Autobiography of Andrew Dickson White
Andrew Dickson White

Autobiography of Andrew Dickson White  Volume II

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANDREW DICKSON WHITE

VOLUME II




    TABLE OF CONTENTS  PART V-IN THE DIPLOMATIC
SERVICE (Continued)  CHAPTER XXXIII. AS MINISTER TO
RUSSIA--1892-1894  Appointment by President Harrison. My stay in
London Lord Rothschild; his view of Russian treatment of the
Jews. Sir Julian Goldschmidt; impression made by him. Paris; the
Vicomte de Vogue; funeral of Renan; the Duke de la Rochefoncauld.
Our Minister, William Walter Phelps, and others at Berlin; talk
with Count Shuvaloff. Arrival in St. Petersburg. Deadening
influences: paralysis of energy as seen on the railways; little
apparent change in externals since my former visit; change
wrought by emancipation of the serfs. Improvement in the
surroundings of the Emperor. Visit to the Foreign Office.
Presentation to Alexander III; his view of the Behring Sea
Question; his acquiescence in the American view; his allusion to
the Chicago Exposition. My conversation with the Archbishop of
Warsaw. Conversation with the Empress; her reference to the Rev.
Dr. Talmage. Impression made upon me by the Emperor. My
presentation to the heir to the Throne, now the Emperor Nicholas
II; his evident limitations; main cause of these. Presentation to
sundry Grand Dukes. A reminiscence of the Grand Duke Michael. The
Grand Dukes Vladimir and Alexis. The diplomatic corps. General
von Schweinitz. Sir Robert Morier; his victory over the United
States at the Paris Arbitration Tribunal; its causes; its
lessons.


CHAPTER XXXIV. INTERCOURSE WITH RUSSIAN STATESMEN--1892-1894

Last days of Sir Robert Morier at St. Petersburg; his last
appearance at Court. Count de Montebello. Husny Pasha.
Marochetti. Count Wolkenstein. Van Stoetwegen and his views
regarding peace in Europe. Pasitch, the Servian Minister; his two
condemnations to death. Contrast between the Chinese and Japanese
representatives. Character of Russian statesmen; their good
qualities; their main defects. Rarity of first-class men among
them; illustrations of this view from The Hague peace programme
and from Russian dealings with Finland and with the Baltic
Provinces. M. de Giers; his love of peace; strong impression made
by him on me. Weakness and worse of Russia in the Behring Sea
matter. Finance Minister De Witte; his strength; his early
history. Difference in view between De Witte and his predecessor
Wischniegradsky. Pobedonostzeff. Dournovo. My experience with the
latter. The shirking of responsibility by leading Russian
officials; their lack of enterprise. An exception; Plehve. One
good example set us by Russia; value placed on Russian, compared
with the cheapening and prostitution of American, citizenship.


CHAPTER XXXV. "ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN" IN
RUSSIA--1892-1894

The "Minister of Public Enlightenment," Delyanoff; his theory and
system. Hostility of sundry Russians to the Russian-Germans;
evident folly of this. Woronzoff-Daschkoff and General Annenkoff.
The Caucasian railways and the annexation of Bokhara. Galkin
Wraskoy and the prison system Orloff Davidoff, "the funniest
thing he saw in America." Professor Demetrieff's account of the
murder of Peter III and of the relation of Catherine II to it.
Prince Serge Wolkonsky; his ability and versatility; his  tour de
force  at the farewell dinner given me at St. Petersburg; his
lectures in the United States. Russian scientific men. Woeikoff.
Admiral Makharoff. Senator Semenoff and Prince Gregory Galitzin.
Mendeleieff. Two salons. Other attractions. General Ignatieff.
Princess Ourousoff and her answer to Alexander III. Princess
Radzivill. The copy-book used by Louis XIV when a child,
preserved in the Imperial Library; its historical importance. The
American colony at St. Petersburg. Mr. Prince; his reminiscences
of sundry American ministers. Mr. Buchanan's satire on spies, in
the Embassy Archives. Difficulties of tbe American Representative
arising from his want of a habitation. Diplomatic questions
between the two countries The Behring Sea Fisheries. My dealings
with the Commandant of the Russian Pacific Islands. Success of
Sir Robert Morier; how gained. Worldly wisdom of Great Britain.
Difficulties regarding Israelites; my long despatch on the
subject to Secretary Gresham. Adventurous Americans. Efforts to
prostitute American citizenship. Difficulties arising from the
complicated law of the Empire. Violations of the Buchanan Treaty.
Cholera at St. Petersburg; thorough measures taken by the
Government; death of Tschaikovsky; difficulty inimpesing sanitary
regulations upon the peasantry.


CHAPTER XXXVI. MY RECOLLECTIONS OF POBEDONOSTZEFF--1892-1894

My desire to know Pobedonostzeff; his history; his power. Public
business which led to our meeting; his characteristics; reasons
for his course; his view of the relations of the Russo-Greek
Church to the Empire; his frankness in speaking of the Church.
His hostility to Western civilization. His discussion of
revolutionary efforts in Russia. His theory of Russian public
instruction. His ultra-reactionary views. His mingled feelings
regarding Tolstoi. His love for American literature; his
paradoxical admiration for Emerson, his translation of Emerson's
"Essays"; his literary gift. Feeling toward him in Russian
society. His religious character. His esthetic character. Charles
A. Dana's impression of him. Our discussion of possible relations
between the Russian and English Churches; his talks upon
introducing the "Holy Orthodox Church" into the United States.
His treatment of hostile articles in the English Reviews. His
professorial friends. His statements regarding Father Ivan;
miracles by the latter; proofs of their legendary character;
Pobedonostzeff's testimony on the subject.


CHAPTER XXXVII. WALKS AND TALKS WITH TOLSTOI--MARCH, 1894

Moscow revisited. Little change for the better. First visit to
Tolstoi. Curious arrangement of his household. Our first
discussions; condition of the peasants; his view of Quakers;
their "want of logic." His view of Russian religious and general
thought. Socrates as a saint in the Kremlin. His views of the
Jews; of Russian treatment of prisoners. His interest in American
questions. Our visit to the Moscow Museum; his remark on the
pictures for the Cathedral of Kieff; his love for realistic
religious pictures; his depreciation of landscape painting; deep
feeling shown by him before sundry genre pictures. His estimate
of Peter the Great. His acknowledgment of human progress. His
view of the agency of the Czar in maintaining peace. His ideas
regarding French literature; of Maupassant; of Balzac. His views
of Ameriean literature and the source of its strength; his
discussion of various American authors and leaders in
philanthropic movements; his amazing answer to my question as to
the greatest of American writers. Our walks together; his
indiscriminate almsgiving; discussion thereupon. His view of
travel. The cause of his main defects. Lack of interchange of
thought in Russia; general result of this. Our visit to the
Kremlin. His views of religion; questions regarding American
women; unfavorable view of feminine character. Our attendance at
a funeral; strange scenes. Further discussion upon religion.
Visit to an "Old Believer"; beauty of his house and its
adornments; his religious fanaticism; its effects on Tolstoi. His
views as to the duty of educated young men in Russia. Further
discussion of American literature. His hope for Russian progress.
His manual labor. His view of Napoleon. His easy-going theory of
warlike operations. Our farewell. Estimate of him. His great
qualities. His sincerity. Cause of his limitations. Personal
characteristics related to these. Evident evolution of his ideas.
Effect of Bussian civilization on sundry strong men.


CHAPTER XXXVIII. OFFICIAL LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG --1892-1894

Difficulty in securing accurate information in Russia; the
censorship of newspapers and books; difficulty in ascertaining
the truth on any question; growth of myth and legend in the
Russian atmosphere of secrecy and repression. Difficulties of the
American Minister arising from too great proneness of Americans
to believe Russian stories; typical examples. American
adventurers; a musical apostle; his Russian career. Relation of
the Legation to the Chicago Exposition; crankish requests from
queer people connected with it; danger of their bringing the
Exposition into disrepute; their final suppression. Able and
gifted men and women scattered through Russian society. Russian
hospitality. Brilliant festivities at the Winter Palace; the
Blessing of the Waters; the "palm balls"; comparison of the
Russian with the German Court. Visit of Prince Victor Napoleon to
St. Petersburg; its curious characteristics. Visit of the Ameer
of Bokhara; singular doings of his son and heir. Marriage of the
Grand Duchess Xenia; kindness, at the Peterhof Palace, of an
American "Nubian." Funeral of the Grand Duchess Catherine;
beginnings of the Emperor's last illness then evident. Midnight
mass on Easter eve; beauty of the music. The opera. Midnight
excursions in the northern twilight. Finland and Helsingfors.
Moscow revisited. Visit to the  Scandinavian countries.
Confidence reposed in me by President Cleveland. My resignation.


CHAPTER XXXIX. AS MEMBER OF THE VENEZUELAN COMMISSION--1895-1896

The Venezuelan Commission; curious circumstances of my nomination
to it by President Cleveland. Nature of the question to be
decided; its previous evolution. Mr. Cleveland's message. Attacks
upon him; his firmness. Sessions of the Commission; initial
difficulties; solution of them. The old question between the
Netherlands and Spain. Material at our command. Discreditable
features of the first British Blue Book on the subject; British
"fair play" in this and in the Behring Sea question. Distribution
of duties in the Commission. My increased respect for Lord
Aberdeen; boundary line accepted by him, striking confirmation of
his justice and wisdom by the Arbitration Tribunal at Paris.
Triumph of President Cleveland and Secretary Olney. Men whom I
met in Washington. Lord Panncefote. Secretary Carlisle, striking
tribute to him by an eminent Republican; his characteristics.
Vice-President Stevenson; his powers as a  raconteur . Senator
Gray and Mr. Olney. Visit with the American Geographical Ssciety
to Monticello; curious evidences there of Jefferson's
peculiarities; beauty of the place. Visit to the University of
Virginia. My increasing respect for the qualities of Mr.
Cleveland.


CHAPTER XL. AS AMBASSADOR TO GERMANY--1897-1903

Nomination by President McKinley. Light thrown upon his methods
by appointments of second secretary and military attache.
Secretary Sherman; his reference to President Johnson's
impeachment. Judge Harlan's reference to Dr. Burchard's
alliteration. Discussions with the German ambassador and others.
Change of the American legation into an embassy; its advantages
and disadvantages. First interview with Emperor William II;
subjects discussed. His reference to Frederick the Great's
musical powers. The Empress; happy change in the attitude of the
people toward her. The Chancellor of the Empire; Prince
Hohenlohe; his peculiarities; his references to Bismarck; his
opinion of Germans. Count von Bulow, Minister of Foreign Affairs,
resemblances between him and his father; his characteristics as
minister and as parliamentary leader. Ambassadorial receptions;
difficulties, mistaken policy of our government regarding
residences for its representatives. Change in German public
opinion toward the United States since my ministerial days; its
causes; evidences of it during Spanish War. Misrepresentations in
German and American papers, and their effects; our own
culpability as shown in the Fessenden case. International
questions; Haitian theory of the Monroe Doctrine. The Samoan
question;  furor consularis ; missionary squabbles;
reasonableness of Minister von Bulow. Attendance at Parliament;
its characteristics; notes on sundry members; Posadowski;
Richter, Bebel; Barth. The German Parliament House compared with
the New York State Capitol.


CHAPTER XLI. AMERICA, GERMANY, AND THE SPANISH WAR--1897-1903

The Chinese question; German part in it; my duties regarding it,
course of President McKinley and Secretary Hay. The exclusion of
American insurance companies; difficulties. American sugar
duties: our wavering policy. The "meat question"; American
illustration of defective German policy. The "fruit question" and
its adjustment. The Spanish-American War; attitude of the German
press; my course under instructions; importance of delaying the
war; conferenee in Paris with Ambassador Porter and Minister
Woodford; the destruction of the Maine and its effect;
conversation with the Emperor regarding it; his view of it. My
relations with the Spanish ambassador. Visit to Dresden to
present the President's congratulations to the Saxon king;
curious  contretemps; festivities. Change in character of
European monarchs since Jefferson's letter to Langdon. The King
of Wurtemberg and Grand Duke of Baden. Notes on sundry pretenders
to European thrones. Course of German Government during our
Spanish War; arrest of Spanish vessel at Hamburg. Good news at
the Leipsic Fourth of July celebration. Difficulties arising in
Germany as the war progressed. The protection of American
citizens abroad; prostitution of American citizenship; examples;
strengthening of the rules against pretended Americans; baseless
praise of Great Britain at the expense of the United States. Duty
of the embassy toward American students; admission of women to
the German universities. Efforts of various compatriots to reach
the Emperor; psychological curiosities. Changes in Berlin since
my former official residenee; disappearance of many strong men;
characteristics of sundry survivors; Mommsen; Harnack.


CHAPTER XLII. AMERICA, GERMANY, AND THE CHINESE WAR--1899-1902

Ex-President Harrison visits Berlin; attention shown hinl by the
Emperor and others; change in him since his Washington days.
Difficulty regarding embassy quarters; moral. Bicentenary of the
Royal Academy of Sciences--pomp and ceremony; picturesque
appearance of delegates, conversation with the Emperor on the
subject; his jocose statement of his theory of the monarchy.
Coming of age of the heir to the throne; reception of the Emperor
of Allstria-Hungary; gala opera and opinion of the Chinese
minister regarding it; banquet; speeches of the two Emperors.
Characteristics of the Emperor Franz Josef; conversation with
him; his views of American questions; prospects of his Empire.
Visit from the German-American  Kriegerverein . Outbreak of the
revolution in China; American policy; commendation of it from
foreign source; my duties relating to it. Fourth of July speech
at Leipsic in 1900. Visit to Ameriea; torrid heat at Washington;
new revelation of President McKinley's qualities; his discussion
of public affairs. Two-hundredth anniversary of the Prussian
kingdom, celebration; my official speech; religious ceremonies;
gala opera; remark upon it by the French ambassador. A personal
bereavement. Vacation studies on Fra Paolo Sarpi. Death of the
Empress Frederick; her kindness to me and mine; conversations;
her reminiscences of Queen Vietoria's relations to American
affairs; her funeral.


CHAPTER XLIII. CLOSING YEARS OF MY EMBASSY. BERLIN, YALE, OXFORD,
AND ST. ANDREWS--1901-1903

Assassination of President McKinley; its effect on German
feeling. My peculiar relations with the Chinese minister at
Berlin; our discussions: my advice to China through him; visits
from and to Prince Chun, On his expiatory errand. Visit to Mr.
Andrew Carnegie at Skibo Castle; evidences of kindly British
feeling regarding the death of President McKinley seen during
this English and Scotch journey; life at Skibo. America
revisited; Bicentenary at Yale. Am chosen to honorary membership
in the Royal Academy of Sciences at Berlin. Interview with the
Emperor on my return from America; characteristics of his
conversation; his request to President Roosevelt on New Year's
day, 1902. Emperor's dinner to the American Embassy; departure of
Prince Henry for the United States; the Emperor's remarks upon
the purpose of it. The American "open door" policy; my duties
regarding it. Duties regarding St. Louis Exposition;
difficulties. Short vacation in Italy, my sixth visit to Venice
and new researches regarding Father Paul; Dr. Alexander
Robertson. Return to Berlin; visit of the Shah of Persia and the
Crown Prince of Siam. Am presented by the Emperor to the Crown
Princess of Saxony; her charming manner and later escapade. Work
with President Gilman in behalf of the Carnegie Institution for
Research, at Washington. Death of King Albert of Saxony;
attendance, under instructions, at his funeral; impressive
ceremonial, and long sermon. The new King; impression made by his
conversation. The Dusseldorf Exposition. Attendance as
representative of Yale at the Bodleian Tercentenary at Oxford;
reception of D.C.L. degree; peculiar feature of it; banquet in
Christ Church Hall; failure of my speech. Visit to the University
of St. Andrews; Mr. Carnegie's Rectoral address; curious but vain
attempts by audience to throw him off his guard; his skill in
dealing with them; reception of LL.D. degree. My seventieth
birthday, kindness of friends at Berlin and elsewhere; letters
from President Roosevelt, Mr. Hay, Secretary of State, and
Chancellor von Bulow. My resignation at this time in accordance
with resolution made years before. Final reception by the
Emperor. Farewell celebration with the American Colony and
departure. Stay at Alassio; visits to Elba and Corsica; relics of
Napoleon: curious monument of the vendetta between the Pozzo di
Borgo and Bonaparte families.


CHAPTER XLIV. MY RECOLLECTIONS OF WILLIAM II--1879-1903

My first knowledge of him, his speech as a student at Dusseldorf;
talk with his father and mother regarding it. His appearance at
court; characteristics. His wedding and my first conversation
with him. Opinion regarding him in Berlin. Growth of opinions,
favorable and unfavorable, in America. His dismissal of Bismarck;
effect on public opinion and on my own view. Effect of some of
his speeches. The "Caligula" pamphlet. Sundry epigrams.
Conversation at my first interview with him as Ambassador. His
qualities as a conversationist. His artistic gifts; his love of
music; his dealings with dramatic art. Position of the theater in
Germany. His interest in archaeological investigation; in
education; in city improvements; in improvements throughout the
Empire; sundry talks with him on these subjects. His feeling for
literature-extent of his reading; testimony of those nearest him.
His freedom from fads. His gifts as a statesman; his public and
private discussions of state and international questions: his
thoroughness in dealing with army and navy questions; his
interest in various navies. His broader work; his ability in
selecting men and his strength in standing by them; his relation
to the legislative bodies; his acquaintance with men and things
in all parts of the Empire and outside the Empire. His devotion
to work. His clearness of vision in international questions as
shown in sundry conversations; union of breadth and minuteness in
his views; his large acquaintance with men. His independence of
thought; his view of the Maine catastrophe. His impulsiveness;
good sense beneath it; results of some supposed exceptions. His
ability as a speaker; characteristics. His religious views;
comparison of them with those of Frederick the Great and
Frederick William I; his peculiar breadth of view shown in the
Delitzsch affair; also in his dealings with his Roman Catholic
subjects; treatment of the Strasburg and Metz Bishopric
questions; his skill shown in the Jerusalem church matter His
theory of monarchy; peculiar reasons for it; sundry criticisms of
him in this respect. Feeling of the German people regarding
attacks on the monarch The whole subject as viewed from the
American Democratic standpoint Thomas Jefferson's letter to John
Adams. The Emperor's feeling toward Parliamentary government;
strength he has given it by sundry appointments. His alleged
violations of the German Constitution; doubts regarding them. His
alleged hostility to the United States during the Spanish War and
at other times; facts regarding this charge. Sundry other charges
against him; his dealings with the Venezuela question  excellent
reasons for it. His feeling toward the United States. Summary of
his position in contemporary history.


CHAPTER XLV. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE PEACE
CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: I--1899

Proposal of a Conference by Nicholas II. Reasons why the
Netherlands were preferred to Switzerland as its place of
meeting. General misunderstanding as to the Emperor's proposal.
My own skepticism. Resultant feeling regarding the Conference. My
acceptance of the nomination to it. Condition of things on our
arrival at The Hague. First meeting of the American Delegation.
Am chosen its president. General character of our instructions
from Washington. American plan of arbitration. Preliminary
meetings of delegates. The opening session. The "House in the
Wood"; its remarkable characteristics. Proceedings. General
skepticism at first. Baron de Staal as President of the
Conference. Count Nigra. Lord Pauncefote and others. Public
spirit of the Dutch Government. Growth of hope as to a good
result. Difficulties as to disarmament The peace lobby. Queer
letters and crankish proposals. Better ideas. M. de Bloch and his
views. Count Welsersheimb and others. Organization of the
Conference. First decision regarding the publication of our
proceedings. Rumors. Attitude of Count Munster, President of the
German Delegation. Attitude of Russia and sundry other powers
regarding the American proposal for exempting private property
from seizure on the high seas. New instructions sought by us from
Washington. First presentation of the Presidents of Delegations
to the Queen; her conversation. My talk with the British Admiral,
Sir John Fisher. Real and imaginary interviews published in
sundry European papers.


CHAPTER XLVI. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE
PEACE CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: II--1899

Apparent wavering of Russia regarding an arbitration scheme.
Count Munster's view of the Russian proposals. Social gatherings.
Influx of people with notions, nostrums, and whimsies. First
meeting of the great committee on arbitration. Presentation of
the Russian plan; its serious defects. Successful effort of Sir
Julian Pauncefote to provide for a proper court. Excellent spirit
shown by the Russian delegates. Final character of the American
project for an arbitration plan. Festival given to the Conference
by the Burgomaster and City Council of The Hague. I revisit Delft
after an absence of thirty years; deep impression made upon me by
the tombs of William the Silent and Grotius. Amalgamation of the
Russian, British, and American plans for arbitration. A day in
London. Henry Irving in Sardou's "Robespierre"; good and evil of
the piece; its unhistorical features. Return to The Hague. The
American plan of "Special Mediation" and "Seconding Powers"
favorably received by the Conference. Characteristics of the
amalgamated plan for the Arbitration Tribunal; its results. Visit
from Count Munster; interesting stories of his life as Ambassador
at St. Petersburg; the young German savant rescued from Siberia;
Munster's quarrel with Gortchakoff; his quotation from the old
Grand Duke Michael. Questions in the Conference regarding
asphyxiating bombs, etc. Attitude of the American delegates
Question of the exemption of private property from seizure at
sea; difficulty in getting it before the Conference; earnest
support given us by the Netherlands and other governments. Talk
with the leading Netherlands Delegate, Van Karnebeek. Reasons why
South America was not represented in the Conference. Line of
cleavage between political parties in the Netherlands. Fears of
President McKinley regarding our special mediation proposal.
Continuance of hortatory letters and crankish proposals.
Discussion between American and Russian delegates on a fusion of
various arbitration plans. Difficulties discovered in our own;
alteration in them obtained from the State Department. Support
given by Germany to the American view regarding the exemption of
private property on the high seas.


CHAPTER XLVII. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION  AT THE
PEACE CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: III--1899

Festival given to the Conference by the city of Haarlem.
Difficulties encountered by the American proposal for the
immunity of private property at sea. Question as to what
contraband of war really is in these days. Encouraging meeting of
the great committee on arbitration and mediation. Proposal to the
Secretary of State that the American Delegation lay a wreath of
silver and gold upon the tomb of Grotius at Delft. Discussion of
the Brussels Conference Rules. Great social function at the house
of the British Minister; John Bull's wise policy in sustaining
the influence of his Embassies and Legations, its happy results
so far as Great Britain is concerned. Work on the arbitration
plans progressing. Discouragement. Germany, Austria, Italy, and
some minor powers seem suddenly averse to arbitration.
Determination of other powers to go on despite this. Relaxation
of the rule of secrecy regarding our proceedings. Further efforts
in behalf of the American proposal for exemption of private
property from seizure at sea. Outspoken opposition of Germany to
arbitration. Resultant disappointment in the Conference. Progress
in favor of an arbitration plan notwithstanding. Striking
attitude of French socialists toward the Conference. My earnest
talk with Count Munster in favor of arbitration; gradual change
in his attitude. My suggestion to Baroness von Suttner.


CHAPTER XLVIII. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN  DELEGATION AT THE
PEACE CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: IV--1899

Declaration against an arbitration tribunal received from their
Government by the German delegation; their consternation;
Professor Zorn and Secretary Holls sent to Berlin; my personal
letter to Baron von Bulow. Means by which the Conference was kept
from meeting until the return of these two gentlemen. Festival
given by the Netherlands Government to the Conference. Tableaux
and dances representing art and life in the Dutch provinces.
Splendid music. Visit to Leyden. Arrival of Speaker Reed of the
American House of Representatives. The Secretary of State
authorizes our placing a wreath of silver and gold on the tomb of
Grotius. Session regarding the extension of the Geneva Rules.
Return of Zorn and Holls from Berlin. Happy change in the
attitude of Germany. Henceforward American and German delegates
work together in favor of arbitration. Question of asphyxiating
bullets and bombs; view of Captain Mahan and Captain Crozier on
these subjects. Curious speech of the delegate from Persia, Mirza
Riza Khan. Great encouragement given by the new attitude of
Germany. Preparation at Delft for our Grotius celebration. Visit
to Rotterdam and Dort. Thoughts upon the Synod of Dort. Visit to
the house from which John De Witt went to prison and
assassination, and where Motley wrote much of his history.
Trouble regarding the relation of Switzerland to the Red Cross
Movement. The Duke of Tetuan. The Grotius wreath.


CHAPTER XLIX. AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN DELEGATION AT THE
PEACE CONFERENCE OF THE HAGUE: V--1899

Celebration of Independence Day at Delft in the presence of the
entire Conference and of eminent Netherlanders; speeches by the
Netherlands ministers and American delegates; telegram from the
King of Sweden. Impressive character of the service; the wreath
placed upon the tomb; breakfast given by our delegation to the
Conference, at the City Hall of Delft. Presentation of the
American Memorial in behalf of the immunity of private property
on the high seas; my speech in its favor: friendly answer by M.
de Martens in behalf of Russia. Visit to M. Cornets de Groot at
Ryswyck; relics of his great ancestor; curious information
regarding the latter. Dinner to the American delegation by the
prime minister of the Netherlands, happy reference to the
arbitration plan. Effects of our Grotius celebration. Great
dinner given by the Queen to the Conference at the palace in
Amsterdam, her speech; her conversations afterward. General
satisfaction shown at our Grotius tribute. My conversation with
Mr. Raffalovitch regarding Russian disarmament. Its difficulties.
Unfortunate article in the London "Spectator" on the work of the
Conference. Attack in the Conference upon the report on
disarmament. Discussion of matters subsidiary to arbitration.
Hostile attitude of the Balkan States toward the  commission
d'enquette ; ill feeling quieted. Field day regarding flattening
and expanding bullets; attitude of the British and American
delegates. Difficulties regarding the Monroe Doctrine; special
meeting called by our delegation to obviate these, apparent
impossibility of doing so; project of an American declaration;
private agreement upon it among leaders of the Conference,
agreement of the Conference to it. Final signing of the
conventions; seal used by me; reservation in behalf of the Monroe
Doctrine attached to our signatures. Closing of the Conference.
Speeches of M. de Staal and Count Munster. Drawing up of our
report; difficulties arising from sundry differences of opinion
in our delegation. Final meeting of the Conference. Remarks of
the leading representative of a Catholic power, on the
correspondence between the Vatican and the Netherlands Government
which had been presented to the Conference. Retrospect of the
Conference. Summary of its results.


CHAPTER L. HINTS FOR REFORMS IN THE DIPLOMATIC SERVICE

My connection with the Diplomatic Service at periods during the
last forty-five years. Questions which have been asked me
regarding it; reasons why I have not thought it best to reply
fully; reasons why I can now do so. Improvement in our service
since the Civil War; its condition during various administrations
before the Civil War; sundry examples. Mr. Seward's remark.
Improvement in the practice of both parties during recent years.
President Cleveland-s worthy effort. Better public sentiment
among the people at large. Unjust charges of pessimists. Good
points in our service at various posts, and especially at London.
Faults of our service at present. My replies to young men anxious
to St themselves for it. Simplicity of the most important
reforms; suggestions. Choice of Ambassadors; of Ministers
Plenipotentiary; of Ministers Resident; of Secretaries of Embassy
and of Legation. Proper preparation of Secretaries; relation of
our Universities to it-part which should be taken in their
selection by the Secretary of State. Appointment of expert
attaches. Probable good results of the system proposed. Evil
results of the present system. Retention of the men best fitted.
Examples of English non-partizanship in such appointments.
Foremost importance of proper houses or apartments, owned or
leased for long terms by the United States for each of its
representatives abroad; evil results of the present system;
certainty of good results from the reform advocated. Present
American system contrasted with that of other nations. Services
rendered by sundry American diplomatists. Cheapness of our
diplomatic establishment compared with its value. Increase of
salaries. Summing up of results of all the reforms herein
advocated.


PART VI-SUNDRY JOURNEYS AND EXPERIENCES

CHAPTER LI. EARLIER EXCURSIONS IN THE UNITED STATES--1838-1875

Usefulness of various journeys to me. Excursion through central
and western New York in 1838--in middle Massachusetts, Boston,
and New York City in 1842. Impression made by Trinity Church.
Beginning of visits to Saratoga in 1843; life there; visits of
Archbishop Hughes, Father Gavazzi, Washington Irving, Mr.
Buchanan; the Parade of Mme. Jumel. Remarkable progress of the
city of New York northward as seen at various visits. First visit
to the West. Chicago in 1858; the raising of the grade; Mr.
George Pullman's part in it. Impression made on me by the
Mississippi River. Sundry stays in Boston. Mr. Josiah Quincy.
Arthur Gilman; his stories and speeches; his delivery of Bishop
Eastburn's sermons; his stories regarding the Bishop. Men met at
Boston. Celebration of Bayard Taylor's birthday with James T.
Fields; reminiscences and stories given by the company; example
of Charles Sumner's lack of humor. Excursions in the Southern
States. Visit to Richmond at the close of the war; Libby Prison;
meeting with Dr. Bacon of New Haven at the former Executive
Mansion of the Confederacy. Visit to Gettysburg; fearful
condition of the battle-field and its neighborhood. Visit to
South Carolina, 1875. Florida. A negro church; discovery of a
Christmas carol imbedded in a plantation hymn. Excursion up the
St. Johns River. Visit to Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. Collection
of books on the Civil War. A visit to Martha's Vineyard; pious
amusements; "Nearer, My God, to Thee" played as a waltz.


CHAPTER LII. ENGLAND REVISITED-1885

Reason for going abroad after my resignation of the Cornell
Presidency in 1885. "Tom Brown" at sea; sundry stories of his.
Southwest of England. Visit to the historian Freeman at Wells.
The Bishop and his palace. The Judge's dinner. The Squires in the
Court of Quarter Sessions. A Gladstonian meeting; Freeman's
speech; his defense of the last Abbot of Glastonbury. Bishop
Bickersteth at Heavitree and Exeter. The caves at Torquay and
their lessons. Worcester Cathedral and Deanery. "The Bungalow" of
Halliwell-Phillips at Brighton. Oxford; chapel of All Souls
College--?? interesting change seen at Magdalen; Bryce's
comparisons between British and American problems; visits to
various colleges. Discussions of university affairs. Freeman's
lectures. To Windsor. Stay with Sir Paul Hunter at Mortimer.
Visit to Bearwood. Mr. John Walter of the "Times." Visit to
"Bramshill." Cambridge. New acquaintances. Talks with Bishop
Creighton and Sir Henry Maine. Beginnings of technical
instruction at Cambridge. A Greek play. Lord Lytton. Professor
Seeley and his lectures. "Audit dinner" at Trinity College.
Professor Mahaffy's stories of Archbishop Whately. London. Talks
with Lecky.


CHAPTER LIII. FRANCE, ITALY, AND SWITZEBLAND--1886-1887

Mme. Blaze de Bury. From Paris to the Riviera. James Bryce.
George von Bunsen. Sir Charles Murray. Lord Acton; discussions
with the latter; his wide range of knowledge; his information
regarding Father Paul, the Congregation of the Index, etc. Sir
Henry Keating and the discussion at the  Cercle Nautique  of
Cannes. Lord Acton's view of Napoleon. Florence; talks with
Villari. Naples; the Doctrine of Intercession as shown in sundry
pictures. Amalfi. Sorrento; the Catechism of Archbishop Apuzzo;
Francis Galton; his discussion of dreams; Marion Crawford; Mr.
Mayall's story of Herbert Spencer. Visit to Monte Cassino; talk
with a novice. Excursions in Rome with Lanciani. Cardinal Edward
at St. Peter's. Discussions of Italian affairs with Minghetti,
Sambuy, and others. The sculptor Story. Non-intercourse between
Vatican and Quirinal. Judge Stallo. The Abbot of St. Paul Outside
the Walls; bis minute knowledge of certain American affairs.
Count de Gubernatis, at Florence, on the legendary character of
sundry Hindu marvels. Count Ressi and his Catawba wine. Alfieri
Sostegno and his school for political and social studies.
Ubaldino Peruzzi. Stay at the Italian lakes. Visit to my
colleague, Minister Both, in Switzerland; his duties as 
Landamman . The Abbey of St. Gall and its library. Visit to the
Engadine. Talks with the British Admiral Irvine, at St. Moritz;
his advocacy of war vessels with beaks. Sermon at Geneva. Talks
with Mme. Blaze de Bury and Lecky at Paris. Architectural
excursions through the east of France. Outrages by "restorers" at
Rheims and at Troyes. London. Sermon by Temple, then bishop. More
talks with Lecky; his views of Earl Russell and of Carlyle.
Return to America.


CHAPTER LIV. EGYPT, GREECE, AND TURKEY-1888-1889

A great sorrow and disappointment. Court of Appeals decides the
Fiske suit, June, 1888. Reasons for going abroad. Scotland
revisited. Memorable sermon at St. Giles in Edinburgh. Cathedral
towns revisited. Sermons at Lichfield. The House of Commons;
scene between the Irish leaders and Mr. Balfour. A political
meeting in Holborn. Excursions to Rugby; to the home of Gilbert
White; to the graves of Gray, Thackeray, and others. A critic of
Carlyle at Brighton. Cambridge; interesting papers regarding the
American Revolution. Lord Aberdare's story of Frederick the Great
and a British minister. Hermit life in London; work at the
British Museum. Journey through Italy and Egypt with Willard
Fiske; effect of Egyptian and other Eastern experiences on me;
five weeks on the Nile; Brugsch Bey's account of his discovery of
the royal mummies; my visit to Artin Pasha and the great
Technical School of Cairo. Dinner with the Khedive; my curious
blunder. American and English missionaries in Cairo and
Alexandria; Dr. Grant's lecture on the Egyptian Trinities. Mr.
Nimr; bis scientific and other activities in Egypt. My enjoyment
of Saracenic architecture. Revelation to me of the connection
between Egyptian and Greek architecture. Disappointment in the
work of missionaries in Mohammedan countries. Stay in Athens.
Professor Waldstein. The American School of Archaeology.
Excursions with Walker Fearne and Professor Mahaffy. A talk with
the Greek prime minister. A function at the cathedral. Visit to
Mars Hill on Good Friday. To Constantinople. Our minister, Mr.
Straus. Discussions of art by Hamdi Bey and of literature by Sir
William White. Revelations of history and architecture in
Constantinople. St. Sophia. Return to Paris. The Exposition of
1889. The American "commission of experts"; its good and bad
sides. Great improvement in American art. Sargent and Melchers.
Tributes, in Paris, to Lafayette and Camille Desmoulins. Walks
and talks with Senator Gibson; our journey together to Homburg
and Belgium.


CHAPTER LV. MEXICO, CALIFORNIA, SCANDINAVIA, RUSSIA, ITALY,
LONDON, AND BERLIN-1892-1897

My stay of two years in America. Lectures at the University of
Pennsylvania. Archbishop Ryan's Latin pun. The Mohonk Conference
and President Hayes. Excursion with Andrew Carnegie to Mexico,
California, and Oregon. Meetings with Cornell students. Cathedral
of Mexico. Our reception by President Porfirio Diaz and his
ministers. Beauty of California in spring. Its two universities.
My relations with Stanford; pleasure in this visit to it;
character of its buildings; my lectures there. Visit to Salt Lake
City. To the Chicago Exposition buildings. The University of
Chicago and its work. My appointment as minister to St.
Petersburg. My arrival there on November 4, 1892. A vacation
visit to the Scandinavian countries. The University and Cathedral
of Upsala. Journey through the Swedish canals and lakes.
Gothenburg. Swedish system of dealing with the sale of
intoxicating liquors; its happy results. Throndheim; cathedral;
evidences of mediaeval piety and fraud. Impression made by Sweden
and Norway New evolution of human folly in Norway. The
Ethnographic Museum at Copenhagen. Moscow revisited. Muscovite
ideas of trade. My visit to Tolstoi. Resignation of my legation
at St. Petersburg. Italy revisited. Stay in Palermo The Church of
St. Josaphat; identity of this saint with Buddha; my talk
regarding him with the Commendatore Marzo. Visit to the Cathedral
of Monreale. The media val idea of creation as revealed in its
mosaics. The earthquake at Florence; our experiences of it; its
effects in the town. Return to America. Conversation with Holman
Hunt in London. Visits to sundry American universities; my
addresses before their students; reasons for publicly discussing
"The Problem of High Crime" in our country. The Venezuelan
Commission. My appointment in May, 1897, as ambassador to
Germany.


PART VII-MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS

CHAPTER LVI. THE CARDIFF GIANT: A CHAPTER IN THE HISTORY OF HUMAN
FOLLY--1869-1870

Twofold characteristics of the central route from New York to
Niagara. The lake country of western New York. The Onondaga
Valley  characteristics of its people; their agitation in the
autumn of 1869. Discovery of the "petrified giant." My visit to
it; my skepticism; its causes. Evolution of myth and legend.
General joy in believing in the marvelous origin of the statue.
Gradual growth of a skeptical view. Confirmation of suspicions.
Desperate efforts to resist skepticism. Clear proofs of a
swindle. Attempted revival of belief in it. Alexander McWhorter;
he declares the statue a Phenician idol, and detects a Phenician
inscription upon it. View of Dr. Schlottmann, Instructor in
Hebrew at Leipsic. My answer to his inquiry. Be persists in his
belief. Final acknowledgment and explanation of the whole thing
as a swindle. Sundry later efforts to imitate it.


CHAPTER LVII. PLANS AND PROJECTS, EXECUTED AND 
UNEXECUTED--1838-1905

My early reverence for authors. Youthful tendency toward literary
studies. Change in this respect during my stay at Yale.
Difference between the Yale and Harvard spirit. Senator Wolcott's
speech on this. Special influence of Parker and Carlyle upon my
view of literature. My purpose in various writings. Preparations
for lectures upon the French Revolution and for a book upon its
causes; probabilities of this book at present. "Paper Money
Inflation in France," etc. Course of lectures upon the history of
Germany. Resultant plan of a book; form to be given it; reasons
for this form; its present prospects. My discussion of sundry
practical questions. Report as Commissioner at the Paris
Exposition of 1878; resultant address on "The Provision for
Higher Instruction in Subjects Bearing Directly on Public
Affairs." Happy progress of our universities in this respect.
Civil-service reform; speeches; article in the "North American
Review." Address at Yale on "The Message of the Nineteenth
Century to the Twentieth." Some points in the evolution of my
"History of the Warfare of Science with Theology." Projects
formed during sundry vacation journeys in Europe. Lectures on the
evolution of humanity in criminal law; growth of torture in
penalty and procedure; collection of material on the, subject.
Project of a small book to be called "The Warfare of Humanity
with Unreason." Vague project during sundry stays at Florence of
a history of that city; attractive points in such a history.
Project of a Life of Father Paul Sarpi formed at Venice; its
relinquishment; importance of such a biography. Plan for a study
on the Life of St. Francis Xavier; beauty of his life; lesson
taught by it regarding the evolution of myth -and legend. Project
of a brief biography of Thomas Jefferson; partly carried out; how
formed and why discarded. Bibliographical introduction to
O'Connor Morris's short history of the French Revolution. Project
of a longer general bibliography of modern bi story transferred
to President Charles Kendall Adams. Project of book, "How Can
Wealthy Americans Best Use Their Money"; Deed of such a book in
the United States. Lectures given and articles projected on "The
Problem of High Crime in the United States"; reasons for taking
up this subject. Two projects of which I have dreamed; A brief
History of the Middle Ages as an introduction to Modern History;
desirable characteristics of such a book; beginnings made of it
in my lectures: "A History of Civilization in Spain"; reasons for
such a book; excellent material accessible: general
characteristics of such a history; recommendation of this subject
to historical scholars. Characteristics of American life in the
latter half of the nineteenth century unfavorable to the carrying
out of many extended projects. Distractions. An  apologia pro
vita mea.


PART VIII-RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT

CHAPTER LVIII. EARLY IMPRESSIONS--1832-1851

Religious ideas of the settlers in central New York. The
Protestant Episcopal Church; its relations to larger Christian
bodies. Effects of revivalism in them. My father and mother. A
soul escaped out of the thirteenth century into the nineteenth,
Henry Gregory. My first recollections of religious worship;
strong impressions upon me; good effects; some temporary evil
effects. Syracuse. My early bigotry; check in it; reaction.
Family influences. Influence of sundry sermons and occurrences.
Baptismal regeneration. My feelings as expressed by Lord Bacon.
The "Ursuline Manual" and its revelation. Effects of sectarian
squabbles and Sunday-school zeal. Bishop DeLancey; his impressive
personality. Effects of certain books. Life at a little sectarian
college. Results of "Christian Evidences".


CHAPTER LIX. IN THE NEW ENGLAND ATMOSPHERE--1851-1853

Influence of New England Congregationalism at Yale. Butler's
"Analogy." Revivals. Sermons and prayers in the college pulpit.
Noble efforts of sundry professors, especially sermons of Horace
Bushnell and President Woolsey. The recital of creeds. Effects of
my historical reading. Injury done the American Church at that
period by its support of slavery; notable exceptions to this.
Samuel J. May. Beecher. Chapin. Theodore Parker. Influence of the
latter upon me. Especial characteristics of Beecher as shown then
and afterward. Chapin and his characteristics. Horace Greeley as
a church-goer; strain upon his Universalism. Dr. Leonard Bacon.
Bishop Alonzo Potter. Archbishops Bedini and Hughes; powerful
sermon by the latter; Father Gavazzi's reply to it.


CHAPTER LX. IN THE EUROPEAN ATMOSPHERE--1853-1856

Student life in Europe. My susceptibility to religious
architecture, music, and the nobler forms of ceremonial. Beauties
of the Anglican service. Sundry experiences in European
cathedrals and English university chapels. Archbishop Sumner.
Bishop Wilberforce. My life in a Roman Catholic family in Paris.
Noble work of the Archbishop of Paris. Sibour; his assassination.
German Protestantism as seen in Berlin. Earnest character of
Roman Catholic worship in central Germany. The Russo-Greek Church
as seen in Russia; beauty of its service; its unfortunate
influence on the people. Roman Catholicism in Italy; its wretched
condition when I first saw it; irreverence of prelates at an
Easter high mass in st. Peter's. Pius IX; effectiveness of the
ceremonial in which he took part; Lord Odo Russell's reminiscence
of him. A low mass at Pisa and its effect. An effort at
proselytism in Rome; Father Cataldi. Condition of Rome at that
time. Improvements since. Naples and "King Bomba"; Robert Dale
Owen's statement to me. Catechism promoted by the Archbishop of
Sorrento. Liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius; remark of a
bystander to me. The doctrine of "intercession" illustrated.
Erasmus's colloquy of "The Shipwreck." Moral condition of Naples.
Influence of this Italian experience upon my religious views.


CHAPTER LXI. IN LATER YEARS--1856-1905

My relations with Professor Fisher at New Haven; his good
influence. My interest in church work as a professor at the
University of Michigan; am asked to select a rector; my success.
Readings in ecclesiastical history; effect of these. Sale's
Koran. Fra Paolo Sarpi's "History of the Council of Trent." Dean
Stanley's "Eastern Church." Bossuet, Spalding, Balmez, Buckle,
Lecky, Draper, the Darwinian hypothesis. Special influence of
Stanley's "Life of Arnold," Robertson's Sermons, and other works.
Good influences from sundry Methodists. Exceptions taken by
individuals to sundry Broad Church statements in my historical
lectures; their favorable reception. Sobering effect upon me of
"spiritualistic" fanaticism. My increasing reluctance to promote
revolutionary changes in religion; my preference for evolutionary
methods. Special experiences. The death-bed of a Hicksite Quaker.
My toleration ideas embodied in the Cornell University Charter;
successful working of these. Establishment of a university chapel
and preachership; my selections of preachers; good effects of
their sermons upon me. Effects of sundry Eastern experiences.
Mohammedan worship at Cairo and elsewhere. The dervishes.
Expulsion of young professors from the American Missionary
College at Beyrout; noble efforts of one of tbem afterward. The
Positivist Conventicle in London. The "Bible for Learners."
Summing up of my experience. Worship--public and private;
reasonableness of both. Recognition of spiritual as well as of
physical laws. Recognition of an evolution in religious beliefs.
Proper attitude of thinking men. Efforts for evolution rather
than for revolution. Need of charity to all forms of religion but
of steady resistance to clerical combinations for hampering
scientific thought or controlling public education.


LIST OF PUBLICATIONS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS.



 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ANDREW DICKSON WHITE

Volume II


CHAPTER XXXIII

AS MINISTER TO RUSSIA--1892-1894

During four years after my return from service as minister to
Germany I devoted myself to the duties of the presidency at
Cornell, and on resigning that position gave all time possible to
study and travel, with reference to the book on which I was then
engaged: "A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology."

But in 1892 came a surprise. In the reminiscences of my political
life I have given an account of a visit, with Theodore Roosevelt,
Cabot Lodge, Sherman Rogers, and others, to President Harrison at
the White House, and of some very plain talk, on both sides,
relating to what we thought shortcomings of the administration in
regard to reform in the civil service. Although President
Harrison greatly impressed me at the time by the clearness and
strength of his utterances, my last expectation in the world
would have been of anything in the nature of an appointment from
him. High officials do not generally think very well of people
who comment unfavorably on their doings or give them unpleasant
advice; this I had done, to the best of my ability, in addressing
the President; and great, therefore, was my astonishment when, in
1892, he tendered me the post of minister plenipotentiary at St.
Petersburg.

On my way I stopped in London, and saw various interesting
people, but especially remember a luncheon with Lord Rothschild,
with whom I had a very interesting talk about the treatment of
the Jews in Russia. He seemed to feel deeply the persecution to
which they were subjected,--speaking with much force regarding
it, and insisting that their main crime was that they were sober,
thoughtful, and thrifty; that as to the charge that they were
preying upon the agricultural population, they preyed upon it as
do the Quakers in England--by owning agricultural machines and
letting them out; that as to the charge of usury, they were much
less exacting than many Christians; and that the main effort upon
public opinion there, such as it is, should be in the direction
of preventing the making of more severe laws. He incidentally
referred to the money power of Europe as against Russia, speaking
of Alexander II as kind and just, but of Alexander III as really
unacquainted with the great questions concerned, and under
control of the church.

I confess that I am amazed, as I revise this chapter, to learn
from apparently trustworthy sources that his bank is now making a
vast loan to Russia--to enable her to renew her old treatment of
Japan, China, Armenia, Finland, Poland, the Baltic Provinces, and
her Jewish residents. I can think of nothing so sure to
strengthen the anti-Semites throughout the world.

A few days later Sir Julian Goldschmidt came to me on the same
subject, and he impressed me much more deeply than the head of
the house of Rothschild had done. There was nothing of the
ennobled millionaire about him; he seemed to me a gentleman from
the heart outward. Presenting with much feeling the disabilities
and hardships of the Jews in Russia, he dwelt upon the
discriminations against them, especially in the matter of
military fines; their gradual and final exclusion from
professions; and the confiscation of their property at Moscow,
where they had been forced to leave the city and therefore to
realize on their whole estates at a few days' notice.

