see poultn8a.htm. for Poultney and H.G.
Wells
see poultn8b.htm. for Poultney and Bigelow
Museum
see poultn8c.htm. for Poultney Bigelow
Papers, etc
see poultn8e.htm. for Bigelow, Poultney,
Why
We Left Russia.
see poultn8f.htm. for Bigelow, Poultney,
The
German Emperor and the Russian Menace. text
Bigelow, Poultney, Why
We Left Russia. Harper's New Monthly Magazine, vol. 86, issue
512 (January, 1893). Text version is not properly edited. see
poultn8e.htm .....ROD
Illustrations by Frederic Remington.
WHY WE LEFT RUSSIA.
By Poultney Bigelow
“I THOUGHT I HEARD YOU SAY ‘cOME IN!”’
He then tried to know where our next
objective was, whether we had friends in
Warsaw, how long we should stop, and
finally offered himself to us as guide,
philosopher, and friend, on the strength
of having lost his heart in America.
We parried his questions, gave him to
understand that we did not need him,
expelled him finally from the room, and
thea strolled off to the Cafd Tomboff.
The chemist was right; the spy was in
our wake. We had scarcely seated our-
selves at the Tomboff when the little
blinking man entered the place, took his
seat at a table in the corner, and engaged
in earnest conversation with a guest who
had been sipping a cup of coffee there.
The subject of the conversation was ob-
viously ourselves, to judge by the manner
in which the second man’s eyes worked
in our direction. The blinking man soon
disappeared, and the younger one was
left to watch.
Zerowski entered the outer door of the
Tomboff exactly five minutes after Rem-
ington and I had taken our seats. He
stood a moment on the threshold, in the
manner of a man undecided whether to
loaf or go to work. His eyes rested on
us, then on the spy, then wandered list-
lessly about the room. Finally, pretend-
ing to be very much bored, he sauntered
down amongst the little tables, passed
ours without a glance at me, went slowly
to the farthest end of the establishment,
appeared very much annoyed at riot find-
ing a table for himself alone, strolled
back towards us, asked politely if he
might sit at our table, took his seat as a
stranger, offered Remington a cigarette,
and said to me, in a whisper, as he bowed
to Remin,,ton:
“Consider that I’ve never seen you
before; there is an agent of the secret
service three tables from you.~~
Zerowski is one of the many patriots in
Poland who remain in their own country,
bound by large estates which they can-
not dispose of, and who pray morning
arid night for a cessation of the present
barbarous government. Like most Poles
with a liberal education, lie has served a
term in the Warsaw citadel, and is on the
list of “suspects” who are to be arrested
and deported at the first rumblings of
revolution in Poland.
“What is the news?” I asked.
“Don’t ask me,” he said; “we are in
Russia, in the Military Department of the
Vistula.” Then lowering his voice, he
said, in French: “There will be soon an-
other excursion to Siberia-—a large one
this time—students of the university here
—you should stop to see it—in about sev-
enty days, I think.”
Remington, whose senses have been
quickened by mixing paints amongst the
huts of Cheyennes and Apaches, gave me
at this point a kick beneath the table-
cloth, and remarked, with emphasis, that
he did not relish the company of the
sneak-agent,who by this time had brought
his chair one table nearer.
“I shall go from here to the theatre”
said Zerowski; “shall get three seats to-
p2in bad English, “I thought I heard you
say ‘Come in!’”
We had not said “Come in,” but did
not discuss that point.
“You have just arrived from Berlin?”
he said.
“No; from America,” said Remington.
‘But where did you stop last before
reaching Warsaw ?“
“Wherever the train stopped,” said
Remington.
I
“I THOUGHT I HEARD YOU SAY ‘cOME IN!”’
He then tried to know where our next
objective was, whether we had friends in
Warsaw, how long we should stop, and
finally offered himself to us as guide,
philosopher, and friend, on the strength
of having lost his heart in America.
We parried his questions, gave him to
understand that we did not need him,
expelled him finally from the room, and
thea strolled off to the Cafd Tomboff.
The chemist was right; the spy was in
our wake. We had scarcely seated our-
selves at the Tomboff when the little
blinking man entered the place, took his
seat at a table in the corner, and engaged
in earnest conversation with a guest who
had been sipping a cup of coffee there.
The subject of the conversation was ob-
viously ourselves, to judge by the manner
in which the second man’s eyes worked
in our direction. The blinking man soon
disappeared, and the younger one was
left to watch.
Zerowski entered the outer door of the
Tomboff exactly five minutes after Rem-
ington and I had taken our seats. He
stood a moment on the threshold, in the
manner of a man undecided whether to
loaf or go to work. His eyes rested on
us, then on the spy, then wandered list-
lessly about the room. Finally, pretend-
ing to be very much bored, he sauntered
down amongst the little tables, passed
ours without a glance at me, went slowly
to the farthest end of the establishment,
appeared very much annoyed at riot find-
ing a table for himself alone, strolled
back towards us, asked politely if he
might sit at our table, took his seat as a
stranger, offered Remington a cigarette,
and said to me, in a whisper, as he bowed
to Remin,,ton:
“Consider that I’ve never seen you
before; there is an agent of the secret
service three tables from you.~~
Zerowski is one of the many patriots in
Poland who remain in their own country,
bound by large estates which they can-
not dispose of, and who pray morning
arid night for a cessation of the present
barbarous government. Like most Poles
with a liberal education, lie has served a
term in the Warsaw citadel, and is on the
list of “suspects” who are to be arrested
and deported at the first rumblings of
revolution in Poland.
