring her pledge. This fact brought Russia very near to Great Britain, and I hope the years that are coming will see a better understanding in Great Britain of the Russian Spirit.

And now something about myself. In 1873 Baron Brunow, the Russian Ambassador in London, introduced me to Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli in the same evening. The one was to become a dear friend who was to give powerful support to my efforts to bring Russia and England closer together, whilst the other a few years later was to confer upon me the honorary title of which I have always been so proud. "Madame Novikoff," he said, during the Bulgarian agitation, when Mr. Gladstone and I were doing our utmost to negative his pro-Turkish activities, "I call Madame Novikoff the M.P. for Russia in England."

This remark was not intended to give me pleasure, although, now that my years of work have ended successfully, it may appear, as Mr. W. T. Stead said, "a flattering compliment."

At that time, however, Lord Beaconsfield was not feeling so cordial towards me as to frame graceful compliments, and he probably knew that, expert as he was in the art of flattery, nothing he could say would divert me from the path of antagonism towards his policy that I had chosen for myself.

"Ambassadors represent Governments, M.P.'s represent the people," Mr. Stead wrote, apropos Beaconsfield's remark, and I have always striven, however unworthily, to represent Russia, the most peace-loving nation in the world.

W. E. Gladstone (April 5, 1892)

It was to the enjoyment of peace to my country that I first undertook my self-imposed work, the bringing of Great Britain and Russia to a better understanding that would result in their working together towards a common end—peace. It is a strange trick of fate that the two countries should eventually be brought together, not by peace but by war; but the workings of Providence are inscrutable, and out of this great evil perhaps a still greater good may come.

By the Anglo-Russian Agreement of 1908 the two countries became good friends, now they are allies. Britons are fighting in Russia under the Russian High Command, and it is no secret that British sailors are fighting ship by ship with Russian sailors in the Baltic; and with those who have fought together for a common cause, friendship and understanding are inevitable.

It is strange to look back upon what have come to be known as the "jingo days," when in the streets and music-halls was sung a ditty in which Britons told each other—I quote from memory:

We don't want to fight; but, by jingo, if we do,
We've got the men, we've got the ships, we've got the money too.

and all this was levelled at Russia, because she chose to do what Great Britain to her everlasting honour is doing to-day, avenging a downtrodden, but uncrushed people.

There was one man who saw clearly and stood up fearlessly against the popular clamour, and that was Mr. Gladstone. For twenty years he worked with me loyally towards the end I had in view. He never faltered in his denunciations of the unspeakable Turk and all his ways. From 1876 to 1880 the crisis was acute, and at any time war between Great Britain and Russia was possible.

During the whole of this time Mr. Gladstone was doing his utmost to counteract the evils of the Disraeli policy, and he was always in close touch and constant communication with me. His support and unflinching championship of what he thought to be the cause of right was to me a great comfort. I was a woman in a foreign land, fighting against the prejudices that I saw everywhere about me.

In the early part of 1876 ugly rumours were afloat as to wholesale massacres of Bulgarians by the Turks. On June the 23rd there appeared in The Daily News a letter from its Constantinople correspondent (Mr., now Sir, Edwin Pears), and the attention of the House of Commons was directed to the appalling allegations it contained. Mr. Disraeli, then Prime Minister, treated the whole matter with airy unconcern, but the members on both sides of the House were irritated rather than soothed by his manner.

With a caution that was infinitely to his credit, for I know from our talks how deeply he felt, Mr. Gladstone waited the report of Mr. Walter Baring, the British Commissioner, which confirmed in all their revolting detail the rumours of the slaughter of harmless Bulgarians, men, women and children. Convinced that the evidence was uncontrovertible, Mr. Gladstone plunged into the fray, first by publishing his pamphlet, The Bulgarian Horrors and the Question of the East, and later by urging an understanding with Russia that would render this wholesale slaughter of a Christian people impossible in future.

In Russia there was only one thought in the people's minds—war, which no human power could have prevented. The nation insisted that they should be allowed to stand beside their co-religionists and fight in defence of their freedom.

As for myself, those were busy days. I saw around me nothing but suspicion of Russia, perhaps even of myself: but I had a noble example set me, if one were needed, by Mr. Gladstone. Ours was a fight for Christianity and civilisation. Every hour of my day and sometimes far into the night was occupied. I rushed fearlessly into print, as I have done for the last forty years when I felt that my pen might serve the purpose I had in mind. In those days editors were less hospitable towards me than they have since become. Mine was an unpopular cause, I wrote as a Russian patriot, which meant that I sometimes showed a tendency to injure British susceptibilities. "But what matter that?" I asked myself with Jesuitical satisfaction. "The end is good, and it is the end that matters." I think there are very few of my friends in England to-day who will not echo my words.

The day on which I write these words is the Russian Flag Day, the second since the war broke out. In the streets are English and Russian girls and women selling small flags, for the most exorbitant sum they can extract from the purchasers, "to help Russia."

When I look back upon those days of gloom, when Mr. Gladstone used to come and see "the Russian agent," "the M.P. for Russia in England," and talk anxiously about the near future, and whether the storm would pass or break, it is with gratitude and expressions of heartfelt thanks to the people who have so often shown me hospitality and in time began to listen to my words. They must have found some difficulty in avoiding the words I showered upon them; for I frankly confess I lost no opportunity of "rushing into print."