At Paris I also had some interesting conversations, regarding my
new post, with the Vicomte de Vogue, the eminent academician, who
has written so much that is interesting on Russia. Both he and
Struve, the Russian minister at Washington, who had given me a
letter to him, had married into the Annenkoff family; and I found
his knowledge of Russia, owing to this fact as well as to his
former diplomatic residence there, very suggestive. Another
interesting episode was the funeral of Renan at the College de
France, to which our minister, Mr. Coolidge, took me. Eloquent
tributes were paid, and the whole ceremony was impressive after
the French manner.

Dining with Mr. Coolidge, I found myself seated near the Duchesse
de la Rochefoucauld,--a charming American, the daughter of Mr.
Mitchell, former senator from Oregon. The duke seemed to be a
quiet, manly young officer, devoted to his duties in the army;
but it was hard to realize in him the successor of the great
duke, the friend of Washington and of Louis XVI, who showed
himself so broad-minded during our War of Independence and the
French Revolution.

At Berlin I met several of my old friends at the table of our
minister, my friend of Yale days, William Walter Phelps--among
these Virchow, Professor von Leyden, Paul Meyerheim, Carl Becker,
and Theodor Barth; and at the Russian Embassy had an interesting
talk with Count Shuvaloff, more especially on the Behring Sea
question. We agreed that the interests of the United States and
Russia in the matter were identical.

On the 4th of November I arrived in St. Petersburg after an
absence of thirty-seven years. Even in that country, where
everything moves so slowly, there had clearly been changes; the
most evident of these being the railway from the frontier. At my
former visit the journey from Berlin had required nine days and
nine nights of steady travel, mainly in a narrow post-coach; now
it was easily done in one day and two nights in very comfortable
cars. At that first visit the entire railway system of Russia,
with the exception of the road from the capital to Gatshina only
a few miles long, consisted of the line to Moscow; at this second
visit the system had spread very largely over the empire, and was
rapidly extending through Siberia and Northern China to the
Pacific.

But the deadening influence of the whole Russian system was
evident. Persons who clamor for governmental control of American
railways should visit Germany, and above all Russia, to see how
such control results. In Germany its defects are evident enough;
people are made to travel in carriages which our main lines would
not think of using, and with a lack of conveniences which with us
would provoke a revolt; but the most amazing thing about this
administration in Russia is to see how, after all this vast
expenditure, the whole atmosphere of the country seems to
paralyze energy. During my stay at St. Petersburg I traveled over
the line between that city and Berlin six or eight times, and
though there was usually but one express-train a day, I never saw
more than twenty or thirty through passengers. When one bears in
mind the fact that this road is the main artery connecting one
hundred and twenty millions of people at one end with over two
hundred millions at the other, this seems amazing; but still more
so when one considers that in. the United States, with a
population of, say, eighty millions in all, we have five great
trunk-lines across the continent, each running large
express-trains several times a day.

There was apparently little change as regards enterprise in
Russia, whatever there might be as regarded facilities for
travel. St. Petersburg had grown, of course. There were new
streets in the suburbs, and where the old admiralty wharves had
stood,--for the space of perhaps an eighth of a mile along the
Neva,--fine buildings had been erected. But these were the only
evident changes, the renowned Nevskii Prospekt remaining as
formerly--a long line of stuccoed houses on either side, almost
all poor in architecture; and the street itself the same unkempt,
shabby, commonplace thoroughfare as of old. No new bridge had
been built across the Neva for forty years. There was still but
one permanent structure spanning the river, and the great stream
of travel and traffic between the two parts of the city was
dependent mainly on the bridges of boats, which, at the breaking
of the ice in the spring, had sometimes to be withdrawn during
many days.

A change had indeed been brought by the emancipation of the
serfs, but there was little outward sign of it. The muzhik
remained, to all appearance, what he was before: in fact, as our
train drew into St. Petersburg, the peasants, with their
sheepskin caftans, cropped hair, and stupid faces, brought back
the old impressions so vividly that I seemed not to have been
absent a week. The old atmosphere of repression was evident
everywhere. I had begun my experience of it under Nicholas I, had
seen a more liberal policy under Alexander II, but now found a
recurrence of reaction, and everywhere a pressure which deadened
all efforts at initiating a better condition of things.

But I soon found one change for the better. During my former stay
under Nicholas I and Alexander II, the air was full of charges of
swindling and cheatery against the main men at court. Now next to
nothing of that sort was heard; it was evident that Alexander
III, narrow and illiberal though he might be, was an honest man,
and determined to end the sort of thing that had disgraced the
reigns of his father and grandfather.

Having made the usual visit to the Foreign Office upon my
arrival, I was accompanied three days later by the proper
officials, Prince Soltykoff and M. de Koniar, on a special train
to Gatchina, and there received by the Emperor. I found
him--though much more reserved than his father--agreeable and
straightforward. As he was averse to set speeches, we began at
once a discussion on various questions interesting the two
nations, and especially those arising out of the Behring Sea
fisheries. He seemed to enter fully into the American view;
characterizing the marauders in that sea as "ces poachers
la"--using the English word, although our conversation was in
French; and on my saying that the Russian and American interests
in that question were identical, he not only acquiesced, but
spoke at considerable length, and earnestly, in the same sense.

He alluded especially to the Chicago Exposition, spoke in praise
of its general conception and plan, said that though in certain
classes of objects of art it might not equal some of the European
expositions, it would doubtless in very many specialties surpass
all others; and on my expressing the hope that Russia would be
fully represented, he responded heartily, declaring that to be
his own wish.

Among the various subjects noted was one which was rather
curious. In the anteroom I had found the Greek Archbishop of
Warsaw arrayed in a purple robe and hat--the latter adorned with
an exceedingly lustrous cross of diamonds, and, engaging in
conversation with him, had learned that he had a few years before
visited China as a missionary; his talk was that of a very
intelligent man; and on my saying that one of our former American
bishops, Dr. Boone, in preparing a Chinese edition of the
Scriptures had found great difficulty in deciding upon a proper
equivalent for the word "God," the archbishop answered, "That is
quite natural, for the reason that the Chinese have really no
conception of such a Being."

Toward the close of my interview with the Emperor, then, I
referred to the archbishop, and congratulated the monarch on
having so accomplished and devoted a prelate in his church. At
this he said, "You speak Russian, then?" to which I answered in
the negative. "But," he said, "how then could you talk with the
archbishop?" I answered, "He spoke in French." The Emperor seemed
greatly surprised at this, and well he might be, for the
ecclesiastics in Russia seem the only exceptions to the rule that
Russians speak French and other foreign languages better and more
generally than do any other people.

This interview concluded, I was taken through a long series of
apartments filled with tapestries, porcelain, carvings,
portraits, and the like, to be received by the Empress. She was
slight in figure, graceful, with a most kindly face and manner,
and she put me at ease immediately, addressing me in English, and
detaining me much longer than I had expected. She, too, spoke of
the Chicago Exposition, saying that she had ordered some things
of her own sent to it. She also referred very pleasantly to the
Rev. Dr. Talmage of Brooklyn, who had come over on one of the
ships which brought supplies to the famine-stricken; and she
dwelt upon sundry similarities and dissimilarities between our
own country and Russia, discussing various matters of local
interest, and was in every way cordial and kindly.

The impression made by the Emperor upon me at that time was
deepened during my whole stay. He was evidently a strong
character, but within very unfortunate limits--upright, devoted
to his family, with a strong sense of his duty to his people and
of his accountability to the Almighty. But more and more it
became evident that his political and religious theories were
narrow, and that the assassination of his father had thrown him
back into the hands of reactionists. At court and elsewhere I
often found myself looking at him and expressing my thoughts
inwardly much as follows: "You are honest, true-hearted, with a
deep sense of duty; but what a world of harm you are destined to
do! With your immense physical frame and giant strength, you will
last fifty years longer; you will try by main force to hold back
the whole tide of Russian thought; and after you will come the
deluge." There was nothing to indicate the fact that he was just
at the close of his life.

At a later period I was presented to the heir to the throne, now
the Emperor Nicholas II. He seemed a kindly young man; but one of
his remarks amazed and disappointed me. During the previous year
the famine, which had become chronic in large parts of Russia,
had taken an acute form, and in its train had come typhus and
cholera. It was, in fact, the same wide-spread and deadly
combination of starvation and disease which similar causes
produced so often in Western-Europe during the middle ages. From
the United States had come large contributions of money and
grain; and as, during the year after my arrival, there had been a
recurrence of the famine, about forty thousand rubles more had
been sent me from Philadelphia for distribution. I therefore
spoke on the general subject to him, referring to the fact that
he was president of the Imperial Relief Commission. He answered
that since the crops of the last year there was no longer any
suffering; that there was no famine worthy of mention; and that
he was no longer giving attention to the subject. This was said
in an offhand, easy-going way which appalled me. The simple fact
was that the famine, though not so wide-spread, was more trying
than during the year before; for it found the peasant population
in Finland and in the central districts of the empire even less
prepared to meet it. They had, during the previous winter, very
generally eaten their draught-animals and burned everything not
absolutely necessary for their own shelter; from Finland
specimens of bread made largely of ferns had been brought me
which it would seem a shame to give to horses or cattle; and yet
his imperial highness the heir to the throne evidently knew
nothing of all this.

In explanation, I was afterward told by a person who had known
him intimately from his childhood, that, though courteous, his
main characteristic was an absolute indifference to most persons
and things about him, and that he never showed a spark of
ambition of any sort. This was confirmed by what I afterward saw
of him at court. He seemed to stand about listlessly, speaking in
a good-natured way to this or that person when it was easier than
not to do so; but, on the whole, indifferent to all which went on
about him.

After his accession to the throne, one of the best judges in
Europe, who had many opportunities to observe him closely, said
to me, "He knows nothing of his empire or of his people; he never
goes out of his house, if he can help it." This explains in some
degree the insufficiency of his programme for the Peace
Conference at The Hague and for the Japanese War, which, as I
revise these lines, is bringing fearful disaster and disgrace
upon Russia.

The representative of a foreign power in any European capital
must be presented to the principal members of the reigning
family, and so I paid my respects to the grand dukes and
duchesses. The first and most interesting of these to me was the
old Grand Duke Michael--the last surviving son of the first
Nicholas. He was generally, and doubtless rightly, regarded as,
next to his elder brother, Alexander II, the flower of the flock;
and his reputation was evidently much enhanced by comparison with
his brother next above him in age, the Grand Duke Nicholas. It
was generally charged that the conduct of the latter during the
Turkish campaign was not only unpatriotic, but inhuman. An army
officer once speaking to me regarding the suffering of his
soldiers at that time for want of shoes, I asked him where the
shoes were, and he answered: "In the pockets of the Grand Duke
Nicholas."

Michael was evidently different from his brother--not haughty and
careless toward all other created beings; but kindly, and with a
strong sense of duty. One thing touched me. I said to him that
the last time I had seen him was when he reached St. Petersburg
from the seat of the Crimean War in the spring of 1855, and drove
from the railway to the palace in company with his brother
Nicholas. Instantly the tears came into his eyes and flowed down
his cheeks. He answered: "Yes, that was sad indeed. My
father"--meaning the first Emperor Nicholas--"telegraphed us that
our mother was in very poor health, longed to see us, and
insisted on our coming to her bedside. On our way home we learned
of his death."

Of the younger generation of grand dukes,--the brothers of
Alexander III,--the greatest impression was made upon me by
Vladimir. He was apparently the strongest of all the sons of
Alexander II, being of the great Romanoff breed--big, strong,
muscular, like his brother the Emperor. He chatted pleasantly;
and I remember that he referred to Mr. James Gordon Bennett--whom
he had met on a yachting cruise--as "my friend."

Another of these big Romanoff grand dukes was Alexis, the grand
admiral. He referred to his recollections of the United States
with apparent pleasure, in spite of the wretched Catacazy
imbroglio which hindered President Grant from showing him any
hospitality at the White House, and which so vexed his father the
Emperor Alexander II.

The ladies of the imperial family were very agreeable. A remark
of one of them--a beautiful and cultivated woman, born a princess
of one of the Saxon duchies--surprised me; for, when I happened
to mention Dresden, she told me that her great desire had been to
visit that capital of her own country, but that she had never
been able to do so. She spoke of German literature, and as I
mentioned receiving a letter the day before from Professor Georg
Ebers, the historical novelist, she said: "You are happy indeed
that you can meet such people; how I should like to know Ebers!"
Such are the limitations of royalty.

Meantime, I made visits to my colleagues of the diplomatic corps,
and found them interesting and agreeable--as it is the business
of diplomatists to be. The dean was the German ambassador,
General von Schweinitz, a man ideally fit for such a position--of
wide experience, high character, and evidently strong and firm,
though kindly. When ambassador at Vienna he had married the
daughter of his colleague, the American minister, Mr. John Jay,
an old friend and colleague of mine in the American Historical
Association; and so came very pleasant relations between us. His
plain, strong sense was of use to me in more than one difficult
question.

The British ambassador was Sir Robert Morier. He, too, was a
strong character, though lacking apparently in some of General
von Schweinitz's more kindly qualities. He was big, roughish, and
at times so brusque that he might almost be called brutal. When
bullying was needed it was generally understood that he could do
it con amore. A story was told of him which, whether exact or
not, seemed to fit his character well. He had been, for a time,
minister to Portugal; and, during one of his controversies with
the Portuguese minister of foreign affairs, the latter, becoming
exasperated, said to him: "Sir, it is evident that you were not
born a Portuguese cavalier." Thereupon Morier replied: "No, thank
God, I was not: if I had been, I would have killed myself on the
breast of my mother."

And here, perhaps, is the most suitable place for mentioning a
victory which Morier enabled Great Britain to obtain over the
United States. It might be a humiliating story for me to tell,
had not the fault so evidently arisen from the shortcomings of
others. The time has come to reveal this piece of history, and I
do so in the hope that it may aid in bettering the condition in
which the Congress of the United States has, thus far, left its
diplomatic servants.

As already stated, the most important question with which I had
to deal was that which had arisen in the Behring Sea. The United
States possessed there a great and flourishing fur-seal industry,
which was managed with care and was a source of large revenue to
our government. The killing of the seals under the direction of
those who had charge of the matter was done with the utmost care
and discrimination on the Pribyloff Islands, to which these
animals resorted in great numbers during the summer. It was not
at all cruel, and was so conducted that the seal herd was fully
maintained rather than diminished. But it is among the
peculiarities of the seals that, each autumn, they migrate
southward, returning each spring in large numbers along the
Alaskan coast, and also that, while at the islands, the nursing
mothers make long excursions to fishing-banks at distances of
from one to two hundred miles. The return of these seal herds,
and these food excursions, were taken advantage of by Canadian
marauders, who slaughtered the animals, in the water, without
regard to age or sex, in a way most cruel and wasteful; so that
the seal herds were greatly diminished and in a fair way to
extermination. Our government tried to prevent this and seized
sundry marauding vessels; whereupon Great Britain felt obliged,
evidently from political motives, to take up the cause of these
Canadian poachers and to stand steadily by them. As a last
resort, the government of the United States left the matter to
arbitration, and in due time the tribunal began its sessions at
Paris. Meantime, a British commission was, in 1891-1892, ordered
to prepare the natural-history material for the British case
before the tribunal; and it would be difficult to find a more
misleading piece of work than their report. Sham scientific facts
were supplied for the purposes of the British counsel at Paris.
While I cannot believe that the authorities in London ordered or
connived at this, it is simple justice to state, as a matter of
fact, that, as afterward in the Venezuela case,[1] so in this,
British agents were guilty of the sharpest of sharp practices.
The Russian fur-seal islands having also suffered to a
considerable extent from similar marauders, a British commission
visited the Russian islands and took testimony of the Russian
commandant in a manner grossly unfair. This commandant was an
honest man, with good powers of observation and with considerable
insight into the superficial facts of seal life, but without
adequate scientific training; his knowledge of English was very
imperfect, and the commission apparently led him to say and sign
just what they wanted. He was somehow made to say just the things
which were needed to help the British case, and not to say
anything which could hurt it. So absurd were the misstatements to
which he had thus been led to attach his name that the Russian
Government ordered him to come all the way from the Russian
islands on the coast of Siberia to St. Petersburg, there to be
reexamined. It was an enormous journey--from the islands to
Japan, from Japan to San Francisco, from San Francisco to New
York, and thence to St. Petersburg. There, with the aid of a
Russian expert, I had the satisfaction of putting questions to
him; and, having found the larger part of his previous alleged
testimony to be completely in conflict with his knowledge and
opinions, I forwarded this new testimony to those in charge of
the American case before the Paris tribunal, in the hope that it
would place the whole matter in its true light. With it was also
presented the concurring testimony taken by the American experts
who had been sent to the Behring Sea. Those experts were Drs.
Mendenhall and Merriam, scientists of the highest character, and
their reports were, in every essential particular, afterward
confirmed by another man of science, after study of the whole
question in the islands and on the adjacent seas--Dr. Jordan,
president of Stanford University, probably the highest authority
in the United States--and, perhaps, in the world--regarding the
questions at issue: a pupil and friend of Agassiz, a man utterly
incapable of making a statement regarding any point in science
which he did not fully believe, no matter what its political
bearing might be.


[1] See my chapter on the Venezuela Commission for the trick
attempted by British agents in the first British Blue Book on
that subject.


And now to another feature of the case. Before leaving Washington
for St. Petersburg, I had consulted with the Secretary of State
and the leading persons in charge of our case, and on my way had
talked with Count Shuvaloff, the Russian ambassador at Berlin;
and all agreed that the interests of the United States and Russia
in the matter of protecting the seals were identical. The only
wonder was that, this fact being so clear, the Russian Foreign
Office constantly held back from showing any active sympathy with
the United States in our efforts to right this wrong done to both
nations.

At my first presentation to the Emperor I found him, as already
stated, of the same opinion as the Washington cabinet and Count
Shuvaloff. He was thoroughly with us, was bitter against the
Canadian marauders, agreed in the most straightforward and
earnest manner that the interests of Russia and the United States
in this question were identical, and referred severely to the
British encroachments upon both the nations in the northern
seas.[2]


[2] See detailed account of this conversation previously given in
this chapter.


All went smoothly until I took up the subject at the Russian
Foreign Office. There I found difficulties, though at first I did
not fully understand them. The Emperor Alexander III was dying at
Livadia in the Crimea; M. de Giers, the minister of foreign
affairs, a man of high character, was dying at Tzarskoye Selo;
and in charge of his department was an under-secretary who had
formerly, for a short time, represented Russia at Washington and
had not been especially successful there. Associated with him was
another under-secretary, who was in charge of the Asiatic
division at the Russian Foreign Office. My case was strong, and I
was quite willing to meet Sir Robert Morier in any fair argument
regarding it. I had taken his measure on one or two occasions
when he had discussed various questions in my presence; and had
not the slightest fear that, in a fair presentation of the
matter, he could carry his point against me. At various times we
met pleasantly enough in the anterooms of the Foreign Office; but
at that period our representative at the Russian court was simply
a minister plenipotentiary and the British representative an
ambassador, and as such he, of course, had precedence over me,
with some adventitious advantages which I saw then, and others
which I realized afterward. It was not long before it became
clear that Sir Robert Morier had enormous "influence" with the
above-named persons in charge of the Foreign Office, and, indeed,
with Russian officials in general. They seemed not only to stand
in awe of him, but to look toward him as "the eyes of a maiden to
the hand of her mistress." I now began to understand the fact
which had so long puzzled our State Department--namely, that
Russia did not make common cause with us, though we were fighting
her battles at the same time with our own. But I struggled on,
seeing the officials frequently and doing the best that was
possible.

Meantime, the arbitration tribunal was holding its sessions at
Paris, and the American counsel were doing their best to secure
justice for our country. The facts were on our side, and there
seemed every reason to hope for a decision in our favor. A vital
question was as to how extensive the closed zone for the seals
about our islands should be. The United States showed that the
nursing seals were killed by the Canadian poachers at a distance
of from one to two hundred miles from the islands, and that
killing ought not to be allowed within a zone of that radius;
but, on the other hand, the effort of the British counsel was to
make this zone as small as possible. They had even contended for
a zone of only ten miles radius. But just at the nick of time Sir
Robert Morier intervened at St. Petersburg. No one but himself
and the temporary authorities of the Russian Foreign Office had,
or could have had, any knowledge of his manoeuver. By the means
which his government gave him power to exercise, he in some way
secured privately, from the underlings above referred to as in
temporary charge of the Foreign Office, an agreement with Great
Britain which practically recognized a closed zone of only thirty
miles radius about the Russian islands. This fact was telegraphed
just at the proper moment to the British representatives before
the tribunal; and, as one of the judges afterward told me, it
came into the case like a bomb. It came so late that any adequate
explanation of Russia's course was impossible, and its
introduction at that time was strenuously objected to by our
counsel; but the British lawyers thus got the fact fully before
the tribunal, and the tribunal naturally felt that in granting us
a sixty-mile radius--double that which Russia had asked of Great
Britain for a similar purpose--it was making a generous
provision. The conditions were practically the same at the
American and Russian seal islands; yet the Russian officials in
charge of the matter seemed entirely regardless of this fact,
and, indeed, of Russian interests. After secret negotiation with
Sir Robert, without the slightest hint to the American minister
of their intended sacrifice of their "identical interest with the
United States," they allowed this treachery to be sprung upon us.
The sixty-mile limit was established by the tribunal, and it has
proved utterly delusive. The result of this decision of the
tribunal was that this great industry of ours was undermined, if
not utterly destroyed; and that the United States were also
mulcted to the amount of several hundred thousand dollars,
besides the very great expense attending the presentation of her
case to the tribunal.

I now come back to the main point which has caused me to bring up
this matter in these reminiscences. How was it that Great Britain
obtained this victory? To what was it due? The answer is simple:
it was due to the fact that the whole matter at St. Petersburg
was sure to be decided, not by argument, but by "influence." Sir
Robert Morier had what in the Tammany vernacular is called a
"pull." His government had given him, as its representative, all
the means necessary to have his way in this and all other
questions like it; whereas the American Government had never
given its representative any such means or opportunities. The
British representative was an AMBASSADOR, and had a spacious,
suitable, and well-furnished house in which he could entertain
fitly and largely, and to which the highest Russian officials
thought it an honor to be invited. The American representatives
were simply MINISTERS; from time immemorial had never had such a
house; had generally no adequate place for entertaining; had to
live in apartments such as they might happen to find vacant in
various parts of the town--sometimes in very poor quarters,
sometimes in better; were obliged to furnish them at their own
expense; had, therefore, never been able to obtain a tithe of
that social influence, so powerful in Russia, which was exercised
by the British Embassy.

More than this, the British ambassador had adequate means
furnished him for exercising political influence. The American
representatives had not; they had been stinted in every way. The
British ambassador had a large staff of thoroughly trained
secretaries and attaches, the very best of their kind,--well
educated to begin with, thoroughly trained afterward,--serving as
antennae for Great Britain in Russian society; and as the first
secretary of his embassy he had no less a personage than Henry
Howard, now Sir Henry Howard, minister at The Hague, one of the
brightest, best-trained, and most experienced diplomatists in
Europe. The American representative was at that time provided
with only one secretary of legation, and he, though engaging and
brilliant, a casual appointment who remained in the country only
a few months. I had, indeed, secured a handsome and comfortable
apartment, and entertained at dinner and otherwise the leading
members of the Russian ministry and of the diplomatic corps, at a
cost of more than double my salary; but the influence thus
exercised was, of course, as nothing compared to that exercised
by a diplomatist like Sir Robert Morier, who had every sort of
resource at his command, who had been for perhaps forty years
steadily in the service of his country, and had learned by long
experience to know the men with whom he had to deal and the ways
of getting at them. His power in St. Petersburg was felt in a
multitude of ways: all officials at the Russian Foreign Office,
from the highest to the lowest, naturally desired to be on good
terms with him. They knew that his influence had become very
great and that it was best to have his friendship; they loved
especially to be invited to his dinners, and their families loved
to be invited to his balls. He was a POWER. The question above
referred to, of such importance to the United States, was not
decided by argument, but simply by the weight of social and other
influence, which counts so enormously in matters of this kind at
all European capitals, and especially in Russia. This condition
of things has since been modified by the change of the legation
into an embassy; but, as no house has been provided, the old
difficulty remains. The United States has not the least chance of
success, and under her present shabby system never will have, in
closely contested cases, with any of the great powers of the
earth. They provide fitly for their representatives; the United
States does not. The representatives of other powers, being thus
provided for, are glad to remain at their posts and to devote
themselves to getting a thorough mastery of everything connected
with diplomatic business; American representatives, obliged, as a
rule, to take up with uncomfortable quarters, finding their
position not what it ought to be as compared with that of the
representatives of other great powers, and obliged to expend much
more than their salaries, are generally glad to resign after a
brief term. Especially has this been the case in St. Petersburg.
The terms of our representatives there have generally been very
short. A few have stayed three or four years, but most have
stayed much shorter terms. In one case a representative of the
United States remained only three or four months, and in another
only six weeks. So marked was this tendency that the Emperor once
referred to it in a conversation with one of our representatives,
saying that he hoped that this American diplomatist would remain
longer than his predecessors had generally done.

The action of the Russian authorities in the Behring Sea
question, which is directly traceable to the superior policy of
Great Britain in maintaining a preponderating diplomatic,
political, and social influence at the Russian capital, cost our
government a sum which would have bought suitable houses in
several capitals, and would have given to each American
representative a proper staff of assistants. I have presented
this matter with reluctance, though I feel not the slightest
responsibility for my part in it. I do not think that any
right-minded man can blame me for it, any more than, in the
recent South African War, he could have blamed Lord Roberts, the
British general, if the latter had been sent to the Transvaal
with insufficient means, inadequate equipment, and an army far
inferior in numbers to that of his enemy.

I am not at all in this matter "a man with a grievance"; for I
knew what American representatives had to expect, and was not
disappointed. My feeling is simply that of an American citizen
whose official life is past, and who can look back
dispassionately and tell the truth plainly.

This case is presented simply in the hope that it will do
something to arouse thinking men in public life, and especially
in the Congress of the United States, to provide at least a
suitable house or apartment for the American representative in
each of the more important capitals of the world, as all other
great powers and many of the lesser nations have done. If I can
aid in bringing about this result, I care nothing for any
personal criticism which may be brought upon me.



CHAPTER XXXIV

INTERCOURSE WITH RUSSIAN STATESMEN--1892-1894

To return to Sir Robert Morier. There had been some friction
between his family and that of one of my predecessors, and this
had for some time almost ended social intercourse between his
embassy and our legation; but on my arrival I ignored this, and
we established very satisfactory personal relations. He had held
important positions in various parts of Europe, and had been
closely associated with many of the most distinguished men of his
own and other countries. Reading Grant Duff's "Memoirs," I find
that Morier's bosom friend, of all men in the world, was Jowett,
the late head of Oriel College at Oxford. But Sir Robert was at
the close of his career; his triumph in the Behring Sea matter
was his last. I met him shortly afterward at his last visit to
the Winter Palace: with great effort he mounted the staircase,
took his position at the head of the diplomatic circle, and,
immediately after his conversation with the Emperor, excused
himself and went home. This was the last time I ever saw him; he
returned soon afterward to England and died. His successor, Sir
Frank Lascelles, more recently my colleague at Berlin, is a very
different character. His manner is winning, his experience large
and interesting, his first post having been at Paris during the
Commune, and his latest at Teheran. Our relations became, and
have ever since remained, all that I could desire. He, too, in
every post, is provided with all that is necessary for
accomplishing the purposes of Great Britain, and will doubtless
win great success for his country, though not in exactly the same
way as his predecessor.

The French ambassador was the Comte de Montebello, evidently a
man of ability, but with perhaps less of the engaging qualities
than one generally expects in a French diplomatic representative.
The Turkish ambassador, Husny Pasha, like most Turkish
representatives whom I have met, had learned to make himself very
agreeable; but his position was rather trying: he had fought in
the Russo-Turkish War and had seen his country saved from the
most abject humiliation, if not destruction, only at the last
moment, by the Berlin Conference. His main vexation in St.
Petersburg arose from the religious feeling of the Emperor. Every
great official ceremony in Russia is prefaced, as a rule, by a
church service; hence Husny was excluded, since he felt bound to
wear the fez, and this the Emperor would not tolerate; though
there was really no more harm in his wearing this simple
head-gear in church than in a woman wearing her bonnet or a
soldier wearing his helmet.

Interesting, too, was the Italian ambassador, Marochetti, son of
the eminent sculptor, some of whose artistic ability he had
inherited. He was fond of exercising this talent; but it was
generally understood that his recall was finally due to the fact
that his diplomatic work had suffered in consequence.

The Austrian ambassador, Count Wolkenstein, was, in many things,
the most trustworthy of counselors; more than once, under trying
circumstances, I found his advice precious; for he knew,
apparently, in every court of Europe, the right man to approach,
and the right way to approach him, on every conceivable subject.

Of the ministers plenipotentiary the Dutch representative, Van
Stoetwegen, was the best counselor I found. He was shrewd, keen,
and kindly; but his tongue was sharp--so much so that it finally
brought about his recall. He made a remark one day which
especially impressed me. I had said to him, "I have just sent a
despatch to my government declaring my skepticism as to the
probability of any war in Europe for a considerable time to come.
When I arrived in Berlin eleven years ago all the knowing people
said that a general European war must break out within a few
months: in the spring they said it must come in the autumn; and
in the autumn they said it must come in the spring. All these
years have passed and there is still no sign of war. We hear the
same prophecies daily, but I learned long since not to believe in
them. War may come, but it seems to me more and more unlikely."
He answered, "I think you are right. I advise my own government
in the same sense. The fact is that war in these days is not what
it once was; it is infinitely more dangerous from every point of
view, and it becomes more and more so every day. Formerly a
crowned head, when he thought himself aggrieved, or felt that he
would enjoy a campaign, plunged into war gaily. If he succeeded,
all was well; if not, he hauled off to repair damages,--very much
as a pugilist would do after receiving a black eye in a fist
fight,--and in a short time the losses were repaired and all went
on as before. In these days the case is different: it is no
longer a simple contest in the open, with the possibility of a
black eye or, at most, of a severe bruise; it has become a matter
of life and death to whole nations. Instead of being like a fist
fight, it is like a combat between a lot of champions armed with
poisoned daggers, and in a dark room; if once the struggle
begins, no one knows how many will be drawn into it or who will
be alive at the end of it; the probabilities are that all will be
injured terribly and several fatally. War in these days means the
cropping up of a multitude of questions dangerous not only to
statesmen but to monarchs, and even to society itself. Monarchs
and statesmen know this well; and, no matter how truculent they
may at times appear, they really dread war above all things."

One of my colleagues at St. Petersburg was interesting in a very
different way from any of the others. This was Pasitch, the
Servian minister. He was a man of fine presence and, judging from
his conversation, of acute mind. He had some years before been
sentenced to death for treason, but since that had been prime
minister. Later he was again put on trial for his life at
Belgrade, charged with being a partner in the conspiracy which
resulted in the second attempt against the life of King Milan.
His speech before his judges, recently published, was an effort
worthy of a statesman, and carried the conviction to my mind that
he was not guilty.[3]


[3] He was found guilty, but escaped death by a bitter
humiliation: it was left for others to bring about Milan's
assassination.


The representatives of the extreme Orient were both interesting
personages, but the same difference prevailed there as elsewhere:
the Chinese was a mandarin, able to speak only through an
interpreter; the Japanese was trained in Western science, and
able to speak fluently both Russian and French. His successor,
whom I met at the Peace Conference of The Hague, spoke English
admirably.

Among the secretaries and attaches, several were very
interesting; and of these was the first British secretary Henry
Howard, now Sir Henry Howard, minister at The Hague. He and his
American wife were among the most delightful of associates.
Another in this category was the Bavarian secretary, Baron
Guttenberg, whom I often met later at Berlin. When I spoke to him
about a visit I had made to Wurzburg, and the desecration of the
magnificent old Romanesque cathedral there by plastering its
whole interior over with nude angels, and substituting for the
splendid old mediaeval carving Louis Quinze woodwork in white and
gold, he said: "Yes; you are right; and it was a bishop of my
family who did it."

As to Russian statesmen, I had the benefit of the fairly friendly
spirit which has usually been shown toward the American
representative in Russia by all in authority from the Emperor
down. I do not mean by this that the contentions of the American
Embassy are always met by speedy concessions, for among the most
trying of all things in diplomatic dealings with that country are
the long delays in all business; but a spirit is shown which, in
the long run, serves the purpose of our representative as regards
most questions.

It seems necessary here to give a special warning against putting
any trust in the epigram which has long done duty as a piece of
politico-ethnological wisdom: "Scratch a Russian and you will
find a Tartar." It would be quite as correct to say, "Scratch an
American and you will find an Indian." The simple fact is that
the Russian officials with whom foreigners have to do are men of
experience, and, as a rule, much like those whom one finds in
similar positions in other parts of Europe. A foreign
representative has to meet on business, not merely the Russian
minister of foreign affairs and the heads of departments in the
Foreign Office, but various other members of the imperial
cabinet, especially the ministers of finance, of war, of the
navy, of the interior, of justice, as well as the chief municipal
authorities of St. Petersburg; and I can say that many of these
gentlemen, both as men and as officials, are the peers of men in
similar positions in most other countries which I have known.
Though they were at times tenacious in questions between their
own people and ours, and though they held political doctrines
very different from those we cherish, I am bound to say that most
of them did so in a way which disarmed criticism. At the same
time I must confess a conviction which has more and more grown
upon me, that the popular view regarding the power, vigor, and
foresight of Russian statesmen is ill-founded. And it must be
added that Russian officials and their families are very
susceptible to social influences: a foreign representative who
entertains them frequently and well can secure far more for his
country than one who trusts to argument alone. In no part of the
world will a diplomatist more surely realize the truth embedded
in Oxenstiern's famous utterance, "Go forth, my son, and see with
how little wisdom the world is governed." When one sees what
really strong men might do in Russia, what vast possibilities
there are which year after year are utterly neglected, one cannot
but think that the popular impression regarding the superiority
of Russian statesmen is badly based. As a matter of fact, there
has not been a statesman of the first class, of Russian birth,
since Catherine the Great, and none of the second class unless
Nesselrode and the Emperor Nicholas are to be excepted. To
consider Prince Gortchakoff a great chancellor on account of his
elaborate despatches is absurd. The noted epigram regarding him
is doubtless just: "C'est un Narcisse qui se mire dans son
encrier."

To call him a great statesman in the time of Cavour Bismarck,
Lincoln, and Seward is preposterous. Whatever growth in
civilization Russia has made in the last forty years has been
mainly in spite of the men who have posed as her statesmen; the
atmosphere of Russian autocracy is fatal to greatness in any
form.

The emancipation of the serfs was due to a policy advocated by
the first Nicholas and carried out under Alexander II; but it was
made possible mainly by Miloutine, Samarine, Tcherkassky, and
other subordinates, who never were allowed to approach the first
rank as state servants. This is my own judgment, founded on
observation and reading during half a century, and it is the
quiet judgment of many who have had occasion to observe Russia
longer and more carefully.

Next, as to the Foreign Office. Nearly a hundred years ago
Napoleon compared Alexander I and those about him to "Greeks of
the Lower Empire." That saying was repelled as a slander; but,
ever since it was uttered, the Russian Foreign Office seems to
have been laboring to deserve it. There are chancelleries in the
world which, when they give promises, are believed and trusted.
Who, in the light of the last fifty years, would claim that the
Russian Foreign Office is among these? Its main reputation is for
astuteness finally brought to naught; it has constantly been "too
clever by half."

Take the loudly trumpeted peace proposals to the world made by
Nicholas II. When the nations got together at The Hague to carry
out the Czar's supposed purpose, it was found that all was
haphazard; that no adequate studies had been made, no project
prepared; in fact, that the Emperor's government had virtually
done nothing showing any real intention to set a proper example.
Nothing but the high character and abilities of M. de Martens and
one or two of his associates saved the prestige of the Russian
Foreign Office at that time. Had there been a man of real power
in the chancellorship or in the ministry of foreign affairs, he
would certainly have advised the Emperor to dismiss to useful
employments, say, two hundred to two hundred and fifty thousand
troops, which he could have done without the slightest
danger--thus showing that he was in earnest, crippling the war
clique, and making the beginning of a great reform which all
Europe would certainly have been glad to follow. But there was
neither the wisdom nor the strength required to advise and carry
through such a measure. Deference to the "military party" and
petty fear of a loss of military prestige were all-controlling.

Take the army and the navy departments. In these, if anywhere,
Russia has been thought strong. The main occupation of leading
Russians for a hundred years has been, not the steady uplifting
of the people in intellect and morals, not the vigorous
development of natural resources, but preparations for war on
land and sea. This has been virtually the one business of the
main men of light and leading from the emperors and grand dukes
down. Drill and parade have been apparently everything: the
strengthening of the empire by the education of the people, and
the building of industrial prosperity as a basis for a great army
and navy, seem to have been virtually nothing. The results are
now before the world for the third time since 1815.

An objector may remind me of the emancipation of the serfs. I do
not deny the greatness and nobleness of Alexander II and the
services of the men he then called to his aid; but I lived in
Russia both before and since that reform, and feel obliged to
testify that, thus far, its main purpose has been so thwarted by
reactionaries that there is, as yet, little, if any, practical
difference between the condition of the Russian peasant before
and since obtaining his freedom.

Take the dealings with Finland. The whole thing is monstrous. It
is both comedy and tragedy. Finland is by far the best-developed
part of the empire; it stands on a higher plane than do the other
provinces as regards every element of civilization; it has
steadily been the most loyal of all the realms of the Czar.
Nihilism and anarchism have never gained the slightest foothold;
yet to-day there is nobody in the whole empire strong enough to
prevent sundry bigots--military and ecclesiastical--leading the
Emperor to violate his coronation oath; to make the simple
presentation of a petition to him treasonable; to trample Finland
under his feet; to wrong grievously and insult grossly its whole
people; to banish and confiscate the property of its best men; to
muzzle its press; to gag its legislators; and thus to lower the
whole country to the level of the remainder of Russia.

During my stay in Russia at the time of the Crimean War, I had
been interested in the Finnish peasants whom I saw serving on the
gunboats. There was a sturdiness, heartiness, and loyalty about
them which could not fail to elicit good-will; but during this
second stay in Russia my sympathies with them were more
especially enlisted. During the hot weather of the first summer
my family were at the Finnish capital, Helsingfors, at the point
where the Gulf of Finland opens into the Baltic. The whole people
deeply interested me. Here was one of the most important
universities of Europe, a noble public library, beautiful
buildings, and throughout the whole town an atmosphere of
cleanliness and civilization far superior to that which one finds
in any Russian city. Having been added to Russia by Alexander I
under his most solemn pledges that it should retain its own
constitutional government, it had done so up to the time of my
stay; and the results were evident throughout the entire grand
duchy. While in Russia there had been from time immemorial a
debased currency, the currency of Finland was as good as gold;
while in Russia all public matters bore the marks of arbitrary
repression, in Finland one could see the results of enlightened
discussion; while in Russia the peasant is but little, if any,
above Asiatic barbarism, the Finnish peasant--simple, genuine--is
clearly far better developed both morally and religiously. It is
a grief to me in these latter days to see that the measures which
were then feared have since been taken. There seems a
determination to grind down Finland to a level with Russia in
general. We heard, not long since, much sympathy expressed for
the Boers in South Africa in their struggle against England; but
infinitely more pathetic is the case of Finland. The little grand
duchy has done what it could to save itself, but it recognizes
the fact that its two millions of people are utterly powerless
against the brute force of the one hundred and twenty millions of
the Russian Empire. The struggle in South Africa meant, after
all, that if worst came to worst, the Boers would, within a
generation or two, enjoy a higher type of constitutional liberty
than they ever could have developed under any republic they could
have established; but Finland is now forced to give up her
constitutional government and to come under the rule of brutal
Russian satraps. These have already begun their work. All is to
be "Russified": the constitutional bodies are to be virtually
abolished; the university is to be brought down to the level of
Dorpat--once so noted as a German university, now so worthless as
a Russian university; for the simple Protestantism of the people
is to be substituted the fetishism of the Russo-Greek Church. It
is the saddest spectacle of our time. Previous emperors, however
much they wished to do so, did not dare break their oaths to
Finland; but the present weakling sovereign, in his indifference,
carelessness, and absolute unfitness to rule, has allowed the
dominant reactionary clique about him to accomplish its own good
pleasure. I put on record here the prophecy that his dynasty, if
not himself, will be punished for it. All history shows that no
such crime has gone unpunished. It is a far greater crime than
the partition of Poland; for Poland had brought her fate on
herself, while Finland has been the most loyal part of the
empire. Not even Moscow herself has been more thoroughly devoted
to Russia and the reigning dynasty. The young monarch whose
weakness has led to this fearful result will bring retribution
upon himself and those who follow him. The Romanoffs will yet
find that "there is a Power in the universe, not ourselves, which
makes for righteousness." The house of Hapsburg and its
satellites found this in the humiliating end of their reign in
Italy; the house of Valois found it, after the massacre of St.
Bartholomew, in their own destruction; the Bourbons found it,
after the driving out of the Huguenots and the useless wars of
Louis XIV and XV, in the French Revolution which ended their
dynasty. Both the Napoleons met their punishment after violating
the rights of human nature. The people of the United States,
after the Fugitive Slave Law, found their punishment in the Civil
War, which cost nearly a million of lives and, when all is
reckoned, ten thousand millions of treasure.

When I talked with this youth before he came to the throne, and
saw how little he knew of his own empire,--how absolutely unaware
he was that the famine was continuing for a second year in
various important districts, there resounded in my ears, as so
often at other times, the famous words of Oxenstiern to his son,
"Go forth, my son, and see with how little wisdom the world is
governed."

Pity to say it, the European sovereign to whom Nicholas II can be
most fully compared is Charles IX of France, under the influence
of his family and men and women courtiers and priests,
authorizing the massacre of St. Bartholomew. The punishment to be
meted out to him and his house is sure.[4]


[4] The above was written before the Russian war with Japan and
the assassinations of Bobrikoff, Plehve, and others were dreamed
of. My prophecy seems likely to be realized far earlier than I
had thought possible.



As I revise these lines, we see another exhibition of the same
weakness and folly. The question between Russia and Japan could
have been easily and satisfactorily settled in a morning talk by
any two business men of average ability; but the dominant clique
has forced on one of the most terrible wars in history, which
bids fair to result in the greatest humiliation Russia has ever
known.

The same thing may be said regarding Russia's dealings with the
Baltic provinces. The "Russification" which has been going on
there for some years is equally absurd, equally wicked, and sure
to be equally disastrous.

The first Russian statesman with whom I had to do was the
minister of foreign affairs, M. de Giers; but he was dying. I saw
him twice in retirement at Tzarskoye Selo, and came to respect
him much. He spoke at length regarding the entente between Russia
and France, and insisted that it was not in the interest of war
but of peace. "Tell your government," he said, "that the closer
the lines are drawn which bind Russia and France, the more
strongly will Russian influence be used to hold back the French
from war."

At another time he discoursed on the folly of war, and especially
regarding the recent conflict between Russia and Turkey. He spoke
of its wretched results, of the ingratitude which Russia had
experienced from the peoples she had saved from the Turks, and
finally, with extreme bitterness, of the vast sums of money
wasted in it which could have been used in raising the condition
of the Russian peasantry. He spoke with the conviction of a dying
man, and I felt that he was sincere. At the same time I felt it a
pity that under the Russian system there is no chance for such a
man really to enforce his ideas. For one day he may be in the
ascendancy with the autocrat; and the next, through the influence
of grand dukes, women, priests, or courtiers, the very opposite
ideas may become dominant.

The men with whom I had more directly to do at the Foreign Office
were the acting minister, Shishkin, who had formerly been at
Washington, and the head of the Asiatic department, Count
Kapnist. They were agreeable in manner; but it soon became clear
that, regarding the question of the Behring seal-fisheries, they
were pursuing a policy of their own, totally distinct from the
interests of the empire. Peter the Great would have beheaded both
of them.

The strongest man among the Czar's immediate advisers was
understood to be the finance minister, De Witte. There always
seemed in him a certain sullen force. The story usually told of
his rise in the world is curious. It is, in effect, that when the
Emperor Alexander II and his family were wrecked in their special
train at Borki, many of their attendants were killed; and the
world generally, including the immediate survivors of the
catastrophe, believed for some time that it was the result of a
nihilist plot. There was, therefore, a general sweeping into
prison of subordinat'e railway officials; and among these was De
Witte, then in charge of a railway station. During the
examinations which ensued he showed himself so clear-headed and
straightforward that he attracted attention was promoted, put
into the finance ministry, and finally advanced to the first
place in it. His dealings with Russian finances have since shown
great capacity: he has brought the empire out of the slough of
depreciated currency and placed it firmly on a gold basis. I came
especially to know him when he offered, through me, to the United
States a loan of gold to enable us to tide over our difficulties
with the currency question. He informed me that Russia had in her
treasury many millions of rubles in American gold eagles, and
that the Russian gold reserve then in the treasury was about six
hundred millions of rubles.

The only result was that I was instructed to convey the thanks of
the President to him, there being no law enabling us to take
advantage of his offer. What he wished to do was to make a call
loan, whereas our Washington Government could obtain gold only by
issuing bonds.

I also met him in a very interesting way when I presented to him
Rabbi Krauskopf of Philadelphia, who discussed the question of
allowing sundry Israelites who were crowded into the western
districts of the empire to be transferred to some of the less
congested districts, on condition that funds for that purpose be
furnished from their coreligionists in America. De Witte's
discussion of the whole subject was liberal and statesmanlike.
Unfortunately, there was, as I believe, a fundamental error in
his general theory, which is the old Russian idea at the bottom
of the autocracy--namely, that the State should own everything.
More and more he went on extending government ownership to the
railways, until the whole direction and management of them
virtually centered in his office.

On this point he differed widely from his predecessor in the
finance ministry, Wischniegradsky. I had met the latter years
before, at the Paris Exposition, when he was at the head of the
great technical school in Moscow, and found him instructive and
interesting. Now I met him after his retirement from the finance
ministry. Calling on him one day, I said: "You will probably
build your trans-Siberian railway at a much less cost than we
were able to build our first trans-continental railway; you will
do it directly, by government funds, and so will probably not
have to make so many rich men as we did." His answer impressed me
strongly. He said: "As to a government building a railway more
cheaply than private individuals, I decidedly doubt; but I would
favor private individuals building it, even if the cost were
greater. I like to see rich men made; they are what Russia most
needs at this moment. What can capitalists do with their money?
They can't eat it or drink it: they have to invest it in other
enterprises; and such enterprises, to be remunerative, must meet
the needs of the people. Capitalists are far more likely to
invest their money in useful enterprises, and to manage these
investments well, than any finance minister can be, no matter how
gifted."

That he was right the history of Russia is showing more and more
every day. To return to M. de Witte, it seemed strange to most
onlookers that the present Emperor threw him out of the finance
ministry, in which he had so greatly distinguished himself, and
shelved him in one of those bodies, such as the council of state
or the senate, which exist mainly as harbors or shelters for
dismissed functionaries. But really there was nothing singular
about it. As regards the main body at court, from the grand
dukes, the women, etc., down, he had committed the sin of which
Turgot and Necker were guilty when they sought to save France but
found that the women, princes, and favorites of poor Louis XVI's
family were determined to dip their hands into the state
treasury, and were too strong to be controlled. Ruin followed the
dismissal of Turgot and Necker then, and seems to be following
the dismissal of De Witte now: though as I revise this chapter
word comes that the Emperor has recalled him.