“What is the news?” I asked.
“Don’t ask me,” he said; “we are in
Russia, in the Military Department of the
Vistula.” Then lowering his voice, he
said, in French: “There will be soon an-
other excursion to Siberia-—a large one
this time—students of the university here
—you should stop to see it—in about sev-
enty days, I think.”
Remington, whose senses have been
quickened by mixing paints amongst the
huts of Cheyennes and Apaches, gave me
at this point a kick beneath the table-
cloth, and remarked, with emphasis, that
he did not relish the company of the
sneak-agent,who by this time had brought
his chair one table nearer.
“I shall go from here to the theatre”
said Zerowski; “shall get three seats to-
p2in bad English, “I thought I heard you
say ‘Come in!’”
We had not said “Come in,” but did
not discuss that point.
“You have just arrived from Berlin?”
he said.
“No; from America,” said Remington.
‘But where did you stop last before
reaching Warsaw ?“
“Wherever the train stopped,” said
Remington.
I
“I THOUGHT I HEARD YOU SAY ‘cOME IN!”’
He then tried to know where our next
objective was, whether we had friends in
Warsaw, how long we should stop, and
finally offered himself to us as guide,
philosopher, and friend, on the strength
of having lost his heart in America.
We parried his questions, gave him to
understand that we did not need him,
expelled him finally from the room, and
thea strolled off to the Cafd Tomboff.
The chemist was right; the spy was in
our wake. We had scarcely seated our-
selves at the Tomboff when the little
blinking man entered the place, took his
seat at a table in the corner, and engaged
in earnest conversation with a guest who
had been sipping a cup of coffee there.
The subject of the conversation was ob-
viously ourselves, to judge by the manner
in which the second man’s eyes worked
in our direction. The blinking man soon
disappeared, and the younger one was
left to watch.
Zerowski entered the outer door of the
Tomboff exactly five minutes after Rem-
ington and I had taken our seats. He
stood a moment on the threshold, in the
manner of a man undecided whether to
loaf or go to work. His eyes rested on
us, then on the spy, then wandered list-
lessly about the room. Finally, pretend-
ing to be very much bored, he sauntered
down amongst the little tables, passed
ours without a glance at me, went slowly
to the farthest end of the establishment,
appeared very much annoyed at riot find-
ing a table for himself alone, strolled
back towards us, asked politely if he
might sit at our table, took his seat as a
stranger, offered Remington a cigarette,
and said to me, in a whisper, as he bowed
to Remin,,ton:
“Consider that I’ve never seen you
before; there is an agent of the secret
service three tables from you.~~
Zerowski is one of the many patriots in
Poland who remain in their own country,
bound by large estates which they can-
not dispose of, and who pray morning
arid night for a cessation of the present
barbarous government. Like most Poles
with a liberal education, lie has served a
term in the Warsaw citadel, and is on the
list of “suspects” who are to be arrested
and deported at the first rumblings of
revolution in Poland.
“What is the news?” I asked.
“Don’t ask me,” he said; “we are in
Russia, in the Military Department of the
Vistula.” Then lowering his voice, he
said, in French: “There will be soon an-
other excursion to Siberia-—a large one
this time—students of the university here
—you should stop to see it—in about sev-
enty days, I think.”
Remington, whose senses have been
quickened by mixing paints amongst the
huts of Cheyennes and Apaches, gave me
at this point a kick beneath the table-
cloth, and remarked, with emphasis, that
he did not relish the company of the
sneak-agent,who by this time had brought
his chair one table nearer.
“I shall go from here to the theatre”
said Zerowski; “shall get three seats to-9in bad English, “I thought I
heard you
say ‘Come in!’”
We had not said “Come in,” but did
not discuss that point.
“You have just arrived from Berlin?”
he said.
“No; from America,” said Remington.
‘But where did you stop last before
reaching Warsaw ?“
“Wherever the train stopped,” said
Remington.
I
“I THOUGHT I HEARD YOU SAY ‘cOME IN!”’
He then tried to know where our next
objective was, whether we had friends in
Warsaw, how long we should stop, and
finally offered himself to us as guide,
philosopher, and friend, on the strength
of having lost his heart in America.
We parried his questions, gave him to
understand that we did not need him,
expelled him finally from the room, and
thea strolled off to the Cafd Tomboff.
The chemist was right; the spy was in
our wake. We had scarcely seated our-
selves at the Tomboff when the little
blinking man entered the place, took his
seat at a table in the corner, and engaged
in earnest conversation with a guest who
had been sipping a cup of coffee there.
The subject of the conversation was ob-
viously ourselves, to judge by the manner
in which the second man’s eyes worked
in our direction. The blinking man soon
disappeared, and the younger one was
left to watch.