CHAPTER II
THE AWAKENING OF RUSSIA

A New Era—My Brother Nicholas—Hadji Ghiray: Hero—Terrible News—A Heroic Advance—My Brother's Death—Aksakoff's Famous Speech—Russia Aflame—A Nation's Sacrifice—My Heart-broken Letters—Mr. Gladstone's Response—Mutual Suspicion—My Visits to England

It is not only easy, but delightful at this moment to write in dear England about Russia and Russians, about our institutions and customs, confessing even our drawbacks when they have to be explained. But, alas! some thirty or forty years ago such was not the case.

I wonder if it will interest English people to follow the life of a Russian, who, like myself, has felt the effect of these different currents.

We must remember, that, if at this moment, everything English is not only appreciated in Russia, but even enthusiastically admired, things were quite different at the time when I began writing pro-Russian articles in England.

Yes, indeed: the Russian feelings in the years '76, '77 and '78 were permeated with severe bitterness against Disraeli's English policy so hostile to Russia.

Find and study the Russian papers of these years. They will show you how all the Russian Press, and in fact the whole country, was convinced that Turkey would never have refused to introduce the reforms asked by Russia in favour of the tortured Slavs if it had not been for England's cruel support and advice.

The whole of Russia at that time was seething with indignation and resentment.

In the year 1876 in all our papers, and in every mouth, were variations on the same theme:

"England is the principal cause of all our sacrifices and losses. England's obedient slave, Turkey, refuses all our most legitimate demands in favour of our co-religionists, our brethren by race. Turkey's insolent opposition is England's doing. Besides, the Russian Government hesitated to present her Ultimatum to the Sultan—not being prepared for war."

And so it really was. Russia then was as pacific and unprepared for fighting as she was at the beginning of the present gigantic Armageddon. Russia imagined that everybody understood that she was not coveting new acquisitions, and was quite unprepared for war, which was true enough—indeed she seemed as if she never cared to be prepared. She lived in a fool's Paradise, insisting on universal peace as at The Hague Conference, and as if the whole world were composed of "the friends" (better known as "Quakers").

The present diabolical war has taught us many good lessons, including the necessity for prudence in the future. It will also teach us to develop our own endless resources without depending on foreign help, which is always paid for not only at usual, but at monstrous prices, such as those which now exist at Petrograd and Moscow.

But hostile as Russia was in 1876 to any kind of war, yet, when the Balkan troubles commenced, crowds of poor Russians, preferring death to peace at any price, rushed to that country, concealing even from their relatives and friends their determination to support the Slavs, notwithstanding the complete unpreparedness of the latter. That was perhaps pure folly on the part of our volunteers, but a sublime and heroic folly, of which we are now proud. At that time, however, I, at all events (in spite of all) only felt the bitterness of indignation and despair with our Government and with England's policy.

My brother, Nicholas, as a member of the Slavonic Benevolent Society, went to Belgrade, Sofia and Cettingje. But he went armed only with money collected for ambulances and for the establishment of medical depôts, where medical aid could be obtained. The insurrection in Bosnia and Herzegovina was already spreading, and no preparations had been made. The helplessness of the wretched Balkan Slavs was simply appalling. As Nicholas had distributed all the money entrusted to him, and had sent in all his accounts to the Benevolent S. Society to the last copeck, our brother Alexander and I expected his speedy return to Russia.

In fact, I had Alexander's letter in my pocket, where he spoke of Nicholas' splendid business-like arrangement, when I read in all the papers a short but terrible telegram: "Hadji Ghiray is killed at Zaitcher"—it was Nicholas Kiréeff. He had joined the Serbians under an assumed name, as we later discovered.

My horror at this news was indescribable. I could not believe it. But it was soon followed by a wire from Alexander which said: "The Emperor has sent for me and informed me of our brother's death. He allows me to go to you at once, and we will go to see Mother in Italy. She must be now at Lucca, and probably knows nothing as yet of our misfortune."

I shall hope to be forgiven for quoting Kinglake's account of my brother's sacrifice. It was characteristically Russian in its Quixotism:

"The young Nichol ... Kiréeff was a noble, and being by nature a man of an enthusiastic disposition, with the romantic example before him in the life of his father, he had accustomed himself to the idea of self-sacrifice. Upon the outbreak of Prince Milan's insurrection, he went off to Servia with the design of acting simply under the banner of the Red Cross, and had already entered upon his humane task, when he found himself called upon by General Tchernaieff to accept the command of what we may call a brigade—a force of some five thousand infantry, consisting of volunteers and militiamen, supported, it seems, by five guns; and before long, he not only had to take his brigade into action, but to use it as the means of assailing an entrenched position at Rakovitz. Young Kiréeff very well understood that the irregular force entrusted to him was far from being one that could be commanded in the hour of battle by taking a look with a field-glass and uttering a few words to an aide-de-camp; so he determined to carry forward his men by the simple and primitive expedient of personally advancing in front of them. He was a man of great stature, with extraordinary beauty of features, and, whether owing to the midsummer heat, or from any wild, martyr-like, or dare-devil impulse, he chose, as he had done from the first, to be clothed altogether in white. Whilst advancing in front of his troops against the Turkish battery he was struck—first by a shot passing through his left arm, then presently by another one which struck him in the neck, and then again by yet another one which shattered his right hand and forced him to drop his sword; but, despite all these wounds, he was still continuing his resolute advance, when a fourth shot passed through his lungs, and brought him, at length, to the ground, yet did not prevent him from uttering—although with great effort—the cry of 'Forward! Forward!' A fifth shot, however, fired low, passed through the fallen chief's heart and quenched his gallant spirit. The brigade he had commanded fell back, and his body—vainly asked for soon afterwards by General Tchernaieff—remained in the hands of the Turks."[[1]]

[[1]] The Invasion of the Crimea. Sixth edition.