No doubt Prince Khilkoff, who has come in as minister of internal
communications since my departure from Russia, is also a strong
man; but no functionary can take the place of a great body of
individuals who invest their own money in public works throughout
an entire nation.

There was also another statesman in a very different field whom I
found exceedingly interesting,--a statesman who had gained a
power in the empire second to no other save the Emperor himself,
and had centered in himself more hatred than any other Russian of
recent times,--the former Emperor's tutor and virtual minister as
regards ecclesiastical affairs, Pobedonostzeff. His theories are
the most reactionary of all developed in modern times; and his
hand was then felt, and is still felt, in every part of the
empire, enforcing those theories. Whatever may be thought of his
wisdom, his patriotism is not to be doubted. Though I differ from
him almost totally, few men have so greatly interested me, and
one of the following chapters will be devoted to him.

But there were some other so-called statesmen toward whom I had a
very different feeling. One of these was the minister of the
interior. Nothing could be more delusive than his manner. He
always seemed about to accede to the ideas of his interlocutor,
but he had one fundamental idea of his own, and only one; and
that was, evidently, never to do anything which he could possibly
avoid. He always seemed to me a sort of great jellyfish, looking
as if he had a mission to accomplish, but, on closer examination,
proving to be without consistency, and slippery. His theory
apparently was, "No act, no responsibility"; and throughout the
Russian Empire this principle of action, or, rather, of inaction,
appears to be very widely diffused.

I had one experience with this functionary, who, I am happy to
say, has since been relieved of his position and shelved among
the do-nothings of the Russian senate, which showed me what he
was. Two American ladies of the best breeding and culture, and
bearing the most satisfactory letters of introduction, had been
staying in St. Petersburg, and had met, at my table and
elsewhere, some of the most interesting people in Russian
society. From St. Petersburg they had gone to Moscow; and, after
a pleasant stay there, had left for Vienna by way of Warsaw.
Returning home late at night, about a week afterward, I found an
agonizing telegram from them, stating that they had been stopped
at the Austrian frontier and sent back fifty miles to a dirty
little Russian village; that their baggage had all gone on to
Vienna; that, there being no banker in the little hamlet where
they were, their letter of credit was good for nothing; that all
this was due to the want of the most trivial of formalities in a
passport; that they had obtained all the vises supposed to be
needed at St. Petersburg and at Moscow; and that, though the
American consul at Warsaw had declared these to be sufficient to
take them out of the empire, they had been stopped by a petty
Russian official because they had no vise from the Warsaw police.

Early next morning I went to the minister of the interior,
presented the case to him, told him all about these
ladies,--their high standing, the letters they had brought, the
people they had met,--assured him that nothing could be further
from possibility than the slightest tendency on their part toward
any interference with the Russian Government, and asked him to
send a telegram authorizing their departure. He was most profuse
in his declarations of his willingness to help. Nothing in the
world, apparently, would give him more pleasure; and, though
there was a kind of atmosphere enveloping his talk which I did
not quite like, I believed that the proper order would be given.
But precious time went on, and again came telegrams from the
ladies that nothing was done. Again I went to the minister to
urge the matter upon his attention; again he assumed the same
jellyfish condition, pleasing but evasive. Then I realized the
situation; went at once to the prefect of St. Petersburg, General
von Wahl, although it was not strictly within his domain; and he,
a man of character and vigor, took the necessary measures and the
ladies were released.

Like so many other persons whom I have known who came into Russia
and were delighted with it during their whole stay, these ladies
returned to America most bitter haters of the empire and of
everything within it.

As to Von Wahl, who seemed to me one of the very best Russian
officials I met, he has since met reward for his qualities: from
the Czar a transfer to a provincial governorship, and from the
anarchists a bullet which, though intended to kill him, only
wounded him.

Many were the sufferers from this feature in Russian
administration--this shirking of labor and responsibility. Among
these was a gentleman belonging to one of the most honored
Russian families, who was greatly devoted to fruit-culture, and
sought to bring the products of his large estates in the south of
Russia into Moscow and St. Petersburg. He told me that he had
tried again and again, but the officials shrugged their shoulders
and would not take the trouble; that finally he had induced them
to give him a freight-car and to bring a load of fruit to St.
Petersburg as soon as possible; but, though the journey ought to
have taken only three or four days, it actually took several
weeks; and, of course, all the fruit was spoiled. As I told him
of the fruit-trains which bring the products of California across
our continent and distribute them to the Atlantic ports, even
enabling them to be found fresh in the markets of London, he
almost shed tears. This was another result of state control of
railways. As a matter of fact, there is far more and better fruit
to be seen on the tables of artisans in most American towns,
however small, than in the lordliest houses of Moscow and St.
Petersburg; and this solely because in our country energetic men
conduct transportation with some little ambition to win public
approval and patronage, while in Russia a horde of state
officials shirk labor and care as much as possible.

Still another sufferer was a very energetic man who had held
sundry high positions, but was evidently much discouraged. He
showed me specimens of various rich ores from different parts of
the empire, but lamented that there was no one to take hold of
the work of bringing out these riches. It was perfectly clear
that with the minister of the interior at that time, as in sundry
other departments, the great question was "how not to do it."
Evidently this minister and functionaries like him felt that if
great enterprises and industries were encouraged, they would
become so large as to be difficult to manage; hence, that it
would be more comfortable to keep things within as moderate
compass as possible.

To this easy-going view of public duty there were a few notable
exceptions. While De Witte was the most eminent of these, there
was one who has since become sadly renowned, and who, as I revise
these lines, has just perished by the hand of an assassin. This
official was De Plehve, who, during my acquaintance with him, was
only an undersecretary in the interior department, but was
taking, apparently, all the important duties from his superior,
M. Dournovo. At various times I met him to discuss the status of
sundry American insurance companies in Russia, and was favorably
impressed by his insight, vigor, and courtesy. It was, therefore,
a surprise to me when, on becoming a full minister, he bloomed
out as a most bitter, cruel, and evidently short-sighted
reactionary. The world stood amazed at the murderous cruelties
against the Jews at Kishineff, which he might easily have
prevented; and nothing more cruel or short-sighted than his
dealings with Finland has been known since Louis XIV revoked the
Edict of Nantes. I can only explain his course by supposing that
he sought to win the favor of the reactionary faction which, up
to the present time, has controlled the Czar, and thus to fight
his way toward the highest power. He made of the most loyal and
happy part of the empire the most disloyal and wretched; he
pitted himself against the patriotism, the sense of justice, and
all the highest interests and sentiments of the Finnish people;
and he met his death at the hands of an avenger, who, in
destroying the enemy of his country, has struck a fearful blow at
his country's happiness.

While a thoughtful American must condemn much which he sees in
Russia, there is one thing which he cannot but admire and
contrast to the disadvantage of his own country; and this is the
fact that Russia sets a high value upon its citizenship. Its
value, whatever it may be, is the result of centuries of
struggles, of long outpourings of blood and treasure; and
Russians believe that it has been bought at too great a price and
is in every way too precious to be lavished and hawked about as a
thing of no value. On the other hand, when one sees how the
citizenship of the United States, which ought to be a millionfold
more precious than that of Russia, is conferred loosely upon tens
of thousands of men absolutely unfit to exercise it,--whose
exercise of it seems, at times, likely to destroy republican
government; when one sees the power of conferring it granted to
the least respectable class of officials at the behest of ward
politicians, without proper safeguards and at times without any
regard to the laws; when one sees it prostituted by men of the
most unfit class,--and, indeed, of the predatory class,--who have
left Europe just long enough to obtain it, and then left America
in order to escape the duties both of their native and their
adopted country, and to avail themselves of the privileges of
both citizenships without one thought of the duties of either,
using them often in careers of scoundrelism,--one feels that
Russia is nearer the true ideal in this respect than we are.

As a matter of fact, there is with us no petty joint-stock
company in which an interest is not virtually held to be superior
to this citizenship of ours for which such sacrifices have been
made, and for which so many of our best men have laid down their
lives. No stockholder in the pettiest manufacturing company
dreams of admitting men to share in it unless they show their
real fitness to be thus admitted; but admission to American
citizenship is surrounded by no such safeguards: it has been
cheapened and prostituted until many who formerly revered it have
come to scoff at it. From this evil, at least, Russia is free.



CHAPTER XXXV

"ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN" IN RUSSIA--1892-1894

Still another department which interested me was that known as
the "Ministry of Public Enlightenment," its head being Count
Delyanoff. He was certainly a man of culture; but the title of
his department was a misnomer, for its duty was clearly to
prevent enlightenment in the public at large. The Russian theory
is, evidently, that a certain small number should be educated up
to a certain point for the discharge of their special duties; but
that, beyond this, anything like the general education of the
people is to be discouraged; hence the Russian peasant is the
most ignorant and helpless in Christendom.

There was evidently a disposition among very many of the most
ardent Russians to make a merit of this imperfect civilization,
and to cultivate hatred for any people whom they clearly saw
possessing anything better: hence it came that, just as so many
Frenchmen hate Great Britain, and so many in the backward,
slipshod regions of our country hate New England, it was quite
the fashion among large classes of Russians to hate everything
German, and especially to detest the Baltic provinces.

One evening during my stay a young Russian at a social gathering
of military and other officials voiced this feeling by saying, "I
hope the time will soon come when we shall have cleared out all
these Germans from the Russian service; they are the curse of the
country." Thereupon a young American present, who was especially
noted for his plain speaking, immediately answered, "How are you
going to do it? I notice that, as a rule, you rarely give a
position which really involves high responsibility to a Russian;
you generally give it to a German. When the Emperor goes to the
manoeuvers, does he dare trust his immediate surroundings to a
Russian? Never; he intrusts them to General Richter, who is a
Baltic-Province German. And when his Majesty is here in town does
he dare trust his personal safety to a Russian? Not at all; he
relies on Von Wahl, prefect of St. Petersburg, another German."
And so this plain-spoken American youth went on with a full
catalogue of leading Baltic-Province Germans in positions of the
highest responsibility, finally saying, "You know as well as I
that if the salvation of the Emperor depended on any one of you,
and you should catch sight of a pretty woman, you would instantly
forget your sovereign and run after her."

Richter and Von Wahl I knew, and they were certainly men whom one
could respect,--thoughtful, earnest, devoted to duty. Whenever
one saw the Emperor at a review, Richter was close at hand;
whenever their Majesties were at the opera, or in any public
place, there was Von Wahl with his eyes fastened upon them.

The young American might now add that when a man was needed to
defend Port Arthur another German was chosen--Stoessel, whose
heroism the whole world is now applauding, as it once applauded
Todleben, the general of German birth who carried off the Russian
laurels of the Crimean War.

One Russian official for whom there seemed to be deep and wide
respect was Count Woronzoff-Daschkoff; and I think that our
irrepressible American would have made an exception in his favor.
Calling upon him one day regarding the distribution of American
relief to famine-stricken peasants, I was much impressed by his
straightforward honesty: he was generally credited with stopping
the time-honored pilfering and plundering at the Winter Palace.

One of the most interesting of all the Russians I met was General
Annenkoff. His brother-in-law, Struve, Russian minister at
Washington, having given me a letter to him, our relations became
somewhat close. He had greatly distinguished himself by building
the trans-Caucasian railway, but his main feat had been the
annexation of Bokhara. The story, as told me by a member of his
family, is curious. While superintending his great force of men
and pushing on the laying of the rails through the desert, his
attention was suddenly called to some horsemen in the distance,
riding toward him with all their might. On their arrival their
leader was discovered to be a son of the Ameer of Bokhara. That
potentate having just died, the other sons were trying to make
their way to the throne by cutting each other's throats, but this
one had thought it wise to flee to the Russians for safety.
Annenkoff saw the point at once: with a large body of his cavalry
he started immediately for Bokhara, his guest by his side; pushed
his way through all obstacles; seated the young prince on the
throne; and so made him a Russian satrap. I shall speak later of
the visit of this prince to St. Petersburg. It was evident that
Annenkoff, during my stay, was not in favor. It was said that he
had been intrusted with large irrigation-works in order to give
employment to peasants during the famine, and that he had not
managed them well; but it was clear that this was not the main
difficulty: he was evidently thought too progressive and liberal,
and in that seething caldron of intrigue which centers at the
Winter Palace his ambitions had come to grief.

Another Russian who interested me was Glalkin Wraskoy. He was
devoted, night and day, to improving the Russian prison system.
That there was much need of such work was certain; but the fact
that this personage in government employ was so devoted to
improvements, and had called together in Russia a convention of
men interested in the amelioration of prison systems, led me to
think that the Russian Government is not so utterly and wilfully
cruel in its prison arrangements as the Western world has been
led to think.

Another interesting Russian was Count Orloff Davidoff; and on my
meeting him, just after his return from the Chicago Exposition,
at General Annenkoff's table, he entertained me with his
experiences. On my asking him what was the most amusing thing he
had seen in America, he answered that it was a "sacred concert,"
on Sunday, at a church in Colorado Springs, in which the music of
Strauss's waltzes and Offenbach's comic songs were leading
features, the audience taking them all very solemnly.

In the literary direction I found Prince John Galitzin's readings
from French dramas delightful. As to historical studies, the most
interesting man I found was Professor Demetrieff, who was brought
to my house by Pobedonostzeff. I had been reading Billbassoff's
"Life of the Empress Catherine"; and, on my asking some questions
regarding it, the professor said that at the death of the
Empress, her son, the Emperor Paul, intrusted the examination of
her papers to Rostopchine, who, on going through them, found a
casket containing letters and the like, which she had evidently
considered especially precious, and among these a letter from
Orloff, giving the details of the murder of her husband, Peter
III, at Ropscha. The letter, in substance, stated that Orloff and
his associates, having attempted to seize Peter, who was
evidently on his way to St. Petersburg to imprison the Empress
Catherine,--if not to put her to death,--the Emperor had
resisted; and that finally, in the struggle, he had been killed.
Professor Demetrieff then said that the Emperor Paul showed these
papers to his sons Alexander and Nicholas, who afterward
succeeded him on the throne, and expressed his devout
thankfulness that the killing of Peter III was not intentional,
and therefore that their grandmother was not a murderess.

This reminds me that, at my first visit to St. Petersburg, I
often passed, during my walks, the old palace of Paul, and that
there was one series of windows carefully barred: these belonging
to the rooms in which the Emperor Paul himself was assassinated
in order to protect the life of his son Alexander and of the
family generally.

Another Russian, Prince Serge Wolkonsky, was certainly the most
versatile man I have ever known: a playwright, an actor, an
essayist, an orator, a lecturer, and admirable in each of these
capacities. At a dinner given me, just before my departure from
St. Petersburg, by the Russians who had taken part in the Chicago
Exposition, I was somewhat troubled by the fact that the speeches
of the various officials were in Russian, and that, as I so
imperfectly understood them, I could not know what line to take
when my own speech came; but presently the chairman, Minister
Delyanoff, called upon young Prince Serge, who came forward very
modestly and, in admirable English, gave a summary of the whole
series of Russian speeches for my benefit, concluding with an
excellent speech of his own. His speeches and addresses at
Chicago were really remarkable; and, when he revisited America,
his lectures on Russian literature at Cornell University, at
Washington, and elsewhere, were worthy of the College de France.
This young man could speak fluently and idiomatically, not only
his own language, but English, French, German, Italian, and I
know not how many other tongues.

To meet scientific men of note my wont was to visit the Latin
Quarter; and there, at the house of Professor Woeikoff of St.
Petersburg University, I met, at various times, a considerable
body of those best worth knowing. One of those who made an
especially strong impression upon me was Admiral Makharoff.
Recently has come news of his death while commanding the Russian
fleet at Port Arthur--his flag-ship, with nearly all on board,
sunk by a torpedo. At court, in the university quarter, and later
at Washington, I met him often, and rated him among the
half-dozen best Russians I ever knew. Having won fame as a
vigorous and skilful commander in the Turkish war, he was
devoting himself to the scientific side of his profession. He had
made a success of his colossal ice-breaker in various northern
waters, and was now giving his main thoughts to the mapping out,
on an immense scale, of all the oceans, as regards winds and
currents. As explained by him, with quiet enthusiasm, it seemed
likely to be one of the greatest triumphs of the inductive method
since Lord Bacon. With Senator Semenoff and Prince Gregory
Galitzin I had very interesting talks on their Asiatic travels,
and was greatly impressed by the simplicity and strength of
Mendeleieff, who is certainly to-day one of two or three foremost
living authorities in chemistry. Although men of science, unless
they hold high official positions, are not to be seen at court, I
was glad to find that there were some Russian nobles who
appreciated them; and an admirable example of this was once shown
at my own house. It was at a dinner, when there was present a
young Russian of very high lineage; and I was in great doubt as
to the question of precedence, this being a matter of grave
import under the circumstances. At last my wife went to the
nobleman himself and asked him frankly regarding it. His answer
did him credit: he said, "I should be ashamed to take precedence
here of a man like Mendeleieff, who is an honor to Russia in the
eyes of the whole world; and I earnestly hope that he may be
given the first place."

There were also various interesting women in St. Petersburg
society, the reception afternoons of two of them being especially
attractive: they were, indeed, in the nature of the French salons
under the old regime.

One of these ladies--the Princess Wolkonsky--seemed to interest
all men not absorbed in futilities; and the result was that one
heard at her house the best men in St. Petersburg discussing the
most interesting questions.

The other was the Austrian ambassadress, Countess Wolkenstein,
whom I had slightly known, years before, as Countess Schleinitz,
wife of the minister of the royal household at Berlin. On her
afternoons one heard the best talk by the most interesting men;
and it was at the salons of these two ladies that there took
place the conversations which I have recorded in my "History of
the Warfare of Science," showing the development of a legend
regarding the miraculous cure of the Archbishop of St. Petersburg
by Father Ivan of Cronstadt.

Another place which especially attracted me was the house of
General Ignatieff, formerly ambassador at Constantinople, where,
on account of his alleged want of scruples in bringing on the war
with Russia, he received the nickname "Mentir Pasha." His wife
was the daughter of Koutousoff, the main Russian opponent of
Napoleon in 1812; and her accounts of Russia in her earlier days
and of her life in Constantinople were at times fascinating.

I remember meeting at her house, on one occasion, the Princess
Ourousoff, who told me that the Emperor Alexander had said to
her, "I wish that every one could see Sardou's play 'Thermidor'
and discover what revolution really is"; and that she had
answered, "Revolutions are prepared long before they break out."
That struck me as a very salutary bit of philosophy, which every
Russian monarch would do well to ponder.

The young Princess Radzivill was also especially attractive. In
one of her rooms hung a portrait of Balzac, taken just after
death, and it was most striking. This led her to give me very
interesting accounts of her aunt, Madame de Hanska, to whom
Balzac wrote his famous letters, and whom he finally married. I
met at her house another lady of high degree, to whom my original
introduction had been somewhat curious. Dropping in one afternoon
at the house of Henry Howard, the British first secretary, I met
in the crowd a large lady, simply dressed, whom I had never seen
before. Being presented to her, and not happening to catch her
name, I still talked on, and found that she had traveled, first
in Australia, then in California, thence across our continent to
New York; and her accounts of what she had seen interested me
greatly. But some little time afterward I met her again at the
house of Princess Radzivill, and then found that she was the
English Duchess of Buckingham. One day I had been talking with
the Princess and her guest on the treasures of the Imperial
Library, and especially the wonderful collection of autographs,
among them the copy-book of Louis XIV when a child, which showed
the pains taken to make him understand, even in his boyhood, that
he was an irresponsible autocrat. On one of its pages the line to
be copied ran as follows:

L'hommage est du aux Roys, ils font ce qu'il leur plaist.--LOUIS.

Under this the budding monarch had written the same words six
times, with childish care to keep the strokes straight and the
spaces regular. My account of this having led the princess to ask
me to take her and her friend to the library and to show them
some of these things, I gladly agreed, wrote the director,
secured an appointment for a certain afternoon, and when the time
came called for the ladies. But a curious contretemps arose. I
had met, the day before, two bright American ladies, and on their
asking me about the things best worth seeing, I had especially
recommended them to visit the Imperial Library. On arriving at
the door with the princess and the duchess, I was surprised to
find that no preparations had been made to meet us,--in fact,
that our coming seemed to be a matter of surprise; and a
considerable time elapsed before the director and other officials
came to us. Then I learned what the difficulty was. The two
American ladies, in perfectly good faith, had visited the library
a few hours before; and, on their saying that the American
minister had recommended them to come, it had been taken for
granted at once that THEY were the princess and the duchess, and
they had been shown everything with almost regal honors, the
officials never discovering the mistake until our arrival.

The American colony at St. Petersburg was very small. Interesting
compatriots came from time to time on various errands, and I was
glad to see them; but one whose visits were most heartily
welcomed was a former consul, Mr. Prince, an original, shrewd
"down-easter," and his reminiscences of some of my predecessors
were full of interest to me.

One especially dwells in my mind. It had reference to a former
senator of the United States who, about the year 1840, was sent
to Russia as minister. There were various evidences in the
archives of the legation that sobriety was not this gentleman's
especial virtue, and among them very many copies of notes in
which the minister, through the secretary of legation, excused
himself from keeping engagements at the Foreign Office on the
ground of "sudden indisposition."

Mr. Prince told me that one day this minister's valet, who was an
Irishman, came to the consulate and said: "Oi 'll not stay wid
his igsillincy anny longer; Oi 've done wid him."

"What 's the trouble now?' said Mr. Prince.

"Well," said the man, "this morning Oi thought it was toime to
get his igsillincy out of bed, for he had been dhrunk about a
week and in bed most of the toime; and so Oi went to him, and
says Oi, gentle-loike, 'Would your igsillincy have a cup of
coffee?' whin he rose up and shtruck me in the face. On that Oi
took him by the collar, lifted him out of bed, took him acrass
the room, showed him his ugly face in the glass, and Oi said to
him, says Oi, 'Is thim the eyes of an invoy extraorr-rrdinarry
and ministher plinipotentiarry?' "

Among interesting reminders of my predecessors was a letter in
the archives, written about the year 1832 by Mr. Buchanan,
afterward senator, minister in London, Secretary of State, and
President of the United States. It was a friendly missive to an
official personage in our country, and went on somewhat as
follows: "I feel almost ashamed to tell you that your letters to
me, mine to you, and, indeed, everything that has come and gone
between us by mail, has been read by other eyes than ours. This
was true of your last letter to me, and, without doubt, it will
be true of this letter. Can you imagine it? Think of the moral
turpitude of a creature employed to break open private letters
and to read them! Can you imagine work more degrading? What a
dirty dog he must be! how despicable, indeed, he must seem to
himself!" And so Mr. Buchanan went on until he wound up as
follows: "Not only does this person read private letters, but he
is a forger: he forges seals, and I regret to say that his
imitation of the eagle on our legation seal is a VERY SORRY
BIRD." Whether this dose had any salutary effect on the official
concerned I never learned.

The troubles of an American representative at St. Petersburg are
many, and they generally begin with the search for an apartment.
It is very difficult indeed in that capital to find a properly
furnished suite of rooms for a minister, and since the American
representative has been made an ambassador this difficulty is
greater than ever. In my own case, by especial luck and large
outlay, I was able to surmount it; but many others had not been
so fortunate, and the result had generally been that, whereas
nearly every other power owned or held on long lease a house or
apartment for its representative,--simple, decent, dignified, and
known to the entire city,--the American representative had lived
wherever circumstances compelled him:--sometimes on the
ground-floor and sometimes in a sky-parlor, with the natural
result that Russians could hardly regard the American Legation as
on the same footing with that of other countries.

As I write, word comes that the present ambassador has been
unable to find suitable quarters save at a rent higher than his
entire salary; that the proprietors have combined, and agreed to
stand by each other in holding their apartments at an enormous
figure, their understanding being that Americans are rich and can
be made to pay any price demanded. Nothing can be more
short-sighted than the policy of our government in this respect,
and I shall touch upon it again.

The diplomatic questions between the United States and Russia
were many and troublesome; for, in addition to that regarding the
Behring Sea fisheries, there were required additional
interpretations of the Buchanan treaty as to the rights of
Americans to hold real estate and to do business in Russia;
arrangements for the participation of Russians in the Chicago
Exposition; the protection of various American citizens of
Russian birth, and especially of Israelites who had returned to
Russia; care for the great American life-insurance interests in
the empire; the adjustment of questions arising out of Russian
religious relations with Alaska and the islands of the Northern
Pacific; and last, but not least, the completion of the
extradition treaty between the two nations by the incorporation
of safeguards which would prevent its use against purely
political offenders.

Especial attention to Israelite cases was also required. Some of
these excited my deep sympathy; and, having made a very careful
study of the subject, I wrote to Secretary Gresham a despatch
upon it in obedience to his special request. It was the longest
despatch I have ever written; and, in my apology to the secretary
for its length I stated that it was prepared with no expectation
that he would find time to read it, but with the idea that it
might be of use at the State Department for reference. In due
time I received a very kind answer stating that he had read every
word of it, and thanked me most heartily for--it. The whole
subject is exceedingly difficult; but it is clear that Russia has
made, and is making, a fearful mistake in her way of dealing with
it. There are more Israelites in Russia than in all the remainder
of the world; and they are crowded together, under most
exasperating regulations, in a narrow district just inside her
western frontier, mainly extending through what was formerly
Poland, with the result that fanaticism--Christian on one side
and Jewish on the other--has developed enormously. The Talmudic
rabbis are there at their worst; and the consequences are evil,
not only for Russia, but for our own country. The immigration
which comes to us from these regions is among the very worst that
we receive from any part of the world. It is, in fact, an
immigration of the unfittest; and, although noble efforts have
been made by patriotic Israelites in the United States to meet
the difficulty, the results have been far from satisfactory.

There were, of course, the usual adventurous Americans in
political difficulties, enterprising Americans in business
difficulties, and pretended Americans attempting to secure
immunity under the Stars and Stripes. The same ingenious efforts
to prostitute American citizenship which I had seen during my
former stay in Germany were just as constant in Russia. It was
the same old story. Emigrants from the Russian Empire, most of
them extremely undesirable, had gone to the United States; stayed
just long enough to secure naturalization,--had, indeed, in some
cases secured it fraudulently before they had stayed the full
time; and then, having returned to Russia, were trying to
exercise the rights and evade the duties of both countries.

Many of these cases were exceedingly vexatious; and so, indeed,
were some which were better founded. The great difficulty of a
representative of the United States in Russia is, first, that the
law of the empire is so complicated that,--to use the words of
King James regarding Bacon's "Novum Organum,"--"Like the Peace of
God, it passeth all understanding." It is made up of codes in
part obsolete or obsolescent; ukases and counter-ukases; imperial
directions and counter-directions; ministerial orders and
counter-orders; police regulations and counter-regulations; with
no end of suspensions, modifications, and exceptions.

The second difficulty is the fact that the Buchanan treaty of
1832, which guaranteed, apparently, everything desirable to
American citizens sojourning in the empire, has been gradually
construed away until its tattered remnants are practically
worthless. As the world has discovered, Russia's strong point is
not adherence to her treaty promises.

In this respect there is a great difference between Russia and
Germany. With the latter we have made careful treaties, the laws
are well known, and the American representative feels solid
ground beneath his feet; but in Russia there is practically
nothing of the kind, and the representative must rely on the main
principles of international law, common sense, and his own powers
of persuasion.

A peculiar duty during my last stay in St. Petersburg was to
watch the approach of cholera, especially on the Persian
frontier. Admirable precautions had been taken for securing
telegraphic information; and every day I received notices from
the Foreign Office as a result, which I communicated to
Washington. For ages Russia had relied on fetishes of various
kinds to preserve her from great epidemics; but at last her
leading officials had come to realize the necessity of applying
modern science to the problem, and they did this well. In the
city "sanitary columns" were established, made up of small squads
of officials representing the medical and engineering professions
and the police; these visited every nook and corner of the town,
and, having extraordinary powers for the emergency, compelled
even the most dirty people to keep their premises clean.
Excellent hospitals and laboratories were established, and of
these I learned much from a former Cornell student who held an
important position in one of them. Coming to town three or four
times a week from my summer cottage in Finland, I was struck by
the precautions on the Finnish and other railways: notices of
what was to be done to prevent cholera and to meet it were
posted, in six different languages; disinfectants were made
easily accessible; the seats and hangings in the railway-cars
were covered with leather cloth frequently washed with
disinfectants; and to the main trains a hospital-car was
attached, while a temporary hospital, well equipped, was
established at each main station. In spite of this, the number of
cholera patients at St. Petersburg in the middle of July rose to
a very high figure, and the number of deaths each day from
cholera was about one hundred.

Of these victims the most eminent was Tschaikovsky, the composer,
a man of genius and a most charming character, to whom Mr. Andrew
Carnegie had introduced me at New York. One evening at a
dinner-party he poured out a goblet of water from a decanter on
the table, drank it down, and next day was dead from Asiatic
cholera. But, with this exception, the patients were, so far as I
learned, almost entirely from the peasant class. Although boiled
water was supplied for drinking purposes, and some
public-spirited individuals went so far as to set out samovars
and the means of supplying hot tea to peasant workmen, the answer
of one of the muzhiks, when told that he ought to drink boiled
water, indicated the peasant view: "If God had wished us to drink
hot water, he would have heated the Neva."



CHAPTER XXXVI

MY RECOLLECTIONS OF POBEDONOSTZEFF--1892-1894

On arriving at St. Petersburg in 1892 to take charge of the
American legation, there was one Russian whom I more desired to
meet than any other--Constantine Pobedonostzeff. For some years
various English and American reviews had been charging him with
bigotry, cruelty, hypocrisy, and, indeed, with nearly every
hateful form of political crime; but the fact remained that under
Alexander III he was the most influential personage in the
empire, and that, though bearing the title of "procurator-general
of the Most Holy Synod," he was evidently no less powerful in
civil than in ecclesiastical affairs.

As to his history, it was understood to be as follows: When the
Grand Duke Nicholas, the eldest son of Alexander II,--a young man
of gentle characteristics, greatly resembling his father,--died
upon the Riviera, the next heir to the throne was his brother
Alexander, a stalwart, taciturn guardsman, respected by all who
knew him for honesty and directness, but who, having never looked
forward to the throne, had been brought up simply as a soldier,
with few of the gifts and graces traditional among the heirs of
the Russian monarchy since the days of Catherine.

Therefore it was that it became necessary to extemporize for this
soldier a training which should fit him for the duties of the
position so unexpectedly opened to him; and the man chosen as his
tutor was a professor at Moscow, distinguished as a jurist and
theologian,--a man of remarkable force of character, and devoted
to Russian ideas as distinguished from those of Western Europe:
Constantine Pobedonostzeff.

During the dark and stormy days toward the end of his career,
Alexander II had called in as his main adviser General
Loris-Melikoff, a man of Armenian descent, in whom was mingled
with the shrewd characteristics of his race a sincere desire to
give to Russia a policy and development in accordance with modern
ideas.

The result the world knows well. The Emperor, having taken the
advice of this and other councilors,--deeply patriotic men like
Miloutine, Samarine, and Tcherkassky,--had freed the serfs within
his empire (twenty millions in all); had sanctioned a vast scheme
by which they were to arrive at the possession of landed
property; had established local self-government in the various
provinces of his empire; had improved the courts of law; had
introduced Western ideas into legal procedure; had greatly
mitigated the severities formerly exercised toward the Jews; and
had made all ready to promulgate a constitution on his
approaching birthday.

But this did not satisfy the nihilistic sect. What more they
wanted it is hard to say. It is more than doubtful whether Russia
even then had arrived at a stage of civilization when the
institutions which Alexander II had already conceded could be
adopted with profit; but the leaders of the anarchic movement,
with their vague longings for fruit on the day the tree was
planted, decreed the Emperor's death--the assassination of the
greatest benefactor that Russia has ever known, one of the
greatest that humanity has known. It was, perhaps, the most
fearful crime ever committed against liberty and freedom; for it
blasted the hopes and aspirations of over a hundred millions of
people, and doubtless for many generations.

On this the sturdy young guardsman became the Emperor Alexander
III. It is related by men conversant with Russian affairs that,
at the first meeting of the imperial councilors, Loris-Melikoiff,
believing that the young sovereign would be led by filial
reverence to continue the liberal policy to which the father had
devoted his life, made a speech taking this for granted, and that
the majority of those present, including the Emperor, seemed in
accord with him; when suddenly there arose a tall, gaunt,
scholarly man, who at first very simply, but finally very
eloquently, presented a different view. According to the
chroniclers of the period, Pobedonostzeff told the Emperor that
all so-called liberal measures, including the constitution, were
a delusion; that, though such things might be suited to Western
Europe, they were not suited to Russia; that the constitution of
that empire had been, from time immemorial, the will of the
autocrat, directed by his own sense of responsibility to the
Almighty; that no other constitution was possible in Russia; that
this alone was fitted to the traditions, the laws, the ideas of
the hundred and twenty millions of various races under the
Russian scepter; that in other parts of the world constitutional
liberty, so called, had already shown itself an absurdity; that
socialism, anarchism, and nihilism, with their plots and bombs,
were appearing in all quarters; that murder was plotted against
rulers of nations everywhere, the best of presidents having been
assassinated in the very country where free institutions were
supposed to have taken the most complete hold; that the principle
of authority in human government was to be saved; and that this
principle existed as an effective force only in Russia.

This speech is said to have carried all before it. As its
immediate result came the retirement of Loris-Melikoff, followed
by his death not long afterward; the entrance of Pobedonostzeff
among the most cherished councilors of the Emperor; the
suppression of the constitution; the discouragement of every
liberal tendency; and that fanatical reaction which has been in
full force ever since.

This was the man whom I especially desired to see and to
understand; and therefore it was that I was very glad to receive
from the State Department instructions to consult with him
regarding some rather delicate matters needing adjustment between
the Greek Church and our authorities in Alaska, and also in
relation to the representation of Russia at the Chicago
Exposition.

I found him, as one of the great ministers of the crown, residing
in a ministerial palace, but still retaining, in large measure,
his old quality of professor. About him was a beautiful library,
with every evidence of a love for art and literature. I had gone
into his presence with many feelings of doubt. Against no one in
Russia had charges so bitter been made in my hearing: it was
universally insisted that he was responsible for the persecution
of the Roman Catholics in Poland, of the Lutherans in the Baltic
provinces and in Finland, of the Stundists in Central Russia, and
of the dissenting sects everywhere. He had been spoken of in the
English reviews as the "Torquemada of the nineteenth century,"
and this epithet seemed to be generally accepted as fitting.

I found him a scholarly, kindly man, ready to discuss the
business which I brought before him, and showing a wide interest
in public affairs. There were few, if any, doctrines, either
political or theological, which we held in common, but he seemed
inclined to meet the wishes of our government as fully and fairly
as he could; and thus was begun one of the most interesting
acquaintances I have ever made.

His usual time of receiving his friends was on Sunday evening
between nine and twelve; and very many such evenings I passed in
his study, discussing with him, over glasses of fragrant Russian
tea, every sort of question with the utmost freedom.

I soon found that his reasons for that course of action to which
the world so generally objects are not so superficial as they are
usually thought. The repressive policy which he has so earnestly
adopted is based not merely upon his views as a theologian, but
upon his convictions as a statesman. While, as a Russo-Greek
churchman, he regards the established church of the empire as the
form of Christianity most primitive and pure; and while he sees
in its ritual, in its art, and in all the characteristics of its
worship the nearest approach to his ideals, he looks at it also
from the point of view of a statesman--as the greatest cementing
power of the vast empire through which it is spread.

This being the case, he naturally opposes all other religious
bodies in Russia as not merely inflicting injury upon
Christianity, but as tending to the political disintegration of
the empire. Never, in any of our conversations, did I hear him
speak a harsh word of any other church or of any religious ideas
opposed to his own; but it was clear that he regarded Protestants
and dissident sects generally as but agents in the progress of
disintegration which, in Western Europe, seemed approaching a
crisis, and that he considered the Roman Catholic Church in
Poland as practically a political machine managed by a hierarchy
in deadly hostility to the Russian Empire and to Russian
influence everywhere.

In discussing his own church, he never hesitated to speak plainly
of its evident shortcomings. Unquestionably, one of the wishes
nearest his heart is to reform the abuses which have grown up
among its clergy, especially in their personal habits. Here, too,
is a reason for any repressive policy which he may have exercised
against other religious bodies. Everything that detracts from the
established Russo-Greek Church detracts from the revenues of its
clergy, and, as these are pitifully small, aids to keep the
priests and their families in the low condition from which he is
so earnestly endeavoring to raise them. As regards the severe
policy inaugurated by Alexander III against the Jews of the
empire, which Pobedonostzeff, more than any other man, is
supposed to have inspired, he seemed to have no harsh feelings
against Israelites as such; but his conduct seemed based upon a
theory which, in various conversations, he presented with much
force: namely, that Russia, having within its borders more Jews
than exist in all the world besides, and having suffered greatly
from these as from an organization really incapable of
assimilation with the body politic, must pursue a repressive
policy toward them and isolate them in order to protect its rural
population.

While he was very civil in his expressions regarding the United
States, he clearly considered all Western civilization a failure.
He seemed to anticipate, before long, a collapse in the systems
and institutions of Western Europe. To him socialism and
anarchism, with all they imply, were but symptoms of a
wide-spread political and social disease--indications of an
approaching catastrophe destined to end a civilization which,
having rejected orthodoxy, had cast aside authority, given the
force of law to the whimsies of illiterate majorities, and
accepted, as the voice of God, the voice of unthinking mobs,
blind to their own interests and utterly incapable of working out
their own good. It was evident that he regarded Russia as
representing among the nations the idea of Heaven-given and
church-anointed authority, as the empire destined to save the
principle of divine right and the rule of the fittest.

Revolutionary efforts in Russia he discussed calmly. Referring to
Loris-Melikoff, the representative of the principles most
strongly opposed to his own, no word of censure escaped him. The
only evidence of deep feeling on this subject he ever showed in
my presence was when he referred to the writings of a well-known
Russian refugee in London, and said, "He is a murderer."

As to public instruction, he evidently held to the idea so
thoroughly carried out in Russia: namely, that the upper class,
which is to conduct the business of the state, should be highly
educated, but that the mass of the people need no education
beyond what will keep them contented in the humble station to
which it has pleased God to call them. A very curious example of
his conservatism I noted in his remarks regarding the droshkies
of St. Petersburg. The droshky-drivers are Russian peasants,
simple and, as a rule, pious; rarely failing to make the sign of
the cross on passing a church or shrine, or at any other moment
which seems to them solemn. They are possibly picturesque, but
certainly dirty, in their clothing and in all their surroundings.
A conveyance more wretched than the ordinary street-droshky of a
Russian city could hardly be conceived, and measures had been
proposed for improving this system; but he could see no use in
them. The existing system was thoroughly Russian, and that was
enough. It appealed to his conservatism. The droshky-drivers,
with their Russian caps, their long hair and beards, their
picturesque caftans, and their deferential demeanor, satisfied
his esthetic sense.

What seemed to me a clash between his orthodox conservatism on
one side, and his Russian pride on the other, I discovered on my
return from a visit to Moscow, in which I had sundry walks and
talks with Tolstoi. On my alluding to this, he showed some
interest. It was clear that he was separated by a whole orb of
thought from the great novelist, yet it was none the less evident
that he took pride in him. He naturally considered Tolstoi as
hopelessly wrong in all his fundamental ideas, and yet was
himself too much of a man of letters not to recognize in his
brilliant countryman one of the glories of Russia.

But the most curious--indeed, the most amazing--revelation of the
man I found in his love for American literature. He is a wide
reader; and, in the whole breadth of his reading, American
authors were evidently among those he preferred. Of these his
favorites were Hawthorne, Lowell, and, above all, Emerson.
Curious, indeed, was it to learn that this "arch-persecutor,"
this "Torquemada of the nineteenth century," this man whose hand
is especially heavy upon Catholics and Protestants and dissenters
throughout the empire, whose name is spoken with abhorrence by
millions within the empire and without it, still reads, as his
favorite author, the philosopher of Concord. He told me that the
first book which he ever translated into Russian was Thomas a
Kempis's "Imitation of Christ"; and of that he gave me the Latin
original from which he made his translation, with a copy of the
translation itself. But he also told me that the next book he
translated was a volume of Emerson's "Essays," and he added that
for years there had always lain open upon his study table a
volume of Emerson's writings.

There is, thus clearly, a relation of his mind to the literature
of the Western world very foreign to his feelings regarding
Western religious ideas. This can be accounted for perhaps by his
own character as a man of letters. That he has a distinct
literary gift is certain. I have in my possession sundry articles
of his, and especially a poem in manuscript, which show real
poetic feeling and a marked power of expression. It is a curious
fact that, though so addicted to English and American literature,
he utterly refuses to converse in our language. His medium of
communication with foreigners is always French. On my asking him
why he would not use our language in conversation, he answered
that he had learned it from books, and that his pronunciation of
it would expose him to ridicule.

In various circles in St. Petersburg I heard him spoken of as a
hypocrite, but a simple sense of justice compels me to declare
this accusation unjust. He indeed retires into a convent for a
portion of every year to join the monks in their austerities; but
this practice is, I believe, the outgrowth of a deep religious
feeling. On returning from one of these visits, he brought to my
wife a large Easter egg of lacquered work, exquisitely
illuminated. I have examined, in various parts of Europe,
beautiful specimens of the best periods of mediaeval art; but in
no one of them have I found anything in the way of illumination
more perfect than this which he brought from his monkish
brethren. In nothing did he seem to unbend more than in his
unfeigned love for religious art as it exists in Russia. He
discussed with me one evening sundry photographs of the new
religious paintings in the cathedral of Kieff in a spirit which
revealed this feeling for religious art as one of the deepest
characteristics of his nature.

He was evidently equally sensitive to the beauties of religious
literature. Giving me various books containing the services of
the Orthodox Church, he dwelt upon the beauty of the Slavonic
version of the Psalms and upon the church hymnology.

The same esthetic side of his nature was evident at various great
church ceremonies. It has happened to me to see Pius IX celebrate
mass, both at the high altar of St. Peter's and in the Sistine
Chapel, and to witness the ceremonies of Holy Week and of Easter
at the Roman basilicas, and at the time it was hard to conceive
anything of the kind more impressive; but I have never seen any
church functions, on the whole, more imposing than the funeral
service of the Emperor Nicholas during my first visit to Russia,
and various imperial weddings, funerals, name-days, and the like,
during my second visit. On such occasions Pobedonostzeff
frequently came over from his position among the ministers of the
crown to explain to us the significance of this or that feature
in the ritual of music. It was plain that these things touched
what was deepest in him; it must be confessed that his attachment
to the church is sincere.

Nor were these impressions made upon me alone. It fell to my lot
to present to him one of the most eminent journalists our country
has produced--Charles A. Dana, a man who could discuss on even
terms with any European statesman all the leading modern
questions. Dana had been brought into close contact with many
great men; but it was plain to see--what he afterward
acknowledged to me--that he was very deeply impressed by this
eminent Russian. The talk of two such men threw new light upon
the characteristics of Pobedonostzeff, and strengthened my
impression of his intellectual sincerity.

In regard to the relation of the Russo-Greek Church to other
churches I spoke to him at various times, and found in him no
personal feeling of dislike to them. The nearest approach to such
a feeling appeared, greatly to my surprise, in sundry references
to the Greek Church as it exists in Greece. In these he showed a
spirit much like that which used to be common among High-church
Episcopalians in speaking of Low-church "Evangelicals." Mindful
of the earnest efforts made by the Anglican communion to come
into closer relations with the Russian branch of the Eastern
Church, I at various times broached that subject, and the
glimpses I obtained of his feeling regarding it surprised me.
Previously to these interviews I had supposed that the main
difficulty in the way to friendly relations between these two
branches of the church universal had its origin in the "filioque"
clause of the Nicene Creed. As is well known, the Eastern Church
adheres to that creed in its original form,--the form in which
the Holy Ghost is represented as "proceeding from the
Father,"--whereas the Western Church adopts the additional words,
"and from the Son." That the Russo-Greek Church is very tenacious
of its position in this respect, and considers the position of
the Western Church--Catholic and Protestant--as savoring of
blasphemy, is well known; and there was a curious evidence of
this during my second stay in Russia. Twice during that time I
heard the "Missa Solennis" of Beethoven. It was first given by a
splendid choir in the great hall of the University of
Helsingfors. That being in Finland, which is mainly Lutheran, the
Creed was sung in its Western form. Naturally, on going to hear
it given by a great choir at St. Petersburg, I was curious to
know how this famous clause would be dealt with. In various parts
of the audience were priests of the Russo-Greek faith, yet there
were very many Lutherans and Calvinists, and I watched with some
interest the approach of the passage containing the disputed
words; but when we reached this it was wholly omitted. Any
allusion to the "procession" was evidently forbidden. Great,
therefore, was my surprise when, on my asking Pobedonostzeff,[5]
as the representative of the Emperor in the Synod of the
empire,--the highest assemblage in the church, and he the most
influential man in it, really controlling archbishops and bishops
throughout the empire,--whether the "filioque" clause is an
insurmountable obstacle to union, he replied, "Not at all; that
is simply a question of dialectics. But with whom are we to
unite? Shall it be with the High-churchmen, the Broad-churchmen,
or the Low-churchmen? These are three different bodies of men
with distinctly different ideas of church order; indeed, with
distinctly different creeds. Which of these is the Orthodox
Church to regard as the representative of the Anglican
communion?" I endeavored to show him that the union, if it took
place at all, must be based on ideas and beliefs that underlie
all these distinctions; but he still returned to his original
proposition, which was that union is impossible until a more
distinct basis than any now attainable can be arrived at.


[5] I find, in a letter from Pobedonostzeff, that he spells his
name as here printed.


I suggested to him a visit to Great Britain and his making the
acquaintance of leading Englishmen; but to this he answered that
at his time of life he had no leisure for such a recreation; that
his duties absolutely forbade it.

In regard to relations with the Russo-Greek Church on our own
continent, he seemed to speak with great pleasure of the
treatment that sundry Russian bishops had received among us. He
read me letters from a member of the Russo-Greek hierarchy, full
of the kindliest expressions toward Americans, and especially
acknowledging their friendly reception of him and of his
ministrations. Both the archbishop in his letter, and
Pobedonostzeff in his talk, were very much amused over the fact
that the Americans, after extending various other courtesies to
the archbishop, offered him cigars.

He discussed the possibility of introducing the "Holy Orthodox
Church" into the United States, but always disclaimed all zeal in
religious propagandism, saying that the church authorities had
quite enough work to do in extending and fortifying the church
throughout the Russian Empire. He said that the pagan tribes of
the imperial dominions in Asia seemed more inclined to
Mohammedanism than to Christianity, and gave as the probable
reason the fact that the former faith is much the simpler of the
two. He was evidently unable to grasp the idea of the Congress of
Religions at the Chicago Exposition, and seemed inclined to take
a mildly humorous view of it as one of the droll inventions of
the time.