Zerowski entered the outer door of the
Tomboff exactly five minutes after Rem-
ington and I had taken our seats. He
stood a moment on the threshold, in the
manner of a man undecided whether to
loaf or go to work. His eyes rested on
us, then on the spy, then wandered list-
lessly about the room. Finally, pretend-
ing to be very much bored, he sauntered
down amongst the little tables, passed
ours without a glance at me, went slowly
to the farthest end of the establishment,
appeared very much annoyed at riot find-
ing a table for himself alone, strolled
back towards us, asked politely if he
might sit at our table, took his seat as a
stranger, offered Remington a cigarette,
and said to me, in a whisper, as he bowed
to Remin,,ton:
“Consider that I’ve never seen you
before; there is an agent of the secret
service three tables from you.~~
Zerowski is one of the many patriots in
Poland who remain in their own country,
bound by large estates which they can-
not dispose of, and who pray morning
arid night for a cessation of the present
barbarous government. Like most Poles
with a liberal education, lie has served a
term in the Warsaw citadel, and is on the
list of “suspects” who are to be arrested
and deported at the first rumblings of
revolution in Poland.
“What is the news?” I asked.
“Don’t ask me,” he said; “we are in
Russia, in the Military Department of the
Vistula.” Then lowering his voice, he
said, in French: “There will be soon an-
other excursion to Siberia-—a large one
this time—students of the university here
—you should stop to see it—in about sev-
enty days, I think.”
Remington, whose senses have been
quickened by mixing paints amongst the
huts of Cheyennes and Apaches, gave me
at this point a kick beneath the table-
cloth, and remarked, with emphasis, that
he did not relish the company of the
sneak-agent,who by this time had brought
his chair one table nearer.
“I shall go from here to the theatre”
said Zerowski; “shall get three seats to-
p29in bad English, “I thought I heard you
say ‘Come in!’”
We had not said “Come in,” but did
not discuss that point.
“You have just arrived from Berlin?”
he said.
“No; from America,” said Remington.
‘But where did you stop last before
reaching Warsaw ?“
“Wherever the train stopped,” said
Remington.
I
“I THOUGHT I HEARD YOU SAY ‘cOME IN!”’
He then tried to know where our next
objective was, whether we had friends in
Warsaw, how long we should stop, and
finally offered himself to us as guide,
philosopher, and friend, on the strength
of having lost his heart in America.
We parried his questions, gave him to
understand that we did not need him,
expelled him finally from the room, and
thea strolled off to the Cafd Tomboff.
The chemist was right; the spy was in
our wake. We had scarcely seated our-
selves at the Tomboff when the little
blinking man entered the place, took his
seat at a table in the corner, and engaged
in earnest conversation with a guest who
had been sipping a cup of coffee there.
The subject of the conversation was ob-
viously ourselves, to judge by the manner
in which the second man’s eyes worked
in our direction. The blinking man soon
disappeared, and the younger one was
left to watch.
Zerowski entered the outer door of the
Tomboff exactly five minutes after Rem-
ington and I had taken our seats. He
stood a moment on the threshold, in the
manner of a man undecided whether to
loaf or go to work. His eyes rested on
us, then on the spy, then wandered list-
lessly about the room. Finally, pretend-
ing to be very much bored, he sauntered
down amongst the little tables, passed
ours without a glance at me, went slowly
to the farthest end of the establishment,
appeared very much annoyed at riot find-
ing a table for himself alone, strolled
back towards us, asked politely if he
might sit at our table, took his seat as a
stranger, offered Remington a cigarette,
and said to me, in a whisper, as he bowed
to Remin,,ton:
“Consider that I’ve never seen you
before; there is an agent of the secret
service three tables from you.~~
Zerowski is one of the many patriots in
Poland who remain in their own country,
bound by large estates which they can-
not dispose of, and who pray morning
arid night for a cessation of the present
barbarous government. Like most Poles
with a liberal education, lie has served a
term in the Warsaw citadel, and is on the
list of “suspects” who are to be arrested
and deported at the first rumblings of
revolution in Poland.
“What is the news?” I asked.
“Don’t ask me,” he said; “we are in
Russia, in the Military Department of the
Vistula.” Then lowering his voice, he
said, in French: “There will be soon an-
other excursion to Siberia-—a large one
this time—students of the university here
—you should stop to see it—in about sev-
enty days, I think.”
Remington, whose senses have been
quickened by mixing paints amongst the
huts of Cheyennes and Apaches, gave me
at this point a kick beneath the table-
cloth, and remarked, with emphasis, that
he did not relish the company of the
sneak-agent,who by this time had brought
his chair one table nearer.
“I shall go from here to the theatre”
said Zerowski; “shall get three seats to-
p296.gif
gether; shall send two by a safe messen-
ger to your hotel; they will be there in
an hour; mean while stroll about town,
and let the hotel porter know where you
are going, so as to disarm suspicion.”
The theatre was full; but as neither
Remington nor I included Polish amongst
our acquired accomplishments, we could
not do justice to the performance.
Zerowski came in, but took a seat far
away from us, in spite of the fact that the
seat next to me remained vacant. After
the first act we met in the adjoining
garden, and his first words were:
“Thank God, the scoundrel has gone!
He saw that I took a seat far from you.
He concludes that he can make nothing
of us to-night. He has gone to write his
report, or do some other dirty work.”
“But about the university?” I asked.
“Not a word has appeared or can ap-
pear in any Russian paper; not a word
can pass the censor that touches this mat-
ter. I have a ‘discreet’ friend in the
Warsaw faculty; he has told me some-
thing, but it would mean dismissal or
worse to him if the police knew that he
had said a word about it.”