NICOLAS KIRÉEFF

I saw it stated in the newspapers a short time back that a German officer and some hundred and fifty men had surrendered to the British, stating that he and his men would probably be of more use to Germany alive than dead. When I think of the tragedy surrounding the death of my brother, Nicholas Kiréeff, I can now see that he served Russia better by his death than he could by living for her.

The news of his heroic fall passed from one end of Russia to the other like the notes of a bugle calling an army into being. But for his death my own humble efforts to bring about a better understanding between two great nations might possibly never have been attempted. There is probably no evil out of which good cannot be formed.

The effect of my brother's death was instantaneous and electrical. He was the first Russian volunteer to fall in the cause of freedom, the cause that people in Great Britain could not or would not understand. Officers and men of the Russian army clamoured to go to the front. By giving his life freely for the sake of his conscience, my brother was the instrument of Russia doing one of the finest things that any nation has ever done.

Kinglake has written:

"It may be that the grandeur of the young colonel's form and stature, and the sight of the blood, showing vividly on his white attire, added something extraneous and weird to the sentiment which might well be inspired by witnessing his personal heroism ... but, be that as it may, the actual result was that accounts of the incident—accounts growing every day more and more marvellous—flew so swiftly from city to city, from village to village, that before seven days had passed, the smouldering fire of Russian enthusiasm leapt up into a dangerous flame. Under countless green domes, big and small, priests fiercely chanting the 'Requiem' for a young hero's soul, and setting forth the glory of dying in defence of 'syn-orthodox' brethren, drew warlike responses from men who—whilst still in cathedral or church—cried aloud that they, too, would go where the young Kiréeff had gone; and so many of them hastened to keep their word, that before long a flood of volunteers from many parts of Russia was pouring fast into Belgrade. To sustain the once kindled enthusiasm apt means were taken. The simple photograph, representing the young Kiréeff's noble features, soon expanded to large-sized portraits; and Fable then springing forward in the Path of Truth, but transcending it with the swiftness of our modern appliances, there was constituted in a strangely short time one of those stirring legends which used to be the growth of long years—a legend half warlike, half superstitious, which exalted its really tall hero to the dimensions of a giant, and showed him piling up hecatombs by a mighty slaughter of Turks."[[2]]

[[2]] The Invasion of the Crimea. Sixth edition.

The death of Nicholas Kiréeff was a kind of spark falling on a train of gunpowder. In a month's time the whole of Russia was roused.

"The news of the death of Nicholas Kiréeff," said Aksakoff, in one of his most famous speeches, "at once stimulated hundreds to become volunteers—an event that repeated itself when the news was received of the deaths of further Russian volunteers. Death did not frighten, but, as it were, attracted them. At the beginning of the movement the volunteers were men who had belonged to the army, and chiefly from among the nobles. I remember the feeling of real emotion which I experienced when the first sergeant came requesting me to send him to Servia—so new to me was the existence of such a feeling in the ranks of the people. This feeling soon grew in intensity when, not only old soldiers, but even peasants, came to me with the same request. And how humbly did they persevere in their petition, as if begging alms! With tears they begged me, on their knees, to send them to the field of battle. Such petitions of the peasants were mostly granted, and you should have seen their joy at the announcement of the decision! However, those scenes became so frequent, and business increased to such an extent, that it was quite impossible to watch the expression of popular feeling, or to inquire into particulars from the volunteers as to their motives. 'I have resolved to die for my Faith.' 'My heart burns.' 'I want to help our brethren.' 'Our people are being killed.' Such were the brief answers which were given with great sincerity. I repeat there was not, and could not be, any mercenary motive on the part of the volunteers. I, at least, conscientiously warned every one of the hard lot awaiting him. Privations, wounds, and death were all that these volunteers could expect for themselves, but they rightly guessed that sooner or later the official Russian army would take up their cause."

In less than a month after my brother's death 75 officers of the Imperial Guards at Petrograd resigned their commission in the army, and hurried to Serbia; 120 officers at Moscow and Southern Russia did the same.

The impartial British Ambassador, Lord Augustus Loftus, informed his Government that according to private information 20,000 Cossacks were going to the Balkans in disguise. He also communicated the following characteristic letter:

"Even women, old men, and children speak of nothing but the Slavonic war. The warlike spirit of the Cossacks is on fire, and from small to great they all await permission to fall on the Turks like a whirlwind. At many of the settlements the Cossacks are getting their arms ready, with a full conviction that in a few days the order will be given to fall on the enemies of the Holy Faith and of their Slav brethren. There is at the same time a general murmuring against diplomacy for its dilatoriness in coming to the rescue. Deputies have arrived from many of the Cossack settlements to represent to the Ataman that the Cossacks are no longer able to stand the extermination of the Christians."

Lord Augustus Loftus reluctantly admitted that "neither the Emperor nor Prince Gortschakoff are now able to resist the unanimous appeal of the nation for intervention to protect and save their co-religionists." At that time Russia knew perfectly well that nobody outside her realms cared to share her sacrifices and her work, and that the greatest part of England even threatened her with war—an eventuality which certainly could not be contemplated with indifference.