He appeared to hold our nation as a problem apart, and was,
perhaps, too civil in his conversations with me to include it in
the same condemnation with the nations of Western Europe which
had, in his opinion, gone hopelessly wrong. He also seemed drawn
to us by his admiration for Emerson, Hawthorne, and Lowell. When
Professor Norton's edition of Lowell's "Letters" came out, I at
once took it to him. It evidently gave him great
pleasure--perhaps because it revealed to him a very different
civilization, life, and personality from anything to which he had
been accustomed. Still, America seemed to be to him a sort of
dreamland. He constantly returned to Russian affairs as to the
great realities of the world. Discussing, as we often did, the
condition and future of the wild tribes and nations within the
Asiatic limits of the empire, he betrayed no desire either for
crusades or for intrigues to convert them; he simply spoke of the
legitimate influence of the church in civilizing them.

I recall a brilliant but denunciatory article, published in one
of the English reviews some time since by a well-known nihilist,
which contained, in the midst of various charges against the
Russian statesman, a description of his smile, which was
characterized as forbidding, and even ghastly. I watched for this
smile with much interest, but it never came. A smile upon his
face I have often seen; but it was a kindly smile, with no trace
of anything ghastly or cruel in it.

He seemed to take pleasure in the society of his old professorial
friends, and one of them he once brought to my table. This was a
professor of history, deeply conversant with the affairs of the
empire; and we discussed the character and career of Catherine
II. The two men together brought out a mass of curious
information, throwing a strange light into transactions which
only the most recent historians are beginning to understand,
among these the assassination of Czar Peter III, Catherine's
husband. On one occasion when Pobedonostzeff was visiting me I
tested his knowledge in regard to a matter of special interest,
and obtained a new side-light upon his theory of the universe.
There is at present on the island of Cronstadt, at the mouth of
the Neva, a Russo-Greek priest, Father Ivan, who enjoys
throughout the empire a vast reputation as a saintly worker of
miracles. This priest has a very spiritual and kindly face; is
known to receive vast sums for the poor, which he distributes
among them while he himself remains in poverty; and is supposed
not merely by members of the Russo-Greek Church, but by those of
other religious bodies, to work frequent miracles of healing. I
was assured by persons of the highest character--and those not
only Russo-Greek churchmen, but Roman Catholics and
Anglicans--that there could be no doubt as to the reality of
these miracles, and various examples were given me. So great is
Father Ivan's reputation in this respect that he is in constant
demand in all parts of the empire, and was even summoned to
Livadia during the last illness of the late Emperor. Whenever he
appears in public great crowds surround him, seeking to touch the
hem of his garment. His picture is to be seen with the portraits
of the saints in vast numbers of Russian homes, from the palaces
of the highest nobles to the cottages of the humblest peasants.

It happened to me on one occasion to have an experience which I
have related elsewhere, but which is repeated here as throwing
light on the ideas of the Russian statesman.

On my arrival in St. Petersburg my attention was at once aroused
by the portraits of Father Ivan. They ranged from photographs
absolutely true to life, which revealed a plain, shrewd, kindly
face, to those which were idealized until they bore a near
resemblance to the conventional representations of Jesus of
Nazareth.

One day, in one of the most brilliant reception-rooms of the
Northern capital, the subject of Father Ivan's miracles having
been introduced, a gentleman in very high social position, and
entirely trustworthy, spoke as follows: "There is something very
surprising about these miracles. I am slow to believe in them;
but there is one of them which is overwhelming and absolutely
true. The late Metropolitan of St. Petersburg, Archbishop
Isidore, loved quiet, and was very averse to anything which could
possibly cause scandal. Hearing of the wonders wrought by Father
Ivan, he summoned him to his presence and sternly commanded him
to abstain from all the things which had given rise to these
reported miracles, as sure to create scandal, and with this
injunction dismissed him. Hardly had the priest left the room
when the archbishop was struck with blindness, and he remained in
this condition until the priest returned and restored his sight
by intercessory prayer." When I asked the gentleman giving this
account if he directly knew these facts, he replied that he was,
of course, not present when the miracle was wrought; but that he
had the facts immediately from persons who knew all the parties
concerned, as well as all the circumstances of the case; and,
indeed, that these circumstances were matter of general
knowledge.

Sometime afterward, being at an afternoon reception in one of the
greater embassies, I brought up the same subject, when an eminent
general spoke as follows: "I am not inclined to believe in
miracles,--in fact, am rather skeptical; but the proofs of those
wrought by Father Ivan are overwhelming." He then went on to say
that the late metropolitan archbishop was a man who loved quiet
and disliked scandal; that on this account he had summoned Father
Ivan to his palace, and ordered him to put an end to the conduct
which had caused the reports concerning his miraculous powers;
and then, with a wave of his arm, had dismissed him. The priest
left the room, and from that moment the archbishop's arm was
paralyzed; and it remained so until the penitent prelate summoned
the priest again, by whose prayers the arm was restored to its
former usefulness. There was present at the time another person
besides myself who had heard the previous statement as to the
blindness of the archbishop; and, on our both asking the general
if he was sure that the archbishop's arm was paralyzed as stated,
he declared that he could not doubt it, as he had the account
directly from persons entirely trustworthy who were cognizant of
all the facts.

Sometime later, meeting Pobedonostzeff, I asked him which of
these stories was correct. He answered immediately, "Neither: in
the discharge of my duties I saw the Archbishop Isidore
constantly down to the last hours of his life, and no such event
ever occurred. He was never paralyzed and never blind." But the
great statesman and churchman then went on to say that, although
this story was untrue, there were a multitude of others quite as
remarkable in which he believed; and he gave me a number of
legends showing that Father Ivan possessed supernatural knowledge
and miraculous powers. These he unfolded to me with much detail,
and with such an accent of conviction that we seemed surrounded
by a mediaeval atmosphere in which signs and wonders were the
most natural things in the world.

As to his action on politics since my leaving Russia, the power
which he exercised over Alexander III has evidently been
continued during the reign of the young Nicholas II. In spite of
his eighty years, he seems to be, to-day, the leader of the
reactionary party.

During the early weeks of The Hague Conference, Count Munster, in
his frequent diatribes against its whole purpose, and especially
against arbitration, was wont to insist that the whole thing was
as Russia was always wretchedly unready with her army, The Hague
Conference was simply a trick for gaining time against her rivals
who kept up better military preparations. There may have been
truth in part of this assertion; but the motive of the great
Russian statesman in favoring the conference was probably not so
much to gain time for the army as to gain money for the church.
With his intense desire to increase the stipends of the Russian
orthodox clergy, and thus to raise them somewhat above their
present low condition, he must have groaned over the enormous
sums spent by his government in the frequent changes in almost
every item of expenditure for its vast army--changes made in
times of profound peace, simply to show that Russia was keeping
her army abreast of those of her sister nations. Hence came the
expressed Russian desire to "keep people from inventing things."
It has always seemed to me that, while the idea underlying the
Peace Conference came originally from Jean de Bloch, there must
have been powerful aid from Pobedonostzeff. So much of good--and,
indeed, of great good --we may attribute to him as highly
probable, if not certain.

But, on the other hand, there would seem to be equal reason for
attributing to him, in these latter days, a fearful mass of evil.
To say nothing of the policy of Russia in Poland and elsewhere,
her dealings with Finland thus far form one of the blackest spots
on the history of the empire. Whether he originated this iniquity
or not is uncertain; but when, in 1892, I first saw the new
Russian cathedral rising on the heights above Helsingfors,--a
structure vastly more imposing than any warranted by the small
number of the "orthodox" in Finland,--with its architecture of
the old Muscovite type, symbolical of fetishism, I could not but
recognize his hand in it. It seemed clear to me that here was the
beginning of religious aggression on the Lutheran Finlanders,
which must logically be followed by political and military
aggression; and, in view of his agency in this as in everything
reactionary, I did not wonder at the attempt to assassinate him
not long afterward.

During my recent stay in Germany he visited me at the Berlin
Embassy. He was, as of old, apparently gentle, kindly, interested
in literature, not interested to any great extent in current
Western politics. This gentle, kindly manner of his brought back
forcibly to my mind a remark of one of the most cultivated women
I met in Russia, a princess of ancient lineage, who ardently
desired reasonable reforms, and who, when I mentioned to her a
report that Pobedonostzeff was weary of political life, and was
about to retire from office in order to devote himself to
literary pursuits, said: "Don't, I beg of you, tell me that; for
I have always noticed that whenever such a report is circulated,
it is followed by some new scheme of his, even more infernal than
those preceding it."

So much for the man who, during the present reign, seems one of
the main agents in holding Russian policy on the road to ruin. He
is indeed a study. The descriptive epithet which clings to
him--"the Torquemada of the nineteenth century"--he once
discussed with me in no unkindly spirit; indeed, in as gentle a
spirit as can well be conceived. His life furnishes a most
interesting study in churchmanship, in statesmanship, and in
human nature, and shows how some of the men most severely
condemned by modern historians--great persecutors, inquisitors,
and the like--may have based their actions on theories the world
has little understood, and may have had as little conscious
ferocity as their more tolerant neighbors.



CHAPTER XXXVII

WALKS AND TALES WITH TOLSTOI--MARCH, 1894

Revisiting Moscow after an absence of thirty-five years, the most
surprising thing to me was that there had been so little change.
With the exception of the new gallery of Russian art, and the
bazaar opposite the sacred gate of the Kremlin, things seemed as
I had left them just after the accession of Alexander II. There
were the same unkempt streets; the same peasantry clad in
sheepskins; the same troops of beggars, sturdy and dirty; the
same squalid crowds crossing themselves before the images at the
street corners; the same throngs of worshipers knocking their
heads against the pavements of churches; and above all loomed,
now as then, the tower of Ivan and the domes of St. Basil,
gloomy, gaudy, and barbaric. Only one change had taken place
which interested me: for the first time in the history of Russia,
a man of world-wide fame in literature and thought was abiding
there--Count Leo Tolstoi.

On the evening of my arrival I went with my secretary to his
weekly reception. As we entered his house on the outskirts of the
city, two servants in evening dress came forward, removed our fur
coats, and opened the doors into the reception-room of the
master. Then came a surprise. His living-room seemed the cabin of
a Russian peasant. It was wainscoted almost rudely and furnished
very simply; and there approached us a tall, gaunt Russian,
unmistakably born to command, yet clad as a peasant, his hair
thrown back over his ears on either side, his flowing blouse kept
together by a leathern girdle, his high jack-boots completing the
costume. This was Tolstoi.

Nothing could be more kindly than his greeting. While his dress
was that of a peasant, his bearing was the very opposite; for,
instead of the depressed, demure, hangdog expression of the
average muzhik, his manner, though cordial, was dignified and
impressive. Having given us a hearty welcome, he made us
acquainted with various other guests. It was a singular
assemblage. There were foreigners in evening dress, Moscow
professors in any dress they liked, and a certain number of
youth, evidently disciples, who, though clearly not of the
peasant class, wore the peasant costume. I observed these with
interest but certainly as long as they were under the spell of
the master they communicated nothing worth preserving; they
seemed to show "the contortions of the sibyl without the
inspiration."

The professors were much more engaging. The University of Moscow
has in its teaching body several strong men, and some of these
were present. One of them, whose department was philosophy,
especially interested and encouraged me by assurances that the
movement of Russian philosophy is "back to Kant." In the strange
welter of whims and dreams which one finds in Russia, this was to
me an unexpected evidence of healthful thought.

Naturally, I soon asked to be presented to the lady of the house,
and the count escorted us through a series of rooms to a salon
furnished much like any handsome apartment in Paris or St.
Petersburg, where the countess, with other ladies, all in full
evening dress, received us cordially. This sudden transition from
the peasant cabin of the master to these sumptuous rooms of the
mistress was startling; it seemed like scene-shifting at a
theater.

After some friendly talk, all returned to the rooms of the master
of the house, where tea was served at a long table from the
bubbling brazen urn--the samovar; and though there were some
twenty or thirty guests, nothing could be more informal. All was
simple, kindly, and unrestrained.

My first question was upon the condition of the people. Our
American legation had corresponded with Count Tolstoi and his
family as to distributing a portion of the famine fund sent from
the United States, hence this subject naturally arose at the
outset. He said that the condition of the peasants was still very
bad; that they had very generally eaten their draught-animals,
burned portions of their buildings to keep life in their bodies,
and reduced themselves to hopeless want. On my suggesting that
the new commercial treaty with Germany might help matters, he
thought that it would have but little effect, since only a small
portion of the total product of Russian agriculture is consumed
abroad. This led him to speak of some Americans and Englishmen
who had visited the famine-stricken districts, and, while he
referred kindly to them all, he seemed especially attracted by
the Quaker John Bellows of Gloucester, England, the author of the
wonderful little French dictionary. This led him to say that he
sympathized with the Quakers in everything save their belief in
property; that in this they were utterly illogical; that property
presupposes force to protect it. I remarked that most American
Quakers knew nothing of such force; that none of them had ever
seen an American soldier, save during our Civil War, and that
probably not one in hundreds of them had ever seen a soldier at
all. He answered, "But you forget the policeman." He evidently
put policemen and soldiers in the same category--as using force
to protect property, and therefore to be alike abhorred.

I found that to his disbelief in any right of ownership literary
property formed no exception. He told me that, in his view, he
had no right to receive money for the permission to print a book.
To this I naturally answered that by carrying out this doctrine
he would simply lavish large sums upon publishers in every
country of Europe and America, many of them rich and some of them
piratical; and that in my opinion he would do a much better thing
by taking the full value of his copyrights and bestowing the
proceeds upon the peasantry starving about him. To which he
answered that it was a question of duty. To this I agreed, but
remarked that beneath this lay the question what this duty really
was. It was a pleasure to learn from another source that the
countess took a different view of it, and that she had in some
way secured the proceeds of his copyrights for their very large
and interesting family. Light was thus thrown on Tolstoi's
remark, made afterward, that women are not so self-sacrificing as
men; that a man would sometimes sacrifice his family for an idea,
but that a woman would not.

He then went on to express an interest in the Shakers, and
especially in Frederick Evans. He had evidently formed an idea of
them very unlike the reality; in fact, the Shaker his imagination
had developed was as different from a Lebanon Shaker as an eagle
from a duck, and his notion of their influence on American
society was comical.

He spoke at some length regarding religion in Russia, evidently
believing that its present dominant form is soon to pass away. I
asked him how then he could account for the fact that while in
other countries women are greatly in the majority at church
services, in every Russian church the majority are men; and that
during the thirty-five years since my last visit to Moscow this
tendency had apparently increased. He answered, "All this is on
the surface; there is much deeper thought below, and the great
want of Russia is liberty to utter it." He then gave some
examples to show this, among them the case of a gentleman and
lady in St. Petersburg, whose children had been taken from them
and given to Princess ----, their grandmother, because the latter
is of the Orthodox Church and the former are not. I answered that
I had seen the children; that their grandmother had told me that
their mother was a screaming atheist with nihilistic tendencies,
who had left her husband and was bringing up the children in a
scandalous way,--teaching them to abjure God and curse the Czar;
that their father had thought it his duty to give all his
property away and work as a laborer; that therefore she--the
grandmother--had secured an order from the Emperor empowering her
to take charge of the children; that I had seen the children at
their grandmother's house, and that they had seemed very happy.
Tolstoi insisted that this statement by the grandmother was
simply made to cover the fact that the children were taken from
the mother because her belief was not of the orthodox pattern. My
opinion is that Tolstoi was mistaken, at least as to the father;
and that the father had been led to give away his property and
work with his hands in obedience to the ideas so eloquently
advocated by Tolstoi himself. Unlike his master, this gentleman
appears not to have had the advantage of a wife who mitigated his
ideas.

Tolstoi also referred to the difficulties which translators had
found in securing publishers for his most recent book--"The
Kingdom of God." On my assuring him that American publishers of
high standing would certainly be glad to take it, he said that he
had supposed the ideas in it so contrary to opinions dominant in
America as to prevent its publication there.

Returning to the subject of religion in Russia, he referred to
some curious incongruities; as, for example, the portrait of
Socrates forming part of a religious picture in the Annunciation
Church at the Kremlin. He said that evidently some monk, who had
dipped into Plato, had thus placed Socrates among the precursors
of Christ. I cited the reason assigned by Melanchthon for
Christ's descent into hell--namely, the desire of the Redeemer to
make himself known to Socrates, Plato, and the best of the
ancient philosophers; and I compared this with Luther's idea, so
characteristic of him, that Christ descended into hell in order
to have a hand-to-hand grapple and wrestle with Satan. This led
Tolstoi to give me a Russian legend of the descent into hell,
which was that, when Christ arrived there, he found Satan forging
chains, but that, at the approach of the Saviour, the walls of
hell collapsed, and Satan found himself entangled in his own
chains, and remained so for a thousand years.

In regard to the Jews, he said that he sympathized with them, but
that the statements regarding the persecution of them were
somewhat exaggerated. Kennan's statements regarding the treatment
of prisoners in Siberia he thought overdrawn at times, but
substantially true. He expressed his surprise that certain
leading men in the empire, whom he named, could believe that
persecution and the forcible repression of thought would have any
permanent effect at the end of the nineteenth century.

He then dwelt upon sundry evil conditions in Russia, on which my
comment was that every country, of course, had its own grievous
shortcomings; and I cited, as to America, the proverb: "No one
knows so well where the shoe pinches as he who wears it." At this
he asked me about lynch law in the United States, and expressed
his horror of it. I showed him that it was the inevitable result
of a wretched laxity and sham humanity in the administration of
our criminal law, which had led great bodies of people, more
especially in the Southern and extreme Western parts of the
country, to revert to natural justice and take the law into their
own hands; and I cited Goldwin Smith's profound remark that "some
American lynchings are proofs not so much of lawlessness as of a
respect for law."

He asked me where, besides this, the shoe pinched in the United
States. I told him that it pinched in various places, but that
perhaps the worst pinch arises from the premature admission to
full political rights of men who have been so benumbed and
stunted intellectually and morally in other countries that their
exercise of political rights in America is frequently an injury,
not only to others, but to themselves. In proof of this I cited
the case of the crowds whom I had seen some years before huddled
together in New York tenement-houses, preyed upon by their
liquor-selling landlords, their families perishing of typhoid and
smallpox on account of the negligence and maladministration of
the local politicians, but who, as a rule, were almost if not
quite ready to mob and murder those of us who brought in a new
health board and a better order of things; showing him that for
years the very class of people who suffered most from the old,
vile state of things did their best by their votes to keep in
power the men who maintained it.

We then passed to the subject of the trans-Siberian Railway. In
this he seemed interested, but in a vague way which added nothing
to my knowledge.

Asking me regarding my former visit to Moscow, and learning that
it was during the Crimean War, he said, "At that time I was in
Sebastopol, and continued there as a soldier during the siege."

As to his relations with the imperial government at present, he
said that he had been recently elected to a learned society in
Moscow, but that the St. Petersburg government had interfered to
stop the election; and he added that every morning, when he
awoke, he wondered that he was not on his way to Siberia.

On my leaving him, both he and the countess invited me to meet
them next day at the Tretiakof Museum of Russian Pictures; and
accordingly, on the following afternoon, I met them at that
greatest of all galleries devoted purely to Russian art. They
were accompanied by several friends, among them a little knot of
disciples--young men clad in simple peasant costume like that
worn by the master. It was evident that he was an acknowledged
lion at the old Russian capital, for as he led me about to see
the pictures which he liked best, he was followed and stared at
by many.

Pointing out to me some modern religious pictures in Byzantine
style painted for the Cathedral of Kieff, he said, "They
represent an effort as futile as trying to persuade chickens to
reenter the egg-shells from which they have escaped." He next
showed me two religious pictures; the first representing the
meeting of Jesus and Pilate, when the latter asked, "What is
truth?" Pilate was depicted as a rotund, jocose, cynical man of
the world; Jesus, as a street preacher in sordid garments, with
unkempt hair flowing over his haggard face,--a peasant fanatic
brought in by the police. Tolstoi showed an especial interest in
this picture; it seemed to reveal to him the real secret of that
famous question and its answer; the question coming from the
mighty of the earth, and the answer from the poor and oppressed.

The other picture represented the Crucifixion. It was painted in
the most realistic manner possible; nothing was idealized; it was
even more vividly realistic than Gebhardt's picture of the Lord's
Supper, at Berlin; so that it at first repelled me, though it
afterward exercised a certain fascination. That Tolstoi was
deeply interested was clear. He stood for a time in silence, as
if musing upon all that the sacrifice on Calvary had brought to
the world. Other representations of similar scenes, in the
conventional style of the older masters, he had passed without a
glance; but this spectacle of the young Galilean peasant, with
unattractive features, sordid garb, poverty-stricken companions,
and repulsive surroundings, tortured to death for preaching the
"kingdom of God" to the poor and down-trodden, seemed to hold him
fast, and as he pointed out various features in the picture it
became even more clear to me that sympathy with the peasant
class, and a yearning to enter into their cares and sorrows, form
the real groundwork of his life.

He then took me to a small picture of Jesus and his disciples
leaving the upper room at Jerusalem after the Last Supper. This,
too, was painted in the most realistic manner. The disciples,
simple-minded fishermen, rude in features and dress, were
plodding homeward, while Christ himself gazed at the stars and
drew the attention of his nearest companions to some of the
brightest. Tolstoi expressed especial admiration for this
picture, saying that at times it affected him like beautiful
music,--like music which draws tears, one can hardly tell why. It
was more and more evident, as he lingered before this and other
pictures embodying similar ideas, that sympathy for those
struggling through poverty and want toward a better life is his
master passion.

Among the pictures, not to be classed as religious, before which
he thus lingered were those representing the arrest of a nihilist
and the return of an exile from Siberia. Both were well painted,
and both revealed the same characteristic--sympathy with the
poor, even with criminals.

Some of the more famous historical pictures in the collection he
thought exaggerated; especially those representing the fury of
the Grand Duchess Sophia in her monastery prison, and the remorse
of Ivan the Terrible after murdering his son.

To my surprise, he agreed with me, and even went beyond me, in
rating landscape infinitely below religious and historical
painting, saying that he cared for landscape-painting only as
accessory to pictures revealing human life.

Among genre pictures, we halted before one representing a peasant
family grouped about the mother, who, with a sacred picture laid
upon her breast, after the Russian manner, was dying of famine.
This also seemed deeply to impress him.

We stopped next before a picture of a lady of high birth brought
before the authorities in order to be sent, evidently against her
will, to a convent. I cited the similar story from Manzoni's
"Promessi Sposi"; but, to my surprise, he seemed to know little
of that most fascinating of historical romances. This led to a
discussion in which he said he had once liked Walter Scott, but
had not read anything of his for many years; and he seemed
interested in my statement that although always an especial
admirer of Scott, I had found it almost impossible to induce the
younger generation to read him.

Stopping before a picture of Peter the Great's fatal conference
with his son Alexis, in reply to my remark upon the marvel that a
prince of such genius as Peter should have appeared at Moscow in
the seventeenth century, he said that he did not admire Peter,
that he was too cruel,--administering torture and death at times
with his own hands.

We next halted before a picture representing the horrible
execution of the Strelitzes. I said that "such pictures prove
that the world does, after all, progress slowly, in spite of what
pessimists say, and that in order to refute pessimists one has
only to refer to the improvements in criminal law." To this he
agreed cordially, and declared the abolition of torture in
procedure and penalty to be one great gain, at any rate.

We spoke of the present condition of things in Europe, and I told
him that at St. Petersburg the opinion very general among the
more thoughtful members of the diplomatic corps was that war was
not imminent; that the Czar, having himself seen the cruelties of
war during the late struggle in the Balkans, had acquired an
invincible repugnance to it. He acquiesced in this, but said that
it seemed monstrous to him that the peace of the empire and of
Europe should depend upon so slender a thread as the will of any
one man.

Our next walk was taken across the river Moskwa, on the ice, to
and through the Kremlin, and as we walked the conversation fell
upon literature. As to French literature, he thought Maupassant
the man of greatest talent, by far, in recent days, but that he
was depraved and centered all his fiction in women. For Balzac,
Tolstoi evidently preserved admiration, but he cared little,
apparently, for Daudet, Zola, and their compeers.

As to American literature, he said that Tourgueneff had once told
him that there was nothing in it worth reading; nothing new or
original; that it was simply a copy of English literature. To
this I replied that such criticism seemed to me very shallow;
that American literature was, of course, largely a growth out of
the parent stock of English literature, and must mainly be judged
as such; that to ask in the highest American literature something
absolutely different from English literature in general was like
looking for oranges upon an apple-tree; that there had come new
varieties in this growth, many of them original, and some
beautiful; but that there was the same sap, the same life-current
running through it all; and I compared the treatment of woman in
all Anglo-Saxon literature, whether on one side of the Atlantic
or the other, from Chaucer to Mark Twain, with the treatment of
the same subject by French writers from Rabelais to Zola. To this
he answered that in his opinion the strength of American
literature arises from the inherent Anglo-Saxon religious
sentiment. He expressed a liking for Emerson, Hawthorne, and
Whittier, but he seemed to have read at random, not knowing at
all some of the best things. He spoke with admiration of Theodore
Parker's writings, and seemed interested in my reminiscences of
Parker and of his acquaintance with Russian affairs. He also
revered and admired the character and work of William Lloyd
Garrison. He had read Longfellow somewhat, but was evidently
uncertain regarding Lowell,--confusing him, apparently, with some
other author. Among contemporary writers he knew some of
Howells's novels and liked them, but said: "Literature in the
United States at present seems to be in the lowest trough of the
sea between high waves." He dwelt on the flippant tone of
American newspapers, and told me of an interviewer who came to
him in behalf of an American journal, and wanted simply to know
at what time he went to bed and rose, what he ate, and the like.
He thought that people who cared to read such trivialities must
be very feeble-minded, but he said that the European press is, on
the whole, just as futile. On my attempting to draw from him some
statement as to what part of American literature pleased him
most, he said that he had read some publications of the New York
and Brooklyn Society for Ethical Culture, and that he knew and
liked the writings of Felix Adler. I then asked who, in the whole
range of American literature, he thought the foremost. To this he
made an answer which amazed me, as it would have astonished my
countrymen. Indeed, did the eternal salvation of all our eighty
millions depend upon some one of them guessing the person he
named, we should all go to perdition together. That greatest of
American writers was--Adin Ballou! Evidently, some of the
philanthropic writings of that excellent Massachusetts country
clergyman and religious communist had pleased him, and hence came
the answer.

The next day he came over to my hotel and we went out for a
stroll. As we passed along the streets I noticed especially what
I had remarked during our previous walks, that Tolstoi had a
large quantity of small Russian coins in his pockets; that this
was evidently known to the swarms of beggars who infest the
Kremlin and the public places generally; and that he always gave
to them.

On my speaking of this, he said he thought that any one, when
asked for money, ought to give it. Arguing against this doctrine,
I said that in the United States there are virtually no beggars,
and I might have gone on to discuss the subject from the
politico-economical point of view, showing how such
indiscriminate almsgiving in perpetual driblets is sure to create
the absurd and immoral system which one sees throughout
Russia,--hordes of men and women who are able to take care of
themselves, and who ought to be far above beggary, cringing and
whining to the passers-by for alms; but I had come to know the
man well enough to feel sure that a politico-economical argument
would slide off him like water from a duck's back, so I attempted
to take him upon another side, and said: "In the United States
there are virtually no beggars, though my countrymen are, I
really believe, among the most charitable in the world." To this
last statement he assented, referring in a general way to our
shipments of provisions to aid the famine-stricken in Russia.
"But," I added, "it is not our custom to give to beggars save in
special emergencies." I then gave him an account of certain
American church organizations which had established piles of
fire-wood and therefore enabled any able-bodied tramp, by sawing
or cutting some of it, to earn a good breakfast, a good dinner,
and, if needed, a good bed, and showed him that Americans
considered beggary not only a great source of pauperism, but as
absolutely debasing to the beggar himself, in that it puts him in
the attitude of a suppliant for that which, if he works as he
ought, he can claim as his right; that to me the spectacle of
Count Tolstoi virtually posing as a superior being, while his
fellow-Russians came crouching and whining to him, was not at all
edifying. To this view of the case he listened very civilly.

Incidentally I expressed wonder that he had not traveled more. He
then spoke with some disapprobation of travel. He had lived
abroad for a time, he said, and in St. Petersburg a few years,
but the rest of his life had been spent mainly in Moscow and the
interior of Russia. The more we talked together, the more it
became clear that this last statement explained some of his main
defects. Of all distinguished men that I have ever met, Tolstoi
seems to me most in need of that enlargement of view and
healthful modification of opinion which come from meeting men and
comparing views with them in different lands and under different
conditions. This need is all the greater because in Russia there
is no opportunity to discuss really important questions. Among
the whole one hundred and twenty millions of people there is no
public body in which the discussion of large public questions is
allowed; the press affords no real opportunity for discussion;
indeed, it is more than doubtful whether such discussion would be
allowed to any effective extent even in private correspondence or
at one's own fireside.

I remember well that during my former stay in St. Petersburg,
people who could talk English at their tables generally did so in
order that they might not betray themselves to any spy who might
happen to be among their servants.

Still worse, no one, unless a member of the diplomatic corps or
specially privileged, is allowed to read such books or newspapers
as he chooses, so that even this access to the thoughts of others
is denied to the very men who most need it.

Like so many other men of genius in Russia, then,--and Russia is
fertile in such,--Tolstoi has had little opportunity to take part
in any real discussion of leading topics; and the result is that
his opinions have been developed without modification by any
rational interchange of thought with other men. Under such
circumstances any man, no matter how noble or gifted, having
given birth to striking ideas, coddles and pets them until they
become the full-grown, spoiled children of his brain. He can at
last see neither spot nor blemish in them, and comes virtually to
believe himself infallible. This characteristic I found in
several other Russians of marked ability. Each had developed his
theories for himself until he had become infatuated with them,
and despised everything differing from them.

This is a main cause why sundry ghastly creeds, doctrines, and
sects--religious, social, political, and philosophic--have been
developed in Russia. One of these religious creeds favors the
murder of new-born children in order to save their souls; another
enjoins ghastly bodily mutilations for a similar purpose; others
still would plunge the world in flames and blood for the
difference of a phrase in a creed, or a vowel in a name, or a
finger more or less in making the sign of the cross, or for this
garment in a ritual, or that gesture in a ceremony.

In social creeds they have developed nihilism, which virtually
assumes the right of an individual to sit in judgment upon the
whole human race and condemn to death every other human being who
may differ in opinion or position from this self-constituted
judge.

In political creeds they have conceived the monarch as the
all-powerful and irresponsible vicegerent of God, and all the
world outside Russia as given over to Satan, for the reason that
it has "rejected the divine principle of authority."

In various branches of philosophy they have developed doctrines
which involve the rejection of the best to which man has attained
in science, literature, and art, and a return to barbarism.

In the theory of life and duty they have devised a pessimistic
process under which the human race would cease to exist.

Every one of these theories is the outcome of some original mind
of more or less strength, discouraged, disheartened, and
overwhelmed by the sorrows of Russian life; developing its ideas
logically and without any possibility of adequate discussion with
other men. This alone explains a fact which struck me
forcibly--the fact that all Tolstoi's love of humanity, real
though it certainly is, seems accompanied by a depreciation of
the ideas, statements, and proposals of almost every other human
being, and by virtual intolerance of all thought which seems in
the slightest degree different from his own.

Arriving in the Kremlin, he took me to the Church of the
Annunciation to see the portrait of Socrates in the religious
picture of which he had spoken; but we were too late to enter,
and so went to the Palace of the Synod, where we looked at the
picture of the Trinity, which, by a device frequently used in
street signs, represents, when looked at from one side, the
suffering Christ, from the other the Holy Ghost in the form of a
dove, and from the front the Almighty as an old man with a white
beard. What Tolstoi thought of the doctrine thus illustrated came
out in a subsequent conversation.

The next day he came again to my rooms and at once began speaking
upon religion. He said that every man is religious and has in him
a religion of his own; that religion results from the conception
which a man forms of his relations to his fellow-men, and to the
principle which in his opinion controls the universe; that there
are three stages in religious development: first, the childhood
of nations, when man thinks of the whole universe as created for
him and centering in him; secondly, the maturity of nations, the
time of national religions, when each nation believes that all
true religion centers in it,--the Jews and the English, he said,
being striking examples; and, finally, the perfected conception
of nations, when man has the idea of fulfilling the will of the
Supreme Power and considers himself an instrument for that
purpose. He went on to say that in every religion there are two
main elements, one of deception and one of devotion, and he asked
me about the Mormons, some of whose books had interested him. He
thought two thirds of their religion deception, but said that on
the whole he preferred a religion which professed to have dug its
sacred books out of the earth to one which pretended that they
were let down from heaven. On learning that I had visited Salt
Lake City two years before, he spoke of the good reputation of
the Mormons for chastity, and asked me to explain the hold of
their religion upon women. I answered that Mormonism could hardly
be judged by its results at present; that, as a whole, the
Mormons are, no doubt, the most laborious and decent people in
the State of Utah; but that this is their heroic period, when
outside pressure keeps them firmly together and arouses their
devotion; that the true test will come later, when there is less
pressure and more knowledge, and when the young men who are now
arising begin to ask questions, quarrel with each other, and
split the whole body into sects and parties.

This led to questions in regard to American women generally, and
he wished to know something of their condition and prospects. I
explained some features of woman's condition among us, showing
its evolution, first through the betterment of her legal status,
and next through provision for her advanced education; but told
him that so far as political rights are concerned, there had been
very little practical advance in the entire East and South of the
country during the last fifty years, and that even in the extreme
Western States, where women have been given political rights and
duties to some extent, the concessions have been wavering and
doubtful.

At this, he took up his parable and said that women ought to have
all other rights except political; that they are unfit to
discharge political duties; that, indeed, one of the great
difficulties of the world at present lies in their possession of
far more consideration and control than they ought to have. "Go
into the streets and bazaars," he said, "and you will see the
vast majority of shops devoted to their necessities. In France
everything centers in women, and women have complete control of
life: all contemporary French literature shows this. Woman is not
man's equal in the highest qualities; she is not so
self-sacrificing as man. Men will, at times, sacrifice their
families for an idea; women will not." On my demurring to this
latter statement, he asked me if I ever knew a woman who loved
other people's children as much as her own. I gladly answered in
the negative, but cited Florence Nightingale, Sister Dora, and
others, expressing my surprise at his assertion that women are
incapable of making as complete sacrifices for any good cause as
men. I pointed to the persecutions in the early church, when
women showed themselves superior to men in suffering torture,
degradation, and death in behalf of the new religion, and added
similar instances from the history of witchcraft. To this he
answered that in spite of all such history, women will not make
sacrifices of their own interest for a good cause which does not
strikingly appeal to their feelings, while men will do so; that
he had known but two or three really self-sacrificing women in
his life; and that these were unmarried. On my saying that
observation had led me to a very different conclusion, his
indictment took another form. He insisted that woman hangs upon
the past; that public opinion progresses, but that women are
prone to act on the opinion of yesterday or of last year; that
women and womanish men take naturally to old absurdities, among
which he mentioned the doctrines of the Trinity, "spiritism," and
homeopathy. At this I expressed a belief that if, instead of
educating women, as Bishop Dupanloup expressed it, "in the lap of
the church (sur les genoux de l'eglise)," we educate them in the
highest sense, in universities, they will develop more and more
intellectually, and so become a controlling element in the
formation of a better race; that, as strong men generally have
strong mothers, the better education of woman physically,
intellectually, and morally is the true way of bettering the race
in general. In this idea he expressed his disbelief, and said
that education would not change women; that women are illogical
by nature. At this I cited an example showing that women can be
exceedingly logical and close in argument, but he still adhered
to his opinion. On my mentioning the name of George Eliot, he
expressed a liking for her.

On our next walk, he took me to the funeral of one of his
friends. He said that to look upon the dead should rather give
pleasure than pain; that memento mori is a wise maxim, and
looking upon the faces of the dead a good way of putting it in
practice. I asked him if he had formed a theory as to a future
life, and he said in substance that he had not; but that, as we
came at birth from beyond the forms of space and time, so at
death we returned whence we came. I said, "You use the word
'forms' in the Kantian sense?" "Yes," he said, "space and time
have no reality."

We arrived just too late at the house of mourning. The dead man
had been taken away; but many of those who had come to do him
honor still lingered, and were evidently enjoying the "funeral
baked meats." There were clear signs of a carousal. The friends
who came out to meet us had, most of them, flushed faces, and one
young man in military uniform, coming down the stairs, staggered
and seemed likely to break his neck.

Tolstoi refused to go in, and, as we turned away, expressed
disgust at the whole system, saying, as well he might, that it
was utterly barbarous. He seemed despondent over it, and I tried
to cheer him by showing how the same custom of drinking strong
liquors at funerals had, only a few generations since, prevailed
in large districts of England and America, but that better ideas
of living had swept it away.

On our way through the street, we passed a shrine at which a mob
of peasants were adoring a sacred picture. He dwelt on the
fetishism involved in this, and said that Jesus Christ would be
infinitely surprised and pained were he to return to earth and
see what men were worshiping in his name. He added a story of a
converted pagan who, being asked how many gods he worshiped,
said: "One, and I ate him this morning." At this I cited
Browning's lines put into the mouth of the bishop who wished,
from his tomb,

          "To hear the blessed mutter of the mass,
           And see God made and eaten all day long."


I reminded him of his definition of religion given me on one of
our previous walks, and he repeated it, declaring religion to be
the feeling which man has regarding his relation to the universe,
including his fellow-men, and to the power which governs all.

The afternoon was closed with a visit to a Raskolnik, or Old
Believer, and of all our experiences this turned out to be the
most curious. The Raskolniks, or Old Believers, compose that
wide-spread sect which broke off from the main body of the
Russian Church when the patriarch of Moscow, Nikon, in the
seventeenth century attempted to remove various textual errors
from the Bible and ceremonial books. These books had been copied
and recopied during centuries until their condition had become
monstrous. Through a mistake of some careless transcriber, even
the name of Jesus had been travestied and had come to be spelled
with two e's; the crudest absurdities had been copied into the
test; important parts had become unintelligible; and the time had
evidently arrived for a revision. Nikon saw this, and in good
faith summoned scholars from Constantinople to prepare more
correct editions; but these revised works met the fate which
attends such revisions generally. The great body of the people
were attached to the old forms; they preferred them, just as in
these days the great body of English-speaking Protestants prefer
the King James Bible to the Revised Version, even though the
latter may convey to the reader more correctly what was dictated
by the Holy Spirit. The feeling of the monks, especially, against
Nikon's new version became virulent. They raised so strong an
opposition among the people that an army had to be sent against
them; at the siege of the Solovetsk Monastery the conflict was
long and bloody, and as a result a large body of people and
clergy broke off from the church. Of course the more these
dissenters thought upon what Nikon had done, the more utterly
evil he seemed; but this was not all. A large part of Russian
religious duty, so far as the people are concerned, consists in
making the sign of the cross on all occasions. Before Nikon's
time this had been done rather carelessly, but, hoping to impress
a religious lesson, he ordered it to be made with three extended
fingers, thus reminding the faithful of the Trinity. At this the
Raskolniks insisted that the sign of the cross ought to be made
with two fingers, and out of this difference arose more
bitterness than from all other causes put together. From that day
to this the dissenters have insisted on enjoying the privilege of
reading the old version with all its absurdities, of spelling the
word Jesus with two e's, of crossing themselves with two fingers,
and of cursing Nikon.

This particular Raskolnik, or Old Believer, to whom Tolstoi took
me, was a Muscovite merchant of great wealth, living in a superb
villa on the outskirts of the city, with a large park about it;
the apartments, for size and beauty of decoration, fit for a
royal palace--the ceilings covered with beautiful frescos, and
the rooms full of statues and pictures by eminent artists, mainly
Russian and French. He was a man of some education, possessed a
large library, loved to entertain scientific men and to aid
scientific effort, and managed to keep on good terms with his
more fanatical coreligionists on one side and with the government
on the other, so that in emergencies he was an efficient
peacemaker between them. We found him a kindly, gentle old man,
with long, white hair and beard, and he showed us with evident
pleasure the principal statues and pictures, several of the
former being by Antokolski, the greatest contemporary Russian
sculptor. In the sumptuous dining-room, in which perhaps a
hundred persons could sit at table, he drew our attention to some
fine pictures of Italian scenes by Smieradsky, and, after passing
through the other rooms, took us into a cabinet furnished with
the rarest things to be found in the Oriental bazaars. Finally,
he conducted us into his private chapel, where, on the
iconostas,--the screen which, in accordance with the Greek
ritual, stands before the altar,--the sacred images of the
Saviour and various saints were represented somewhat differently
from those in the Russo-Greek Church, especially in that they
extended two fingers instead of three. To this difference I
called his attention, and he at once began explaining it. Soon he
grew warm, and finally fervid. Said he: "Why do we make the sign
of the cross? We do it to commemorate the crucifixion of our
blessed Lord. What is commemorated at the crucifixion? The
sacrifice of his two natures--the divine and the human. How do we
make the sign? We make it with two fingers, thus"--accompanied by
a gesture. "What does this represent? It represents what really
occurred: the sacrifice of the divine and the human nature of our
Lord. How do the Orthodox make it?" Here his voice began to rise.
"They make it with three fingers"--and now his indignation burst
all bounds, and with a tremendous gesture and almost a scream of
wrath he declared: "and every time they make it they crucify
afresh every one of the three persons of the holy and undivided
Trinity."

The old man's voice, so gentle at first, had steadily risen
during this catechism of his, in which he propounded the
questions and recited the answers, until this last utterance came
with an outcry of horror. The beginning of this catechism was
given much after the manner of a boy reciting mechanically the
pons asinorum, but the end was like the testimony of an ancient
prophet against the sins which doomed Israel.

This last burst was evidently too much for Tolstoi. He said not a
word in reply, but seemed wrapped in overpowering thought, and
anxious to break away. We walked out with the old Raskolnik, and
at the door I thanked him for his kindness; but even there, and
all the way down the long walk through the park, Tolstoi remained
silent. As we came into the road he suddenly turned to me and
said almost fiercely, "That man is a hypocrite; he can't believe
that; he is a shrewd, long-headed man; how can he believe such
trash? Impossible!" At this I reminded him of Theodore Parker's
distinction between men who believe and men who "believe that
they believe," and said that possibly our Raskolnik was one of
the latter. This changed the subject. He said that he had read
Parker's biography, and liked it all save one thing, which was
that he gave a pistol to a fugitive slave and advised him to
defend himself. This Tolstoi condemned on the ground that we are
not to resist evil. I told him of the advice I had given to
Dobroluboff, a very winning Russian student at Cornell
University, when he was returning to Russia to practise his
profession as an engineer. That advice was that he should bear in
mind Buckle's idea as to the agency of railways and telegraphs in
extending better civilization, and devote himself to his
profession of engineering, with the certainty that its ultimate
result would be to aid in the enlightenment of the empire; but
never, on any account, to conspire against the government;
telling him that he might be sure that he could do far more for
the advancement of Russian thought by building railways than by
entering into any conspiracies whatever. Tolstoi said the advice
was good, but that he would also have advised the young man to
speak out his ideas, whatever they might be. He said that only in
this way could any advance ever be made; that one main obstacle
in human progress is the suppression of the real thoughts of men.
I answered that all this had a fine sound; that it might do for
Count Tolstoi; but that a young, scholarly engineer following it
would soon find himself in a place where he could not promulgate
his ideas,--guarded by Cossacks in some remote Siberian mine.

He spoke of young professors in the universities, of their
difficulties, and of the risk to their positions if they spoke
out at all. I asked him if there was any liberality or breadth of
thought in the Russo-Greek Church. He answered that occasionally
a priest had tried to unite broader thought with orthodox dogma,
but that every such attempt had proved futile.

From Parker we passed to Lowell, and I again tried to find if he
really knew anything of Lowell's writings. He evidently knew very
little, and asked me what Lowell had written. He then said that
he had no liking for verse, and he acquiesced in Carlyle's saying
that nobody had ever said anything in verse which could not have
been better said in prose.

A day or two later, on another of our walks, I asked him how and
when, in his opinion, a decided advance in Russian liberty and
civilization would be made. He answered that he thought it would
come soon, and with great power. On my expressing the opinion
that such progress would be the result of a long evolutionary
process, with a series of actions and reactions, as heretofore in
Russian history, he dissented, and said that the change for the
better would come soon, suddenly, and with great force.

As we passed along the streets he was, as during our previous
walks, approached by many beggars, to each of whom he gave as
long as his money lasted. He said that he was accustomed to take
a provision of copper money with him for this purpose on his
walks, since he regarded it as a duty to give when asked, and he
went on to say that he carried the idea so far that even if he
knew the man wanted the money to buy brandy he would give it to
him; but he added that he would do all in his power to induce the
man to work and to cease drinking. I demurred strongly to all
this, and extended the argument which I had made during our
previous walk, telling him that by such giving he did two wrongs:
first, to the beggar himself, since it led him to cringe and lie
in order to obtain as a favor that which, if he did his duty in
working, he could claim as a right; and, secondly, to society by
encouraging such a multitude to prey upon it who might be giving
it aid and strength; and I again called his attention to the
hordes of sturdy beggars in Moscow. He answered that the results
of our actions in such cases are not the main thing, but the
cultivation of proper feelings in the giver is first to be
considered.

I then asked him about his manual labor. He said that his habit
was to rise early and read or write until noon, then to take his
luncheon and a short sleep, and after that to work in his garden
or fields. He thought this good for him on every account, and
herein we fully agreed.

On our return through the Kremlin, passing the heaps and rows of
cannon taken from the French in 1812, I asked him if he still
adhered to the low opinion of Napoleon expressed in "War and
Peace." He said that he did, and more than ever since he had
recently read a book on Napoleon's relations to women which
showed that he took the lowest possible view of womankind. I then
asked him if he still denied Napoleon's military genius. He
answered that he certainly did; that he did not believe in the
existence of any such thing as military genius; that he had never
been able to understand what is meant by the term. I asked, "How
then do you account for the amazing series of Napoleon's
successes?" He answered, "By circumstances." I rejoined that such
an explanation had the merit, at least, of being short and easy.

He then went on to say that battles are won by force of
circumstances, by chance, by luck; and he quoted Suvaroff to this
effect. He liked Lanfrey's "History of Napoleon" and Taine's book
on the Empire, evidently because both are denunciatory of men and
things he dislikes, but said that he did not believe in Thiers.

We came finally under the shade of the great tower and into the
gateway through which Napoleon entered the Kremlin; and there we
parted with a hearty good-bye.

The question has been asked me, at various times since, whether,
in my opinion, Tolstoi is really sincere; and allusion has been
made to a book published by a lady who claims to have been in
close relations with his family, which would seem to reveal a
theatrical element in his whole life. To this my answer has
always been, and still is, that I believe him to be one of the
most sincere and devoted men alive, a man of great genius and, at
the same time, of very deep sympathy with his fellow-creatures.