“You must know,” said Zerowski,
“that the Czar’s government has under-
taken to tear up by the roots every mani-
festation of life that does not spring from
soil prepared by Russian priest or police.
The little veneer of civilization you ~nd
in Russia is due to Poland in the first
place, and, in modern times, to Germany.
I am a Pole. My family had enjoyed the
fruits of European civilization hundreds
of years before Russia emerged from a
wilderness of prowling Cossacks. The
Russian hates us because he is grossly in-
ferior intellectually, and because we re-
fuse to descend to his level. He has
conquered us; he has flogged us; he has
erased the name of Poland from his map.
My children dare not speak their mother-
tongue; my wife dares not employ a gov-
erriess of her own nation; my very ser-
vants must he selected for me by the
Russian police. The Czar has cut Poland
off from all intercourse with Europe, and
forced her to starve or pick up the crumbs
from his table. The Pole can no longer
get a decent education in his own country;
the Russian police control our schools as
they do our newspapers, and their object
IN THE OAF]? TOMBOFF.
p297.gif
is to have all the professions in Poland
filled only by Orthodox Russians.
“People in England and America can-
not understand what this means, for su-
perficially it seems a light burden. But
look at it from the Polish side. You are
a young man. You wish to become an
engineer, a doctor, a lawyer, an archi-
tect—anything of that kind. You must
pass a series of government examina-
tions, or you cannot begin to earn a liv-
ing. Your examiners are Russians, and
they have orders to favor all the ‘Ortho-
A GENDARME IN WARSAW.
dox,’ and place obstacles in the way of
Poles. Suppose, after passing all the pre-
liminary obstacles, you get your govern-
ment license, you find thenthat you can
accomplish everything if you are of the
Greek Church, and next to nothing if
you are not. In Russia the government
permeates every department of human
activity—military, medical, legal, admin-
istrative, telegraph, railway, engineering.
You cannot place your finger on any-
thing that does not depend to a large
extent upon government favor. As a
result you find that at every step in your
professional course you are heavily han-
dicapped by the knowledge that you will
never get employment except from the
very few who are so bold as to employ
you in spite of your national disability.
Poles do still earn a living, but it is
mainly by making themselves exception-
ally useful to a Russian official who has
more patronage than intelligence. A
few days before you arrived the Polish
students at the Warsaw University had
been deeply outraged by the Russian
head of the faculty—or rather, I should
say that a series of outrages brought on
an explosion. The Russians one and
all, stupid or not, received diplomas at
Commencement; while the Poles, whose
capacity was notoriously superior, were,
almost to a man, rejected. The shame-
less political bias was so apparent that
all Warsaw was ablaze, and one fine day
the students lost control of themselves
and gave the three most obnoxious mem-
bers of their faculty a sound pelting.
Such a thing probably never could hap-
pen in America
To which I was compelled to answer
that I had known, “‘neath the elms of
dear old Yale,” of students smashing the
windows of a very unpopular tutor.
“Bismarek used to pretend that the
Poles were like the Irish, chronically re-
bellious. That is not true. There is no
similarity between the two nations. Eng-
land is giving Ireland the best govern-
mei~t that unhappy country has ever had;
Russia is giving Poland the worst gov-
ernment it is possible to conceive of—
worse even than what she gives her own
Orthodox subjects. England is raising
the Irish to a higher level; Russia is
dragging us down into the mud.”
“What will the police do with the
disorderly Polish students?” I asked.
“Not so loud, if you please,” said.
p298.gif
as a clumsy weight, and sighs for a civil-
ized carriage.
A most distinguished-looking footman
opened the door for us, in answer to our
rin,~, and ushered us into a room full of
costly adornment. The legations of Ber-
lin, Paris, London, and Vienna paled in
comparison with this princely suite, for
from our seats we gazed in wonder upon
room after room of corresponding luxury.
Being but plain American travellers,
and having been ushered into this apart-
ment in answer to our desire to speak
with our representative, we concluded
that we were in the office of the United
States, and that an extra appropriation
had been made to defray tIme expense of
this mission. But we were wrong.
There was no United States minister
in St. Petersburg when we called, and
the first secretary, who acted as charg6,
informed us that we were in his private
residence, one room of which appeared
especially reserved for office purposes.
In other countries, particularly semi-
civilized ones, the American seeking the
protection or assistance of his minister is
cheered by the sight of the American
eagle over the legation door, possibly by
a flag-staff from which the stars and
stripes wave proudly on national holi-
days, proclaiming to all the world that
wherever the American citizen travels
Zerowski, glancing about him. “There
are spies at woyk now. They are being
watched. The meshes are being drawn
slowly and silently about them. Their
letters are intercepted. They are being
lulled into a false sense of security. By-
and-by, in about three months, a raid will
be made, and another transport to Siberia
~ommence....
Between the acts we met by accident
Professor X.,the Polish member of the
faculty, to whom Zerowski introduced us.
“Ask him about the university row,”
whispered my friend to me.
I did so, and Professor X. answered
with ostentatious emphasis:
“University row! You surely must
be thinking of some other university!
The Warsaw University never has any
row of any kind! Good-evening.”
Zerowski smiled sadly as the form of
the professor disappeared in the crowd.
“There goes,” said he, “a product of
I~ussian rule—the smooth liar. That is
th man who told me the whole story.