The tragedy at Zaitschar had lighted a flame that spread throughout the length of Russia. Enormous sums of money were offered with reckless generosity. Foreigners who witnessed the enthusiasm of the movement were astonished. They did not understand the romantic chivalry of the Russian nature. Ivan Aksakoff, the President of the Benevolent Slav Society in Moscow, alone collected more than a million roubles, and everywhere Red Cross Societies sprang up with a suddenness that was amazing. I belonged to the Moscow Red Cross Committee. It was one of our duties to collect money and material for ambulance work. I recollect vividly, although forty years have since passed, how people of all sorts and conditions came to us with their offerings. Women of fashion tendered their jewels, paupers their copper coins. Everybody gave what he could.

I could write volumes about what occurred in those glorious yet tragic days. Everywhere I encountered examples of a deep religious enthusiasm that seemed to animate the whole country, irrespective of class; yet the foreign Press saw in this spontaneous movement only a sham engineered for political purposes.

The years '76 and '77 formed a grand page of Russian history—years of real crusade in our prosaic, materialistic nineteenth century. The crowds of Russians who rushed to meet almost certain death in heroic defence of their oppressed and unarmed Christian brethren in the East, the vast sums of money, offered with spontaneous and reckless generosity, astonished all those foreigners who witnessed the marvellous enthusiasm of that movement.

This enthusiasm in Russia was the first direct result of my dear brother's death; but there was another. I was prostrated with grief by the shock. To my distraught mind England was responsible for the tragedy. Had she not encouraged the Turk there would have been no war and my brother would have been alive. If Mr. Gladstone had been in power, my brother would not have been sacrificed. How bitterly I upbraided England in my own mind. As soon as I was well enough and influenced by all that I had read in our Press about England's interference with Russia's humane policy, and also by my personal passionate grief, I simply lost my head. Can it be believed that I wrote to my English friends in these very words: "It is England who has killed my brother. It is England who prevents our Government from helping our brethren in the Balkans. Russia was in duty bound to remonstrate with the Sultan, even to the extent of threatening him with war, the moment his massacres began. Impulsively Russian volunteers rushed to the rescue, and my poor brother Nicholas happened to be the first amongst them. He would not have been the first hero to be killed at the head of the unarmed Serbian troops, if those had been enrolled as official soldiers, well-armed and ready for battle."

Such letters can be written only, as this was, in moments of real despair. But I must gratefully add that my English correspondents understood my grief, and that people like Lord Napier, Froude, Kinglake, Freeman, Charles Villiers, Sir William Harcourt and others—then known to me rather as clever and pleasant conversationalists—all answered me with extreme kindness and sympathy. They assured me that Disraeli's policy in Turkey was wrong, that Parliament intended to question it, that The Daily News and other papers had already started the campaign, etc., etc. Yes, I felt their kindness, but the only person who left my letter unanswered was Mr. Gladstone, and this rather grieved me. In fact, I expected that he would have been the first to respond, as we had understood each other so well on the old Catholic movement.

Two or three weeks later, however, I received a communication from Mrs. Gladstone, which read:

DEAR MADAME NOVIKOFF,

My husband, overwhelmed at this moment with business, wishes me to write and express to you our sincere sympathy with you in your great loss; indeed we know what it is to lose a precious brother, and we also know as you do how to rejoice in a beautiful unselfish life being crowned with joy eternal. You will ere this have read the answer to your question as to Bulgaria in my husband's pamphlet in the newspapers. England is at length roused from her lethargy; indeed it is terrible what has been going on. Once more assuring you of our heartfelt sympathy in your sorrow, believe me, yours very sincerely,

CATHERINE GLADSTONE.

I could not at the moment understand what she meant, but I was soon enlightened by the appearance of the celebrated pamphlet on the Bulgarian horrors.

MYSELF IN 1876

Although all the letters I received were deeply sympathetic, I could see that the sympathy expressed was with me personally rather than with the cause I had so much at heart; for how can anyone sympathise with what they do not understand?

Great Britain suspected Russia as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do so, whilst Russia reciprocated by suspecting Great Britain. Each put the worst possible construction upon the acts of the other. Seeing this, I decided to do all I could in my humble and unpretentious way to further a better understanding between the two nations. I remembered the fable of the mouse and the lion, and that was the beginning of forty years' work, during which I have never once wandered from the path I had chosen.

There is in the little kingdom of Serbia a village situated near the place where Nicholas Kiréeff fell, named Kireevo in his honour. My brother Alexander, who was present at the ceremony of naming the village, was deeply impressed by its fervour and the gratitude shown to a Russian hero. Whatever good I have been able to do I always regard as an offering upon the grave of my brother Nicholas.

An intense craving came over me to explain to all my friends the Russian public opinion's ground for accusing England of responsibility for our mishaps in the Balkans and for the tardy declaration of war by our Government. (All the telegrams and letters referring to these terrible years have been duly collected by me and given to the Roumiantzoff Museum in Moscow. Certain documents and letters belong to history and must not perish with our death.) Let me give some further details about what I (unsupported, unprotected, ignorant as I felt myself to be) returned to face on my arrival in England. Those visits to England, by the by, did not extend at first over a couple of months, my family duties naturally taking me always back to Russia. I never like to speak too much of myself, but I think I am in honour bound to explain to all those who showed me their sympathetic support that, after all, my only object was to do my very best and in that way, to a certain extent, deserve their support and sympathy.