Out of this character of his come his theories of art and
literature; and, despite their faults, they seem to me more
profound and far-reaching than any put forth by any other man in
our time.

There is in them, for the current cant regarding art and
literature, a sound, sturdy, hearty contempt which braces and
strengthens one who reads or listens to him. It does one good to
hear his quiet sarcasms against the whole fin-de-siecle
business--the "impressionism," the "sensationalism," the vague
futilities of every sort, the "great poets" wallowing in the mud
of Paris, the "great musicians" making night hideous in German
concert-halls, the "great painters" of various countries mixing
their colors with as much filth as the police will allow. His
keen thrusts at these incarnations of folly and obscenity in the
last quarter of the nineteenth century, and especially at those
who seek to hide the poverty of their ideas in the obscurity of
their phrases, encourage one to think that in the next generation
the day of such pretenders will be done. His prophesying against
"art for art's sake"; his denunciation of art which simply
ministers to sensual pleasure; his ridicule of art which can be
discerned only by "people of culture"; his love for art which has
a sense, not only of its power, but of its obligations, which
puts itself at the service of great and worthy ideas, which
appeals to men as men--in this he is one of the best teachers of
his time and of future times.

Yet here come in his unfortunate limitations. From his
substitutions of assertion for inference, and from the inadequacy
of his view regarding sundry growths in art, literature, and
science, arises endless confusion.

For who will not be skeptical as to the value of any criticism by
a man who pours contempt over the pictures of Puvis de Chavannes,
stigmatizes one of Beethoven's purest creations as "corrupting,"
and calls Shakspere a "scribbler"!

Nothing can be more genuine than his manner: there is no posing,
no orating, no phrase-making; a quiet earnestness pervades all
his utterances. The great defect in him arises, as I have already
said, from a peculiarity in the development of his opinions:
namely, that during so large a part of his life he has been wont
to discuss subjects with himself and not with other men; that he
has, therefore, come to worship idols of his own creation, and
often very unsubstantial idols, and to look with misgiving and
distrust on the ideas of others. Very rarely during our
conversations did I hear him speak with any real enthusiasm
regarding any human being: his nearest approach to it was with
reference to the writings of the Rev. Adin Ballou, when he
declared him the foremost literary character that America has
produced. A result of all this is that when he is driven into a
corner his logic becomes so subtle as to be imperceptible, and he
is very likely to take refuge in paradoxes.

At times, as we walked together, he would pour forth a stream of
reasoning so lucid, out of depths so profound and reach
conclusions so cogent, that he seemed fairly inspired. At other
times he would develop a line of argument so outworn, and arrive
at conclusions so inane, that I could not but look into his face
closely to see if he could be really in earnest; but it always
bore that same expression--forbidding the slightest suspicion
that he was uttering anything save that which he believed, at
least for the time being.

As to the moral side, the stream of his thought was usually
limpid, but at times it became turbid and his better ideas seemed
to float on the surface as iridescent bubbles.

Had he lived in any other country, he would have been a power
mighty and permanent in influencing its thought and in directing
its policy; as it is, his thought will pass mainly as the
confused, incoherent wail and cry of a giant struggling against
the heavy adverse currents in that vast ocean of Russian life:

          "The cry of some strong swimmer in his agony."


The evolution of Tolstoi's ideas has evidently been mainly
determined by his environment. During two centuries Russia has
been coming slowly out of the middle ages--indeed, out of perhaps
the most cruel phases of mediaeval life. Her history is, in its
details, discouraging; her daily life disheartening. Even the
aspects of nature are to the last degree depressing: no
mountains; no hills; no horizon; no variety in forests; a soil
during a large part of the year frozen or parched; a people whose
upper classes are mainly given up to pleasure and whose lower
classes are sunk in fetishism; all their poetry and music in the
minor key; old oppressions of every sort still lingering; no help
in sight; and, to use their own cry, "God so high and the Czar so
distant."

When, then, a great man arises in Russia, if he gives himself
wholly to some well-defined purpose, looking to one high aim and
rigidly excluding sight or thought of the ocean of sorrow about
him, he may do great things. If he be Suvaroff or Skobeleff or
Gourko he may win great battles; if he be Mendeleieff he may
reach some epoch-making discovery in science; if he be Derjavine
he may write a poem like the "Ode to God"; if he be Antokolsky he
may carve statues like "Ivan the Terrible"; if he be Nesselrode
he may hold all Europe enchained to the ideas of the autocrat; if
he be Miloutine or Samarine or Tcherkassky he may devise vast
plans like those which enabled Alexander II to free twenty
millions of serfs and to secure means of subsistence for each of
them; if he be Prince Khilkoff he may push railway systems over
Europe to the extremes of Asia; if he be De Witte he may reform a
vast financial system.

But when a strong genius in Russia throws himself into
philanthropic speculations of an abstract sort, with no chance of
discussing his theories until they are full-grown and have taken
fast hold upon him,--if he be a man of science like Prince
Kropotkin, one of the most gifted scientific thinkers of our
time,--the result may be a wild revolt, not only against the
whole system of his own country, but against civilization itself,
and finally the adoption of the theory and practice of anarchism,
which logically results in the destruction of the entire human
race. Or, if he be an accomplished statesman and theologian like
Pobedonostzeff, he may reason himself back into mediaeval
methods, and endeavor to fetter all free thought and to crush out
all forms of Christianity except the Russo-Greek creed and
ritual. Or, if he be a man of the highest genius in literature,
like Tolstoi, whose native kindliness holds him back from the
extremes of nihilism, he may rear a fabric heaven-high, in which
truths, errors, and paradoxes are piled up together until we have
a new Tower of Babel. Then we may see this man of genius
denouncing all science and commending what he calls "faith";
urging a return to a state of nature, which is simply Rousseau
modified by misreadings of the New Testament; repudiating
marriage, yet himself most happily married and the father of
sixteen children; holding that aeschylus and Dante and Shakspere
were not great in literature, and making Adin Ballou a literary
idol; holding that Michelangelo and Raphael were not great in
sculpture and painting, yet insisting on the greatness of sundry
unknown artists who have painted brutally; holding that
Beethoven, Handel, Mozart, Haydn, and Wagner were not great in
music, but that some unknown performer outside any healthful
musical evolution has given us the music of the future; declaring
Napoleon to have had no genius, but presenting Koutousoff as a
military ideal; loathing science--that organized knowledge which
has done more than all else to bring us out of mediaeval cruelty
into a better world--and extolling a "faith" which has always

The long, slow, every-day work of developing a better future for
his countrymen is to be done by others far less gifted than
Tolstoi. His paradoxes will be forgotten; but his devoted life,
his noble thoughts, and his lofty ideals will, as centuries roll
on, more and more give life and light to the new Russia.



CHAPTER XXXVIII

OFFICIAL LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG-1892-1894

The difficulties of a stranger seeking information in Russia seem
at times insurmountable. First of these is the government policy
of suppressing news. Foreign journals come to ordinary
subscribers with paragraphs and articles rubbed out with pumice
or blotted out with ink; consequently our Russian friends were
wont to visit the legation, seeking to read in our papers what
had been erased in their own, and making the most amusing
discoveries as to the stupidity of the official censorship:
paragraphs perfectly harmless being frequently blotted out, and
really serious attacks on the government unnoticed.

Very striking, as showing control over the newspaper press, was
an occurrence during my first summer at Helsingfors. One day our
family doctor came in, and reported a rumor that an iron-clad
monitor had sunk, the night before, on its way across the gulf
from Reval. Soon the story was found to be true. A squadron of
three ships had started; had encountered a squall; and in the
morning one of them--an old-fashioned iron-clad monitor--was
nowhere to be seen. She had sunk with all on board. Considerable
speculation concerning the matter arose, and sundry very guarded
remarks were ventured to the effect that the authorities at
Cronstadt would have been wiser had they not allowed the ship to
go out in such a condition that the first squall would send her
to the bottom. This discussion continued for about a week, when
suddenly the proper authorities served notice upon the press that
nothing more must be said on the subject.

This mandate was obeyed; the matter was instantly dropped;
nothing more was said; and, a year or two afterward, on my
inquiring of Admiral Makharoff whether anything had ever been
discovered regarding the lost ship and its crew, he answered in
the negative.

But more serious efforts than these were made to control thought.
The censorship of books was even more strongly, and, if possible,
more foolishly, exercised. At any of the great bookshops one
could obtain, at once, the worst publications of the Paris press;
but the really substantial and thoughtful books were carefully
held back. The average Russian, in order to read most of these
better works, must be specially authorized to do so.

I had a practical opportunity to see the system in operation.
Being engaged on the final chapters of my book, and needing
sundry scientific, philosophical, and religious treatises, such
as can be bought freely in every city of Western Europe, I went
to the principal bookseller in St. Petersburg, and was told that,
by virtue of my diplomatic position, I could have them; but that,
in order to do so, I must write an application, signing it with
my own name, and that then he would sell them to me within a few
days. This took place several times.

Still another difficulty is that, owing to lack of publicity, the
truth can rarely be found as regards any burning question: in the
prevailing atmosphere of secrecy and repression the simplest
facts are often completely shut from the foreign observer.

Owing to the lack of public discussion, Russia is the classic
ground of myth and legend. One sees myths and legends growing day
by day. The legend regarding the cure of the Archbishop of St.
Petersburg by Father Ivan of Cronstadt, which I have given in a
previous chapter, is an example. The same growth of legend is
seen with regard to every-day matters. For example, one meets
half a dozen people at five-o'clock tea in a Russian house, and
one of them says: "How badly the Emperor looked at court last
night." Another says: "Yes; his liver is evidently out of order;
he ought to go to Carlsbad." Another says: "I think that special
pains ought to be taken with his food," etc., etc. People then
scatter from this tea-table, and in a day or two one hears that
sufficient precaution is not taken with the Emperor's food; that
it would not be strange if some nihilist should seek to poison
him. A day or two afterward one hears that a nihilist HAS
endeavored to poison the Emperor. The legend grows, details
appear here and there, and finally there come in the newspapers
of Western Europe full and careful particulars of a thwarted plot
to poison his Majesty.

Not the least of the embarrassments which beset an American
minister in Russia is one which arose at various times during my
stay, its source being the generous promptness of our people to
take as gospel any story regarding Russian infringement of human
rights. One or two cases will illustrate this.

During my second winter, despatches by mail and wire came to me
thick and fast regarding the alleged banishment of an American
citizen to Siberia for political reasons; and with these came
petitions and remonstrances signed by hundreds of Americans of
light and leading; also newspaper articles, many and bitter.

On making inquiries through the Russian departments of foreign
affairs and of justice, I found the fact to be that this injured
American had been, twenty years before, a Russian police agent in
Poland; that he had stolen funds intrusted to him and had taken
refuge in America; that, relying on the amnesty proclaimed at the
accession of the late Emperor, he had returned to his old haunts;
that he had been seized, because the amnesty did not apply to the
category of criminals to which he belonged; that he had not been
sent to Siberia; that there was no thought of sending him there;
but that the authorities proposed to recover the money he had
stolen if they could. Another case was typical: One day an
excellent English clergyman came to me in great distress, stating
that an American citizen was imprisoned in the city. I
immediately had the man brought before a justice, heard his
testimony and questioned him, publicly and privately. He swore
before the court, and insisted to me in private, that he had
never before been in Russia; that he was an American citizen born
of a Swedish father and an Alaskan mother upon one of the Alaskan
islands; and he showed a passport which he had obtained at
Washington by making oath to that effect. On the other hand
appeared certain officers of the Russian navy, in excellent
standing, who swore that they knew the man perfectly to be a
former employee of their engineering department and a deserter
from a Russian ship of war in the port of St. Petersburg. It was
also a somewhat significant fact that he spoke Russian much
better than English, and that he seemed to have a knowledge of
Russian affairs very remarkable for a man who had never been in
Russia; but to account for this he insisted upon the statement as
to his birth in Alaska. Appearances were certainly very strongly
against him, and he was remanded to await more testimony in his
favor; but the next thing I heard was that he had escaped, had
arrived in New York, was posing as a martyr, had graciously
granted interviews to various representatives of the press, and
had thereby stimulated some very lurid editorials against the
Russian Government.

Another case was that of a Russian who, having reached the United
States, burdened the files of the State Department and of the
legation with complaints against the American minister because
that official did not send out the man's wife to him. The
minister had, indeed, forwarded the necessary passports, but the
difficulty was that the German authorities would not allow the
woman to enter Germany without showing herself to be in
possession of means sufficient to prevent her becoming a public
charge; and these her husband could not, or would not, send,
insisting that now that he was naturalized he had a right to have
his wife brought to America.

I have no apology to make for the Russian system--far from it;
but I would state, in the interest of international comity, that
it is best for Americans not to be too prompt in believing all
the stories of alleged sufferers from Russian despotism, and
especially of those who wish to use their American citizenship
simply in order to return to Russia and enjoy business advantages
superior to those of their neighbors.

That there are many meritorious refugees cannot be denied; but
any one who has looked over extradition papers, as I have been
obliged to do, and seen people posing as Russian martyrs who are
comfortably carrying on in New York the business of
counterfeiting bank-notes, and unctuously thanking God in their
letters for their success in the business, will be slow to join
in the outcries of refugees of doubtful standing claiming to be
suffering persecution on account of race, religion, or political
opinion.

Nor are Russian-Americans the only persons who weary an American
representative. One morning a card was brought in bearing an
undoubted American name, and presently there followed it a tall
raw-boned man with long flaxen hair, who began orating to me as
follows: "Sir, you are an ambassador from the President of the
United States; I am an ambassador from God Almighty. I am sent
here to save the Emperor. He is a good man; he is followed up by
bad men who seek his life; I can save him; I will be his
cup-bearer; I WILL DRIVE HIS TEAM." This latter conception of the
Emperor's means of locomotion struck me as naive, especially in
view of the fact that near my house was an immense structure
filled with magnificent horses for the Emperor and court--a
veritable equine palace. "Yes," said my visitor; "I will drive
the Emperor's team. I want you to introduce me to him
immediately." My answer was that it was not so easy to secure a
presentation to the Emperor, offhand; that considerable time
would be necessary in any case. To this my visitor answered: "I
must see him at once; I am invited to come by the Empress." On my
asking when he received this invitation, he said that it was
given him on board the steamer between New York and Hamburg, her
Majesty and her children being the only other passengers besides
himself in the second-class cabin. To this I said that there must
certainly be some mistake; that her Majesty rarely, if ever,
traveled on public lines of steamers; that if she had done so,
she certainly would not have been a passenger in the second
cabin. To this he answered that he was absolutely certain that it
was the Empress who had given him the invitation and urged him to
come and save the Emperor's life. On my asking him the date of
this invitation, he looked through his diary and found it. At
this, sending for a file of the official newspaper of St.
Petersburg, I showed him that on the day named her Majesty was
receiving certain officials at the palace in St. Petersburg;
whereat he made an answer which for the moment threw me
completely off my balance. He said, "Sir, I have lived long
enough not to believe everything I see in the newspapers."

I quieted him as best I could, but on returning to his hotel he
indulged in some very boisterous conduct, one of the minor
features of which was throwing water in the faces of the waiters;
so that, fearing lest actions like this and his loud utterances
regarding the Emperor and Empress might get him into trouble, I
wrote a friendly letter to the prefect of St. Petersburg, stating
the case, and asking that, if it was thought best to arrest the
man, he should be placed in some comfortable retreat for the
insane and be well cared for until I could communicate with his
friends in America. Accordingly, a day or two afterward, a
handsome carriage drove up to the door of his hotel, bearing two
kindly gentlemen, who invited him to accompany them. Taking it
for granted that he was to be escorted to the palace to meet his
Majesty, he went without making any objections, and soon found
himself in commodious rooms and most kindly treated.

It being discovered that he was an excellent pianist, a grand
piano was supplied him; and he was very happy in his musical
practice, and in the thought that he was lodged in the palace and
would soon communicate his message to the Emperor. At various
times I called upon him and found him convinced that his great
mission would soon be accomplished; but after a week or ten days
he began to have doubts, and said to me that he distrusted the
Russians and would prefer to go on and deliver a message with
which he was charged to the Emperor of China. On my showing him
sundry difficulties, he said that at any rate there was one place
where he would certainly be well received--Marlborough House in
London; that he was sure the Prince of Wales would welcome him
heartily. At last, means having been obtained from his friends, I
sought to forward him from St. Petersburg; but, as no steamers
thence would take a lunatic, I sent my private secretary with him
to Helsingfors, and thence secured his passage to America.

A very curious feature in the case, as told me afterward by a
gentleman who traveled in the same steamer, was that this
American delighted the company day after day with his music, and
that no one ever saw anything out of the way in his utterances or
conduct. He seemed to have forgotten all about his great missions
and to have become absorbed in his piano.

Among the things to which special and continued attention had to
be given by the legation was the Chicago Exposition. I was
naturally desirous to see it a success; indeed, it was my duty to
do everything possible to promote it. The magnificent plans which
the Chicago people had developed and were carrying out with such
wonderful energy interested thinking Russians. But presently came
endeavors which might easily have brought the whole enterprise
into disrepute; for some of the crankish persons who always hang
on the skirts of such enterprises had been allowed to use
official stationery, and they had begun writing letters, and even
instructions, to American diplomatic agents abroad.

The first of these which attracted my attention was one
requesting me to ask the Empress to write a book in the shape of
a "Report on Women's Work in Russia," careful instructions being
given as to how and at what length she must write it.

A letter also came from one of these quasi-officials at Chicago,
not requesting, but instructing, me to ask the Emperor to report
to his bureau on the condition of the empire; funnily enough,
this "instruction" was evidently one of several, and they had
been ground out so carelessly that the one which I was instructed
to deliver to the Emperor was addressed to the "King of Holland."
It was thus made clear that this important personage at Chicago,
who usurped the functions of the Secretary of State, had not even
taken the trouble to find out that there was no such person as a
"King of Holland," the personage whom he vaguely had in mind
being, no doubt, the Queen Regent of the Netherlands.

Soon there followed another of these quasi-instructions, showing
another type of crankishness. Beginning with the weighty
statement that "the school-boys of every country are the future
men of that country," it went on with a declaration that it had
been decided to hold a convention of the school-children of the
world at Chicago, in connection with the Exposition, and ended by
instructing me to invite to its deliberations the school-children
of Russia. Of course I took especial care not to communicate any
of these things to any Russian: to have done so would have made
the Exposition, instead of the admiration, the laughing-stock of
the empire; but I wrote a letter to the assistant secretary of
state, Mr. Quincy, who presently put an end to these vagaries.

One is greatly struck in Russia by the number of able and gifted
men and women scattered through Russian society, and at the
remarkable originality of some of them. The causes of this
originality I touch in my chapter on Tolstoi.

It was a duty as well as a pleasure for me to keep up my
acquaintance with persons worth knowing; and, while many of the
visits thus made were perfunctory and tedious, some were
especially gratifying. My rule was, after office hours in the
afternoon, to get into the open sledge; to make my visits; and as
a result, of course, to see and hear a vast deal of frivolity and
futility, but, from time to time, more important things.

The entertainments given by wealthy Russian nobles to the
diplomatic corps were by no means so frequent or so lavish as of
old. Two reasons were assigned for this, one being the abolition
of the serf system, which had impoverished the nobility, and the
other the fact that the Emperor Alexander III had set the fashion
of paying less attention to foreigners than had formerly been the
custom.

The main hospitalities, so far as the Emperor and Empress were
concerned, were the great festivities at the Winter Palace,
beginning on the Russian New Year's day, which was twelve days
later than ours. The scene was most brilliant. The vast halls
were filled with civil and military officials from all parts of
the empire, in the most gorgeous costumes, an especially striking
effect being produced by the caftans, or long coats, of the
various Cossack regiments, the armor and helmets of the Imperial
Guards, and the old Russian costumes of the ladies. All of the
latter, on this occasion, from the Empress down, wore these
costumes: there was great variety in these; but their main
features were the kakoshniks, or ornamental crowns, and the
tunics in bright colors.

The next of these great ceremonies at the Winter Palace was the
blessing of the waters upon the 8th of January. The diplomatic
corps and other guests were allowed to take their places at the
palace windows looking out over the Neva, and thence could see
the entire procession, which, having gone down the ambassadors'
staircase, appeared at a temple which had been erected over an
opening in the ice of the river. The Emperor, the grand dukes,
and the Archbishop of St. Petersburg, with his suffragan bishops,
all took part in this ceremonial; and the music, which was
selected from the anthems of Bortniansky, was very solemn and
impressive.

During the winter came court balls, and, above all, the "palm
balls." The latter were, in point of brilliancy, probably beyond
anything in any court of modern times. After a reception, during
which the Emperor and Empress passed along the diplomatic circle,
speaking to the various members, dancing began, and was continued
until about midnight; then the doors were flung open into other
vast halls, which had been changed into palm-groves. The palms
for this purpose are very large and beautiful, four series of
them being kept in the conservatories for this special purpose,
each series being used one winter and then allowed to rest for
three winters before it is brought out again. Under these palms
the supper-tables are placed, and from fifteen hundred to two
thousand people sit at these as the guests of the Czar and
Czarina. These entertainments seem carried to the extreme of
luxury, their only defect being their splendid monotony: only
civil, military, and diplomatic officials are present, and a
new-comer finds much difficulty in remembering their names. There
are said to be four hundred Princes Galitzin in the empire, and I
personally knew three Counts Tolstoi who did not know each other;
but the great drawback is the fact that all these entertainments
are exactly alike, always the same thing: merely civil and
military functionaries and their families; and for strangers no
occupation save to dance, play cards, talk futilities, or simply
stare.

The Berlin court, though by no means so brilliant at first sight
and far smaller,--since the most I ever saw in any gathering in
the Imperial Schloss at the German capital was about fifteen
hundred,--was really much more attractive, its greater interest
arising from the presence of persons distinguished in every
field. While at St. Petersburg one meets only civil and military
functionaries, at Berlin one meets not only these, but the most
prominent men in politics, science, literature, art, and the
higher ranges of agriculture, commerce, and manufacture. At St.
Petersburg, when I wished to meet such men, who added to the
peaceful glories of the empire, I went to their houses in the
university quarter; at Berlin I met them also at court.

As to court episodes during my stay, one especially dwells in my
memory. On arriving rather early one evening, I noticed a large,
portly man, wearing the broad red ribbon of the Legion of Honor,
and at once saw that he could be no other than Prince Victor
Napoleon, the Bonaparte heir to the crown of France. Though he
was far larger than the great Napoleon, and had the eyes of his
mother, Princess Clothilde, his likeness to his father, Prince
Napoleon ("Plon-Plon"), whom I had seen years before at Paris,
was very marked. Presently his brother, who had just arrived from
his regiment in the Caucasus, came up and began conversation with
him. Both seemed greatly vexed at something. On the arrival of
the Italian ambassador, he naturally went up and spoke to the
prince, who was the grandson of King Victor Emmanuel; but the
curious thing was that the French ambassador, Count de
Montebello, and the prince absolutely cut each other. Neither
seemed to have the remotest idea that the other was in the room,
and this in spite of the fact that the Montebellos are descended
from Jean Lannes, the stable-boy whom Napoleon made a marshal of
France and Duke of Montebello, thus founding the family to which
the French ambassador belonged. The show of coolness on the part
of the imperial family evidently vexed the French pretender. He
was, indeed, allowed to enter the room behind the imperial train;
but he was not permitted to sit at the imperial table, being
relegated to a distant and very modest seat. I was informed that,
though the Emperor could, and did, have the prince to dine with
him in private, he felt obliged, in view of the relations between
Russia and the French Republic, to carefully avoid any special
recognition of him in public.

A far more brilliant visitor was the Ameer of Bokhara. I have
already spoken of the way in which he was placed upon the throne
by General Annenkof. He now came to visit the Czar as his
suzerain, and with him came his eldest son and a number of his
great men. The satrap himself was a singular combination of
splendor and stoicism, wearing a gorgeous dress covered with
enormous jewels, and observing the brilliant scenes about him
with hardly ever a word. Even when he took his place at the table
beside the Empress he was very uncommunicative. Facing the
imperial table sat his great men; and their embarrassment was
evident, one special source of it being clearly their small
acquaintance with European table utensils. The Ameer brought to
St. Petersburg splendid presents of gold and jewels, after the
Oriental fashion, and also the heir to his throne, whom he left
as a sort of hostage to be educated at the capital.

An eminent Russian who was in very close relations with the Ameer
gave me some account of this young man. Although he was then
perhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age, he was, as regards
conduct, a mere baby, bursting out into loud boohooing the first
time he was presented to the Emperor, and showing himself very
immature in various ways. Curiously enough, when he was taken to
the cadet school he was found to be unable to walk for any
considerable distance. He had always been made to squat and be
carried, and the first thing to be done toward making him a
Russian officer was to train him in using his legs. He took an
especial fancy to bicycles: in the park attached to the cadet
school he became very proficient in the use of them; and,
returning to Bokhara at his first vacation, he took with him, not
only a bicycle for himself, but another for his brother. Shortly
after his home-coming, the Ameer and court being assembled, he
gave a display of his powers; but, to his great mortification,
the Ameer was disgusted: the idea that the heir to the throne
should be seen working his way in this fashion was contrary to
all the ideas of that potentate, and he ordered the bicycles to
be at once destroyed. But on the young man's return to St.
Petersburg he bought another; resumed his exercises upon it; and
will, no doubt, when he comes to the throne, introduce that form
of locomotion into the Mohammedan regions of Northern Asia.

Among the greater displays of my final year were a wedding and a
funeral. The former was that of the Emperor's eldest daughter,
the Grand Duchess Xenia, at Peterhof. It was very brilliant, and
was conducted after the usual Russian fashion, its most curious
features being the leading of the couple about the altar and
their drinking out of the same cup.

Coming from the ceremony in the chapel, we of the diplomatic
corps found ourselves, at the foot of the great staircase, in a
crush. But just at the side was a large door of plate-glass
opening upon an outer gallery communicating with other parts of
the palace; and standing guard at this door was one of the
"Nubians" whom I had noticed, from time to time, at the Winter
Palace--an enormous creature, very black, very glossy, with the
most brilliant costume possible. I had heard much of these
"Nubians," and had been given to understand that they had been
brought from Central Africa by special command. At great
assemblages in the imperial palaces, just before the doors were
flung open for the entrance of the Majesties and their cortege,
two great black hands were always to be seen put through the
doors, ready to open them in an instant--the hands of two of
these "Nubians." I had built up in my mind quite a structure of
romance regarding them, and now found myself in the crush at the
foot of the grand staircase near one of them. As I looked up at
him he said to me, with deferential compassion, "If you please,
sah, would n't you like to git out of de crowd, sah, through dis
yere doah?" By his dialect he was evidently one of my own
compatriots, and, though in a sort of daze at this discovery, I
mechanically accepted his invitation; whereupon he opened the
door, let us through, and kept back the crowd.

Splendid, too, in its way, was the funeral of the Grand Duchess
Catherine at the Fortress Church. It was very impressive, almost
as much so as the funeral of the Emperor Nicholas, which I had
attended at the same place nearly forty years before. The Emperor
Alexander III, with his brothers, had followed the hearse and
coffin on foot, and his Majesty was evidently greatly fatigued.
Soon he retired to take rest, and then it was that we began to
have the first suspicion of his fatal illness. Up to that time
there had been skepticism. Very few had thought it possible that
a man of such giant frame and strength could be seriously ill,
but now there could be no doubt of it. Standing near him, I
noticed his pallor and evident fatigue, and was not surprised
that he twice left the place, in order, evidently, to secure
rest. There was need of it. In the Russian Church the rule is
that all must stand, and all of us stood from about ten in the
morning until half-past one in the afternoon; but two high
officials covered with gold lace and orders, bearing tapers by
the side of the grand duchess's coffin, toppled over from
exhaustion and were removed.

As to other spectacles, one of the most splendid was the midnight
mass on Easter eve. At my former visit I had seen this at the
Kazan Church; now we went to the Cathedral of St. Isaac. The
ceremony was brilliant almost beyond conception, as in the old
days; the music was heavenly; and, as the clocks struck twelve,
the cannons of the fortress of Peter and Paul boomed forth, all
the bells of the city began chiming, and a light, appearing at
the extreme end of the church, seemed to run in all directions
through the vast assemblage, and presently all seemed ablaze.
Every person in the church was holding a taper, and within a few
moments all of these had been lighted.

Most beautiful of all was the music at another of these Easter
ceremonies, when the choristers, robed in white, came forth from
the sanctuary and sang hymns by the side of the empty sepulcher
under the dome.

The singing by the choirs in Russia is, in many respects, more
beautiful than similar music in any other part of the world, save
that of the cathedral choir of Berlin at its best. I have heard
the Sistine, Pauline, and Lateran choirs at Rome; and they are
certainly far inferior to these Russian singers. No instrumental
music is allowed and no voices of women. The choristers are men
and boys. There are several fine choirs in St. Petersburg, but
three are famous: that of the Emperor at the Winter Palace
Chapel, that of the Archbishop at the Cathedral of St. Isaac, and
that of the Nevski Monastery. Occasionally there were concerts
when all were combined, and nothing in its way could be more
perfect.

Operatic music also receives careful attention. Enormous
subsidies are given to secure the principal singers of Europe at
the Italian, French, and German theaters; but the most lavish
outlay is upon the national opera: it is considered a matter of
patriotism to maintain it at the highest point possible. The
Russian Opera House is an enormous structure, and the finest
piece which I saw given there was Glinka's "Life for the Czar."
Being written by a Russian, on a patriotic subject, and from an
ultra-loyal point of view, everything had been done to mount it
in the most superb way possible: never have I seen more wonderful
scenic effects, the whole culminating in the return of one of the
old fighting czars to the Kremlin after his struggle with the
Poles. The stage was enormous and the procession magnificent. The
personages in it were the counterparts, as regarded dress, of the
persons they represented, exact copies having been made of the
robes and ornaments of the old Muscovite boyards, as preserved in
the Kremlin Museum; and at the close of this procession came a
long line of horses, in the most superb trappings imaginable,
attended by guards and outriders in liveries of barbaric
splendor, and finally the imperial coach. We were enabled to
catch sight of the Cossack guards on the front of it, when, just
as the body of the coach was coming into view, down came the
curtain. This was the result of a curious prohibition, enforced
in all theaters in Russia: on no account is it permitted to
represent the sacred person of any emperor upon the stage.

As to other music, very good concerts were occasionally given,
the musicians being generally from Western Europe.

Very pleasant were sundry excursions, especially during the long
summer twilight; and among these were serenade parties given by
various members of the diplomatic corps. In a trim steam-yacht,
and carrying singers with us, we sailed among the islands in the
midnight hours, stopping, from time to time, to greet friends
occupying cottages there.

As to excursions in the empire, I have already given, in my
chapter on Tolstoi, some account of my second visit to Moscow;
and a more complete account is reserved for a chapter on "Sundry
Excursions and Experiences." The same may be said, also,
regarding an excursion taken, during one of my vacations, in
Sweden, Norway, and Denmark.

In 1893, a new administration having brought into power the party
opposed to my own, I tendered to President Cleveland my
resignation, and, in the full expectation that it would be
accepted, gave up my apartment; but as, instead of an acceptance,
there came a very kind indication of the President's confidence,
good-will, and preference for my continuance at my post, I
remained in the service a year longer, occupying my odds and ends
of time in finishing my book. Then, feeling the need of going
elsewhere to revise it, I wrote the President, thanking him for
his confidence and kindness, but making my resignation final, and
naming the date when it would be absolutely necessary for me to
leave Russia. A very kind letter from him was the result; the
time I had named was accepted; and on the 1st of November, 1894,
to my especial satisfaction, I was once more free from official
duty.



CHAPTER XXXIX

AS MEMBER OF THE VENEZUELA COMMISSION--1895-1896

Early one morning, just at the end of 1895, as I was at work
before the blazing fire in my library at the university, the
winter storms howling outside, a card was brought in bearing the
name of Mr. Hamlin, assistant secretary of the treasury of the
United States. While I was wondering what, at that time of the
year, could have brought a man from such important duties in
Washington to the bleak hills of central New York, he entered,
and soon made known his business, which was to tender me, on the
part of President Cleveland, a position upon the commission which
had been authorized by Congress to settle the boundary between
the republic of Venezuela and British Guiana.

The whole matter had attracted great attention, not only in the
United States, but throughout the world. The appointment of the
commission was the result of a chain of circumstances very
honorable to the President, to his Secretary of State, Mr. Olney,
and to Congress. For years the Venezuelan government had been
endeavoring to establish a frontier between its territory and
that of its powerful neighbor, but without result; and meantime
the British boundary seemed to be pushed more and more into the
territory of the little Spanish-American republic. For years,
too, Venezuela had appealed to the United States, and the United
States had appealed to Great Britain. American secretaries of
state and ambassadors at the Court of St. James had "trusted,"
and "regretted," and had "the honor to renew assurances of their
most distinguished consideration"; but all in vain. At last the
matter had been presented by Secretary Olney to the government of
Lord Salisbury; and now, to Mr. Olney's main despatch on the
subject, Lord Salisbury, after some months' delay, had returned
an answer declining arbitration, and adding that international
law did not recognize the Monroe Doctrine. This seemed even more
than cool; for, when one remembered that the Monroe Doctrine was
at first laid down with the approval of Great Britain, that it
was glorified in Parliament and in the British press of 1823 and
the years following, and that Great Britain had laid down
policies in various parts of the earth, especially in the
Mediterranean and in the far East, which she insisted that all
other powers should respect without reference to any sanction by
international law, this argument seemed almost insulting.

So it evidently seemed to Mr. Cleveland. Probably no man less
inclined to demagogism or to a policy of adventure ever existed;
but as he looked over the case his American instincts were
evidently aroused. He saw then, what is clear to everybody now,
that it was the time of all times for laying down, distinctly and
decisively, the American doctrine on the subject. He did so, and
in a message to Congress proposed that, since Great Britain would
not intrust the finding of a boundary to arbitration, the United
States should appoint commissioners to find what the proper
boundary was, and then, having ascertained it, should support its
sister American republic in maintaining it.

Of course the President was attacked from all sides most
bitterly; even those called "the better element" in the
Republican and Democratic parties, who had been his ardent
supporters, now became his bitter enemies. He was charged with
"demagogism" and "jingoism," but he kept sturdily on. Congress,
including the great body of the Republicans, supported him; the
people at large stood by him; and, as a result, a commission to
determine the boundary was appointed and began its work in
Washington, the commissioners being, in the order named by the
President, David J. Brewer of Kansas, a justice of the Supreme
Court of the United States; Chief Justice Alvey of the District
of Columbia; Andrew D. White of New York; F. R. Coudert, an
eminent member of the New York bar; and Daniel C. Gilman of
Maryland, President of Johns Hopkins University.

On our arrival in Washington there was much discouragement among
us. We found ourselves in a jungle of geographical and legal
questions, with no clue in sight leading anywhither. The rights
of Great Britain had been derived in 1815, from the Netherlands;
the rights of Venezuela had been derived, about 1820, from Spain;
but to find the boundary separating the two in that vast
territory, mainly unsettled, between the Orinoco and the
Essequibo rivers, seemed impossible.

The original rights of the Netherlands had been derived from
Spain by the treaty of Munster in 1648; and on examining that
enormous document, which settled weighty questions in various
parts of the world, after the life-and-death struggle, religious,
political, and military, which had gone on for nearly eighty
years, one little clause arrested our attention: that, namely, in
which the Spaniards, despite their bitter hatred of the Dutch,
agreed that the latter might carry on warlike operations against
"certain other people" with reference to territorial rights in
America. These "certain other people" were not precisely
indicated; and we hoped, by finding who they were, to get a clue
to the fundamental facts of the case. Straightway two of our
three lawyers, Mr. Justice Brewer and Mr. Coudert, grappled on
this question, one of them taking the ground that these "other
people" referred to were the Caribbean Indians who had lived just
south of the mouth of the Orinoco, and had been friendly to the
Dutch but implacable toward the Spaniards, and that their
territory was to be considered as virtually Dutch, and,
therefore, as having passed finally to England. But the other
disputant insisted that it referred to the Brazilians and had no
relation to the question with which we had to deal. During two
whole sessions this ground was fought over in a legal way by
these gentlemen, with great acumen, the rest of us hardly putting
in a word.

At the beginning of the third session I ventured a remonstrance,
saying that it was a historical, and not a legal, question; that
it could not possibly be settled by legal argument; that the
first thing to know was why the clause was inserted in the
treaty, and that the next thing was to find, from the whole
history leading up to it, who those "other persons" thus vaguely
referred to and left by the Spaniards to the tender mercies of
the Dutch might be; and I insisted that this, being a historical
question, must be solved by historical experts. The commission
acknowledged the justice of this; and on my nomination we called
to our aid Mr. George Lincoln Burr, professor of history in
Cornell University. It is not at all the very close friendship
which has existed for so many years between us which prompts the
assertion that, of all historical scholars I have ever known, he
is among the very foremost, by his powers of research, his
tenacity of memory, his almost preternatural accuracy, his
ability to keep the whole field of investigation in his mind, and
his fidelity to truth and justice. He was set at the problem, and
given access to the libraries of Congress and of the State
Department, as also to the large collections of books and maps
which had been placed at the disposal of the commission. Of these
the most important were those of Harvard University and the
University of Wisconsin. Curious as it may seem, this latter
institution, far in the interior of our country, possesses a
large and most valuable collection of maps relating to the
colonization history of South America. Within two weeks Professor
Burr reported, and never did a report give more satisfaction. He
had unraveled, historically, the whole mystery, and found that,
the government of Brazil having played false to both Spaniards
and Dutch, Spain had allowed the Netherlands to take vengeance
for the vexations of both. We also had the exceedingly valuable
services, as to maps and early colonization history, of Mr.
Justin Winsor, librarian of Harvard University, eminent both as
historian and geographer, and of Professor Jameson of Brown
University, who had also distinguished himself in these fields.
Besides these, Mr. Marcus Baker of the United States Coast Survey
aided us, from day to day, in mapping out any territories that we
wished especially to study.

All this work was indispensable. At the very beginning of our
sessions there had been laid before us the first of a series of
British Blue Books on the whole subject; and, with all my
admiration for the better things in British history, politics,
and life, candor compels me to say that it was anything but
creditable to the men immediately responsible for it. It made
several statements that were absolutely baseless, and sought to
rest them upon authorities which, when examined, were found not
to bear in the slightest degree the interpretation put upon them.
I must confess that nothing, save, perhaps, the conduct of
British "experts" regarding the Behring Sea question, has ever
come so near shaking my faith in "British fair play." Nor were
the American commissioners alone in judging this document
severely. Critics broke forth, even in the London "Times,"
denouncing it, until it was supplanted by another, which was fair
and just.

I, of course, impute nothing to the leading British statesmen who
had charge of the whole Venezuelan question. The culprits were,
undoubtedly, sundry underlings whose zeal outran their honesty.
They apparently thought that in the United States, which they
probably considered as new, raw, and too much engaged in
dollar-hunting to produce scholars, their citations from
authorities more or less difficult of access would fail to be
critically examined. But their conduct was soon exposed, and even
their principals joined in repudiating some of their fundamental
statements. Professor Burr was sent abroad, and at The Hague was
able to draw treasures from the library and archives regarding
the old Dutch occupation and to send a mass of important material
for our deliberations. In London also he soon showed his
qualities, and these were acknowledged even by some leading
British geographers. The latter had at first seemed inclined to
indulge in what a German might call "tendency" geography; but the
clearness, earnestness, and honesty of our agent soon gained
their respect, and, after that, the investigators of both sides
worked harmoniously together. While the distinguished lawyers
above named had main charge of the legal questions, President
Gilman, who had in his early life been professor of physical and
general geography at Yale, was given charge of the whole matter
of map-seeking and -making; and to me, with the others, was left
the duty of studying and reporting upon the material as brought
in. Taking up my residence at Washington, I applied myself
earnestly to reading through masses of books, correspondence, and
other documents, and studied maps until I felt as if I had lived
in the country concerned and was personally acquainted with the
Dutch governors on the Cuyuni and the Spanish monks on the
Orinoco. As a result lines more or less tentative were prepared
by each of us, Judge Brewer and myself agreeing very closely, and
the others not being very distant from us at any important point.
One former prime minister of Great Britain I learned, during this
investigation, to respect greatly,--Lord Aberdeen, whom I well
remembered as discredited and driven from power during my stay in
Russia at the time of the Crimean War. He was wise enough in
those days to disbelieve in war with Russia, and to desire a
solution of the Turkish problem by peace, but was overruled, and
the solution was attempted by a war most costly in blood and
treasure, which was apparently successful, but really a failure.
He was driven from his post with ignominy; and I well remembered
seeing a very successful cartoon in "Punch" at that period,
representing him, wearing coronet and mantle and fast asleep, at
the helm of the ship of state, which was rolling in the trough of
the sea and apparently about to founder.

Since that time his wisdom has, I think, been recognized; and I
am now glad to acknowledge the fact that, of all the many British
statesmen who dealt with the Venezuelan question, he was clearly
the most just. The line he drew seemed to me the fairest
possible. He did not attempt to grasp the mouth of the Orinoco,
nor did he meander about choice gold-fields or valuable strategic
points, seeking to include them. The Venezuelans themselves had
shown willingness to accept his proposal; but alleged, as their
reason for not doing so, that the British government had preached
to them regarding their internal policy so offensively that
self-respect forbade them to acquiesce in any part of it.

Toward this Aberdeen line we tended more and more; and in the
sequel we heard, with very great satisfaction, that the
Arbitration Tribunal at Paris had practically adopted this line,
which we of the commission had virtually agreed upon. It need
hardly be stated that, each side having at the beginning of the
arbitration claimed the whole vast territory between the Orinoco
and the Essequibo, neither was quite satisfied with the award.
But I believe it to be thoroughly just, and that it forms a most
striking testimony to the value of international arbitration in
such questions, as a means, not only of preserving international
peace, but of arriving at substantial justice.

Our deliberations and conclusions were, of course, kept secret.
It was of the utmost importance that nothing should get out
regarding them. Our sessions were delayed and greatly prolonged,
partly on account of the amount of work to be done in studying
the many questions involved, and partly because we hoped that,
more and more, British opinion would tend to the submission of
the whole question to the judgment of a proper international
tribunal; and that Lord Salisbury, the prime minister, who, in
his rather cynical, "Saturday-Review," high-Tory way, had scouted
the idea of arbitration, would at last be brought to it. Of
course, every thinking Englishman looked with uneasiness toward
the possibility that a line might be laid down by the United
States which it would feel obliged to maintain, and which would
necessitate its supporting Venezuela, at all hazards, against
Great Britain.

The statesmanship of Mr. Cleveland and Mr. Olney finally
triumphed. Most fortunately for both parties, Great Britain had
at Washington a most eminent diplomatist, whose acquaintance I
then made, but whom I afterward came to know, respect, and admire
even more during the Peace Conference at The Hague--Sir Julian,
afterward Lord, Pauncefote. His wise counsels prevailed; Lord
Salisbury receded from his position; Great Britain agreed to
arbitration; and the question entered into a new stage, which was
finally ended by the award of the Arbitration Tribunal at Paris,
presided over by M. de Martens of St. Petersburg, and having on
its bench the chief justices of the two nations and two of the
most eminent judges of their highest courts. It is with pride and
satisfaction that I find their award agreeing, substantially,
with the line which, after so much trouble, our own commission
had worked out. Arbitration having been decided upon, our
commission refrained from laying down a frontier-line, but
reported a mass of material, some fourteen volumes in all, with
an atlas containing about seventy-five maps, all of which formed
a most valuable contribution to the material laid before the
Court of Arbitration at Paris.

It was a happy solution of the whole question, and it was a
triumph of American diplomacy in the cause of right and justice.

I may mention, in passing, one little matter which throws light
upon a certain disgraceful system to which I have had occasion to
refer at various other times in these memoirs; and I do so now in
the hope of keeping people thinking upon one of the most wretched
abuses in the United States. I have said above that we were, of
course, obliged to maintain the strictest secrecy. To have
allowed our conclusions to get out would have thwarted the whole
purpose of the investigation; but a person who claimed to
represent one of the leading presses in Washington seemed to
think that consideration of no special importance, and came to
our rooms, virtually insisting on receiving information. Having
been told that it could not be given him, he took his revenge by
inserting a sensational paragraph in the papers regarding the
extravagance of the commission. He informed the world that we
were expending large sums of public money in costly furniture, in
rich carpets, and especially in splendid silverware. The fact was
that the rooms were furnished very simply, with plain office
furniture, with cheap carpets, and with a safe for locking up the
more precious documents intrusted to us and such papers as it was
important to keep secret. The "silverware" consisted of two very
plain plated jugs for ice-water; and I may add that after our
adjournment the furniture was so wisely sold that very nearly the
whole expenditure for it was returned into the treasury.

These details would be utterly trivial were it not that, with
others which I have given in other places, they indicate that
prostitution of the press to sensation-mongering which the
American people should realize and reprove.

While I have not gone into minor details of our work, I have
thought that thus much might be interesting. Of course, had these
reminiscences been written earlier, this sketch of the interior
history of the commission would have been omitted; but now, the
award of the Paris tribunal having been made, there is no reason
why secrecy should be longer maintained. Never, before that
award, did any of us, I am sure, indicate to any person what our
view as to the line between the possessions of Venezuela and
Great Britain was; but now we may do so, and I feel that all
concerned may be congratulated on the fact that two tribunals,
each seeking to do justice, united on the same line, and that
line virtually the same which one of the most just of British
statesmen had approved many years before.

During this Venezuela work in Washington I made acquaintance with
many leading men in politics; and among those who interested me
most was Mr. Carlisle of Kentucky, Secretary of the Treasury. He
had been member of Congress, Speaker of the House of
Representatives, and senator, and was justly respected and
admired. Perhaps the most peculiar tribute that I ever heard paid
to a public man was given him once in the House of
Representatives by my friend Mr. Hiscock, then representative,
and afterward senator, from the State of New York. Seated by his
side in the House, and noting the rulings of Mr. Carlisle as
Speaker, I asked, "What sort of man is this Speaker of yours?"
Mr. Hiscock answered, "As you know, he is one of the strongest of
Democrats, and I am one of the strongest of Republicans; yet I
will say this: that my imagination is not strong enough to
conceive of his making an unfair ruling or doing an unfair thing
against the party opposed to him in this House."

Mr. Carlisle's talents were of a very high order. His speeches
carried great weight; and in the campaign which came on later
between Mr. McKinley and Mr. Bryan, he, in my opinion, and indeed
in the opinion, I think, of every leading public man, did a most
honorable thing when he deliberately broke from his party,
sacrificed, apparently, all hopes of political preferment, and
opposed the regular Democratic candidate. His speech before the
working-men of Chicago on the issues of that period was certainly
one of the two most important delivered during the first McKinley
campaign, the other being that of Carl Schurz.

Another man whom I saw from time to time during this period was
the Vice-President, Mr. Stevenson. I first met him at a public
dinner in New York, where we sat side by side; but we merely
talked on generalities. But the next time I met him was at a
dinner given by the Secretary of War, and there I found that he
was one of the most admirable raconteurs I had ever met. After a
series of admirable stories, one of the party said to me: "He
could tell just as good stories as those for three weeks running
and never repeat himself."