I introduced you only to give you a little
object-Th~9n.”
As we parted that night, Zerowski said:
“You will understand why it is better
that I do not come to the station to see
you off. You arO being watched here,
and you will not move in Russia without
a police agent behind you,
be is sure of the support of his govern-
ment so long as be obeys the laws of
On the 6th of June Remington
and I tbe place in which he is sojouruing.
reached St. Petersburg, and after deposit- But even if eagle
and banner are absent,
in~ our scant canoe kit at the hotel, hur- there is, in any event,
a small brass plate
ied to the legation of the United States. affixed ia some
conspicuous place, with
The St. Petersburg cabs have wheels a the information
that there is such a thing
trifle larger than that of a wheelbarrow, as a legation of the
United States in tIme
and hold about as much. Remington and place.
I bugged each other hard
to keep from In St. Petersburg Remington and I
“drippin~ out’~ over the sides as we jump- looked
iu vain for some such cheering
ed and bumped over the rough pavement
sign. There may have been one in Rus-
of the vast and lonesome squares that seem sian, but few
American travellers speak
specially designed for military purposes. that language.
We stumbled about in a
The horse of the droschka is small but spry, wretchedly homesick
condition, rin~mng
and drags the clumsy little cab with ex- all the bells in the
neighborhood, finding
traordinary facility. Every other cab we no
one who could speak our language,
met contained a man in uniform.
Ger- arid at length stumbling by accident
many seemed bad enough in this respect, upon the
door of the magnificent gentle-
but in St. Petersburg there seemed
no man who represents the government of
choice between uniforms and rags. The Washington
uear the person of our friend
driver, no doubt,likes the small droschka the Czar of all the
Russias. I had sent a
because it makes his horse look stronger, letter on the first
day of June, informing
while the official, no doubt, loves it be- our chargd in St.
Petersburg that I bore a
cause it makes his proportions appear to commission
from the United States gov-
advantage. The horse probably curses it eminent,
that I bore also the “special
p299.gif
passport” of the State Department, and
in addition an official letter from the Sec-
retary of State introducing me personally
to our diplomatic agents abroad.
Remington also bore the “special pass-
port,” and I added in my letter that lie
and I were travelling together in order
more completely to fulfil the wishes of
our government.
Mindful of the rapidity with which the
average American diplomatist loses sight
of his native land in the midst of courtly
pomp, I took the occasion to remark that
my companion was, in his line, the first
artist of America, and desired permission
to make sketches.
My letter remarked also that we had,
at considerable cost, brought with us
from America each a cruising canoe, that
we proposed sailing from St. Petersburg
the whole length of the Baltic, making
notes and sketches as we went along.
Finally, I begged that our representa-
tive in St. Petersburg procure for me the
necessary permission to make this cruise,
or else, at least, present me to the official
of whom I might make the request in
person, and explain the innocent nature
of our proposed trip.
Knowing the delays of diplomacy in
Eastern and semi-civilized countries, I
suggested the 8th of June as the day
of presentation, assuring the American
cbarg6 that we should certainly be on
hand before then.
Remington and I had racked our brains
to imagine what further we could do to
divest our mission of suspicious circum-
stance. We at last concluded to add a
protocol to our document—to wit, we of-
fered to pay the expenses of any one the
Russian government should kindly send
along with us as interpreter, guide, pilot,
protector, or spy.
We knew that last year the United
States government had sent a special
committee to Russia to report upon Jew-
ish emigration, that this committee had
been snubbed, and that it left St. Peters-
burg in disgust, without haviug been rec-
ognized by the proper department of state.
Against this contingency we fancied
we had protected ourselves completely,
for we had sent our request a week be-
forehand. Our mission was not in the re-
motest degree counected with any polit-
ical question whatsoever; for what can
be more innocent than the question of
tree-planting along the sea-shores?
Besides, I bad made a full statement of
my purpose to the much-beloved ambas-
sador of Russia in Berlin, Count Schuva-
loff. He is a man full of amiability, par-
ticularly kind to Americans, and incapa-
ble of guile. He could not have shown
niore interest in my project had he been
my own father; assured me that I would
have a delightful trip, that I should be
received with open arms, begged to know
what lie could do for me, even gave me
a most cordial letter of introduction to
one of the greatest names in St. Peters-
burg.
What more could an American citizen
desire, travelling in a country bound to
us by so many friendly ties as Russia?
Surely we did not expect the American
navy as escort! The fleet of grain-ships
which we sent for the starving peasants
should have been a good substitute.
The American charg6 calmly informed~.
us at our first interview that he had not’
made any request, written or oral, in~~
behalf.
This was rather staggering, after ‘giv-
ing him a week’s start for this v6ry pur-
pose! Remington looked ready for a
fight.
The charge explained that there was
some difficulty in regard to diplomatic
usage or precedent.
I protested that the Russian minister in
Washingtou would find no difficulty in
getting his request before the Secretary
of State, aiid I ventured to think that th&
United States minister in St. Petersburg
was of quite as much importance as the
Russian minister in Washiiiigton, and that
if that was not the case, it was time people
in America heard all about it. Our for-
mal papers we had brought along, amid
asked hiini to read them. He did so, re-
turned them, and remarked, in rather a~
tired manner, that they were lacking in
diplomatic form.