My plan was a very simple one: to let England know real Russians and Russian views, and to let Russia know England and English views.

CHAPTER III
MR. GLADSTONE AND I STRIVE FOR PEACE

The Real England—The St. James's Hall Meeting—Remarkable Enthusiasm—Mr. Gladstone's Speech—He Escorts me Home—Newspaper Comment—Lord Salisbury and General Ignatieff—Mutual Regard—The Turks Displeased—An Embarrassing Tribute—The End of the Constantinople Conference—Mr. Gladstone Compromised—War Declared—"What Will England Do?"—Bismarck's Policy—Prince Gortschakoff's Opinion

England's attitude towards Russia had been frankly hostile: but a revulsion of feeling soon set in. I had always maintained that the real England was represented by Mr. Gladstone and not Mr. Disraeli. The first sign came from the north, and meetings of protest were held in different large towns, the upshot of which was the calling of a National Conference on non-party terms. Many of the most distinguished men in the country heartily supported the idea, and a great meeting was arranged to be held in the old St. James's Hall on November 27, 1876.

I was present during the whole conference, to which I received ten separate invitations. The enthusiasm was tremendous throughout the proceedings: but when Mr. Gladstone rose to speak he received an ovation, and it was some minutes before the uproar subsided sufficiently to allow of his being heard. I was thrilled as I had never been thrilled before. The speech was a magnificent effort and I need not describe it here. I had never before heard Mr. Gladstone speak in public, and I was glad that it should be on the subject of the downtrodden Slavs.

He spoke for upwards of an hour and a half, and when he finished there was another outburst from the audience. It was nearly eight o'clock when I rose to leave the hall. As I was slowly making my way down the staircase, pushed and buffeted by the vast throng that was pouring out of the hall, I heard my name called and I recognised Mr. Gladstone's voice. He had seen me as he, too, was making his way out, and, offering me his arm, he conducted me into the street. In spite of his having delivered a long speech and that he was due at a dinner party, he insisted on accompanying me to Claridge's, where I was staying, talking with interest and animation as we walked.

Leaving me at my door, where I strove to thank him for what he had done for Russia in striking a blow at Turkish prestige in England, he strode off to keep his appointment to dine with the Corps Diplomatique.

When he arrived it was to find himself an hour late, and half the Ambassadors to the Court of St. James's hungry and diplomatically impatient. He tendered his apologies, also for the fact that he had not had time to dress, adding, "I have just been taking Madame Novikoff home to her hotel, which caused me to be a little late."

This explanation was regarded by the diplomatists rather as adding insult to injury. To them it seemed an indiscretion for a British politician to see to her hotel the "agent" of a foreign Power with whom relations were somewhat strained. The jingo and Turkish newspapers seized upon the incident as an admirable means of prejudicing Mr. Gladstone in the eyes of their countrymen. Thus was a simple act of courtesy on the part of an English gentleman, who happened also to be a politician, magnified into something of an international incident.

Mr. Gladstone, however, was fearless. He never did anything that he was not convinced was right, and then he faced the world with that lion-like courage that seemed to say "Come on—if you dare."

Of that memorable day I wrote soon after Mr. Gladstone's death, and although what I said has already been partly printed, it so clearly shows the fearlessness of Mr. Gladstone that I venture to quote it here.

"On more than one occasion it has happened that he has acquainted me of his intentions, the daring of which both charmed and affrighted me. But hesitation before a goal firmly resolved upon he never knew. 'God indeed he feared, and other fear had none!' So, after the famous Conference at St. James's Hall, organised under his superintendence in favour of the Orthodox Slavs in Turkey, I remarked that, in opposing thus the policy of Disraeli and the Queen, he was waging a revolution. He interrupted me: 'Quite so, that is just the word for it. But my conscience has nothing to upbraid me with, for it is pre-eminently a Christian revolution. Besides,' he went on more slowly, 'I am not the only one who is doing so. The four thousand people who were present in the hall were almost unanimous in their adherence, and did not hesitate to express their sympathy with the noble part played by Russia in the Balkans. 'Did you not notice,' he asked quickly, with a slight smile, 'that the only speaker hissed by the public merited this disgrace only because he sought to prove his impartiality by declaring that he was not specially a friend of Russia? The funny thing about it,' he added, 'is that the poor orator is by no means a Russophobe. I know him personally.' I shall never forget that incident as long as I live!"

Following the Conference was the Conference of the Powers in Constantinople. When Lord Salisbury went as the British Plenipotentiary it was with a heart full of suspicion of General Ignatieff, the Russian Ambassador at Constantinople. Poor Ignatieff had been the text for many journalistic sermons upon the duplicity of Russians in general, and the Russian Ambassador to Turkey in particular. He was a veritable Machiavelli, Lord Salisbury was told, who must be carefully watched.

Lord Salisbury was, however, a man given to judging for himself, and much to the chagrin of the Turks, he soon threw his suspicions aside and entered into cordial personal relations with the man whom he had been sent to circumvent.

Lord Salisbury soon discovered that underneath a bluntness that was sometimes a little disconcerting, there was a man of honour and conviction. The British plenipotentiary was a just man who recognised that he had to deal with one who was too fearless to be diplomatically suave.