One of these stories by the Vice-President, if true, threw a
curious light over the relations of President Lincoln with three
men very distinguished in American annals. It was as follows: One
day, shortly before the issue of the Emancipation Proclamation, a
visitor, finding Mr. Lincoln evidently in melancholy mood, said
to him, "Mr. President, I am sorry to find you not feeling so
well as at my last visit." Mr. Lincoln replied: "Yes, I am
troubled. One day the best of our friends from the border States
come in and insist that I shall not issue an Emancipation
Proclamation, and that, if I do so, the border States will
virtually cast in their lot with the Southern Confederacy.
Another day, Charles Sumner, Thad Stevens, and Ben Wade come in
and insist that if I do not issue such a proclamation the North
will be utterly discouraged and the Union wrecked,--and, by the
way, these three men are coming in this very afternoon." At this
moment his expression changed, his countenance lighted up, and he
said to the visitor, who was from the West, "Mr. ----, did you
ever go to a prairie school?" "No," said the visitor, "I never
did." "Well," said Mr. Lincoln, "I did, and it was a very poor
school, and we were very poor folks,--too poor to have regular
reading-books, and so we brought our Bibles and read from them.
One morning the chapter was from the Book of Daniel, and a little
boy who sat next me went all wrong in pronouncing the names of
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The teacher had great difficulty
in setting him right, and before he succeeded was obliged to
scold the boy and cuff him for his stupidity. The nest verse came
to me, and so the chapter went along down the class. Presently it
started on its way back, and soon after I noticed that the little
fellow began crying. On this I asked him, 'What's the matter with
you?' and he answered, 'Don't you see? Them three miserable
cusses are coming back to me again.' "

I also at that period made the acquaintance of Senator Gray of
Delaware, who seemed to me ideally fitted for his position as a
member of the Upper House in Congress. Speaker Reed also made a
great impression upon me as a man of honesty, lucidity, and
force. The Secretary of State, Mr. Olney, I saw frequently, and
was always impressed by the sort of bulldog tenacity which had
gained his victory over Lord Salisbury in the arbitration matter.

But to give even the most hasty sketch of the members of the
Supreme Court, the cabinet, and of both houses of Congress whom I
met would require more time than is at my disposal.

This stay in Washington I enjoyed much. Our capital city is
becoming the seat of a refined hospitality which makes it more
and more attractive. Time was, and that not very long since, when
it was looked upon as a place of exile by diplomatists, and as
repulsive by many of our citizens; but all that is of the past:
the courtesy shown by its inhabitants is rapidly changing its
reputation.

Perhaps, of all the social enjoyments of that time, the most
attractive to me was an excursion of the American Geographical
Society to Monticello, the final residence of President
Jefferson. Years before, while visiting the University of
Virginia at Charlottesville, I had been intensely interested in
that creation of Mr. Jefferson and in the surroundings of his
home; but the present occupant of Monticello, having been greatly
annoyed by visitors, was understood to be reluctant to allow any
stranger to enter the mansion, and I would not intrude upon him.
But now house and grounds were freely thrown open, and upon a
delightful day. The house itself was a beautiful adaptation of
the architecture which had reached its best development at the
time of Jefferson's stay in France; and the decorations, like
those which I had noted years before in some of the rooms of the
university, were of an exquisite Louis Seize character.

Jefferson's peculiarities, also, came out in various parts of the
house. Perhaps the most singular was his bed, occupying the whole
space of an archway between two rooms, one of which, on the left,
served as a dressing-room for him, and the other, on the right,
for Mrs. Jefferson; and, there being no communication between
them save by a long circuit through various rooms, it was evident
that the ex-President had made up his mind that he would not have
his intimate belongings interfered with by any of the women of
the household, not even by his wife.

But most attractive of all was the view through the valleys and
over the neighboring hills as we sat at our picnic-tables on the
lawn. Having read with care every line of Jefferson's letters
ever published, and some writings of his which have never been
printed, my imagination was vivid. It enabled me to see him
walking through the rooms and over the estate, receiving
distinguished guests under the portico, discussing with them at
his dinner-table the great questions of the day, and promulgating
his theories, some of which were so beneficent and others so
noxious.

The only sad part of this visit was to note the destruction, by
the fire not long before, of the columns in front of the rotunda
of the university. I especially mourned over the calcined remains
of their capitals, for into these Jefferson had really wrought
his own heart. With a passion for the modern adaptation of
classic architecture, he had poured the very essence of his
artistic feelings into them. He longed to see every stroke which
his foreign sculptors made upon them. Daily, according to the
chronicle of the time, he rode over to see how they progressed,
and, between his visits, frequently observed them through his
telescope; and now all their work was but calcined limestone.
Fortunately, the burning of the old historical buildings aroused
public spirit; large sums of money were poured into the
university treasury; and the work was in process which, it is to
be hoped, will restore the former beauty of the colonnade and
largely increase the buildings and resources of the institution.

During my work upon the commission I learned to respect more and
more the calm, steady, imperturbable character of Mr. Cleveland.
Of course the sensational press howled continually, and the press
which was considered especially enlightened and which had
steadily supported him up to this period, was hardly less bitter;
but he persevered. During the period taken by the commission for
its work, both the American and British peoples had time for calm
thought. Lord Salisbury, especially, had time to think better of
it; and when he at last receded from his former haughty position
and accepted arbitration, Mr. Cleveland and the State Department
gained one of the most honorable victories in the history of
American diplomacy.



CHAPTER XL

AS AMBASSADOR TO GERMANY--1897-1903

On the 1st of April, 1897, President McKinley nominated me
ambassador to Berlin; and, the appointment having been duly
confirmed by the Senate, I visited Washington to obtain
instructions and make preparations. One of the most important of
these preparations was the securing of a second secretary for the
embassy. A long list of applicants for this position had
appeared, several with strong backing from party magnates,
cabinet officers, and senators; but, though all of them seemed
excellent young men, very few had as yet any experience likely to
be serviceable, and a look over the list suggested many
misgivings. There was especially needed just then at Berlin a
second secretary prepared to aid in disentangling sundry
important questions already before the embassy. The first
secretary, whom no person thought of displacing, was ideally
fitted for his place--in fact, was fitted for any post in the
diplomatic service; but a second secretary was needed to take, as
an expert, a mass of work on questions relating to commerce and
manufactures which were just then arising between the two nations
in shapes new and even threatening.

While the whole matter was under advisement, there appeared a
young man from Ohio, with no backing of any sort save his record.
He had distinguished himself at one of our universities as a
student in political economy and international law; had then
taken a fellowship in the same field at another university; and
had finally gone to Germany and there taken his degree, his
graduating thesis being on "The Commercial and Diplomatic
Relations between the United States and Germany." In preparing
this he had been allowed to work up a mass of material in our
embassy archives, and had afterward expanded his thesis into a
book which had gained him credit. As the most serious questions
between the two countries were commercial, he seemed a godsend;
and, going to the President, I stated the matter fully. Though
the young man was as far as possible from having any "pull" in
the State from which he came, was not at all known either to the
President or the Secretary of State or assistant secretary of
state, all of whom came from Ohio, and was equally unknown to
either of the Ohio senators or to any representative, and though
nothing whatever was known of his party affiliations, the
President, on hearing a statement of the case, ignored all
pressure in favor of rival candidates, sent in his nomination to
the Senate, and it was duly confirmed.

The next thing was the appointment of a military attache. The
position is by no means a sinecure. Our government must always
feel the importance of receiving the latest information as to the
armies and navies of the great powers of the world; and therefore
it is that, very wisely, it has attached military and naval
experts to various leading embassies. It is important that these
be not only thoroughly instructed and far-seeing, but gentlemen
in the truest sense of the word; and I therefore presented a
graduate of West Point who, having conducted an expedition in
Alaska and served with his regiment on the Western plains most
creditably, had done duty as military attache with me during my
mission at St. Petersburg, and had proved himself, in every
respect, admirable. Though he had no other supporter at the
national capital, the Secretary of War, Governor Alger, granted
my request, and he was appointed.

These matters, to many people apparently trivial, are here
alluded to because it is so often charged that political
considerations outweigh all others in such appointments, and
because this charge was frequently made against President
McKinley. The simple fact is that, with the multitude of
nominations to be made, the appointing power cannot have personal
knowledge of the applicants, and must ask the advice of persons
who have known them and can, to some extent, be held responsible
for them. In both the cases above referred to, political pressure
of the strongest in favor of other candidates went for nothing
against the ascertained interest of the public service

The Secretary of State at this time was Mr. John Sherman. I had
known him somewhat during his career as senator and Secretary of
the Treasury, and had for his character, abilities, and services
the most profound respect. I now saw him often. He had become
somewhat infirm, but his mind seemed still clear; whether at the
State Department or in social circles his reminiscences of public
men and affairs were always interesting, and one of these
confirmed an opinion I have expressed in another chapter. One
night, at a dinner-party, the discussion having fallen upon
President Andrew Johnson, and some slighting remarks having been
made regarding him by one of our company, Mr. Sherman, who had
been one of President Johnson's strongest opponents, declared him
a man of patriotic motives as well as of great ability, and
insisted that the Republican party had made a great mistake in
attempting to impeach him. In the course of the conversation one
of the foremost members of the House of Representatives, a man of
the highest standing and character, stated that he had himself,
when a young man, aided Mr. Johnson as secretary, and that he was
convinced that the ex-President could write very little more than
his signature. We had all heard the old story that after he had
become of age his newly wedded wife had taught him the alphabet,
but it was known to very few that he remained to the last so
imperfectly equipped.

Of conversations with many other leading men of that period at
Washington I remember that, at the house of my friend Dr. Hill,
afterward assistant secretary of state, mention being made of the
Blaine campaign, an eminent justice of the Supreme Court said
that Mr. Blaine always insisted to the end of his life that he
had lost the Presidency on account of the Rev. Dr. Burchard's
famous alliteration, "Rum, Romanism, and rebellion," and that the
whole was really a Democratic trick. Neither the judge nor any
other person present believed that Mr. Blaine's opinion in this
matter was well founded.

An important part of my business during this visit was to confer
with the proper persons at Washington, including the German
ambassador, Baron von Thielmann, regarding sundry troublesome
questions between the United States and Germany. The addition to
the American tariff of a duty against the sugar imports from
every other country equivalent to the sugar bounty allowed
manufactures in that country had led to special difficulties. It
had been claimed by Germany that this additional duty was
contrary to the most-favored-nation clause in our treaties; and,
unfortunately, the decisions on our side had been conflicting,
Mr. Gresham, Secretary of State under Mr. Cleveland, having
allowed that the German contention was right, and his successor,
Mr. Olney, having presented an elaborate argument to show that it
was wrong. On this point, conversations, not only with the
Secretary of State and the German ambassador, but with leading
members of the committees of Congress having the tariff in
charge, and especially with Mr. Allison and Mr. Aldrich of the
Senate and Governor Dingley of the House, showed me that the case
was complicated, the various interests somewhat excited against
each other, and that my work in dealing with them was to be
trying.

There were also several other questions no less difficult, those
relating to the exportation of American products to Germany and
the troubles already brewing in Samoa being especially prominent;
so that it was with anything but an easy feeling that, on the
29th of May, I sailed from New York.

On the 12th of June I presented the President's letter of
credence to the Emperor William II. The more important of my new
relations to the sovereign had given me no misgivings; for during
my stay in Berlin as minister, eighteen years before, I had found
him very courteous, he being then the heir apparent; but with the
ceremonial part it was otherwise, and to that I looked forward
almost with dismay.

For, since my stay in Berlin, the legation had been raised to an
embassy. It had been justly thought by various patriotic members
of Congress that it was incompatible, either with the dignity or
the interests of so great a nation as ours, to be represented
simply by a minister plenipotentiary, who, when calling at the
Foreign Office to transact business, might be obliged to wait for
hours, and even until the next day, while representatives from
much less important countries who ranked as ambassadors went in
at once. The change was good, but in making it Congress took no
thought of some things which ought to have been provided for. Of
these I shall speak later; but as regards the presentation, the
trying feature to me was that there was a great difference
between this and any ceremonial which I had previously
experienced, whether as commissioner at Santo Domingo and Paris,
or as minister at Berlin and St. Petersburg. At the presentation
of a minister plenipotentiary he goes in his own carriage to the
palace at the time appointed; is ushered into the presence of the
sovereign; delivers to him, with some simple speech, the
autograph letter from the President; and then, after a kindly
answer, all is finished. But an ambassador does not escape so
easily. Under a fiction of international law he is regarded as
the direct representative of the sovereign power of his country,
and is treated in some sense as such. Therefore it was that, at
the time appointed, a high personage of the court, in full
uniform, appeared at my hotel accompanied by various other
functionaries, with three court carriages, attendants, and
outriders, deputed to conduct me to the palace. Having been
escorted to the first of the carriages,--myself, in plain
citizen's dress, on the back seat; my escort, in gorgeous
uniform, facing me; and my secretaries and attaches in the other
carriages,--we took up our march in solemn procession--carriages,
outriders, and all--through the Wilhelmstrasse and Unter den
Linden. On either side was a gaping crowd; at the various corps
de garde bodies of troops came out and presented arms; and on our
arrival at the palace there was a presentation of arms and
beating of drums which, for the moment, somewhat abashed me. It
was an ordeal more picturesque than agreeable.

The reception by the Emperor was simple, courteous, and kindly.
Neither of us made any set speech, but we discussed various
questions, making reference to our former meeting and the changes
which had occurred since. Among these changes I referred to the
great improvement in Berlin, whereupon he said that he could not
think the enormous growth of modern cities an advantage. My
answer was that my reference was to the happy change in the
architecture of Berlin rather than to its growth in population;
that, during my first stay in the city, over forty years before,
nearly all the main buildings were of brick and stucco, whereas
there had now been a remarkable change from stucco to stone and
to a much nobler style of architecture. We also discussed the
standing of Germans in America and their relations to the United
States. On my remarking that it was just eighteen years and one
day since the first Emperor William had received me as minister
in that same palace, he spoke of various things in the history of
the intervening years; and then ensued an episode such as I had
hardly expected. For just before leaving New York my old friend
Frederick William Holls, after a dinner at his house on the
Hudson, had given his guests examples of the music written by
Frederick the Great, and one piece had especially interested us.
It was a duet in which Mr. Holls played one part upon the organ,
and his wife another upon the piano; and all of us were greatly
impressed by the dignity and beauty of the whole. It had been
brought to light and published by the present Emperor, and after
the performance some one of the party remarked, in a jocose way,
"You should express our thanks to his Majesty, when you meet him,
for the pleasure which this music has given us." I thought
nothing more of the subject until, just at the close of the
conversation above referred to, it came into my mind; and on my
mentioning it the Emperor showed at once a special interest,
discussing the music from various points of view; and on my
telling him that we were all surprised that it was not
amateurish, but really profound in its harmonies and beautiful in
its melodies, he dwelt upon the musical debt of Frederick the
Great to Bach and the special influence of Bach upon him. This
conversation recurred to me later, when the Emperor, in erecting
the statue to Frederick the Great on the Avenue of Victory,
placed on one side of it the bust of Marshal Schwerin, and on the
other that of Johann Sebastian Bach, thus honoring the two men
whom he considered most important during Frederick's reign.

After presenting my embassy secretaries and attaches, military
and naval, I was conducted with them into the presence of the
Empress, who won all our hearts by her kindly, unaffected
greeting. On my recalling her entrance into Berlin as a bride, in
her great glass coach, seventeen years before, on one of the
coldest days I ever knew, she gave amusing details of her stately
progress down the Linden on that occasion; and in response to my
congratulations upon her six fine boys and her really charming
little daughter, it was pleasant to see how

 "One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,"

her eyes lighting up with pride and joy, and her conversation
gladly turning to the children.

It may be added here that the present Empress seems to have
broken the unfortunate spell which for about half a century hung
over the queens and empresses of the house of Hohenzollern. I
remember well that, among the Germans whom I knew in my
Berlin-University days, all the sins of the period, political and
religious, seemed to be traced to the influence of Queen
Elizabeth, the consort of the reigning King Frederick William IV;
and that, during my first official stay in the same capital as
minister, a similar feeling was shown toward the Empress Augusta,
in spite of her most kindly qualities and her devotion to every
sort of charitable work; and that the crown princess, afterward
the Empress Frederick, in spite of all her endowments of head and
heart, was apparently more unpopular than either of her two
predecessors. But the present Empress seems to have changed all
this, and, doubtless, mainly by her devotion to her husband and
her children, which apparently excludes from her mind all care
for the great problems of the universe outside her family. So
strong is this feeling of kindness toward her that it was comical
to see, at one period during my stay, when she had been brought
perilously near a most unpopular course of action, that everybody
turned at once upon her agent in the matter, saying nothing about
her, but belaboring him unmercifully, though he was one of the
most attractive of men.

These presentations being finished, our return to the Kaiserhof
Hotel was made with the same ceremony as that with which we had
come to the palace, and happy was I when all was over.

Of the other official visits at this time, foremost in importance
was that to the chancellor of the empire, Prince Hohenlohe.
Although he was then nearly eighty years old and bent with age,
his mind in discussing public matters was entirely clear. Various
later conversations with him also come back to me--one,
especially, at a dinner he gave at the chancellor's palace to
President Harrison. On my recalling the fact that we were in the
room where I had first dined with Bismarck, Prince Hohenlohe gave
a series of reminiscences of his great predecessor, some of them
throwing a strong light upon his ideas and methods. On one
occasion, at my own table, he spoke very thoughtfully on German
characteristics, and one of his remarks surprised me: it was that
the besetting sin of the Germans is envy (Neid); in which remark
one may see a curious tribute to the tenacity of the race, since
Tacitus justified a similar opinion. He seemed rather melancholy;
but he had a way of saying pungent things very effectively, and
one of these attributed to him became widely known. He was
publicly advocating a hotly contested canal bill, when an
opponent said, "You will find a solid rock in the way of this
measure"; to which the chancellor rejoined, "We will then do with
the rock as Moses did: we will smite it and get water for our
canal."

As to the next visit of importance, I was especially glad to find
at the Foreign Office the newly appointed minister, Baron (now
Count) von Bulow. During the first part of my former stay, as
minister, I had done business at the Foreign Office with his
father, and found him in every respect a most congenial
representative of the German Government. It now appeared that
father and son were amazingly like each other, not only in
personal manner, but in their mode of dealing with public
affairs. With the multitude of trying questions which pressed
upon me as ambassador during nearly six years, it hardly seems
possible that I should be still alive were it not for the genial,
hearty intercourse, at the Foreign Office and elsewhere, with
Count von Bulow. Sundry German papers, indeed, attacked him as
yielding to much to me, and sundry American papers attacked me
for yielding too much to him; but both of us exerted ourselves to
do the best possible, each for his own country, and at the same
time to preserve peace and increase good feeling.

Interesting was it to me, from my first to my last days in
Berlin, to watch him in the discharge of his great duties,
especially in his dealings with hostile forces in Parliament. No
contrast could be more marked than that between his manner and
that of his great predecessor, the iron chancellor. To begin
with, no personalities could be more unlike. In the place of an
old man, big, rumbling, heavy, fiery, minatory, objurgatory,
there now stood a young man, quiet, self-possessed, easy in
speech, friendly in manner, "sweet reasonableness" apparently his
main characteristic, bubbling at times with humor, quick to turn
a laugh on a hostile bungler, but never cruel; prompt in
returning a serious thrust, but never venomous. Many of his
speeches were masterpieces in their way of handling opponents. An
attack which Bismarck would have met with a bludgeon, Bulow
parried with weapons infinitely lighter, but in some cases really
more effective. A very good example was on an occasion when the
old charge of "Byzantinism" was flung at the present regime, to
which he replied, not by a historical excursus or political
disquisition, but by humorously deprecating a comparison of the
good, kindly, steady-going, hard-working old privy councilors and
other state officials of Berlin with fanatics, conspirators, and
assassins who played leading parts at Constantinople during the
decline of the Eastern Empire. In the most stormy discussions I
never saw him other than serene; under real provocation he
remained kindly; more than one bitter opponent he disarmed with a
retort; but there were no poisoned wounds. The German Parliament,
left to itself, can hardly be a peaceful body. The lines of
cleavage between parties are many, and some of them are old
chasms of racial dislike and abysses of religious and social
hate; but the appearance of the young chancellor at his desk
seemed, even on the darkest days, to bring sunshine.

Occasionally, during my walks in the Thiergarten, I met him on
his way to Parliament; and, no matter how pressing public
business might be, he found time to extend his walk and prolong
our discussions. On one of these walks I alluded to a hot debate
of the day before and to his suavity under provocation, when he
answered: "Old ----, many years ago, gave me two counsels, and I
have always tried to mind them. These were: 'Never worry; never
lose your temper.' "

A pet phrase among his critics is that he is a diplomatist and
not a statesman. Like so many antitheses, this is misleading. It
may be just to say that his methods are, in general, those of a
diplomatist rather than of a statesman; but certain it is that in
various debates of my time he showed high statesmanlike
qualities, and notably at the beginning of the war with China and
in sundry later contests with the agrarians and socialists. Even
his much criticized remark during the imbroglio between Turkey
and Greece, picturing Germany as laying down her flute and
retiring from the "European Concert," which to many seemed mere
persiflage, was the humorous presentation of a policy dictated by
statesmanship. Nor were all his addresses merely light and
humorous; at times, when some deep sentiment had been stirred, he
was eloquent, rising to the height of great arguments and taking
broad views.

No one claims that he is a Richelieu, a William Pitt, or a
Cavour; but the work of such men is not what the German Empire
just now requires. The man needed at present is the one who can
keep things GOING, who can minimize differences, resist
extremists, turn aside marplots, soothe doctrinaires, and thus
give the good germs in the empire a chance to grow. For this work
it would be hard to imagine a better man than the present
chancellor. His selection and retention by the Emperor prove that
the present monarch has inherited two of the best qualities of
his illustrious grandfather: skill in recognizing the right man
and firmness in standing by him.

The next thing which an ambassador is expected to do, after
visiting the great representatives of the empire, is to become
acquainted with the official world in general.

But he must make acquaintance with these under his own roof. On
his arrival he is expected to visit the Emperor and the princes
of his family, the imperial chancellor, and the minister of
foreign affairs, but all others are expected to visit him; hence
the most pressing duty on my arrival was to secure a house, and,
during three months following, all the time that I could possibly
spare, and much that I ought not to have spared, was given to
excursions into all parts of the city to find it. No house, no
ambassador. A minister plenipotentiary can live during his first
year in a hotel or in a very modest apartment; an ambassador
cannot. He must have a spacious house fully furnished before he
can really begin his duties; for, as above stated, one of the
first of these duties is to make the acquaintance of the official
world,--the ministers of the crown, the diplomatic corps, the
members of the Imperial Parliament, the members of the Prussian
legislature, the foremost men in the army and navy, and the
leaders in public life generally,--and to this end he must give
three very large receptions, at which all those personages visit
him. This is a matter of which the court itself takes charge, so
far as inviting and presenting the guests is concerned, high
court officials being sent to stand by the side of the ambassador
and ambassadress and make the introductions to them; but, as
preliminary to all this, the first thing is to secure a residence
fit for such receptions and for entertainments in connection with
them.

Under the rules of European nations generally, these receptions
must be held at the ambassador's permanent residence; but,
unfortunately, such a thing as a large furnished apartment
suitable for a foreign representative is rarely to be found in
Berlin. In London and Paris such apartments are frequently
offered, but in Berlin hardly ever. Every other nation which
sends an ambassador to Berlin--and the same is true as regards
the other large capitals of Europe--owns a suitable house, or at
least holds a long lease of a commodious apartment; but, although
President Cleveland especially recommended provision for such
residence in one of his messages, nothing has yet been done by
the American Congress, and the consequence is that every
ambassador has to lose a great amount of valuable time, effort,
and money in securing proper quarters, while his country loses
much of its proper prestige and dignity by constant changes in
the location of its embassy, and by the fact that the American
representative is not infrequently obliged to take up his
residence in unfit apartments and in an unsuitable part of the
town.

After looking at dozens of houses, the choice was narrowed down
to two; but, as one was nearly three miles from the center of the
city, selection was made of the large apartment which I occupied
during nearly four years, and which was bought from under my feet
by one of the smallest governments in Europe as the residence for
its minister. Immediately after my lease was signed there began a
new series of troubles. Everything must be ready for the three
receptions by the eighth day of January; and, being at the mercy
of my landlord, I was at a great disadvantage. Though paying
large rent for the apartment, I was obliged, at my own expense,
to put it thoroughly in order, introducing electric light,
perfecting heating apparatus, getting walls and floors in order,
and doing a world of work which, under other circumstances, would
have been done by the proprietor himself. As to furnishing, a
peculiar difficulty arose. Berlin furnishers, as a rule, have
only samples in stock, and a long time is required for completing
sets. My former experience, when, as minister, I had been obliged
to go through a similar ordeal, had shown me that the Berlin
makers could never be relied upon to get the apartment furnished
in time; and therefore it was that, having secured what was
possible in Berlin, I was obliged to make large purchases at
Dresden, London, and Paris, and to have the furniture from the
last-named city hurried on to Berlin in special wadded cars, with
attendants to put it in place. It was a labor and care to which
no representative of the United States or of any other power
ought to be subjected. The vexations and difficulties seemed
unending; but at last carpenters, paper-hangers, electric-light
men, furniture men, carpet-layers, upholsterers, and the like
were driven from the house just five minutes before the
chancellor of the empire arrived to open the first of these three
official receptions. Happily they all went off well, and thereby
began my acquaintance with the leaders in various departments of
official life.

On my settling down to the business of the embassy, it appeared
that the changes in public sentiment since my former stay as
minister, eighteen years before, were great indeed. At that time
German feeling was decidedly friendly to the United States. The
Germans had sided with us in our Civil War, and we had come out
victorious; we had sided with them in their war of 1870-1871, and
they had come out victorious. But all this was now changed.
German feeling toward us had become generally adverse and, in
some parts of the empire, bitterly hostile. The main cause of
this was doubtless our protective policy. Our McKinley tariff,
which was considered almost ruinous to German manufactures, had
been succeeded by the Dingley tariff, which went still further;
and as Germany, in the last forty years, had developed an amazing
growth of manufactures, much bitterness resulted.

Besides this, our country was enabled, by its vast extent of
arable land, as well as by its cheap conveyance and skilful
handling of freights, to sweep into the German markets
agricultural products of various sorts, especially meats, and to
undersell the native German producers. This naturally vexed the
landed proprietors, so that we finally had against us two of the
great influential classes in the empire: the manufacturers and
the landowners.

But this was not all. These real difficulties were greatly
increased by fictitious causes of ill feeling. Sensational
articles, letters, telegrams, caricatures, and the like, sent
from America to Germany and from Germany to America, had become
more and more exasperating, until, at the time of my arrival,
there were in all Germany but two newspapers of real importance
friendly to the United States. These two journals courageously
stood up for fairness and justice, but all the others were more
or less hostile, and some bitterly so. The one which, on account
of its zeal in securing news, I read every morning was of the
worst. During the Spanish War it was especially virulent, being
full of statements and arguments to show that corruption was the
main characteristic of our government, cowardice of our army and
navy, and hypocrisy of our people. Very edifying were its
quasi-philosophical articles; and one of these, showing the
superiority of the Spanish women to their American sisters,
especially as regards education, was a work of genius. The love
of Spanish women for bull-fights was neatly glossed over, and
various absurd charges against American women were put in the
balance against it. A few sensational presses on our side were
perhaps worse. Various newspapers in America repaid Teutonic
hostility by copious insults directed at everything German, and
this aroused the Germans yet more. One journal, very influential
among the aristocratic and religious public of Northern Germany,
regularly published letters of considerable literary merit from
its American correspondent, in which every scandal which could be
raked out of the gutters of the cities, every crime in the
remotest villages, and all follies of individuals everywhere,
were kneaded together into statements showing that our country
was the lowest in the scale of human civilization. The tu-quoque
argument might have been used by an American with much effect;
for just about this period there were dragging along, in the
Berlin and other city journals, accounts of German trials for
fraud and worse, surpassing, in some respects, anything within my
memory of American tribunals. The quantity of fig-leaves required
in some of these trials was enormous; and, despite all
precautions, some details which escaped into the press might well
bring a blush to the most hardened American offender. It was both
vexatious and comical to see the smug, Pharisaical way in which
many journals ignored all these things, and held up their hands
in horror at American shortcomings. Some trials, too, which at
various times revealed the brutality of sundry military officers
toward soldiers, were heartrending; and especially one or two
duels, which occurred during my stay, presented features
calculated to shock the toughest American rough-rider. But all
this seemed not for a moment to withdraw the attention of our
Teutonic censors from American folly and wickedness. One of the
main charges constantly made was that in America there was a
"Deutschen Hetze." Very many German papers had really persuaded
themselves, and apparently had convinced a large part of the
German people, that throughout our country there existed a hate,
deep and acrid, of everything German and especially of
German-Americans. The ingenuity of some German papers in
supporting this thesis was wonderful. On one occasion a petty
squabble in a Roman Catholic theological school in the United
States between the more liberal element and a reactionary German
priest, in which the latter came to grief, was displayed as an
evidence that the American people were determined to drive out
all German professors and to abjure German science. The doings of
every scapegrace in an American university, of every silly woman
in Chicago, of every blackguard in New York, of every snob at
Newport, of every desperado in the Rocky Mountains, of every club
loafer anywhere, were served up as typical examples of American
life. The municipal governments of our country, and especially
that of New York, were an exhaustless quarry from which specimens
of every kind of scoundrelism were drawn and used in building up
an ideal structure of American life; corruption, lawlessness, and
barbarism being its most salient features.

Nor was this confined to the more ignorant. Men who stood high in
the universities, men of the greatest amiability, who in former
days had been the warmest friends of America, had now become our
bitter opponents, and some of their expressions seemed to point
to eventual war.

Yet I doubt whether we have any right to complain of such attacks
and misrepresentations. As a matter of fact, no nation washes so
much of its dirty linen in the face of the whole world as does
our own; and, what is worse, there is washed in our country, with
much noise and perversity, a great deal of linen which is not
dirty. Many demagogues and some "reformers" are always doing
this. There is in America a certain class of excellent people who
see nothing but the scum on the surface of the pot; nothing but
the worst things thrown to the surface in the ebullition of
American life. Or they may be compared to people who, with a
Persian carpet before them, persist in looking at its seamy side,
and finding nothing but odds and ends, imperfect joints,
unsatisfactory combinations of color; the real pattern entirely
escaping them. The shrill utterances of such men rise above the
low hum of steady good work, and are taken in Germany as exact
statements of the main facts in our national life.

Let me repeat here one example which I have given more than once
elsewhere. Several years since, an effort was made to impeach the
President of the United States. The current was strong, and most
party leaders thought it best to go with it. Three senators of
the United States sturdily refused, their leader being William
Pitt Fessenden of Maine, who, believing the impeachment an
attempt to introduce Spanish-American politics into our country,
resolutely opposed it. The State convention of his party called
upon him to vote for it, the national convention of the party
took the same ground, his relatives and friends besought him to
yield, but he stood firmly against the measure, and finally, by
his example and his vote, defeated it. It was an example of
Spartan fortitude, of Roman heroism, worthy to be chronicled by
Plutarch. How was it chronicled? I happened to be traveling in
Germany at the time, and naturally watched closely for the result
of the impeachment proceedings. One morning I took up a German
paper containing the news and read, "The impeachment has been
defeated; three senators were bribed," and at the head of the
list of bribed senators was the name of Fessenden! The time will
come when his statue will commemorate his great example; let us
hope that the time will also come when party spirit will not be
allowed to disgrace our country by sending out to the world such
monstrous calumnies.

As to attacks upon the United States, it is only fair to say that
German publicists and newspaper writers were under much
provocation. Some of the American correspondents then in Germany
showed wonderful skill in malignant invention. My predecessors in
the embassy had suffered much from this cause. One of them, whom
I had known from his young manhood as a gentleman of refined
tastes and quiet habits, utterly incapable of rudeness of any
sort, was accused, in a sensational letter published in various
American journals, of having become so noisy and boisterous at
court that the Emperor was obliged to rebuke him. Various hints
of a foul and scandalous character were sent over and published.
I escaped more easily, but there were two or three examples which
were both vexatious and amusing.

Shortly after my arrival at my post, letters and newspaper
articles began coming deploring the conduct of the Germans toward
me, expressing deep sympathy with me, exhorting me to "stand
firm," declaring that the American people were behind me, etc.,
etc., all of which puzzled me greatly until I found that some
correspondent had sent over a telegram to the effect that the
feeling against America had become so bitter that the Emperor
himself had been obliged to intervene and command the officials
of his empire to present themselves at my official reception; and
with this statement was coupled a declaration that I had made the
most earnest remonstrance to the Imperial Government against such
treatment. The simple fact was that the notice was in the
stereotyped form always used when an ambassador arrives. On every
such occasion the proper authorities notify all the persons
concerned, giving the time of his receptions, and this was simply
what was done in my case. On another occasion, telegrams were
sent over to American papers stating that the first secretary of
the embassy and myself, on visiting Parliament to hear an
important debate, had been grossly insulted by various members.
The fact was that we had been received by everybody with the
utmost kindness; that various members had saluted us in the most
friendly manner from the floor or had come into the diplomatic
gallery to welcome us; and that there was not the slightest
shadow of reason for the statement. As an example of the genius
shown in some of these telegrams, another may be mentioned. A
very charming American lady, niece of a member of Mr. McKinley's
cabinet, having arrived on the Norwegian coast, her children were
taken on board the yacht of the Emperor, who was then cruising in
those regions; and later, on their arrival at Berlin, they with
their father and mother were asked by him to the palace to meet
his own wife and children. A few days afterward a telegram was
published in America to the effect that the Emperor, in speaking
to Mrs. White and myself regarding the children, had said that he
was especially surprised, because he had always understood that
American children were badly brought up and had very bad manners.
The simple fact was that, while he spoke of the children with
praise, the rest of the story was merely a sensational invention.
One of the marvels of American life is the toleration by decent
fathers and mothers of sensational newspapers in their
households. Of all the demoralizing influences upon our people,
and especially upon our young people, they are the most steadily
and pervasively degrading. Horace Greeley once published a
tractate entitled, "New Themes for the Clergy," and I would
suggest the evil influence of sensation newsmongering as a most
fruitful theme for the exhortations of all American clergymen to
their flocks, whether Catholic, Jewish, or Protestant. May we not
hope, also, that Mr. Pulitzer's new College of Journalism will
give careful attention to this subject?

As to public questions then demanding attention, the first which
I now recall was a bit of international comedy, serving as a
prelude to more important matters, and worth mentioning here only
as showing a misconception very absurd, yet not without dangers.

One morning, as I had just sat down to my office work, there was
ushered in, with due ceremony, a young gentleman of light color,
Parisian to the tips of his fingers,--in accent, manner, and
garb,--who was announced as the charge d'affaires of Haiti. He
was evidently under deep concern, and was soon in the midst of a
somewhat impassioned statement of his business.

It appeared that his government, like so many which had preceded
it, after a joyous career of proclamations, revolutions,
throat-cutting, confiscation, paper money, and loans, public and
private, had at last met a check, and that in this instance the
check had come in the shape of a German frigate which had dropped
into the harbor of Port-au-Prince, run out its guns, and demanded
redress of injuries and payment of debts to Germany and German
subjects; and the charge, after dwelling upon the enormity of
such a demand, pointed out the duty of the United States to
oblige Germany to desist,--in short, to assert the Monroe
Doctrine as he understood it.

The young diplomatist's statement interested me much; it brought
back vividly to my mind the days when, as a commissioner from the
United States, I landed at Port-au-Prince, observed the wreck and
ruin caused by a recent revolution, experienced the beauties of a
paper-money system carried out so logically that a market-basket
full of currency was needed to buy a market-basket full of
vegetables, visited the tombs of the presidents from which the
bodies of their occupants had been torn and scattered, saw the
ring to which President Salnave had recently been tied when the
supporters of his successor had murdered him, and mused over the
ruins of the presidential mansion, which had been torn in pieces
by bombs from a patriotic vessel. My heart naturally warmed
toward the representative of so much glory, and it seemed sad to
quench his oratorical fire and fervor with a cold statement of
fact. But my duty was plain: I assured him that neither the
President whose name the famous "Doctrine" bears, nor the
Secretary of State who devised it, nor the American people behind
them, had any idea of protecting our sister republics in such
conduct as that of which the Germans complained; and I concluded
by fervently exhorting him to advise his government and people
simply to--pay their debts.

It gave me pleasure to learn, somewhat later, that this very
prosaic solution of the difficulty had been adopted.

I make haste to add that nothing which may be said here or
elsewhere in these recollections regarding sundry equatorial
governments has any reference to our sister republics of South
America really worthy of the name. No countries were in my time
more admirably represented at Berlin than the Argentine Republic,
Chile, and Brazil. The first-named sent as its minister the most
eminent living authority on international law; the second, a
gentleman deeply respected for character and ability, whose
household was one of the most beautiful and attractive I have
ever known; and the third, a statesman and scholar worthy of the
best traditions of his country.

As to more complicated international matters with which my
embassy had to deal, the first to assume a virulent form was that
of the Samoan Islands.

During the previous twenty-five years the United States, Germany,
and Great Britain had seemed to develop equal claims in Samoa.
There had been clashes from time to time, in which good sense had
generally prevailed; but in one case a cyclone which destroyed
the German and American vessels of war in the main port of the
islands seemed providential in preventing a worse form of
trouble.

But now the chronic difficulties became acute. In the consuls of
the three powers what Bismarck used to call the furor consularis
was developed to the highest degree. Yet this was not the worst.
Under the Berlin agreement, made some years before, there was a
German president of the municipality of Apia with ill-defined
powers, and an American chief justice with powers in some
respects enormous, and each of these naturally magnified his
office at the expense of the other. To complete the elements of
discord, there were two great native parties, each supporting its
candidate for kingship; and behind these, little spoken of, but
really at the bottom of the main trouble, were
missionaries,--English Wesleyans on one side, and French Roman
Catholics on the other,--each desiring to save the souls of the
natives, no matter at what sacrifice of their bodies.

This tea-pot soon began to boil violently. The old king having
died, the question arose as to the succession. The power of
appointing the successor having been in the most clear and
definite terms bestowed by the treaty upon the chief justice, he
named for the position Malietoa Tanu, a young chieftain who had
been induced to call himself a Protestant; but on the other side
was Mataafa, an old chief who years before had made much trouble,
had been especially obnoxious to the Germans, and had been
banished, but had been recently allowed to return on his taking
oath that he would abstain from all political action, and would
be true to his allegiance to the Malietoan kings. He had been
induced to call himself a Catholic.

But hardly had he returned when, having apparently been absolved
from his oath, he became the leader of a political party and
insisted on his right to the kingship.

The result was a petty civil war which cost many lives. Nor was
this all. A drunken Swiss having one day amused himself by
breaking the windows of the American chief justice's court and no
effective punishment having been administered by the German
president of Apia, the Yankee chief justice took the matter into
his own hands, and this Little Pedlington business set in motion
sensation-mongers throughout the world. They exerted themselves
to persuade the universe that war might, and indeed ought to,
result between the three great nations concerned. On the arrival
of the American Admiral Kautz, he simply and naturally supported
the decree which the chief justice had made, in strict accordance
with the treaty of Berlin, and was finally obliged to fire upon
the insurgents. Now came a newspaper carnival: screams of wrath
from the sensation press of Germany and yells of defiance from
the sensation press of the United States.

It was fortunate, indeed, that at this period the American
Secretary of State was Mr. John Hay and the German minister of
foreign affairs Count von Bulow. Both at Washington and Berlin
the light of plain common sense was gradually let into this
jungle of half truths and whole falsehoods; the appointment of an
excellent special commission, who supplanted all the officials in
the islands by new men, solved various preliminary problems, so
that finally a treaty was made between the three nations
concerned which swept away the old vicious system, partitioned
the islands between the United States and Germany, giving Great
Britain indemnity elsewhere, and settled all the questions
involved, as we may hope, forever.

Among my duties and pleasures during this period was attendance
upon important debates in the Imperial Parliament. That body
presents many features suggestive of thought. The arrangement
under which the Senate, representing the various states of the
empire, and the House, representing the people as a whole, sit
face to face in joint deliberation, strikes an American as
especially curious; but it seems to work well, and has one
advantage in bringing the most eminent servants of the various
states into direct personal relations with the rank and file from
the country at large. The German Parliament has various good
points. Some one has asserted that the United States Senate is as
much better than the British House of Lords as the British House
of Commons is better than the American House of Representatives.
There is much to be said for this contention, and there are some
points in which the German Parliament also struck me as an
improvement upon our Lower House: they do less than we in
committee, and more in the main assemblage; German members are
more attentive to the work in hand, and spread-eagleism and
speeches to the galleries which are tolerated at Washington are
not tolerated at Berlin. On the other hand, the members at
Berlin, not being paid for their services, absent themselves in
such numbers that the lack of a sufficient deliberating body has
been found, at times, a serious evil.

As to men prominent in debate, allusion has already been made to
the chancellor, and various ministers of the crown might be
added, of whom I should give the foremost place to the minister
of the interior, Count Posadowski. His discussions of all matters
touching his department, and, indeed, of some well outside it,
were masterly. Save, perhaps, our own Senator John Sherman, I
have never heard so USEFUL a speaker on fundamental questions of
public business. As to the representatives, there were many well
worth listening to; but the two who attracted most attention were
Richter, the head of the "Progressist," or, as we should call it,
the radical fraction, and Bebel, the main representative of the
Socialists. Richter I had heard more than once in my old days,
and had been impressed by his extensive knowledge of imperial
finance, his wit and humor, his skill in making his points, and
his strength in enforcing them. He was among the few still
remaining after my long absence, and it was clear to me that he
had not deteriorated,--that he had, indeed, mellowed in a way
which made him even more interesting than formerly. As to Bebel,
though generally disappointing at first, he was quite sure, in
every speech, to raise some point which put the conservatives on
their mettle. His strongest characteristic seems to be his
earnestness: the earnestness of a man who has himself known what
the hardest struggle for existence is, and what it means to
suffer for his opinions. His weakest point seems to be a tendency
to exaggeration which provokes distrust; but, despite this, he
has been a potent force as an irritant in drawing attention to
the needs of the working-classes, and so in promoting that steady
uplifting of their condition and prospects which is one of the
most striking achievements of modern Germany.

Among the many other members interesting on various accounts was
one to whom both Germans and Americans might well listen with
respect--Herr Theodor Barth, editor of "Die Nation," a
representative of the best traditions of the old National Liberal
party. He seemed to me one of the very few Germans who really
understood the United States. He had visited America more than
once, and had remained long enough to get in touch with various
leaders of American thought, and to penetrate below the mere
surface of public affairs. Devoted as he was to his own
fatherland, he seemed to feel intuitively the importance to both
countries of accentuating permanent points of agreement rather
than transient points of difference; hence it was that in his
paper he steadily did us justice, and in Parliament was sure to
repel any unmerited assault upon our national character and
policy. He was clear and forcible, with, at times, a most
effectively caustic utterance against unreason.

While the whole parliamentary body is suggestive to an American,
the Parliament building is especially suggestive to a New-Yorker.
This great edifice at Berlin is considerably larger on the ground
than is the State Capitol at Albany. It is built of a very
beautiful and durable stone, and, in spite of sundry criticisms
on the dome in the center and the pavilions at the corners, is
vastly superior, as a whole, to the Albany building. It is
enriched in all parts, without and within, with sculpture
recalling the historical glories of all parts of the empire and
calculated to stir patriotic pride; it is beautified by paintings
on a great scale by eminent artists; its interior fittings, in
stone, marble, steel, bronze, and oak, are as beautiful and
perfect as the art of the period has been able to make them; and
the whole, despite minor architectural faults, is worthy of the
nation. The building was completed and in use within ten years
from the time of its beginning. The construction of the
State-house at Albany, a building not so large, and containing
to-day no work of art either in painting or sculpture worthy of
notice, has dragged along during thirty years, and cost nearly
four times as much as the Berlin edifice; the latter having
demanded an outlay of a trifle over five million dollars, and the
former considerably over twenty millions.

The German Parliament House, apart from slight defects, as a
great architectural creation is in a style worthy of its
purpose--a style which is preserved in all its parts; while that
at Albany is, perhaps, the most curious jumble in the whole
history of architecture,--the lower stories being Palladian; the
stories above these being, if anything, Florentine; the summit
being, if anything, French Renaissance; while, as regards the
interior, the great west staircase, which is said to have cost
half a million of dollars, is in the Richardsonesque style; the
eastern staircase is in classic style; and a circular staircase
in the interior is in the most flamboyant Gothic which could be
got for money. To be sure, there are rooms at Albany on which
precious Siena marble and Mexican onyx are lavished, but these
are used so as to produce mainly the effect of an unintelligent
desire to spend money.

While in or near the Berlin edifice there is commemoration by
sculpture or painting of a multitude of meritorious public
servants, there is nowhere in the whole building at Albany a
statue or any fit remembrance of the two greatest governors in
the history of the State, DeWitt Clinton and William H. Seward.

The whole thing plunges one into reflection. If that single
building at Albany, which was estimated, upon plans carefully
made by the best of architects, to cost five millions of dollars,
and to be completed in four years, required over thirty years and
an expenditure of over twenty millions, what is a great "barge
canal" to cost, running through the whole length of the State,
encountering enormous difficulties of every sort, estimated at
the beginning to cost one hundred millions of dollars, but
including no estimate for "land damages," "water damages,"
"personal damages," "unprecedented floods," "unforeseen
obstacles," "quicksands," "changes of plan," etc., etc., which
have played such a costly and corrupting part in the past history
of our existing New York canals? And how many years will it take
to complete it? This was the train of thought and this was its
resultant query forced upon me whenever I looked upon the
Parliament House at Berlin.



CHAPTER XLI

AMERICA, GERMANY, AND THE SPANISH WAR--1897-1903

During the early days of this second official stay of mine at
Berlin, Russia had, in one way and another, secured an entrance
into China for her trans-Siberian railway, and seemed to have
taken permanent possession of the vast region extending from her
own territory to the Pacific at Port Arthur. Germany followed
this example, and, in avenging the murder of certain
missionaries, took possession of the harbor of Kiao-Chau. Thereby
other nations were stirred to do likewise,--England, France, and
Italy beginning to move for extensions of territory or commercial
advantages, until it looked much as if China was to be parceled
out among the greater European powers, or at least held in
commercial subjection, to the exclusion of those nations which
had pursued a more dilatory policy.

Seeing this danger, our government instructed its representatives
at the courts of the great powers to request them to join in a
declaration in favor of an "open-door policy" in China, thus
establishing virtually an international agreement that none of
the powers obtaining concessions or controlling "spheres of
influence" in that country should secure privileges infringing
upon the equality of all nations in competing for Chinese trade.
This policy was pushed with vigor by the Washington cabinet, and
I was instructed to secure, if possible, the assent of the German
Government, which, after various conferences at the Foreign
Office and communications with the minister of foreign affairs,
some more, some less, satisfactory, I was at last able to do. The
assent was given very guardedly, but not the less effectively.
Its terms were that Germany, having been from the first in favor
of equal rights to all nations in the trade of China, would
gladly acquiesce in the proposed declaration if the other powers
concerned would do so.