To this I rejoined that it was not for
me to criticise the diplomatic form of my
State Department; that he might do tlia~
if he chose, but not through me. That.
our business in St. Petersburg was exclu-
sively to obtain such perniission as should
protect us in our coasting cruise.
The charg4 answered very vaguely, and
reminded me that in the last year the Rus-
sian ~overnmnent had grown very jealous of
foreigners who came to report upon things
in Russia. To this I answered that China
also disliked the foreigner, but that I had
p300.gif
p301.gif pic only
found no difficulty in travelling there—
even into the interior.
We pressed upon him the fact that both
of us were prepared to give the fullest
guarantees regarding the purely innocent
nature of our cruise. Again we offered
to defray the cost of a government es-
cort. The chargh smiled, and shook his
head, and told us urbanely that we had
come on a fool’s erraiid.
Finally, in the presence of our military
attach6 and Remington, I said to him:
“Here is a formal request. I ask you,
on the strength of the government pa-
pers I carry, to take me before the proper
official of the Russian government; I
wish to be properly introduced to hini;
I wish to present the credentials of the
United States government; I wish to ex-
plain the nature of our mission, and I
wish to learn definitely from his lips
whether there can possibly be any obsta-
cle thrown irr our path.”
The charg6 looked from one to the
other of us with a quizzical smile. Had
we asked for a loan of the Russian Czar,
I should have expected such a smile.
“It’s quite impossible,” was his terse
answer. Ifs contrary to all diplomatic
precedent, don’t you know!”
What was to be done? Remington and
I concluded to wait at least three days.
If by that time the government gave us
no answer we should take our canoes to
the first German port, cruise the Kaiser’s
coast first, and then return to Russia, in
case permission should have been finally
accorded.
The charge had at last condescended to
promise that lie would write formally for
the needful authority, and would do ev-
erything in his power to further our mis-
sion, etc.
Russia is an expensive place to live in,
particularly the capital. The stranger is
fair game for extortion, and we found
that at the rate of outlay current with us,
we should soon be bankrupt. Socially
our time passed agreeably enough, for we
had letters to high and mi~hty function-
aries, who treated us most cordially, in-
vited us to their country-seats, offered
to do everything under heaven to en-
hance our happiness, except the one thing
we particularly wished done. Princes,
counts, colonels, ambassadors, adjutants,
and aides-de-camp—these could furnish
caviar, champagne, and lordly hospital-
ity, but not one of them dared move in a
matter interesting to the Third Section
—the secret police.
The letters we received were of course
opened by the police, and clumsily closed
again. Remington was one day driving
in the suburbs, when he became aware
that an official was following in a second
droschka. The following droschka, how-
ever, passed his after a while, and Rem-
ingtoii noticed that its occupant spoke to
a gendarme on the road ahead. What he
said of course we do not know, but when
Remington reached that point, the gen-
darme stopped his carriage, turned the
hors&s head back towards the city, and
gave the driver some instructions iii Rus-
sian that resulted in Remington finding
himself an unwilling arrival back at the
hotel, where I found him an hour later,
pacing the floor like a caged lion, and
venting his feelings in vigorous English.
We were used to being watched, but
this was more than we had bargained for.
On the fourth day we called at the he-
gation at half past ten in the forenoon.
The impressive man-servant told us that
his excellency the charg6 was in bed. We
sent up word on a card that we called to
know if he had any news for us. He
sent down word by the splendid servant
that he had no news; did not know when
he should have any; that there was no
use in our waiting for any.
We returned a farewell message of
thanks and compliments, and left.
Two days before, we had interviewed
the head of the customs, and had ar-
ranged to have our boats shipped by fast
freight to Kovno, on the river Niemen,
supposing that forty-eight hours’ start was
quite enough. We had also told the
hotel porter that we were to start to-d~y,
and ordered him to have our passports.
He came to us with a drawn face, how-
ever; said lie was very sorry; that he
had been to the police station; that there
was some difficulty; that he could not
get them for us.
“Now we are in for it,” thought we.
For of course, without a passport, we ceased
to be Americans, or even human beings;
we became merely the number of a police
cell.
Luckily for us, an official close to the
person of the Czar happened to call upon
us at that moment, and to him we ex-
plained our predicament. He left us for
a moment, then returned, and assured us
that there must be some mistake, that
w
p302.gif
our passports would surely arrive. We
chatted for a while, and, sure enough, as
though by magic, the precious documents
once more made their appearance, duly
stamped and sealed. What potent spell
our great friend had exercised we shall
never know, but to us lie was a friend in
need, and we feel very grateful for his
intercession.
V.
Between St. Petersburg and Kovno I
stopped for a chat with a friend who
knows the devious methods of Russian
government pretty well. I told him my
tale, and asked him what he made of it.
“Nothing is simpler,” said he. “You
are politely requested to disappear from
Russia at the shortest possible notice.
You have been watched from beginning
to end, and you may be watched at this
moment. You might have waited a month
in St. Petersburg, but you would never
have got an answer to your request.”
“But.” said I, “ what if Ihad gone on
without permission?”
“You would never know what had
interfered with you. You would have
been arrested at the first convenient place,
and kept a week or so pending examina-
tion. What is most likely, however,”
said he, “some dark night your boats
would have been smashed to kindling-
wood; your stores, papers, and valuables
would have been takeii away, and your-
selves turned adrift in a swamp.”