Soon the two men came to appreciate each other's qualities. Ignatieff told Lord Salisbury not to believe anything he told him until he had first assured himself of its truth. There is one quality in an Englishman that no one appeals to in vain, and that is his sportsmanship. Whether by accident or design, Ignatieff had struck the right note, and henceforth Lord Salisbury and he worked loyally together for peace.

The Turks were far from pleased with the course events were taking, and Lord Salisbury became extremely unpopular. Sir Edwin Pears in his fascinating book, Forty Years in Constantinople, has written that "Lord Salisbury may even be said to have been hooted out of the city."

He could not, however, succeed in the face of Disraeli's policy of antagonism, and the sending of a plenipotentiary to Constantinople was little more than a farce,—a sop to British public opinion.

After he left Constantinople, General (or to give him his full title Count Nicholas) Ignatieff, became Minister of the Interior, and at one time President of the Slavonic Society.

On the day of the Slavonic Saints, Cyril and Methodius, this Society generally holds its Annual Meeting, attended by from 1000 to 2000 members. On one such occasion the Ignatieffs invited me to dine at their house and to go to the meeting with them. The Countess, by the way, was as good a Slavophil as her husband. At the conclusion of the meeting, the Count made a very enthusiastic and eloquent speech, to which we both listened attentively. Suddenly, to my great dismay and annoyance, I heard him say in a loud voice: "And here is a Russian lady who is serving our patriotic cause abroad," etc. etc.

Taken aback by this unexpected demonstration, I heartily wished myself at the Antipodes, and this wish increased when almost the entire audience surrounded me to express their effusive gratitude. It really was a terrible moment, though of course it was kindly meant....

But to return to 1876. The Conference at Constantinople had broken up, I was then in Russia, and Lord Salisbury had left the city conscious of his own unpopularity. He had endeavoured to impress upon the Turks that against Russia they stood alone, that is as far as Great Britain was concerned. Abdul Hamid knew Great Britain's suspicions of Russia, and upon this he relied. The awakening came on April 24 (1877) when Russia declared war against Turkey and Great Britain remained neutral, holding a watching brief.

The public attitude towards myself at this period was one of very obvious hostility. The frank and open friendship existing between Mr. Gladstone and the "notorious agent of the Russian Embassy in London," did not pass without comment, and certain busybodies became very active. Mr. Gladstone was said to have "compromised" himself politically by writing letters to the "agent" of a foreign Power which was at the very time being threatened with war by Great Britain. It all seems very absurd now, but in those days, when public opinion was at boiling point, it was not a matter to be treated lightly. We were accused by the Press of conspiracy.

We in Russia were constantly asking each other what would be the attitude of England. On the eve of war our newspapers ascribed to England the following plans: (1) To occupy Athens and Crete, preventing Greece by all means from rising and helping us; (2) refusal to permit Russian vessels to pass Gibraltar; (3) and occupy Constantinople if Turkey gets too great a thrashing. I confess that I was at a loss as all these suggestions were tantamount to a declaration of war against Russia. Those were days of terrible anxiety.

News of the declaration of war was received in Petrograd on April 24/12, at 2 p.m. At 5 p.m. the Moscow Douma assembled in the Hotel de Ville. There was immense enthusiasm. The Douma at once offered a million roubles and 1000 beds for the wounded. Cries were heard from different directions. "It was too little, far too little." Then it was decided to consider the sum as a simple beginning. The merchants also met together and the same thing was repeated; also a voluntary donation of a million; 160 ladies offered their services as Sisters of Charity; 100 of them having already passed their examinations. Russia seemed quite revived. "What will England do?" I wrote on that day to Mr. Gladstone. "I know what she would do if you were at the head of the Government. But as it is now—well, we'll do our duty and let happen what may."

England's decision was to do nothing—for the present. In the meantime a great wave of feeling was passing over Russia; yet in England it appeared impossible for people to see that this was not a piece of political jobbery. When I went to Russia at the end of 1876 I despaired of peace; but hoped that the courageous stand made by Mr. Gladstone might after all prevent war.

Those were very dark and gloomy days. We in Russia were victims of all sorts of rumours as to what England intended to do, whilst in England there seemed to be a conviction that whatever Russia might do it would constitute an unfriendly act.

I have been proudly described by my brother Alexander as maintaining a splendid, although a forlorn, struggle in the interests of peace. It may have been splendid, I do not know, but it was certainly forlorn. For a woman to endeavour to keep apart two nations who seemed determined to misunderstand each other, was a folly which, had I been more versed in the ways of the political world, I might have never attempted. Out of my ignorance came my strength; for I dared to hope things at a period when hope was not 'quoted' on the political exchange.

One of the curious anomalies of the situation was that, although Bismarck's policy of getting England embroiled with Russia was not overlooked in Britain, yet everyone seemed to be doing their utmost to assist the Iron Chancellor in his designs.

It was said that Queen Victoria herself was quite aware that Germany was doing all she could to get the British Army to the East so that her hands might be freed in the West, and the very newspapers that called most loudly for war frankly admitted their conviction that Germany had designs on Belgium.

All this puzzled me excessively. With a woman's impatience I felt that I wanted to shake the silly men who would not understand that they were being used as catspaws of the master-mind of Europe.

Bismarck was playing his game as only Bismarck could. How he must have smiled to himself! No words of mine can give the slightest idea of what I suffered in those days. I could not sleep and I could not think. My mind was in a whirl. I felt again the torture which came over me when I heard of Nicholas' death.