The Emperor William himself was even more open and direct than
his minister. At his dinner to the ambassadors in the spring of
1900, he spoke to me very fully on the subject, and, in a
conversation which I have referred to elsewhere, assured me of
his complete and hearty concurrence in the American policy,
declaring, "We must stand together for the open door."

Finally, on the 9th of April, 1900, I had the satisfaction of
sending to the German Foreign Office the proofs that all the
other powers concerned, including Japan, had joined in the
American declaration, and that the government of the United
States considered this acquiescence to be full and final.

It was really a great service rendered to the world by Mr.
McKinley and Secretary Hay; their action was farseeing, prompt,
bold, and successful.

Yet another subject of contention was the exclusion of sundry
American insurance companies from Germany, due in part to a
policy of "protection," but also to that same distrust of certain
American business methods which had given me much trouble in
dealing with the same question at St. Petersburg. The discussions
were long and tedious, but resulted in a sort of modus vivendi
likely to lead to something better.

The American sugar duties were also a sore subject. Various
writers in the German press and orators in public bodies
continued to insist that America had violated the treaties;
America insisted that she had not; and this trouble, becoming
chronic, aggravated all others. The main efforts of Count von
Bulow and myself were given to allaying inflammation by doses of
common sense and poultices of good-will until common sense could
assert its rights.

The everlasting meat question also went through various vexatious
phases, giving rise to bitter articles in the newspapers,
inflammatory speeches in Parliament, and measures in various
parts of the empire which, while sometimes honest, were always
injurious. American products which had been inspected in the
United States and Hamburg were again broken into, inspected, and
reinspected in various towns to which they were taken for retail,
with the result that the packages were damaged or spoiled, and
the costs of inspection and reinspection ate up all profits. I
once used an illustration of this at the Foreign Office that
seemed to produce some effect. It was the story of the Yankee
showman who, having been very successful in our Northern and
Middle States, took his show to the South, but when he returned
had evidently been stripped of his money. Being asked regarding
it, he said that his show had paid him well at first, but that on
arriving in Texas the authorities of each little village insisted
on holding an inquest over his Egyptian mummy, charging him
coroner's fees for it, and that this had made him a bankrupt.

Speeches, bitter and long, were made on both sides of the
Atlantic; the cable brought reports of drastic reprisals
preparing in Washington; but finally a system was adopted to
which the trade between the two countries has since been uneasily
trying to adjust itself.

Then there was sprung upon us the fruit question. One morning
came a storm of telegrams and letters stating that cargoes of
American fruits had been stopped in the German harbors, under the
charge that they contained injurious insects. The German
authorities were of course honest in this procedure, though they
were doubtless stimulated to it by sundry representatives of the
land-owning class. Our beautiful fruits, especially those of
California, had come to be very extensively used throughout the
empire, and the German consumers had been growing more and more
happy and the German producers more and more unhappy over this
fact, when suddenly there came from the American side accounts of
the scale-insects discovered on pears in California, and of
severe measures taken by sundry other States of our Union to
prohibit their importation. The result was a prohibition of our
fruits in Germany, and this was carried so far that not only
pears from California, but all other fruits, from all other parts
of the country, were at first put under the ban; and not only
fresh but dried and preserved fruits. As a matter of fact, there
was no danger whatever from the scale-insect, so far as fruit was
concerned. The creature never stirs from the spot on the pear to
which it fastens itself, and therefore by no possibility can it
be carried from the house where the fruit is consumed to the
nurseries where trees are grown. We took pains to show the facts
in the case; dealing fairly and openly with the German
Government, allowing that the importation of scale-infested trees
and shrubs might be dangerous, and making no objection to any
fair measures regarding these. The Foreign Office was reasonable,
and gradually the most vexatious of these prohibitions were
removed.

But the war with Spain drew on, and animosities, so far as the
press on both sides of the water was concerned, grew worse.
Various newspapers in Germany charged our government with a
wonderful assortment of high crimes and misdemeanors; but,
happily, in their eagerness to cover us with obloquy, they
frequently refuted each other. Thus they one day charged us with
having prepared long beforehand to crush Spain and to rob her of
her West Indian possessions, and the next day they charged us
with plunging into war suddenly, recklessly, utterly careless of
the consequences. One moment they insisted that American sailors
belonged to a deteriorated race of mongrels, and could never
stand against pure-blooded Spanish sailors; and the next moment,
that we were crushing the noble navy of Spain by brute force.
Various presses indulged in malignant prophecies: the Americans
would find Spain a very hard nut to crack; Spanish soldiers would
drive the American mongrels into the sea; when Cervera got out
with his fleet, the American fleet would slink away; Spanish
ships, being built under the safeguard of Spanish honor, must win
the victory; American ships, built under a regime of corruption,
would be found furnished with sham plating, sham guns, and sham
supplies of every sort. It all reminded me of sundry prophecies
we used to hear before our Civil War to the effect that, when the
Northern and Southern armies came into the presence of each
other, the Yankee soldiers would trade off their muskets to the
foe.

Against President McKinley every sort of iniquity was charged.
One day he was an idiot; another day, the most cunning of
intriguers; at one moment, an overbearing tyrant anxious to rush
into war; at another, a coward fearing war. It must be confessed
that this was mainly drawn from the American partizan press; but
it was, none the less, hard to bear.

In the meantime President McKinley, his cabinet, and the American
diplomatic corps in Europe did everything in their power to
prevent the war. Just as long as possible the President clearly
considered that his main claim on posterity would be for
maintaining peace against pressure and clamor. Under orders from
the State Department I met at Paris my old friend General
Woodford, who was on his way to Spain as minister of the United
States, and General Porter, the American ambassador to France,
our instructions being to confer regarding the best means of
maintaining peace; and we all agreed that everything possible be
done to allay the excitement in Spain; that no claims of a
special sort, whether pecuniary or otherwise, should be urged
until after the tension ceased; that every concession possible
should be made to Spanish pride; and that, just as far as
possible, everything should be avoided which could complicate the
general issue with personal considerations. All of us knew that
the greatest wish of the administration was to prevent the war,
or, if that proved impossible, to delay it.

For years, in common with the great majority of American
citizens, I had believed that the Spanish West Indies must break
loose from Spain some day, but had hoped that the question might
be adjourned until the middle or end of the twentieth century.
For I knew well that the separation of Cuba from Spain would be
followed, after no great length of time, by efforts for her
annexation to the United States, and that if such annexation of
Cuba should ever occur, she must come in as a State; that there
is no use in considering any other form of government for an
outlying dominion so large and so near; that there is no other
way of annexing a dependency so fully developed, and that, even
if there were, the rivalry of political parties contending for
electoral votes would be sure to insist on giving her statehood.
I dreaded the addition to our country of a million and a half of
citizens whose ability to govern themselves was exceedingly
doubtful, to say nothing of helping to govern our Union on the
mainland. The thought of senators and representatives to be
chosen by such a constituency to reside at Washington and to
legislate for the whole country, filled me with dismay.
Especially was the admission of Cuba to statehood a fearful
prospect just at that time, when we had so many difficult
questions to meet in the exercise of the suffrage. I never could
understand then, and cannot understand now, what Senator Morgan
of Alabama, who once had the reputation of being the strongest
representative from the South, could be thinking of when he was
declaiming in the Senate, first in behalf of the "oppressed
Cubans," and next in favor of measures which tended to add them
to the United States, and so to create a vast commonwealth
largely made up of negroes and mulattos accustomed to equality
with the whites, almost within musket-shot of the negroes and
mulattos of the South, from whom the constituents of Mr. Morgan
were at that very moment withholding the right of suffrage. I
could not see then, and I cannot see now, how he could possibly
be blind to the fact that if Cuba ever becomes a State of our
Union, she will soon begin to look with sympathy on those whom
she will consider her "oppressed colored brethren" in the South;
and that she will, just as inevitably, make common cause with
them at Washington, and perhaps in some other places, and
possibly not always by means so peaceful as orating under the
roof of the Capitol.

Moreover, the nation had just escaped a terrible catastrophe at
the last general election; the ignorant, careless, and perverse
vote having gone almost solidly for a financial policy which
would have wrecked us temporarily and disgraced us eternally.
Time will, no doubt, develop a more conservative sentiment in the
States where this vote for evil was cast; as civilization deepens
and advances, better ideas will doubtless grow stronger; but it
is sure that the addition of Cuba to the United States, if it
ever comes, means the adding of a vast illiterate mass of voters
to those who at that election showed themselves so dangerous.

On all these accounts I had felt very anxious to put off the
whole Cuban question until our Republic should become so much
larger and so much more mature that the addition of a few
millions of Spanish-Americans would be of but small account in
the total vote of the country.

Then, too, I had little sympathy with aspirations for what
Spanish revolutionists call freedom, and no admiration at all for
Central American republics. I had officially examined one of them
thoroughly, had known much of others, and had no belief in the
capacity of people for citizenship who prefer to carry on
government by pronunciamtentos, who never acknowledge the rights
of majorities, who are ready to start civil war on the slightest
persistent and cruel than any since Nero and Caligula. No Russian
autocrat, claiming to govern by divine right, has ever dared to
commit the high-handed cruelties which are common in sundry West
Indian and equatorial republics. I felt that the great thing was
to gain time before doing anything which might result in the
admission of the millions trained under such influences into all
the rights, privileges, and powers of American citizenship.

But there came the destruction of the Maine in the harbor of
Havana, and thenceforward war was certain. The news was brought
to me at a gala representation of the opera at Berlin, when, on
invitation from the Emperor, the ambassadors were occupying a
large box opposite his own. Hardly had the telegram announcing
the catastrophe been placed in my hands when the Emperor entered,
and on his addressing me I informed him of it. He was evidently
shocked, and expressed a regret which, I fully believe, was
deeply sincere. He instantly asked, with a piercing look, "Was
the explosion from the outside?" My answer was that I hoped and
believed that it was not; that it was probably an interior
explosion. To my great regret, the official report afterward
obliged me to change my mind on the subject; but I still feel
that no Spanish officer or true Spaniard was concerned in the
matter. It has been my good fortune to know many Spanish
officers, and it is impossible for me to conceive one of their
kind as having taken part in so frightful a piece of treachery;
it has always seemed to be more likely that it was done by a
party of wild local fanatics, the refuse of a West Indian
seaport.

The Emperor remained firm in his first impression that the
explosion was caused from the outside. Even before this was
established by the official investigation, he had settled into
that conclusion. On one occasion, when a large number of leading
officers of the North Sea Squadron were dining with him, he asked
their opinion on this subject, and although the great
majority--indeed, almost all present--then believed that the
catastrophe had resulted from an interior explosion, he adhered
to his belief that it was from an exterior attack.

On various occasions before that time I had met my colleague the
Spanish ambassador, Senor Mendez y Vigo, and my relations with
him had been exceedingly pleasant. Each of us had tried to keep
up the hopes of the other that peace might be preserved, and down
to the last moment I took great pains to convince him of what I
knew to be the truth--that the policy of President McKinley was
to prevent war. But I took no less pains to show him that Spain
must aid the President by concessions to public opinion. My
personal sympathies, too, were aroused in behalf of my colleague.
He had passed the allotted threescore years and ten, was
evidently in infirm health, had five sons in the Spanish army,
and his son-in-law had recently been appointed minister at
Washington.

Notice of the declaration of war came to me under circumstances
somewhat embarrassing. On the 21st of April, 1898, began the
festivities at Dresden on the seventieth birthday of King Albert
of Saxony, which was also the twenty-fifth anniversary of his
accession; and in view of the high character of the King and of
the affection for him throughout Germany, and, indeed, throughout
Europe, nearly every civilized power had sent its representatives
to present its congratulations. In these the United States
joined. Throughout our country are large numbers of Saxons, who,
while thoroughly loyal to our Republic, cherish a kindly and even
affectionate feeling toward their former King and Queen.
Moreover, there was a special reason. For many years Dresden had
been a center in which very many American families congregated
for the purpose of educating their children, especially in the
German language and literature, in music, and in the fine arts;
no court in Europe had been so courteous to Americans properly
introduced, and in various ways the sovereigns had personally
shown their good feeling toward our countrymen.

It was in view of this that the Secretary of State instructed me
to present an autograph letter of congratulation from the
President to the King, and on the 20th of April I proceeded to
Dresden, with the embassy secretaries and attaches, for this
purpose. About midnight between the 20th and 21st there came a
loud and persistent knocking at my door in the hotel, and there
soon entered a telegraph messenger with an enormously long
despatch in cipher. Hardly had I set the secretaries at work upon
it than other telegrams began to come, and a large part of the
night was given to deciphering them. They announced the
declaration of war and instructed me to convey to the various
parties interested the usual notices regarding war measures:
blockade, prohibitions, exemptions, regulations, and the like.

At eleven o'clock the next morning, court carriages having taken
us over to the palace, we were going up the grand staircase in
full force when who should appear at the top, on his way down,
but the Spanish ambassador with his suite! Both of us were, of
course, embarrassed. No doubt he felt, as I did, that it would
have been more agreeable just then to meet the representative of
any other power than of that with which war had just been
declared; but I put out my hand and addressed him, if not so
cordially as usual, at least in a kindly way; he reciprocated the
greeting, and our embarrassment was at least lessened. Of course,
during the continuation of the war, our relations lacked their
former cordiality, but we remained personally friendly.

In my brief speech on delivering President McKinley's letter I
tendered to the King and Queen the President's congratulations,
with thanks for the courtesies which had been shown to my
countrymen. This was not the first occasion on which I had
discharged this latter duty, for, at a formal presentation to
these sovereigns some time before, I had taken pains to show that
we were not unmindful of their kindness to our compatriots. The
festivities which followed were interesting. There were dinners
with high state officials, gala opera, and historical
representations, given by the city of Dresden, of a very
beautiful character. On these occasions I met various eminent
personages, among others the Emperor of Austria and his prime
minister, Count Goluchowsky, both of whom discussed current
international topics with clearness and force; and I also had
rather an interesting conversation with the papal nuncio at
Munich, more recently in Paris, Lorenzelli, with reference to
various measures looking to the possible abridgment of the war.

On the third day of the festivities came a great review, and a
sight somewhat rare. To greet the King there were present the
Emperor of Germany, the Emperor of Austria, and various minor
German sovereigns, each of whom had in the Saxon army a regiment
nominally his own, and led it past the Saxon monarch, saluting
him as he reviewed it. The two Emperors certainly discharged this
duty in a very handsome, chivalric sort of way. In the evening
came a great dinner at the palace, at which the King and Queen
presided. The only speech on the occasion was one of
congratulation made by the Emperor of Austria, and it was very
creditable to him, being to all appearance extemporaneous, yet
well worded, quiet, dignified, and manly. The ceremonies closed
on Sunday with a grand "Te Deum" at the palace church, in the
presence of all the majesties,--the joy expressed by the music
being duly accentuated by cannon outside.

I may say, before closing this subject, that Thomas Jefferson's
famous letter to Governor Langdon, describing royal personages as
he knew them while minister to France before the French
Revolution, no longer applies. The events which followed the
Revolution taught the crowned heads of Europe that they could no
longer indulge in the good old Bourbon, Hapsburg, and Braganza
idleness and stupidity. Modern European sovereigns, almost
without exception, work for their living, and work hard. Few
business men go through a more severe training, or a longer and
harder day of steady work, than do most of the contemporary
sovereigns of Europe. This fact especially struck me on my
presentation, about this time, to one of the best of the minor
monarchs, the King of Wurtemberg. I found him a hearty, strong,
active-minded man--the sort of man whom we in America would call
"level-headed" and "a worker." Learning that I had once passed a
winter in Stuttgart, he detained me long with a most interesting
account of the improvements which had been made in the city since
my visit, and showed public spirit of a sort very different from
that which animated the minor potentates of Germany in the last
century. The same may be said of the Grand Duke of Baden, who, in
a long conversation, impressed me as a gentleman of large and
just views, understanding the problems of his time and thoroughly
in sympathy with the best men and movements.

Republican as I am, this acknowledgment must be made. The
historical lessons of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,
and the pressure of democracy, are obliging the monarchs of
Europe to fit themselves for their duties wisely and to discharge
them intelligently. But this is true only of certain ruling
houses. There seems to be a "survival of the fittest." At various
periods in my life I have also had occasion to observe with some
care various pretenders to European thrones, among them the
husband of Queen Isabella of Spain; Prince Napoleon Victor, the
heir to the Napoleonic throne; the Duke of Orleans; Don Carlos,
the representative of the Spanish Bourbons; with sundry others;
and it would be hard to conceive persons more utterly unfit or
futile.

As to the conduct of Germany during our war with Spain, while the
press, with two or three exceptions, was anything but friendly,
and while a large majority of the people were hostile to us on
account of the natural sympathy with a small power battling
against a larger one, the course of the Imperial Government,
especially of the Foreign Office under Count von Bulow and Baron
von Richthofen, was all that could be desired. Indeed, they went
so far on one occasion as almost to alarm us. The American consul
at Hamburg having notified me by telephone that a Spanish vessel,
supposed to be loaded with arms for use against us in Cuba, was
about to leave that port, I hastened to the Foreign Office and
urged that vigorous steps be taken, with the result that the
vessel, which in the meantime had left Hamburg, was overhauled
and searched at the mouth of the Elbe. The German Government
might easily have pleaded, in answer to my request, that the
American Government had generally shown itself opposed to any
such interference with the shipments of small arms to
belligerents, and had contended that it was not obliged to search
vessels to find such contraband of war, but that this duty was
incumbent upon the belligerent nation concerned. This evidence of
the fairness of Germany I took pains to make known, and in my
address at the American celebration in Leipsic on the Fourth of
July declared my belief that the hostility of the German people
and press at large was only temporary, and that the old good
relations would be restored. Knowing that my speech would be
widely quoted in the German press, I took even more pains to show
the reasons why we could bide our time and trust to the
magnanimity of the German people. Of one thing I then and always
reminded my hearers--namely, that during our Civil War, when our
national existence was trembling in the balance and our foreign
friends were few, the German press and people were steadily on
our side.

The occasion was indeed a peculiar one. On the morning of the
Fourth, when we had all assembled, bad news came. Certain German
presses had been very prompt to patch together all sorts of
accounts of American defeats, and to present them in the most
unpleasant way possible; but while we were seated at table in the
evening came a despatch announcing the annihilation of the
Spanish fleet in Cuban waters, and this put us all in good humor.
One circumstance may serve to show the bitterness at heart among
Americans at this period. On entering the dining-hall with our
consul, I noticed two things: first, that the hall was profusely
decorated in a way I had never seen before and had never expected
to see--namely, by intertwined American and British flags; and,
secondly, that there was not a German flag in the room. I
immediately sent for the proprietor and told him that I would not
sit down to dinner until a German flag was brought in. He at
first thought it impossible to supply the want, but, on my
insisting, a large flag was at last found. This was speedily
given a place of honor among the interior decorations of our
hall, and all then went on satisfactorily.

As the war with Spain progressed, various causes of difficulty
arose between Germany and the United States, but I feel bound to
say that the German Government continued to act toward us with
justice. The sensational press, indeed, continued its work on
both sides of the Atlantic. On our side it took pains to secure
and publish stories of insults by the German Admiral Diederichs
to the American Admiral Dewey, and to develop various legends
regarding these two commanders. As a matter of fact, each of the
two admirals, when their relations first began in Manila, was
doubtless rather stiff and on his guard against the other; but
these feelings soon yielded to different sentiments.

The foolish utterances of various individuals, spread by sundry
American papers, were heartily echoed in the German press, the
most noted among these being an alleged after-dinner speech by an
American officer at a New York club, and a Congressional speech
in which the person who made it declared that "the United States,
having whipped Spain, ought now to whip Germany." Still, the
thinking men intrusted with the relations between the two
countries labored on, though at times there must have recurred to
us a sense of the divine inspiration of Schiller's words,
"Against stupidity even the gods fight in vain."

Of course the task of the embassy in protecting American citizens
abroad was especially increased in those times of commotion. At
such periods the number of ways in which American citizens,
native or naturalized, can get into trouble seems infinite; and
here, too, even from the first moment of my arrival in Berlin as
ambassador, I saw evidences of the same evil which had struck me
during my previous missions in Berlin and St. Petersburg--namely,
the constant and ingenious efforts to prostitute American
citizenship. Among the manifold duties of an ambassador is the
granting of passports. The great majority of those who ask for
them are entitled to them; but there are always a considerable
number of persons who, having left Europe just in time to escape
military service, have stayed in America just long enough to
acquire American citizenship, and then, having returned to their
native country, seek to enjoy the advantages of both countries
while discharging the duties of neither. Even worse were the
cases of the descendants of such so-called Americans, most of
them born in Europe and not able even to speak the English
language; worst of all were the cases of sundry
Russians--sometimes stigmatized as "predatory Hebrews"--who,
having left Russia and gone to America, had stayed just long
enough to acquire citizenship, and then returned and settled in
the eastern part of Germany, as near the Russian frontier as
possible. These were naturally regarded as fraudulent interlopers
by both the German and Russian authorities, and much trouble
resulted. Some of them led a life hardly outside the limits of
criminality; but they never hesitated on this account to insist
on their claims to American protection. When they were reminded
that American citizenship was conferred upon them, not that they
might shirk its duties and misuse its advantages in the land of
their birth, but that they might enjoy it and discharge its
duties in the land of their adoption, they scouted the idea and
insisted on their right, as American citizens, to live where they
pleased. Their communications to the embassy were, almost without
exception, in German, Russian, or Polish; very few of them wrote
or even spoke English, and very many of them could neither read
nor write in any language. For the hard-working immigrant,
whether Jew or Gentile, who comes to our country and casts in his
lot with us, to take his share not only of privilege but of duty,
I have the fullest respect and sympathy, and have always been
glad to intervene in his favor; but intervention in behalf of
those fraudulent pretenders I always felt to be a galling burden.

Fortunately the rules of the State Department have been of late
years strengthened to meet this evil, and it has finally become
our practice to inform such people that if they return to America
they can receive a passport for that purpose; but that unless
they show a clear intention of returning, they cannot. Very many
of them persist in their applications in spite of this, and one
case became famous both at the State Department and at the
embassy. Three Russians of the class referred to had emigrated
with their families to America, and, after the usual manner,
stayed just long enough to acquire citizenship, and had then
returned to Germany. One of them committed a crime and
disappeared; the other two went to the extreme eastern frontier
of Prussia and settled there. Again and again the Prussian
Government notified us that under the right exercised by every
nation, and especially by our own, these "undesirable intruders"
must leave Prussian territory or be expelled. Finally we
discovered at the embassy that a secret arrangement had been made
between Germany and Russia which obliged each to return the
undesirable emigrants of the other. This seemed to put the two
families in great danger of being returned to Russia; and, sooner
than risk a new international trouble, a proposal was made to
them, through the embassy, to pay their expenses back to America;
but they utterly refused to leave, and continued to burrow in the
wretched suburbs of one of the German cities nearest the Russian
border. Reams of correspondence ensued--all to no purpose; a
special messenger was sent to influence them--all in vain: they
persisted in living just as near Russia as possible, and in
calling themselves American, though not one of them spoke
English.

From time to time appeared in our own country attacks against the
various American embassies and legations abroad for not
protecting such American citizens, and a very common feature of
these articles was an unfavorable comparison between the United
States and England: it being claimed that Great Britain protects
her citizens everywhere, while the United States does not. This
statement is most misleading. Great Britain, while she is
renowned for protecting her subjects throughout the world,
--bringing the resources of her fleet, if need be, to aid
them,--makes an exception as regards her adopted citizens in the
land of their birth. The person who, having been naturalized in
Great Britain, goes back to the country of his birth, does so at
his or her own risk. The British Government considers itself,
under such circumstances, entirely absolved from the duty of
giving protection. The simple fact is that the United States goes
much further in protecting adopted citizens than does any other
country, and it is only rank demagogism which can find fault
because some of our thinking statesmen do not wish to see
American citizenship prostituted by persons utterly unfit to
receive it, who frequently use it fraudulently, and who, as many
cases prove, are quite ready to renounce it and take up their old
allegiance if they can gain advantage thereby.

Another general duty of the embassy was to smooth the way for the
large number of young men and women who came over as students.
This duty was especially pleasing to me now, as it had been
during my life as minister in Berlin twenty years before. At that
time women were not admitted to the universities; but now large
numbers were in attendance. The university authorities showed
themselves very courteous, and, when there was any doubt as to
the standing of the institution from which a candidate for
admission came, allowed me to pass upon the question and accepted
my certificate. Almost without exception, I found these
candidates excellent; but there were some exceptions. The
applicants were usually persons who had been graduated from some
one of our own institutions; but, from time to time, persons who
had merely passed a freshman year in some little American college
came abroad, anxious to secure the glory of going at once into a
German university. Certificates for such candidates I declined to
sign. To do so would have been an abuse sure to lead the German
authorities finally to reject the great mass of American
students: far better for applicants to secure the best advantages
possible in their own country, and then to supplement their study
at home by proper work abroad.

In sketches of my former mission to Berlin I have mentioned
various applications, some of them psychological curiosities;
these I found continuing, though with variations. Some
compatriots expected me to forward to the Emperor begging
letters, or letters suggesting to him new ideas, unaware that
myriads of such letters are constantly sent which never reach
him, and which even his secretaries never think of reading.
Others sent books, not knowing the rule prevailing among crowned
heads, never to accept a PUBLISHED book, and not realizing that
if this rule were broken, not one book in a thousand would get
beyond the office of his general secretary. Others sent medicine
which they wished him to recommend; and one gentleman was very
persistent in endeavoring to secure his Majesty's decision on a
wager.

Then there were singers or performers on wind or string
instruments wishing to sing or play before him, sculptors and
painters wishing him to visit their studios, and writers of music
wishing him to order their compositions to be brought out at the
Royal Opera.

All these requests culminated in two, wherein the gentle reader
will see a mixture of comic and pathetic. The first was from a
person (not an American) who wished my good offices in enabling
her to obtain a commission for a brilliant marriage,--she having
in reserve, as she assured me, a real Italian duke whom, for a
consideration, she would secure for an American heiress. The
other, which was from an eminently respectable source, urged me
to induce the imperial authorities to station in the United
States a young German officer with whom an American young lady
had fallen in love. And these proposals I was expected to
further, in spite of the fact that the rules for American
representatives abroad forbid all special pleading of any kind in
favor of individual interests or enterprises, without special
instructions from the State Department. Discouraging was it to
during my former residence, which had been freely circulated
during twenty years, there were still the usual number of people
persuaded that enormous fortunes were awaiting them somewhere in
Germany.

One application, from a truly disinterested man, was grounded in
nobler motives. This was an effort made by an eminent Polish
scholar and patriot to wrest American citizenship for political
purposes. He had been an instructor at various Russian and German
universities had shown in some of his books extraordinary
ability, had gained the friendship of several eminent scholars in
Great Britain and on the Continent, and was finally settled at
one of the most influential seats of learning in Austrian Poland.
He was a most attractive man, wide in his knowledge, charming in
his manner; but not of this world. Having drawn crowds to his
university lectures, he suddenly attacked the Emperor Franz
Josef, who, more than any other, had befriended his compatriots;
was therefore obliged to flee from his post; and now came to
Berlin, proposing seriously that I should at once make him an
American citizen, and thus, as he supposed, enable him to go back
to his university and, in revolutionary speeches, bid defiance to
Austria, Russia, and Germany. Great was his disappointment when
he learned that, in order to acquire citizenship, he would be
obliged to go to the United States and remain there five years.
As he was trying to nerve himself for this sacrifice, I presented
some serious considerations to him. Knowing him to be a man of
honor, I asked him how he could reconcile it with his sense of
veracity to assume the rights of American citizenship with no
intention to discharge its duties. This somewhat startled him.
Then, from a more immediately practical point of view, I showed
that, even if he acquired American citizenship, and could
reconcile his conscience to break the virtual pledge he had made
in order to obtain it, the government of Austria, and, indeed,
all other governments, would still have a full right, under the
simplest principles of international law, to forbid his entrance
into their territories, or to turn him out after he had
entered,--the right of expelling undesirable emigrants being
constantly exercised, even by the United States. This amazed him.
He had absolutely persuaded himself that I could, by some sleight
of hand, transform him into an American citizen; that he could
then at once begin attempts to reestablish the fine old Polish
anarchy in Austria, Russia, and Germany; and that no one of these
nations would dare interfere with him. It was absurd but
pathetic. My advice to him was to go back to his lecture-room and
labor to raise the character of the younger generation of Poles,
in the hope that Poland might do what Scotland had done--rise by
sound mental and moral training from the condition of a conquered
and even oppressed part of a great empire to a controlling
position in it. This advice was, of course, in vain, and he is
now building air-castles amid the fogs of London.

In my life at Berlin as ambassador there was a tinge of sadness.
Great changes had taken place since my student days in that city,
and even since my later stay as minister. A new race of men had
come upon the stage in public affairs, in the university, and in
literary circles. Gone was the old Emperor William, gone also was
the Emperor Frederick, and Bismarck and Moltke and a host of
others who had given dignity and interest to the great
assemblages at the capital. Gone, too, from the university were
Lepsius, Helmholtz, Curtius, Hoffmann, Gneist, Du Bois-Reymond,
and Treitschke, all of whom, in the old days, had been my guests
and friends. The main exceptions seemed to be in the art world.
The number of my artist friends during my stay as minister had
been large, and every one of them was living when I returned as
ambassador; the reason, of course, being that when men
distinguish themselves in art at all, they do so at an earlier
age than do high functionaries of state and professors in the
universities. It was a great pleasure to find Adolf Menzel,
Ludwig Knaus, Carl Beeker, Anton von Werner, and Paul Meyerheim,
though grown gray in their beautiful ministry, still daily at
work in their studios.

Three only of my friends of the older generation in the Berlin
faculty remained; and as I revise these lines the world is laying
tributes upon the grave of the last of them--Theodor Mommsen.
With him my relations were so peculiar that they may deserve some
mention.

During my earlier stays in Berlin he had always seemed especially
friendly to the United States, and it was therefore with regret
that on my return I found him in this respect greatly changed: he
had become a severe critic of nearly everything American; his
earlier expectations had evidently been disappointed; we clearly
appeared to him big, braggart, noisy, false to our principles,
unworthy of our opportunities. These feelings of his became even
more marked as the Spanish-American War drew on. Whenever we met,
and most often at a charming house which both of us frequented,
he showed himself more and more bitter, so that finally our paths
separated. There comes back to me vividly one evening when I
sought to turn off a sharp comment of his upon some recent
American news by saying: "You must give a young nation like ours
more time." On this he exclaimed: "You cannot plead the baby act
any longer. More time! You have HAD time; you are already three
hundred years old!" Having sought in vain to impress on him the
fact that the policy of our country is determined not wholly by
the older elements in its civilization, but very largely by newer
commonwealths which must require time to develop a policy
satisfactory to sedate judges, he burst into a tirade from which
I took refuge in a totally different discussion.

Some days later came another evidence of his feeling. Meeting an
eminent leader in political, and especially in journalistic,
circles, I was shown the corrected proofsheets of an "interview"
on the conduct of the United States toward Spain, given by
Mommsen. It was even more acrid than his previous utterances, and
exhibited sharply and at great length our alleged sins and
shortcomings. Certainly a representative of the American people
was not bound to make supplication, in such a matter, even to so
eminent a scholar and leader of thought, and my comment was
simply as follows: "I have no request to make in the premises--of
Mommsen or of anybody. The article will of course have no effect
on the war; of that there can be but one result: the triumph of
the United States and the liberation of the Spanish islands of
the West Indies; but may there not be some considerations of a
very different order as regards Mommsen himself? Why not ask him,
simply, where his friends are; his readers, his old students, his
disciples? Why not ask him whether he finds fewer clouds over the
policy of Spain than over that of the United States; of which
country, despite all its faults, he has most hope; and for which,
in his heart, he has the greater feeling of brotherhood?"

How far this answer influenced him I know not, but the article
was never published; and thenceforth there seemed some revival of
the older kindly feeling. At my own table and elsewhere he more
than once became, in a measure, like the Mommsen of old. One
utterance of his amused me much. My wife happening, in a talk
with him, to speak of a certain personage as "hardly an ideal
man," he retorted: "Madam, is it possible that you have been
married some years and still believe in the ideal man?"

His old better feeling toward America came out especially when I
next called upon him with congratulations upon his birthday--his
last, alas! But heartiest of all was he during the dinner given
at my departure. My speech was long,--over an hour,--for I had a
message to deliver, and was determined to give it--a message
which I hoped might impress upon my great audience reasons for a
friendly judgment of my country. As I began, Mommsen came to my
side--just back of me, his hand at his ear, listening intently.
There the old man stood from the first word to the last, and on
my conclusion he grasped me heartily with both hands--a
demonstration rare indeed with him. It was our last greeting in
this world.

Would that there were space to dwell upon those in the present
generation of professors who honored me with their friendship;
but one is especially suggested here, since he was selected to
make a farewell address on the occasion above referred to--Adolf
Harnack. At various times I had heard him discourse profoundly
and brilliantly at the university, but came to know him best at
the bicentenary of the Berlin Academy, when he had just added to
the long list of his published works his history of the academy,
in four quarto volumes: a wonderful work, whether considered from
an historical, psychological, or philosophical point of view. His
address on that occasion was masterly, and his conversation at
various social functions instructive and pithy. I remember in one
of them, especially, his delineation of the characteristics and
services of Leibnitz, who was one of the founders of the Royal
Academy, and it was perfection in that kind of conversation which
is worthy of men claiming to possess immortal souls: for it
brought out, especially, examples of Leibnitz's amazing
forethought as to European policy, which seemed at times like
divinely inspired prophecies. He also gave me a number of
interesting things which he had noted in his studies of Frederick
the Great. Some of them I had found already in my own reading,
but one of them I did not remember, and it was both comical and
characteristic. A rural Protestant pastor sent a petition to the
King presenting a grievance and asking redress. It was to the
effect that his church was on one side of a river in Silesia, and
that a younger pastor, whose church was on the opposite side, was
drawing all his parishioners away from him. On the back of the
petition Frederick simply wrote, "Tell him to go and preach on
the other side of the river: that will drive his people back
again."

Hearing Harnack and his leading colleagues in discourse at the
university or academy, or in private, whether in their loftier or
lighter moods, one could understand why the University of Berlin,
though one of the youngest, is the foremost among the
universities of the world.



CHAPTER XLII

AMERICA, GERMANY, AND THE CHINESE WAR--1899-1902

An interesting event of this period was the appearance in Berlin
of ex-President and Mrs. Harrison. The President had but recently
finished his long and wearisome work before the Venezuela
Arbitration Tribunal at Paris, and was very happy in the
consciousness of duty accomplished and liberty obtained. Marks of
high distinction were shown them. The sovereigns invited them to
attend the festivities at Potsdam in honor of the Queen and Queen
Mother of Holland, who were then staying there, and treated them
not only with respect, but with cordiality. The Emperor conversed
long with the President on various matters of public interest: on
noted Americans whom he had met, on the growth of our fleet, on
recent events in our history, and the like, characteristically
ending with a discussion of the superb music which we had been
hearing; and at the supper which followed insisted that Mrs.
Harrison should sit at his side, the Empress giving a similar
invitation to Mr. Harrison. At a later period a dinner was given
to the ex-President by the chancellor of the empire, Prince
Hohenlohe, at which a number of the leading personages in the
empire were present; and it was a pleasure to show my own respect
for the former chief magistrate by a reception which was attended
by about two hundred of our American colony, and a dinner at
which he and Mrs. Harrison made the acquaintance of leading
representative Germans in various fields.

In another chapter of these memoirs I have spoken of President
Harrison as of cold and, at times, abrupt manners; but the
absence of these characteristics during his stay in Berlin, and
afterward in New York, made it clear to me that the cold exterior
which I had noted in him at Washington, especially when Mr.
Roosevelt, Mr. Lodge, and sundry others of us urged upon him an
extension of the classified civil service, was adopted as a means
of preventing encroachments upon the time necessary for his daily
duties. He now appeared in a very different light, his discussion
of men and events showing not only earnest thought and deep
penetration, but a rich vein of humor; his whole bearing being
simple, kindly, and dignified.

During the winter of 1899-1900 came an addition to my experiences
of what American representatives abroad have to expect under our
present happy-go-lucky provision for the diplomatic service. As
already stated, on arriving in Berlin, I had great difficulty in
obtaining any fitting quarters, but at last secured a large and
suitable apartment in an excellent part of the city, its only
disadvantage being that my guests had to plod up seventy-five
steps in order to reach it. Having been obliged to make large
outlays for suitable fittings, extensive repairs, and furniture
throughout, I found that more than the entire salary of my first
year had been thus sunk; but I congratulated myself that I had at
least obtained a residence good, comfortable, and suitable. To be
sure, it was inferior to that of any other ambassador, but I had
fitted it up so that it was considered creditable. Suddenly,
about two years afterward, without a word of warning, came notice
from the proprietor that my lease was void--that he had sold the
house, and that I must leave it; so that it looked as if the
American Embassy would, at an early day, be turned into the
street. This was trying indeed. It was at the beginning of the
social season, and interfered greatly with my duties of every
sort. And there cropped out a feeling, among all conversant with
the case, which I cannot say was conducive to respect for the
wisdom of those who give laws to our country.

But, happily, I had insisted on inserting in the lease a clause
which seemed to make it doubtful whether the proprietor could
turn me out so easily and speedily. Under German law it was a
very precarious reliance, but on this I took my stand, and at
last, thanks mainly to the kindness of my colleague who succeeded
me as a tenant, made a compromise under which I was enabled to
retain the apartment for something over a year longer.

It may be interesting for an American who has a proper feeling
regarding the position of his country abroad to know that the
purchaser of the entire house--not only of the floor which I had
occupied, but of the similar apartment beneath, as well as that
on the ground floor--was the little Grand Duchy of Baden, which
in this way provided for its minister, secretaries, and others
connected with its legation in the German capital.

On the theory of line upon line and precept upon precept, I again
call attention, NOT to the wrong done ME by this American policy,
or rather want of policy,--for I knew in coming what I had to
expect,--but to the injury thus done to the PROPER STANDING OF
OUR COUNTRY BEFORE THE OTHER NATIONS OF THE WORLD. Again I insist
that, in its own interest, a government like ours ought, in every
capital where it is represented, to possess or to hold on long
lease a house or apartment suitable to its representative and
creditable to itself.

Early in the spring of 1900 came an event of some historical
interest. On the 19th of March and the two days following was
celebrated the two-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the
Royal Academy of Sciences. The Emperor, as well as the Academy,
had determined to make it a great occasion, and the result was a
series of very brilliant pageants. These began by a solemn
reception of the delegates from all parts of the world in the
great hall of the palace, my duty being to represent the
Smithsonian Institution at Washington, and my colleagues being
Professors White and Wolf of Harvard, who had been sent by the
American Academy of Sciences. The scene was very striking, all
the delegates, except those from America and Switzerland, being
in the costumes of the organizations they represented; most were
picturesque, and some had a very mediaeval appearance; those from
the ancient universities of Wurzburg and Prague, especially,
looking as if they had just stepped out of an illuminated
manuscript of the fourteenth century. At the time named for the
beginning of the festival the Emperor entered, announced by the
blare of trumpets, preceded by ministers bearing the sword,
standard, and great seal, and by generals bearing the crown,
scepter, and orb. He was surrounded by the highest officials of
the kingdom and empire, and having taken his seat on the throne,
there came majestic music preluding sundry orations and lists of
honors conferred on eminent men of science in all parts of the
world, among whom I was glad to note Professors Gibbs of Yale,
James of Harvard, and Rowland of Johns Hopkins.

The Emperor's speech was characteristic. It showed that his heart
was in the matter; that he felt a just pride in the achievements
of German science, and was determined that no efforts of his
should be wanting to increase and extend them. After the close of
the function, which was made in the same stately way as its
beginning, my colleagues drove home with me, and one of them
said, "Well, I am an American and a republican, but when I am in
a monarchy I like to see a thing of this kind done in the most
magnificent way possible, as it was this morning." A day or two
afterward, at the dinner given to the ambassadors by the Emperor,
I told him this story. He laughed heartily, and then said: "Your
friend is right: if a man is to be a monarch, let him be a
monarch; Dom Pedro of Brazil tried to be something else, and it
did not turn out well."

Impressive in a different way were the ceremonies attendant upon
the coming of age of the German crown prince, on the 6th of May,
1900. To do honor to the occasion, the Emperor Franz Josef of
Austria-Hungary had sent word that he would be present, and for
many days the whole city seemed mainly devoted to decorating its
buildings and streets for his visit; the culmination of the whole
being at the Pariser Platz, in front of the Brandenburg Gate,
where a triumphal arch and obelisks were erected, with other
decorations, patriotic and complimentary. On the morning of the
4th he arrived, and, entering the city at the side of the German
Emperor, each in the proper uniform of the other, he was received
by the burgomaster and town council of Berlin with a most cordial
speech, and then, passing on through the Linden, which was
showily decorated, he was enthusiastically greeted everywhere. No
doubt this greeting was thoroughly sincere, since all good
Germans look upon Franz Josef as their truest ally.

Next evening there was a "gala" performance at the Royal Opera,
the play presented being, of all things in the world, Auber's
"Bronze Horse," which is a farcical Chinese fairy tale set to
very light and pleasing music. The stage setting was gorgeous,
but the audience was still more so, delegates from all the
greater powers of the world being present, including the heirs to
the British and Italian thrones, the Grand Duke Constantine of
Russia, and a multitude of other scions of royalty. One feature
was comical. Near me sat His Excellency the Chinese minister,
surrounded by his secretaries and attaches, all apparently
delighted; and on my asking him, through his interpreter, how he
liked it, he said, "Very much; this shows the Europeans that in
China we know how to amuse ourselves." Of the fact that it was a
rather highly charged caricature of Chinese officialdom he seemed
either really or diplomatically unconscious.

On the following morning I was received in audience by the German
Emperor, bringing to him a warm message of congratulation from
President McKinley; and when His Majesty had replied very
cordially, he introduced me to the crown prince standing at his
side, to whom I gave the President's best wishes. Then came, in
the chapel of the palace, an impressive religious service, the
address by Dr. Dryander being eloquent, and the music, by the
cathedral choir and, at times, by a great military orchestra,
both far above us in the dome, beautiful. At its close the crown
prince came forward, stood before the altar, where I had seen his
parents married twenty years before, and the oath of allegiance,
which was quite long, having been read to him by the colonel of
his regiment, he repeated it, word for word, and made his solemn
pledge, lifting one hand and grasping the imperial standard with
the other. Then, after receiving affectionate embraces from his
father and mother, he was congratulated by the sovereigns and
royal personages. The ambassadors and ministers having been then
received by the Emperor and Empress, the young prince came along
the line and spoke to each of us in a very unaffected and manly
way. He was at that time somewhat taller than his father, with an
intelligent and pleasant face, and is likely, I should say, to do
well in his great position, though not possessing, probably,
anything like his father's varied gifts and graces.

In the evening came a dinner in the White Hall of the palace to
several hundred guests, including the Emperor of Austria-Hungary,
the King of Saxony, and other visiting personages, with the heads
of the diplomatic missions, and the leading personages of the
empire; and near the close of it the Emperor William arose and
made an excellent speech, to all appearance extemporaneous. The
answer by the Emperor of Austria-Hungary was read by him, and was
sensible and appropriate.

That this visit did much to strengthen the ties which bind the
two monarchies was shown not merely by hurrahs in the streets and
dithyrambic utterances in the newspapers, but by a mass of other
testimony. One curious thing was the great care everywhere taken
in the decorations to honor the crown and flag of Hungary equally
with that of Austria, and this, as was shown by the Hungarian
journals, had an excellent effect. By this meeting, no doubt, the
Triple Alliance was somewhat strengthened, and the chances for
continued peace increased, at least during the lifetime of the
Emperor Franz Josef. As to what will follow his death all is
dark. His successor is one of the least suitable of
men,--unprepossessing, and even forbidding, in every respect.
Brought up by the Jesuits, he is distrusted by a vast mass of the
best people in the empire, Catholic and Protestant. A devout
Catholic they would be glad to take, but a Jesuit pupil they
dread, for they know too well what such have brought upon the
empire hitherto, and, indeed, upon every kingdom which has
allowed them in its councils. His previous career has not been
edifying, and there is no reason to expect any change in him. The
Emperor Franz Josef is probably as thoroughly beloved by his
subjects as any sovereign in history has ever been. His great
misfortunes--fearful defeats in the wars with France and Germany,
the suicide of his only son, the assassination of his wife, and
family troubles in more recent times--have thrown about him an
atmosphere of romantic sympathy; while love for his kindly
qualities is mingled with respect for his plain common sense.
During his stay in Berlin I met him a second time. At my first
presentation at Dresden, two years before, there was little
opportunity for extended conversation; but he now spoke quite at
length and in a manner which showed him to be observant of the
world's affairs even in remote regions. He discussed the recent
increase of our army, the progress of our war in the Philippines,
and the extension of American enterprise in various parts of the
world, in a way which was not at all perfunctory, but evidently
the result of large information and careful observation. His
empire, which is a seething caldron of hates, racial, religious,
political, and local, is held together by love and respect for
him; but when he dies this personal tie which unites all these
different races, parties, and localities will disappear, and in
place of it will come the man who by force of untoward
circumstances is to be his successor, and this is anything but a
pleasing prospect to an Austro-Hungarian, or, indeed, to any
thoughtful observer of human affairs.

Interesting to me at this period was a visit from representatives
of the "Kriegerverein"--German-Americans who had formerly fought
in the war between Germany and France, who had since become
American citizens, and who were now revisiting their native land.
They were a very manly body, evidently taking pride in the
American flag which they carried, and also in the part they had
played in Germany. Replying to a friendly address by their
commanding officer, I took up some current American fallacies
regarding Germany and Germans, encouraged my hearers to stand
firm against sensational efforts to make trouble between the two
countries, urged them to keep their children in knowledge of the
German language and in touch with German civilization, while
bringing them up as thoroughly loyal Americans, reminding them
that every American who is interested in German history or
literature or science or art is an additional link in the chain
which binds together the two nations. The speech was of a very
offhand sort; but it seemed to strike deep and speed far, for it
evoked most kindly letters of congratulation and thanks from
various parts of Germany and the United States.