“But,” said I, “you don’t mean to say
that a great government would permit
such a thing?”
“Oh, of course not! Our great gov-
ernment would express the most profound
regret at the accident; it would insist
that the damage was done not by police
agents, but by common thieves. In any
event, you would be stopped before you
got a hundred miles away from St. Peters-
burg, and, what is more, you would never
eable to prove that the government had
stopped you.
“In Russia we are far ahead of western
lEurope. We have copied lynch-law from
America, only here tbe government does
the lynching. When a man is obnoxious,
reads or writes or talks too much, we do
not bother about courts and sheriffs. He
disappears—that is all. When his friends
come to inquire~ after him, the govern-
ment shrugs its shoulders, and knows
nothing about it. He has been killed by
robbers, perhaps, or he has committed
suicide! The government cannot be held
responsible for every traveller in Russia
of course!
“When a military attachd is suspected
of knowing too much about Russian af-
fairs, his rooms are always broken into
and ransacked. Not by the government—
oh dear no! That would be shocking!
It is always done by burglars. But, odd
to say, these Russian burglars always care
particularly for papers and letters.
“The German military attach6 has had
his rooms broken into twice in this man-
ner, and to prevent a third invasion he
assured the chief of police that there was
no use doing it any more, that he really
never kept any important papers there.
Since then he has not been troubled by
official burglars.”
303
—A
GENDARME, ST. rETERsBTJRG.
p303.gif
We were turned out upon the platform
at Kovno at a quarter past four of a misty
and chilly morning, and after wandering
about this mysterious fortress-town until
its only population, Jews and soldiers,
filled the streets, we embarked on a little
steamboat bound down the Niemen. One
of the passengers had answered my many
questions in a friendly manner, and with
him I had considerable talk about smug-
glers, Jews, Cossacks, and things in gen-
eral. Two men in uniform on the op-
posite side of the boat watched us with
strange intentness, and for that reason I
took pains that our Russian friend should
know that we were merely American
tourists visiting his beautiful country in
search of the picturesque.
He disappeared soon after the boat
started, and Remington curled himself up
in the stern-sheets for the purpose of
making studies of peasant costumes. He
had not filled many pages before a hand
was placed on my shoulder, and my Rus-
sian friend whispered in my ear,
“If you don’t both of you wish to
spend the next few days in jail, make
your friend stop his note-making.”
“But” I said,
“he is not making
notes; he is a fa-
mous American ar-
tist, filling his
sketch - book with
bits of costume.”
And to convince
him of Reming-
ton’s innocence, I
showed him the
book, full of mem-
orandum sketches,
which, however,
seemed only to
make our case
worse.
“This is not a
matter for joking,”
said he, earnestly.
“Two officers on
board are watching
you. Every day
some one disap-
pears on suspicion
of playing the spy.
Only last week two
women were locked
up in the fortress
overnight for hay-
in inadvertently
strayed upon sus-
picious ground.
They had come up
the river with their
husbands in a holiday party, and it was
only with the greatest difficulty that they
got clear again. The men who are watch-
ing you will make no distinction between
sketching a peasant’s nose and pacing off
a fort front.”
We thanked him for his disinterested
advice, Remington promptly pocketed hi
book, and our friend was soon once more
in conversation with the sour-looking of-
ficials, apparently convincing them that
we were not worth locking up, being
merely a couple of crazy American artists,
with very scant baggage. Had it not
been for the intercession of that intelli-
gent young Russian, there is little doubt
in my mind that we should have heen
arrested at the next landing, robbed of
all our sketches and notes, taken back t
“TWO OFFIOER5 ARE WATCHING YOU.”
p304.gif
Kovno, and kept in jail for a week or so, C. B. Vaux, the author of
the standard
or until our chargd in St. Petersburg had text-book for canoeists,
gave us his advice
discovered a diplomatic precedent which so did the
veteran cruiser C. J. Stevens
should justify him in demanding our re- the secretary
of the club. The Hamburg-
lease. American Steamship Company triccd the
The two officers accompanied
us to the little squadron up under the boom over
last station in Russia, saw us safely off, the after-deck,
and allowed us this s a
and then returned to the nearest tele- part
of our personal bag~age—a courte-
graph office to report that they had suc-
sy which we highly appreciated. From
cessfully driven two inquiring foreigners
Hamburg the boats went to Liibeck by
out of their country, and done it so neat- rail, about
one hour and a half; thence
ly that no one could possibly take offence; by steamboat directly
to St. Petersburg.
no one could accuse the Czar’s govern-
The whole cost per boat between Ham-
meat of breaking any rule of internation- burg and
St. Petersburg was 40 rubles,
al courtesy! say $20, making about $10 apiece for the
As I pen these lines, a
letter from our whole journey, including the transfers in
chargd in St. Petersburg reaches me con- Hamburg, Liibeck,
and St. Petersburg. In
firming all that was toldus there more parenthesis
I might add that the freight
than a month ago, namely, that
the Rus- charges in Germany are so low upon
sian government simply ignored his ap- canoes as
to make land carriage quite as
plication, and by so doing gave him to cheap as
water. Last year, for instance,
understand that Rcmin~ton should
not my canoe was taken from the coast of
make sketches in Russia, and that the Holland
to the head-waters of the Danube
United States deserved a snub for send- by
fast freight for 12.90 marks, about
ing a commissioner to inquire about tree- $3.20, at which rate
I should have shipped
planting on the sea-coasts. my canoe back from St. Petersburg to
In other words, the Russian govern- Kovno for about $4.