In February I wrote from Moscow as one almost distraught: "I would willingly give my life, a very poor gift indeed, for peace."

Soon after the St. James's Hall Conference, as I was passing through Petrograd, I made a point of seeing Prince Gortschakoff: to urge him as well as I could, to do justice to the better part of England.

I gave him as vivid a description as I could of the magnificent Conference, and of the sympathies of the real representatives of well-thinking Englishmen. That same evening, as I afterwards heard, he related to the Czar our conversation in every detail.

I remember Prince Gortschakoff observing that the British people were powerless and that Beaconsfield would hoodwink them at a moment's notice. I could only reply that I hoped not. But I insisted on rendering justice to a people who, after meeting, had convinced me were as noble, as generous and true as we were ourselves.

"You are partial," the Prince said to me.

"No," I replied, "I am true."

I felt that in all Russia I was the only one who was never tired of showing the difference between these two Englands, the official England and the popular England. Thus many of my countrymen and countrywomen who favoured a rupture with "Perfidious England" were angry with me. They thought that I showed them only one side of the question, and that the whole country would yield to Disraeli.

CHAPTER IV
MR. GLADSTONE

His Last Utterance—His Fearlessness—His Opinion of Russia and England—Cardinal Manning's Tribute—Gladstone and the Old Catholics—The Question of Immortality—Mr. Gladstone's Remarkable Letter—A Delightful Listener—His Power of Concentration—Hayward and Gladstone—Their Discussion—Miss Helen Gladstone—We Talk Gladstone—The Old Lady's Delight—I Miss My Train

Somebody once compared life to an education that can never be completed—and indeed, the more deeply one studies events and people, the more emphatically one realises how much must always remain that it is hopeless to try to understand. Nevertheless, the very contact with certain characters, even if we cannot always fathom their depths, is ennobling and edifying, and however much time may have passed since they left us to go to a better sphere, it is always good to linger over memories of great men whom we have had the privilege to meet. I hope, therefore, that I may be allowed to add in this book a few words about my friendship with Mr. Gladstone.

I have been told that the last word to fall from the lips of the great statesman several moments before his death, was "Amen." What a fitting and characteristic ending! The whole life and activity of this grand old man, indeed, reminds one of nothing so much as of some nobly worded prayer or confession of faith. All his existence was based upon his religious ideals and convictions, which he put into practice simply and naturally in every word and action of his everyday life. Christian love and charity permeated his activities in a way that is rare indeed among public men, surrounded as they are by intrigues and rivalries and difficulties. He was generous, as only so great and noble a character can be, to the many enemies that surrounded him, supported even by Queen Victoria herself, whose sympathies were all in favour of Gladstone's opponent Beaconsfield.

Another trait in Mr. Gladstone's character, that always aroused my admiration, was the firm, unhesitating manner in which he would demolish all obstacles and, without looking to right or to left, make straight for his goal, in the face of opposition, animosity, even danger, once he had decided that the goal in question was the right one, the one pointed out by his conscience and his principles. He was entirely fearless in his opinions and convictions—he knew indeed only one fear: the fear of God. It seems to me that his courage could only be compared to his kindness, and I should like, in this connection, to mention an incident that comes to my mind, and that can surely be no secret now after so many years. It happened in the year 1884, during the great political crisis, when one heard on all sides the query: 'Will he return to power?' Everyone knew very well who was meant by the word "he." Just at that time I published my Russia and England, which cost me four years of work and fatigue, and also some hesitation. Mr. Gladstone called with his wife to express his sympathetic approval, which he did in the most encouraging terms.

"I will write a review of your book," he said,—to which generous offer I replied protestingly, to Mrs. Gladstone's surprise and almost indignation: "No, no!" I exclaimed. "On no account! Not at this critical moment. Such a step may do you much harm. Besides, in these emotional times, English people will never read my book at all!"

In answer, Mr. Gladstone struck his hand angrily on the table, "I will compel them to read it," he said in a determined voice. "Every Englishman should not only read but study it!"

And truly enough, in spite of my remonstrances, the review was published in The Nineteenth Century, and contained the above recommendation to Mr. Gladstone's countrymen.

Could anyone be kinder or show greater political courage?

How the events and incidents of those exciting days linger in one's memory! It is indeed certain that I shall never forget them!

A few days after that glorious St. James's Hall meeting, there was a great reaction in public opinion. A large section of the Press began to ridicule Mr. Gladstone, calling him Gladstonoff (English people at that time, having the scantiest knowledge of things Russian, imagined that all Russian names ended in off!), and even insinuating that he was an agent in the Russian pay! But although one must admit that his responsibilities weighed heavily upon him, nothing shook the courage and the determination of this dauntless English Slavophil to continue along the path he considered the right one.

Afterwards, when, at the summit of his greatness, he was for the second time re-elected Prime Minister, he wrote in his diary:

Oh, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden!
Too heavy for a man that hopes for Heaven!

And yet, how nobly and unflinchingly did he bear that burden all through his life!

Mr. Gladstone has been discussed and appraised and honoured all the world over as a great statesman. To me, however, his supreme claim to greatness lay even beyond his genius, in his rare and irreproachable moral qualities. Cardinal Manning once remarked that Mr. Gladstone was a more fitting person to receive Holy Orders than himself. "In fact," added the Cardinal frankly, "he is as perfectly suited for the Church as I am unsuited for it!"

Already in his childhood, Gladstone seems to have exercised a beneficial influence over his companions. Bishop Hamilton, famed for his many virtues, and treated by his contemporaries almost as a saint, has admitted that little Willie Gladstone saved him from many an escapade at Eton!

Much later, in 1838, Gladstone wrote his famous work, The State in its Relations to the Church; in 1845 he gave up his position as chief of the Ministry in order to remain true to his religious convictions, and still later, in 1857, he opposed, with all his energy, the "Divorce Bill," on the ground of his belief that a union consecrated by the Church cannot be broken by human law.

I will not dwell upon a fact so well known as the sensation produced by the great English statesman's pamphlet on The Vatican. I will only say that it was the general public, and not Mr. Gladstone's personal friends, who were so astonished at the views expounded in that pamphlet. In his own intimate circle, I constantly heard him repeat his opinion that "Roman Catholicism is the systematic tyranny of the priest over the layman, the Bishop over the priest, and the Pope over the Bishop."

Feeling in his soul, on the one hand, almost a horror of Rome, and on the other a deep religious inspiration, Mr. Gladstone's sympathy with and admiration for the great cause of the Old Catholics were almost a foregone conclusion. He first came in contact with this movement through his friend Döllinger, and he never ceased to express his confidence in its ultimate success. Whenever he spoke of the Old Catholics, and he did so very frequently, it was always to express himself about them in terms of deep sympathy and approval, as of true Christians who strive, with such inspired faith and steadfast purpose, to propagate the doctrines of the original Christian Church, robbed of all the human errors that have crept into it and are represented by the ambitious and tyrannical Papacy of the Vatican. Mr. Gladstone was one of the first subscribers to the Revue internationale de Théologie, which always occupied a place of honour in his library, and which, in January, 1895, published his long letter to me on the subject of Old Catholicism and Döllinger. This letter is reproduced in my pamphlet: "Christ or Moses? Which?" For Döllinger, Mr. Gladstone had the warmest admiration and friendship, looking upon him as one of the most remarkable men in the contemporary Christian Church.

The following letter from Mr. Gladstone will, I think, have some interest for my readers:—

HAWARDEN CASTLE, CHESTER,
Oct. 6, 1894.

MY DEAR MADAME NOVIKOFF,

I can hardly ever write anything upon suggestion, what is more, is that I have before me continuous operations, long ago planned, and must refrain from those that are fragmentary. So I can undertake nothing new.

My interest in the Old Catholics is cordial. A sister of mine died in virtual union with them after having been Roman for over 30 years.

I remember suggesting to Dr. Döllinger that their future would probably depend in great measure upon their being able to enter into some kind of solid relations with the Eastern Church. And I earnestly hope this may go forward. Dr. Döllinger agreed in this opinion. They may do great good, and prevent the Latin Church by moral force from further Extravagances. All this you will think disheartening with reference to the object of your Letter. But I have a little more to say.

I have been drawn into writing a Preface to a Pictorial Edition of the Bible, which will probably have a very wide circulation in America, but will be confined to English-speakers. My Preface will have no reference to that Edition, but to the Authority and Value of the Scriptures. I think there will be nothing to which you or Old Catholics would object....

Believe me, sincerely yours,
W. E. GLADSTONE.

One of the most interesting letters I ever received from Mr. Gladstone, and one which showed his extreme kindness to me when I was in some theological difficulties, involves a story.

A very eminent and scientific friend, discussing with me some years ago the weighty question of Immortality according to the Old Testament, emphatically said:

"The Old Testament knows no Immortality! This is a fact which almost every student of theology understands perfectly well, and which, at the same time, nobody outside that class appears to have the least inkling of. The Old and New Testaments are commonly spoken and thought of as one book—one inspired work—instead of as two volumes, based on opposite and irreconcilable principles. The doctrine of the first is principally materialistic. The doctrine of the second is purely idealistic. The Old Testament represents God as Jehovah, quite otherwise than He is pictured by Jesus Christ. God, as pictured by the Jews, manifested Himself in the terrible 'Lex Talionis,' described in Exodus xxi. 24, 25: 'Eye for eye, burning for burning, wound for wound.' Whilst we are ordered by Jesus Christ to 'do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.'"

I was greatly impressed by that conversation. It is obvious that once we deny immortality, we, at the same time, reject the existence of the soul. An ardent desire seized me to discuss that most important question from different points of view. I pressed my friend to sum up all his arguments and publish them to the world. After much hesitation he consented to do so, provided I took upon myself the responsibility of the publication and the distribution of his pamphlet amongst well-known professors of different European Universities.

Beyond this, a condítío sine qua non was my promise not to reveal his name during his lifetime. Of these stipulations the latter was, of course, the easiest; but I carefully carried out all of them. But now that he is dead I am at liberty to disclose his name. It was Count Alexander Keyserling, to whom Bismarck offered the post of Minister of Public Instruction in Germany, but which Keyserling refused.

I published, for private circulation, the German pamphlet Unsterblichkeítslehre nach der Bibel, and sent it to one hundred professors, including Frohschammer, Albert Réville, Treitschke, Blunschli, Aloïs Riehl, etc., etc., asking their opinion. In the great majority of cases they returned answer that the facts set forth were already well known to them, and, in fact, were generally admitted. One of the fraternity, a Roman Catholic priest, abused me roundly for dragging such a subject into public discussion.