ment treated Remington and myself
ex- Kovno is only about fifty miles from
actly as it treated the Emigration Coin- the Prussian
frontier, on a river called
mission sent by the United States gov-
Myemen by the Russians, and Memel by
eminent last year. When Japan declined
to receive an American commissioner
some forty years ago, we sent a fleet un-
der Commodore Perry and insisted upon
the forms of European courtesy. That
was bullying a chivalrous but weak na-
tion. To-day our diplomatic representa-
tives in Russia are treated with the same
contempt we have learned to expect in
China, and latterly Chile.
VII.
A word about our precious canoes.
These had been fitted with folding cen-
tre boards and drop-rudders; had each
two masts and sails; had water-tight com-
partments fore and aft; were admirably
adapted for a long cruise, and floated the
burgee of the New York Canoe Club.
Our idea was to haul them ashore at
night, hoist a specially fitted tent over
each well, sleep on board, and, if neces-
sary, cook our meals as well. Reming-
ton had invented a water-proof holder for
his sketching material, exactly fitted to
the canoe, and in both boats everything
was done that could possibly add to the
success of our cruise from St. Petersburg
to Berlin.
A PAGE OF 5KETCHES MADE ON THE NIEMEN.
p305.gif
Germans. It was for us the only way of
getting to Tilsit without touching the
Baltic coast first; and being on the direct
railway line between St. Petersburg and
Berlin, promised the greatest speed. The
express trains make the distance iii thirty
houi-s, and the ordinary ones in forty-
eight, the distance being about 550 miles.
In order to have no possible mistake in
regard to our retreat, we accepted the
kind offices of a Russian friend connected
with the Foreign Office. He took us to
the proper express agency, explained in
detail what was to be done, arranged that
the boats should go off immediately by
the fast freight travelling with the passen-
ger train, had the bill made out for us,
and stipulated that we should pay on re-
ceipt of the canoes.
We gave those canoes forty-eight hours
start, and found on arrival in Kovno that
there was no record of them whatever.
The chief of the station said he under-
stood no French or German, but by the
assistance of an intelligent young woman
who operated the telegraph, we came to
an understanding.
I showed him our passports and cre-
dentials, told him we expected our boats
here, and asked him if he would forward
them on to us when they came. He said
he would.
We then asked if he wished payment
on bill of lading. He said that was not
necessary; the boats would be sent right
on across the frontier as soon as they
arrived, and the money collected at the
other end.
I then left with the intelligent young
telegraph operator our address, and
money to defray cost of messages. She
refused the money present we offered her
—conclusive evidence that she was not
Russian.
All this happened on June 10th. Rem-
ington and I meanwhile went down the
river by steamer; made a few excursions
to kill time; finally located ourselves at
Trakehnen, about ten miles from the Rus-
sian fron tier, only sixty miles from Kovno,
and waited patiently for our canoes.
On June 11th came a Russian telegram
which to us was a muddle: “If wooden
boats must pay in Kovno, if metal can be
paid in Trakehnen.”
A high German official, whose guests
we were, happened to be an intimate per-
sonal friend of the German consul in
Kovno, and therefore, to simplify the
whole matter, he kindly telegraphed him
to pay all charges, and do everything
needful to hurry the boats on. We cer-
tainly thought that this would be guaran-
tee enough for the Russian police.
On June 13th, when we expected to be
far away in our boats down the Pregel,
came another Kovno cable saying that
ninety-two rubles must be paid before the
railway chief would let the boats start.
Of course we cabled back that money was
no object, that the German consul was
responsible, and that we wanted the boats
very badly.
We waited another twenty-four hours,
and then came another vexatious cable—
that Kovno would not foiward the boats
until they had received the bill of lading.
We were now indignant, because we had
offered the bill of lading once before, and
it had been declined; and besides, the Ger-
man consul surely was guarantee enough
that we were not tramps. At last, on the
16th, came a cable from the German con-
sul saying that the bill of lading had
come, and that the charges against us
amounted to 100 rubles, or 300 marks, say
$70, or about double what they should
have been. We cabled back to pay up
and send the boats on.
We had long ago made up our minds
that the Russians in Kovno were doing
their best to spoil our canoe cruise by ob-
structions of the most unnecessary kind.
At last, after an infinite amount of worry
and needless expense, the canoes reached
Stettin, on the Baltic, on the 2d of July,
having been on the way since the 8th of
June.
At Kovno the police were curious to
know what was in the boat of Reming-
ton, so they took a hammer and smashed
a hole through the beautiful mahogany
deck, in spite of the fact that the hatches
were on purpose left unlocked.
Remington waited about Europe for a
whole month, hoping from day to day
that our diplomatic representative in St.
Petersburg would secure, at least for him,
the necessary police permit to make
sketches.* He has gone home now, and
left me to write the net results of this
memorable railway canoe cruise—a wasted
month, an empty pocket, a smashed canoe.
* It is proper here to say that after
a delay of
two months, and when it was no longer of use, the
formal permit was accorded to both the author and
artist by the Russian authorities.
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p308.gif cartoon
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