The most striking episode in the history of the world during
these years was the revolution in China. The first event which
startled mankind was the murder of Baron von Ketteler, the German
minister at Peking, a man of remarkable abilities and
accomplishments, who was thought sure to rise high among
diplomatists, and who had especially attracted American
friendships by his marriage with an American lady. The impression
created by this calamity was made all the greater by the fact
that, in the absence of further news from the Chinese capital,
there was reason to fear that the whole diplomatic corps, with
their families, might be murdered. American action in the
entanglements which followed was prompt and successful, and
thinking men everywhere soon saw it to be so. Toward the end of
July, 1900, being about to go to America for the summer, I took
leave of Count von Bulow at the Foreign Office, and, on coming
out, met one of my colleagues, who, although representing one of
the lesser European powers, was well known as exceedingly shrewd
and far-sighted. He said: "I congratulate you on the course
pursued by your government during this fearful Chinese imbroglio.
Other powers have made haste to jump into war; your admiral at
Tientsin seems the only one who has kept his head; other
governments have treated representatives of the Chinese Empire as
hostile, and, in doing so, have cut themselves off from all
direct influence on the Peking Government; the government at
Washington has taken an opposite course, has considered the
troubles as, prima facie, the work of insurrectionists, has
insisted on claiming friendship with the constituted authorities
in China, and, in view of this friendship, has insisted on being
kept in communication with its representative at the Chinese
capital, the result being that your government has been allowed
to communicate with its representative, and has thereby gained
the information and issued the orders which have saved the entire
diplomatic corps, as well as the forces of the different powers
now in Peking."

It was one of those contemporary testimonies to the skill of Mr.
McKinley and Secretary Hay which indicate the verdict of history.

Our later policy was equally sound. It was to prevent any further
territorial encroachments on China by foreign powers, and to
secure the opening of the empire on equal terms to the commerce
of the entire world. On the other hand, the German Government,
exasperated by the murder of its minister at Peking, was at first
inclined to go beyond this, and a speech of the Emperor to his
troops as they were leaving Germany for the seat of war was
hastily construed to mean that they were to carry out a policy of
extermination and confiscation. Even after the first natural
outburst of indignation against the Chinese, it looked as if the
ultimatum presented by the powers would include demands which
could never be met, and would entangle all the powers in a long
and tedious war, leading, perhaps, to a worse catastrophe.
Quietly but vigorously, from first to last, the American policy
was urged by Mr. Conger, American minister at Peking, and by
other representatives of our government abroad; and it was a
happy morning for me when, after efforts many and long continued,
I received at the Berlin Foreign Office the assurance that
Germany would not consider the earlier conditions presented by
the powers to the Chinese Government as "irrevocable." My
constant contention, during interviews at the Foreign Office, had
been that the United States desired as anxiously to see the main
miscreants punished as did any other nation, but that it was of
no use to demand, upon members of the imperial family, and upon
generals in command of great armies, extreme penalties which the
Chinese Government was not strong enough to inflict, or
indemnities which it was not rich enough to pay; that our aim was
not quixotic but practical, and that, in advocating steadily the
"open door" policy, we were laboring quite as much for all other
powers as for ourselves. Of course we were charged in various
quarters with cold-bloodedness, and with merely seeking to
promote our own interest in trade; but the Japanese, who could
understand the question better than the Western powers, steadily
adhered to our policy, and more and more, in its main lines, it
proved to be correct.

On the Fourth of July, 1900, came the celebration of our national
independence at Leipsic, and being asked to respond to the first
regular toast, and, having at my former visit dwelt especially
upon the Presidency, my theme now became the character and
services of the President himself, and it was a pleasure to find
that my statement was received by the German press in a way that
showed a reaction from previous injustice.

During August and September preceding the political campaign
which resulted in Mr. McKinley's reelection I was in the United
States. It was the hottest summer in very many years, and
certainly, within my whole experience, there had been no torrid
heat like that during my visits to Washington. Nearly every one
seemed prostrated by it. Upon arriving at the Arlington Hotel, I
found two old friends unnerved by the temperature, one of them
not daring to risk a sunstroke by going to the train which would
take him to his home in Chicago Retiring to one's room at night,
even in the best-situated hotels, was like entering an oven. The
leading official persons were generally absent, and those who
remained seemed hardly capable of doing business. But there was
one exception. Going to the White House to pay my respects to the
President, I found him the one man in Washington perfectly cool,
serene, and unaffected by the burning heat or by the pressure of
public affairs. Although matters in Cuba, in Porto Rico, in the
Philippines in China, and in the political campaign then going on
must have been constantly in his mind, he had plenty of time,
seemed to take trouble about nothing, and kept me in his office
for a full hour, discussing calmly the various phases of the
situation as they were affected by matters in Germany.

His discussion of public affairs showed the same quiet insight
and strength which I had recognized in him when we first met, in
1884, as delegates at the Chicago National Convention. One thing
during this Washington interview struck me especially: I asked
him if he was to make any addresses during the campaign; he
answered: "No; several of my friends have urged me to do so, but
I shall not. I intend to return to what seems to me the better
policy of the earlier Presidents: the American people have my
administration before them; they have ample material for judging
it, and with them I shall silently leave the whole matter." He
said this in a perfectly simple, quiet way, which showed that he
meant what he said. At the time I regretted his decision; but it
soon became clear that he was right.

At the beginning of the year 1901 came the two-hundredth
anniversary of the founding of the Prussian kingdom.
Representatives of the other governments of the world appeared at
court in full force; and, under instructions from the President,
I tendered his congratulations and best wishes to the monarch, as
follows:

May it please Your Majesty: I am instructed by the President to
present his hearty congratulations on this two-hundredth
anniversary of the founding of the Kingdom of Prussia, and, with
his congratulations, his best wishes for Your Majesty's health
and happiness, as well as the health and happiness of the Royal
Family, and his earnest hopes for the continued prosperity of
Your Majesty's Kingdom and Empire.

At the same time I feel fully authorized to present similar
congratulations and good wishes from the whole people of the
United States. The ties between the two nations, instead of being
weakened by time, have constantly grown stronger. As regards
material interests they are bound together by an enormous
commerce, growing greatly every year: as regards deeper
sentiments, no man acquainted with American History forgets that
the House of Hohenzollern was one of the first European powers to
recognize American Independence; and that it was Frederick the
Great who made that first treaty,--a landmark in the history of
International Law,--the only fault of which was that the world
was not far enough advanced to appreciate it. We also remember
that Germany was the only foreign country which showed decided
sympathy for us during our Civil War--the second struggle for our
national existence.

I also feel fully authorized, in view of Your Majesty's interest
in everything that ministers to the highest interests of
civilization, to express thanks for service which the broad
policy of Germany has rendered the United States in throwing open
to American scholars its Universities, its Technical Schools, its
conservatories of Art, its Museums, and its Libraries. Every
University and advanced school of learning in the United States
recognizes the fact that Germany has been our main foreign
teacher, as regards the higher ranges of Science, Literature, and
Art, and I may be allowed to remind Your Majesty, that while
Great Britain is justly revered by us as our mother country
Germany is beginning to hold to us a similar relation, not only
as the fatherland of a vast number of American citizens, but as
one of the main sources of the intellectual culture spread by our
universities and schools for advanced learning.

Allow me, then, sir, to renew the best wishes of the President
and people of the United States, with their hopes that ever
blessing may attend Your Majesty, the House of Hohenzollern the
Kingdom of Prussia, and the German Empire.


The Emperor in his reply spoke very cordially of the President's
special telegram, which he had received that morning, and then
gave earnest utterance to his belief that the time is coming when
the three great peoples of Germanic descent will stand firmly
together in all the great questions of the world.

The religious ceremonies in the Palace Chapel, with magnificent
music; the banquet, which included pertinent speeches from the
monarchs; and the gala representation at the opera all passed off
well: but, perhaps, that which will dwell longest in my memory
took place at the last. The performance consisted of two pieces:
one a poem glorifying Prussia, recited with music; the other a
play, in four acts, with long, musical interludes, deifying the
great Elector and the house of Hohenzollern. Though splendid in
scenic setting and brilliant in presentation it was very long,
and the ambassadors' box was crowded and hot. In the midst of it
all the French ambassador, the Marquis de Noailles, one of the
most suave courteous, and placid of men, quietly said to me, with
inimitable gravity, "What a bore this must be to those who
understand German! (Comme ca doit etre ennuyeux a ceux qui
correprennent l'Allexnand!)" This sudden revelation of a lower
depth of boredom--from one who could not understand a word of the
play--was worthy of his ancestors in the days of Saint-Simon and
Dangeau.

During the following summer two great sorrows befell me and mine,
but there is nothing to be here chronicled save that in this, as
in previous trials, I took refuge in work which seemed to be
worthy. The diplomatic service in summer is not usually exacting,
especially when one has, as I had, thoroughly loyal and judicious
embassy secretaries. As in a former bereavement I had turned to a
study of the character and services of John of Portugal and his
great successors in the age of discovery, so now I turned to Fra
Paolo Sarpi and the good fight he fought for Venice and humanity.
To my large collection of books on the subject, made mainly in
Italy, I added much from the old book-shops of Germany, and with
these revised my Venetian studies. An old dream of mine had been
to bring out a small book on Fra Paolo: now I sought, more
modestly, to prepare an essay.[6] The work was good for me.
Contemplation of that noblest of the three great Italians between
the Renaissance and the Resurrection of Italy did something to
lift me above sorrow; reading his words, uttered so calmly in all
the storm and stress of his time, soothed me. Viewed from my
work-table on the island of Rugen, the world became less dark as
I thought upon this hero of three centuries ago.


[6] This essay has since been published in the "Atlantic Monthly"
of January and February, 1904.

****************************************************************
THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY: A MAGAZINE OF Literature, Science, Art, and
Politics VOLUME XCIII {From January, 1904--Number DLV. and
February, 1904--Number DLVI.}

BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN AND COMPANY The Riverside
Press, Cambridge 1904


COPYRIGHT, 1903 AND 1904 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. Electrotyped and
Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company

FRA PAOLO SARPI.

I.

A thoughtful historian tells us that, between the fourteenth
century and the nineteenth, Italy produced three great men. As
the first of these, he names Machiavelli, who, he says, "taught
the world to understand political despotism and to hate it;" as
the second, he names Sarpi who "taught the world after what
manner the Holy Spirit guides the Councils of the Church;" and as
the third, Galileo, who "taught the world what dogmatic theology
is worth when it can be tested by science."

I purpose now to present the second of these. As a MAN, he was by
far the greatest of the three and, in various respects, the most
interesting, for he not only threw a bright light into the most
important general council of the Church and revealed to
Christendom the methods which there prevailed,--in a book which
remains one of the half-dozen classic histories of the
world,--but he fought the most bitter fight for humanity against
the papacy ever known in any Latin nation, and won a victory by
which the whole world has profited ever since. Moreover, he was
one of the two foremost Italian statesmen since the Middle Ages,
the other being Cavour.

He was born at Venice in 1552, and it may concern those who care
to note the subtle interweaving of the warp and woof of history
that the birth year of this most resourceful foe that Jesuitism
ever had was the death year of St. Francis Xavier, the noblest of
Jesuit apostles.

It may also interest those who study the more evident evolution
of cause and effect in human affairs to note that, like most
strong men, he had a strong mother; that while his father was a
poor shopkeeper who did little and died young, his mother was
wise and serene.

From his earliest boyhood, he showed striking gifts and
characteristics. He never forgot a face once seen, could take in
the main contents of a page at a glance, spoke little, rarely ate
meat, and, until his last years, never drank wine.

Brought up, after the death of his father, first by his uncle, a
priest, and then by Capella, a Servite monk, in something better
than the usual priestly fashion, he became known, while yet in
his boyhood, as a theological prodigy. Disputations in his youth,
especially one at Mantua, where, after the manner of the time, he
successfully defended several hundred theses against all comers,
attracted wide attention, so that the Bishop gave him a
professorship, and the Duke, who, like some other crowned heads
of those days,--notably Henry VIII. and James I.,--liked to
dabble in theology, made him a court theologian. But the duties
of this position were uncongenial: a flippant duke, fond of
putting questions which the wisest theologian could not answer,
and laying out work which the young scholar evidently thought
futile, apparently wearied him. He returned to the convent of the
Servites at Venice, and became, after a few years' novitiate, a
friar, changing, at the same time, his name; so that, having been
baptized Peter, he now became Paul.

His career soon seemed to reveal another and underlying cause of
his return: he evidently felt the same impulse which stirred his
contemporaries, Lord Bacon and Galileo; for he began devoting
himself to the whole range of scientific and philosophical
studies, especially to mathematics, physics, astronomy, anatomy,
and physiology. In these he became known as an authority, and
before long was recognized as such through out Europe. It is
claimed, and it is not improbable, that he anticipated Harvey in
discovering the circulation of the blood, and that he was the
forerunner of noted discoveries in magnetism. Unfortunately the
loss of the great mass of his papers by the fire which destroyed
his convent in 1769 forbids any full estimate of his work; but it
is certain that among those who sought his opinion and advice
were such great discoverers as Acquapendente, Galileo,
Torricelli, and Gilbert of Colchester, and that every one of
these referred to him as an equal, and indeed as a master. It
seems also established that it was he who first discovered the
valves of the veins, that he made known the most beautiful
function of the iris,--its contractility,--and that various
surmises of his regarding heat, light, and sound have since been
developed into scientific truths. It is altogether likely that,
had he not been drawn from scientific pursuits by his duties as a
statesman, he would have ranked among the greater investigators
and discoverers, not only of Italy, but of the world.

He also studied political and social problems, and he arrived at
one conclusion which, though now trite, was then novel,--the
opinion that the aim of punishment should not be vengeance, but
reformation. In these days and in this country, where one of the
most serious of evils is undue lenity to crime, this opinion may
be imputed to him as a fault; but in those days, when torture was
the main method in procedure and in penalty, his declaration was
honorable both to his head and heart.

With all his devotion to books, he found time to study men. Even
at school, he had seemed to discern those who would win control.
They discerned something in him also; so that close relations
were formed between him and such leaders as Contarini and
Morosini, with whom he afterwards stood side by side in great
emergencies.

Important missions were entrusted to him. Five times he visited
Rome to adjust perplexing differences between the papal power and
various interests at Venice. He was rapidly advanced through most
of the higher offices in his order, and in these he gave a series
of decisions which won the respect of all entitled to form an
opinion.

Naturally he was thought of for high place in the Church, and was
twice presented for a bishopric; but each time he was rejected at
Rome,--partly from family claims of less worthy candidates,
partly from suspicions regarding his orthodoxy. It was objected
that he did not find the whole doctrine of the Trinity in the
first verse of Genesis, that he corresponded with eminent
heretics of England and Germany, that he was not averse to
reforms, that, in short, he was not inclined to wallow in the
slime from which had crawled forth such huge incarnations of evil
as John XXIII., Julius II., Sixtus IV., and Alexander VI.

His orthodox detractors have been wont to represent him as
seeking vengeance for his non-promotion; but his after career
showed amply that personal grievances had little effect upon him.
It is indeed not unlikely that when he saw bishoprics for which
he knew himself well fitted given as sops to poor creatures
utterly unfit in morals or intellect, he may have had doubts
regarding the part taken by the Almighty in selecting them; but
he was reticent, and kept on with his work. In his cell at Santa
Fosca, he quietly and steadily devoted himself to his cherished
studies; but he continued to study more than books or inanimate
nature. He was neither a bookworm nor a pedant. On his various
missions he met and discoursed with churchmen and statesmen
concerned in the greatest transactions of his time, notably at
Mantua with Oliva, secretary of one of the greatest ecclesiastics
at the Council of Trent; at Milan with Cardinal Borromeo, by far
the noblest of all who sat in that assemblage during its eighteen
years; in Rome and elsewhere with Arnauld Ferrier, who had been
French Ambassador at the Council, Cardinal Severina, head of the
Inquisition, Castagna, afterward Pope Urban VII., and Cardinal
Bellarmine, afterward Sarpi's strongest and noblest opponent.

Nor was this all. He was not content with books or conversations;
steadily he went on collecting, collating, and testing original
documents bearing upon the great events of his time. The result
of all this the world was to see later.

He had arrived at middle life and won wide recognition as a
scholar, scientific investigator, and jurist, when there came the
supreme moment of a struggle which had involved Europe for
centuries,--a struggle interesting not only the Italy and Europe
of those days, but universal humanity for all time.

During the period following the fall of the Roman Empire of the
West there had been evolved the temporal power of the Roman
Bishop. It had many vicissitudes. Sometimes, as in the days of
St. Leo and St. Gregory, it based its claims upon noble
assertions of right and justice, and sometimes, as in the hands
of pontiffs like Innocent VIII. and Paul V., it sought to force
its way by fanaticism. Sometimes it strengthened its authority by
real services to humanity, and sometimes by such monstrous frauds
as the Forged Decretals. Sometimes, as under Popes like Gregory
VII. and Innocent III., it laid claim to the mastership of the
world, and sometimes, as with the majority of the pontiffs during
the two centuries before the Reformation, it became mainly the
appanage of a party or faction or family.

Throughout all this history, there appeared in the Church two
great currents of efficient thought. On one side had been
developed a theocratic theory, giving the papacy a power supreme
in temporal as well as in spiritual matters throughout the world.
Leaders in this during the Middle Ages were St. Thomas Aquinas
and the Dominicans; leaders in Sarpi's days were the Jesuits,
represented especially in the treatises of Bellarmine at Rome and
in the speeches of Laynez at the Council of Trent.[1]


[1] This has been admirably shown by N. R. F. Brown in his
Taylorian Lecture, pages 229-234, in volume for 1889-99.


But another theory, hostile to the despotism of the Church over
the State, had been developed through the Middle Ages and the
Renaissance;--it had been strengthened mainly by the utterances
of such men as Dante, aegidio Colonna, John of Paris, Ockham,
Marsilio of Padua, and Laurentius Valla. Sarpi ranged himself
with the latter of these forces. Though deeply religious, he
recognized the God-given right of earthly governments to
discharge their duties independent of church control.

Among the many centres of this struggle was Venice. She was
splendidly religious--as religion was then understood. She was
made so by her whole environment. From the beginning she had been
a seafaring power, and seafaring men, from their constant wrestle
with dangers ill understood, are prone to seek and find
supernatural forces. Nor was this all. Later, when she had become
rich, powerful, luxurious, licentious, and refractory to the
priesthood, her most powerful citizens felt a need of atoning for
their many sins by splendid religious foundations. So her people
came to live in an atmosphere of religious observance, and the
bloom and fruitage of their religious hopes and fears are seen in
the whole history of Venetian art,--from the rude sculptures of
Torcello and the naive mosaics of San Marco to the glowing
altarpieces and ceilings of John Bellini, Titian, and Tintoretto
and the illuminations of the Grimani Psalter. No class in Venice
rose above this environment. Doges and Senators were as
susceptible to it as were the humblest fishermen on the Lido. In
every one of those glorious frescoes in the corridors and halls
of the Ducal Palace which commemorate the victories of the
Republic, the triumphant Doge or Admiral or General is seen on
his knees making acknowledgment of the divine assistance. On
every Venetian sequin, from the days when Venice was a power
throughout the earth to that fatal year when the young Bonaparte
tossed the Republic over to the House of Austria, the Doge,
crowned and robed, kneels humbly before the Saviour, the Virgin,
or St. Mark. In that vast Hall of the Five Hundred, the most
sumptuous room in the world, there is spread above the heads of
the Doge and Senators and Councilors, as an incentive to the
discharge of their duties on earth, a representation of the
blessed in Heaven.

From highest to lowest, the Venetians lived, moved, and had their
being in this religious environment, and, had their Republic been
loosely governed, its external policy would have been largely
swayed by this all-pervading religious feeling, and would have
become the plaything of the Roman Court. But a democracy has
never been maintained save by the delegation of great powers to
its chosen leaders. It was the remark of one of the foremost
American Democrats of the nineteenth century, a man who received
the highest honors which his party could bestow, that the
Constitution of the United States was made, not to promote
Democracy, but to check it. This statement is true, and it is as
true of the Venetian Constitution as of the American.[1]


[1] See Horatio Seymour's noted article in the North American
Review.


But while both the republics recognized the necessity of curbing
Democracy, the difference between the means employed was
world-wide. The founders of the American Republic gave vast
powers and responsibilities to a president and unheard-of
authority to a supreme court; in the Venetian Republic the Doge
was gradually stripped of power, but there was evolved the
mysterious and unlimited authority of the Senate and Council of
Ten.

In these sat the foremost Venetians, thoroughly imbued with the
religious spirit of their time; but, religious as they were, they
were men of the world, trained in the polities of all Europe and
especially of Italy.

In a striking passage, Guizot has shown how the Crusaders who
went to the Orient by way of Italy and saw the papacy near at
hand came back skeptics. This same influence shaped the statesmen
of Venice. The Venetian Ambassadors were the foremost in Europe.
Their Relations are still studied as the clearest, shrewdest, and
wisest statements regarding the men and events in Europe at their
time. All were noted for skill; but the most skillful were kept
on duty at Rome. There was the source of danger. The Doges,
Senators, and controlling Councilors had, as a rule, served in
these embassies, and they had formed lucid judgments as to
Italian courts in general and as to the Roman Court in
particular. No men had known the Popes and the Curia more
thoroughly. They had seen Innocent VIII. buy the papacy for
money. They had been at the Vatican when Alexander VI. had won
renown as a secret murderer. They had seen, close at hand, the
merciless cruelty of Julius II. They had carefully noted the
crimes of Sixtus IV., which culminated in the assassination of
Julian de' Medici beneath the dome of Florence at the moment the
Host was uplifted. They had sat near Leo X. while he enjoyed the
obscenities of the Calandria and the Mandragora,--plays which, in
the most corrupt of modern cities, would, in our day, be stopped
by the police. No wonder that, in one of their dispatches, they
speak of Rome as "the cloaca of the world."[1]


[1] For Sixtus IV. and his career, with the tragedy in the
Cathedral of Florence see Villari's Life of Machiavelli, English
Edition, vol. ii. pp. 341, 342. For the passages in the
dispatches referred to, vide ibid. vol. i. p. 198.


Naturally, then, while their religion showed itself in wonderful
monuments of every sort, their practical sense was shown by a
steady opposition to papal encroachments.

Of this combination of zeal for religion with hostility to
ecclesiasticism we have striking examples throughout the history
of the Republic. While, in every other European state, cardinals,
bishops, priests, and monks were given leading parts in civil
administration and, in some states, a monopoly of civil honors,
the Republic of Venice not only excluded all ecclesiastics from
such posts, but, in cases which touched church interests, she
excluded even the relatives of ecclesiastics. When church
authority decreed that commerce should not be maintained with
infidels and heretics, the Venetian merchants continued to deal
with Turks, Pagans, Germans, Englishmen, and Dutchmen as before.
When the Church decreed that the taking of interest for money was
sin, and great theologians published in Venice some of their
mightiest treatises demonstrating this view from Holy Scripture
and the Fathers, the Venetians continued borrowing and lending
money on usance. When efforts were made to enforce that
tremendous instrument for the consolidation of papal power, the
bull In Coena Domini, Venice evaded and even defied it. When the
Church frowned upon anatomical dissections, the Venetians allowed
Andreas Vesalius to make such dissections at their University of
Padua. When Sixtus V., the strongest of all the Popes, had
brought all his powers, temporal and spiritual, to bear against
Henry IV. of France as an excommunicated heretic, and seemed
ready to hurl the thunderbolts of the Church against any power
which should recognize him, the Venetian Republic not only
recognized him, but treated his Ambassador with especial
courtesy. When the other Catholic powers, save France, yielded to
papal mandates and sent no representatives to the coronation of
James I. of England, Venice was there represented. When Pope
after Pope issued endless diatribes against the horrors of
toleration, the Venetians steadily tolerated in their several
sorts of worship Jews and Greeks, Mohammedans and Armenians, with
Protestants of every sort who came to them on business. When the
Roman Index forbade the publication of most important works of
leading authors, Venice demanded and obtained for her printers
rights which were elsewhere denied.

As to the religious restrictions which touched trade, the
Venetians in the public councils, and indeed the people at large,
had come to know perfectly what the papal theory meant,--with
some of its promoters, fanaticism, but with the controlling power
at Rome, revenue, revenue to be derived from retailing
dispensations to infringe the holy rules.

This peculiar antithesis--nowhere more striking than at Venice,
on the one side, religious fears and hopes; on the other, keen
insight into the ways of ecclesiasticism--led to peculiar
compromises. The bankers who had taken interest upon money, the
merchants who had traded with Moslems and heretics, in their last
hours frequently thought it best to perfect their title to
salvation by turning over large estates to the Church. Under the
sway of this feeling, and especially of the terrors infused by
priests at deathbeds, mortmain had become in Venice, as in many
other parts of the world, one of the most serious of evils. Thus
it was that the clergy came to possess between one fourth and one
third of the whole territory of the Republic, and in its Bergamo
district more than one half; and all this was exempt from
taxation. Hence it was that the Venetian Senate found it
necessary to devise a legal cheek which should make such
absorption of estates by the Church more and more difficult.

There was a second cause of trouble. In that religious atmosphere
of Venice, monastic orders of every sort grew luxuriantly, not
only absorbing more and more land to be held by the dead hand,
thus escaping the public burdens, but ever absorbing more and
more men and women, and thus depriving the state of any healthy
and normal service from them. Here, too, the Senate thought it
best to interpose a check: it insisted that all new structures
for religious orders must be authorized by the State.

Yet another question flamed forth. Of the monks of every sort
swarming through the city, many were luxurious and some were
criminal. On these last, the Venetian Senate determined to lay
its hands, and in the first years of the seventeenth century all
these questions, and various other matters distasteful to the
Vatican, culminated in the seizure and imprisonment of two
ecclesiastics charged with various high crimes,--among these rape
and murder.

There had just come to the papal throne Camillo Borghese, Paul
V.,--strong, bold, determined, with the highest possible theory
of his duties and of his position. In view of his duty toward
himself, he lavished the treasures of the faithful upon his
family, until it became the richest which had yet risen in Rome;
in view of his duty toward the Church, he built superbly, and an
evidence of the spirit in which he wrought is his name, in
enormous letters, still spread across the facade of St. Peter's.
As to his position, he accepted fully the theories and practices
of his boldest predecessors, and in this he had good warrant; for
St. Thomas Aquinas and Bellarmine had furnished him with
convincing arguments that he was divinely authorized to rule the
civil powers of Italy and of the world.[1]


[1] For details of these cases of the two monks, see Pascolato.
Fra Paolo Sarpi, Milano, 1893, pp. 126-128. For the Borghese
avarice, see Ranke's Popes, vol. iii. pp. 9-20. For the
development of Pope Paul's theory of government, see Ranke, vol.
ii. p. 345, and note in which Bellarmine's doctrine is cited
textually; also Bellarmine's Selbstbiographie, herausgegeben von
Dollinger und Rensch Bonn, 1887. pp. 181, et seq.


Moreover there was, in his pride, something akin to fanaticism.
He had been elected by one of those sudden movements, as well
known in American caucuses as in papal conclaves, when, after a
deadlock, all the old candidates are thrown over, and the choice
suddenly falls on a new man. The cynical observer may point to
this as showing that the laws governing elections, under such
circumstances, are the same, whether in party caucuses or in
church councils; but Paul, in this case, saw the direct
intervention of the Almighty, and his disposition to magnify his
office was vastly increased thereby. He was especially strenuous,
and one of his earliest public acts was to send to the gallows a
poor author, who, in an unpublished work, had spoken severely
regarding one of Paul's predecessors.

The Venetian laws checking mortmain, taxing church property, and
requiring the sanction of the Republic before the erection of new
churches and monasteries greatly angered him; but the crowning
vexation was the seizure of the two clerics. This aroused him
fully. He at once sent orders that they be delivered up to him,
that apology be made for the past and guarantees given for the
future, and notice was served that, in case the Republic did not
speedily obey these orders, the Pope would excommunicate its
leaders and lay an interdict upon its people. It was indeed a
serious contingency. For many years the new Pope had been known
as a hard, pedantic ecclesiastical lawyer, and now that he had
arrived at the supreme power, he had evidently determined to
enforce the high mediaeval supremacy of the Church over the
State. Everything betokened his success. In France he had broken
down all opposition to the decrees of the Council of Trent. In
Naples, when a magistrate had refused to disobey the civil law at
the bidding of priests, and the viceroy had supported the
magistrate, Pope Paul had forced the viceroy and magistrate to
comply with his will by threats of excommunication. In every part
of Italy,--in Malta, in Savoy, in Parma, in Lucca, in Genoa,--and
finally even in Spain, he had pettifogged, bullied, threatened,
until his opponents had given way. Everywhere he was triumphant;
and while he was in the mood which such a succession of triumphs
would give he turned toward Venice.[1]


[1] For letters showing the craven submission of Philip III. of
Spain at this time, see Cornet, Paolo V. e la Republica Veneta,
Vienna, 1859, p. 285.


There was little indeed to encourage the Venetians to resist;
for, while the interests of other European powers were largely
the same as theirs, current political intrigues seemed likely to
bring Spain and even France into a league with the Vatican.

To a people so devoted to commerce, yet so religious, the threat
of an interdict was serious indeed. All church services were to
cease; the people at large, no matter how faithful, were to be as
brute beasts,--not to be legally married, --not to be consoled by
the sacraments, --not to be shriven, and virtually not to be
buried; other Christian peoples were to be forbidden all dealings
with them, under pain of excommunication; their commerce was to
be delivered over to the tender mercies of any and every other
nation; their merchant ships to be as corsairs; their cargoes,
the legitimate prey of all Christendom; and their people, on sea
and land, to be held as enemies of the human race. To this was
added, throughout the whole mass of the people, a vague sense of
awful penalties awaiting them in the next world. Despite all
this, the Republic persisted in asserting its right.

Just at this moment came a diplomatic passage between Pope and
Senate like a farce before a tragedy, and it has historical
significance, as showing what resourceful old heads were at the
service of either side. The Doge Grimani having died, the Vatican
thought to score a point by promptly sending notice through its
Nuncio to Venice that no new election of a Doge could take place
if forbidden by the Pope, and that, until the Senate had become
obedient to the papacy, no such election would be sanctioned. But
the Senate, having through its own Ambassador received a useful
hint, was quite equal to the occasion. It at once declined to
receive this or any dispatch from the Pope on the plea, made with
redundant courtesy and cordiality, that, there being no Doge,
there was no person in Venice great enough to open it. They next
as politely declined to admit the papal Nuncio on the ground that
there was nobody worthy to receive him. Then they proceeded to
elect a Doge who could receive both Nuncio and message,--a sturdy
opponent of the Vatican pretensions, Leonardo Donato.

The Senate now gave itself entirely to considering ways and means
of warding off the threatened catastrophe. Its first step was to
consult Sarpi. His answer was prompt and pithy. He advised two
things: first, to prevent, at all hazards, any publication of the
papal bulls in Venice or any obedience to them; secondly, to hold
in readiness for use at any moment an appeal to a future Council
of the Church.

Of these two methods, the first would naturally seem by far the
more difficult. So it was not in reality. In the letter which
Sarpi presented to the Doge, he devoted less than four lines to
the first and more than fourteen pages to the second. As to the
first remedy, severe as it was and bristling with difficulties,
it was, as he claimed, a simple, natural, straightforward use of
police power. As to the second, the appeal to a future Council
was to the Vatican as a red flag to a bull. The very use of it
involved excommunication. To harden and strengthen the Doge and
Senate in order that they might consider it as an ultimate
possibility, Sarpi was obliged to show from the Scriptures, the
Fathers, the Councils, the early Popes, that the appeal to a
Council was a matter of right. With wonderful breadth of
knowledge and clearness of statement he made his points and
answered objections. To this day, his letter remains a
masterpiece.[1]


[1] For Sarpi's advice to the Doge, see Bianchi Giovini, vol. i.
pp. 216, et seq. The document is given fully in the Lettere di F.
P. S., Firenze, 1863, vol. i. pp. 17, et seq.; also in Machi,
Storia del Consiglio dei Dieci, cap. xxiv., where the bull of
excommunication is also given.


The Republic utterly refused to yield, and now, in 1606, Pope
Paul launched his excommunication and interdict. In meeting them,
the Senate took the course laid down by Sarpi. The papal Nuncio
was notified that the Senate would receive no paper from the
Pope; all ecclesiasties, from the Patriarch down to the lowest
monk, were forbidden, under the penalties of high treason, to
make public or even to receive any paper whatever from the
Vatican; additional guards were placed at the city gates, with
orders to search every wandering friar or other suspicious person
who might, by any possibility, bring in a forbidden missive; a
special patrol was kept, night and day, to prevent any posting of
the forbidden notices on walls or houses; any person receiving or
finding one was to take it immediately to the authorities, under
the severest penalties, and any person found concealing such
documents was to be punished by death.

At first some of the clergy were refractory. The head of the
whole church establishment of Venice, the Patriarch himself, gave
signs of resistance; but the Senate at once silenced him. Sundry
other bishops and high ecclesiastics made a show of opposition;
and they were placed in confinement. One of them seeming
reluctant to conduct the usual church service, the Senate sent an
executioner to erect a gibbet before his door. Another, having
asked that he be allowed to await some intimation from the Holy
Spirit, received answer that the Senate had already received
directions from the Holy Spirit to hang any person resisting
their decree. The three religious orders which had showed most
opposition--Jesuits, Theatins, and Capuchins--were in a
semi-polite manner virtually expelled from the Republic.[2]


[2] For interesting details regarding the departure of the
Jesuits, see Cornet, Paolo V. e la Republica Veneta, pp. 277-279.


Not the least curious among the results of this state of things
was the war of pamphlets. From Rome, Bologna, and other centres
of thought, even from Paris and Frankfort, polemic tractates
rained upon the Republic. The vast majority of their authors were
on the side of the Vatican, and of this majority the leaders were
the two cardinals so eminent in learning and logic, Bellarmine
and Baronius; but, single-handed, Sarpi was, by general consent,
a match for the whole opposing force.[3]


[3] In the library of Cornell University are no less than nine
quartos filled with selected examples of these polemics on both
sides.


Of all the weapons then used, the most effective throughout
Europe was the solemn protest drawn by Sarpi and issued by the
Doge. It was addressed nominally to the Venetian ecclesiastics,
but really to Christendom, and both as to matter and manner it
was Father Paul at his best. It was weighty, lucid, pungent, and
deeply in earnest,--in every part asserting fidelity to the
Church and loyalty to the papacy, but setting completely at
naught the main claim of Pope Paul: the Doge solemnly declaring
himself "a prince who, in temporal matters, recognizes no
superior save the Divine Majesty."

The victory of the friar soon began to be recognized far and
near. Men called him by the name afterward so generally given
him,--the "terribile frate." The Vatican seemed paralyzed. None
of its measures availed, and it was hurt, rather than helped, by
its efforts to pester and annoy Venice at various capitals. At
Rome, it burned Father Paul's books and declared him
excommunicated; it even sought to punish his printer by putting
into the Index not only all works that he had ever printed, but
all that he might ever print. At Vienna, the papal Nuncio thought
to score a point by declaring that he would not attend a certain
religious function in case the Venetian Ambassador should appear;
whereupon the Venetian announced that he had taken physic and
regretted that he could not be present,--whereat all Europe
laughed.

Judicious friends in various European cabinets now urged both
parties to recede or to compromise. France and Spain both
proffered their good offices. The offer of France was finally
accepted, and the French Ambassador was kept running between the
Ducal Palace and the Vatican until people began laughing at him
also. The emissaries of His Holiness begged hard that, at least,
appearances might be saved; that the Republic would undo some of
its measures before the interdict was removed, or at least would
seem to do so, and especially that it would withdraw its refusals
before the Pope withdrew his penalties. All in vain. The
Venetians insisted that they had committed no crime and had
nothing to retract. The Vatican then urged that the Senate should
consent to receive absolution for its resistance to the Pope's
authority. This the Senate steadily refused; it insisted, "Let
His Holiness put things as before, and we will put things as
before; as to his absolution, we do not need it or want it; to
receive it would be to acknowledge that we have been in the
wrong." Even the last poor sop of all was refused: the Senate
would have no great "function" to celebrate the termination of
the interdict; they would not even go to the mass which Cardinal
Joyeuse celebrated on that occasion. The only appearance of
concession which the Republic made was to give up the two
ecclesiastics to the French Ambassador as a matter of courtesy to
the French king; and when this was done, the Ambassador delivered
them to the Pope; but Venice especially reserved all the rights
she had exercised. All the essential demands of the papacy were
refused, and thus was forever ended the papal power of laying an
interdict upon a city or a people. From that incubus,
Christendom, thanks to Father Paul and to Venice, was at last and
forever free.

The Vatican did, indeed, try hard to keep its old claim in being.
A few years after its defeat by Fra Paolo, it endeavored to
reassert in Spain the same authority which had been so humbly
acknowledged there a few years before. It was doubtless felt that
this most pious of all countries, which had previously been so
docile, and which had stood steadily by the Vatican against
Venice in the recent struggle, would again set an example of
submission. Never was there a greater mistake: the Vatican
received from Spanish piety a humiliating refusal.

Next it tried the old weapons against the little government at
Turin. For many generations the House of Savoy had been dutifully
submissive to religious control; nowhere out of Spain had heresy
been treated more cruelly; yet here, too, the Vatican claim was
spurned. But the final humiliation took place some years later
under Urban VIII.,--the same pontiff who wrecked papal
infallibility on Galileo's telescope. He tried to enforce his
will on the state of Lucca, which, in the days of Pope Paul, had
submitted to the Vatican decrees abjectly; but that little
republic now seized the weapons which Sarpi had devised, and
drove the papal forces out of the field: the papal
excommunication was, even by this petty government, annulled in
Venetian fashion and even less respectfully.[1]


[1] The proofs--and from Catholic sources--that it was the Pope
who condemned Galileo's doctrine of the earth's movement about
the sun, and not merely the Congregation of the Index, the
present writer has given in his History of the Warfare of Science
with Theology, vol. i. chap. iii.


Thus the world learned how weak the Vatican hold had become. Even
Pope Paul learned it, and, from being the most strenuous of
modern pontiffs, he became one of the most moderate in everything
save in the enrichment of his family. Thus ended the last serious
effort to coerce a people by an interdict, and so, one might
suppose, would end the work of Father Paul. Not so. There was to
come a second chapter in his biography, more instructive,
perhaps, than the first,--a chapter which has lasted until our
own day.                             A. D. White.


{February, 1904, number DLVI.} II.


The Venetian Republic showed itself duly grateful to Sarpi. The
Senate offered him splendid presents and entitled him "Theologian
of Venice." The presents he refused, but the title with its duty,
which was mainly to guard the Republic against the encroachments
of the Vatican, he accepted, and his life in the monastery of
Santa Fosca went on quietly, simply, laboriously, as before. The
hatred now felt for him at Rome was unbounded. It corresponded to
the gratitude at Venice. Every one saw his danger, and he well
knew it. Potentates were then wont to send assassins on long
errands, and the arm of the Vatican was especially far-reaching
and merciless. It was the period when Pius V, the Pope whom the
Church afterwards proclaimed a saint, commissioned an assassin to
murder Queen Elizabeth.[1]


[1] This statement formerly led to violent denials by
ultramontane champions; but in 1870 it was made by Lord Acton, a
Roman Catholic, one of the most learned of modern historians, and
when it was angrily denied, he quietly cited the official life of
Pope Pius in the Acta  Sanctorum, published by the highest church
authority. This was final; denial ceased, and the statement is no
longer questioned. For other proofs in the line of Lord Acton's
citation, see Bellarmine's Selbstbiographie, cited in a previous
article, pp. 306, et seq.


But there was in Father Paul a trust in Providence akin to
fatalism. Again and again he was warned, and among those who are
said to have advised him to be on his guard against papal
assassins was no less a personage than his greatest controversial
enemy,--Cardinal Bellarmine. It was believed by Sarpi's friends
that Bellarmine's Scotch ideas of duty to humanity prevailed over
his Roman ideas of fealty to the Vatican, and we may rejoice in
the hope that his nobler qualities did really assert themselves
against the casuistry of his brother prelates which sanctioned
assassination.

These warnings were soon seen to be well founded. On a pleasant
evening in October, 1607, a carefully laid trap was sprung.
Returning from his day's work at the Ducal Palace, Father Paul,
just as he had crossed the little bridge of Santa Fosca before
reaching his convent, was met by five assassins. Two of his usual
attendants had been drawn off by the outburst of a fire in the
neighborhood; the other two were old men who proved useless. The
place was well chosen. The descent from the bridge was so narrow
that all three were obliged to march in single file, and just at
this point these ruffians from Rome sprang upon him in the dusk,
separated him from his companions, and gave him, in a moment,
fifteen dagger thrusts, two in his throat and one--a fearful gash
--on the side of his head, and then, convinced that they had
killed him, escaped to their boats, only a few paces distant.

The victim lingered long in the hospital, but his sound
constitution and abstemious habits stood him in good stead. Very
important among the qualities which restored him to health were
his optimism and cheerfulness. An early manifestation of the
first of these was seen when, on regaining consciousness, he
called for the stiletto which had been drawn from the main wound
and, running his fingers along the blade, said cheerily to his
friends, "It is not filed." What this meant, any one knows who
has seen in various European collections the daggers dating from
the "ages of faith" cunningly filed or grooved to hold poison.[1]


[1] There is a remarkable example of a beautiful dagger, grooved
to contain poison, in the imperial collection of arms at Vienna.


As an example of the second of these qualities, we may take his
well-known reply when, to the surgeon dressing the wound made by
the "style" or stiletto, --who spoke of its "extravagance,"
rudeness, and yet ineffectiveness,--Fra Paolo quietly answered
that in these characteristics could be recognized the style of
the Roman Curia.

Meantime the assassins had found their way back to Rome, and were
welcomed with open arms; but it is some comfort to know that
later, when such conscience as there was throughout Italy and
Europe showed intense disgust at the proceeding, the Roman Court
treated them coldly and even severely.

The Republic continued in every way to show Sarpi its sympathy
and gratitude. It made him many splendid offer, which he refused;
but two gifts he accepted. One was full permission to explore the
Venetian archives, and the other was a little doorway, cut
through the garden wall of his monastery, enabling him to reach
his gondola without going through the narrow and tortuous path he
had formerly taken on his daily journey to the public offices.
This humble portal still remains. Beneath few triumphal arches
has there ever passed as great or as noble a conqueror.[2]


[2] The present writer has examined with care the spot where the
attack was made, and found that never was a scoundrelly plot
better conceived or more fiendishly executed. He also visited
what was remaining of the convent in April, 1902, and found the
little door as serviceable as when it was made.


Efforts were also made to cajole him,--to induce him to visit
Rome, with fine promises of recognition and honor, and with
solemn assurances that no harm should come to him; but he was too
wise to yield. Only a few years previously he had seen Giordano
Bruno lured to Rome and burned alive on the Campo dei Fiori. He
had seen his friend and correspondent, Fra Fulgentio Manfredi,
yield to similar allurements and accept a safe conduct to Rome,
which, though it solemnly guaranteed him against harm, proved as
worthless as that of John Huss at the Council of Constance; the
Inquisition torturing him to death on the spot where, six years
earlier, it had burned Bruno. He had seen his friend, the
Archdeacon Ribetti, drawn within the clutch of the Vatican, only
to die of "a most painful colic" immediately after dining with a
confidential chamberlain of the Pope, and, had he lived a few
months longer, he would have seen his friend and confidant,
Antonio de Dominis, Archbishop of Spalato, to whom he had
entrusted a copy of his most important work, enticed to Rome and
put to death by the Inquisition. Though the Vatican exercised a
strong fascination over its enemies, against Father Paul it was
powerless; he never yielded to it, but kept the even tenor of his
way.[3]


[3] A copy of Manfredi's "safe conduct" is given by Castellani,
Lettere Inedite di F. P. S., p. 12, note. Nothing could be more
explicit.


In the dispatches which now passed, comedy was mingled with
tragedy. Very unctuous was the expression by His Holiness of his
apprehensions regarding "dangers to the salvation" and of his
"fears for the souls" of the Venetian Senators, if they persisted
in asserting their own control of their own state. Hardly less
touching were the fears expressed by the good Oratorian, Cardinal
Baronius, that "a judgment might be brought upon the Republic" if
it declined to let the Vatican have its way. But these
expressions were not likely to prevail with men who had dealt
with Machiavelli.

Uncompromising as ever, Father Paul continued to write letters
and publish treatises which clenched more and more firmly into
the mind of Venice and of Europe the political doctrine of which
he was the apostle,--the doctrine that the State is rightfully
independent of the Church,--and throughout the Christian world he
was recognized as victor.

Nothing could exceed the bitterness of the attacks upon him,
though some of them, at this day, provoke a smile. While efforts
were made to discredit him among scholars by spurious writings or
by interpolations in genuine writings, efforts equally ingenious
were made to arouse popular hostility. One of these was a
painting which represented him writhing amid the flames of hell,
with a legend stating, as a reason for his punishment, that he
had opposed the Holy Father.

Now it was indeed, in the midst of ferocious attacks upon his
reputation and cunning attempts upon his life, that he entered a
new and most effective period of activity. For years, as the
adviser of Venice, he had studied, both as a historian and as a
statesman, the greatest questions which concerned his country,
and especially those which related to the persistent efforts of
the Vatican to encroach upon Venetian self-government. The
results of these studies he had embodied in reports which had
shaped the course of the Republic; and now, his learning and
powers of thought being brought to bear upon the policy of Europe
in general, as affected by similar papal encroachments, he began
publishing a series of treatises, which at once attracted general
attention.[1]


[1] For the extent to which these attacks were carried, see the
large number in the Sarpi collection at the Cornell University
Library, especially volume ix.


First of these, in 1608, came his work on the Interdict. Clearly
and concisely it revealed the nature of the recent struggle, the
baselessness of the Vatican claims, and the solidarity of
interest between Venice and all other European states regarding
the question therein settled. This work of his as a historian
clenched his work as a statesman; from that day forward no nation
has even been seriously threatened with an interdict.

Subsidiary works followed rapidly from his pen, strengthening the
civil power against the clerical; but in 1610 came a treatise,
which marked an epoch, --his History of Ecclesiastical
Benefices.[2] In this he dealt with a problem which had become
very serious, not only in Venice, but in every European state,
showed the process by which vast treasures had been taken from
the control of the civil power and heaped up for ecclesiastical
pomp and intrigue, pointed out special wrongs done by the system
to the Church as well as the State, and advocated a reform which
should restore this wealth to better uses. His arguments spread
widely and sank deep, not only in Italy, but throughout Europe,
and the nineteenth century has seen them applied effectively in
every European country within the Roman obedience.


[2] The old English translation of this book, published in 1736
at Westminster, is by no means a very rare book, and it affords
the general reader perhaps the most accessible means of
understanding Fra Paolo's simplicity, thoroughness, and vigor.


In 1611 he published his work on the Inquisition at Venice,
presenting historical arguments against the uses which
ecclesiasticism, under papal guidance, had made of that tribunal.
These arguments spread far, and developed throughout Europe those
views of the Inquisition which finally led to its destruction.
Minor treatises followed, dealing with state questions arising
between the Vatican and Venice, each treatise--thoroughly well
reasoned and convincing--having a strong effect on the discussion
of similar public questions in every other European nation.

In 1613 came two books of a high order, each marking an epoch.
The first of these was upon the Right of Sanctuary, and in it
Sarpi led the way, which all modern states have followed, out of
the old, vicious system of sanctioning crime by sheltering
criminals. The cogency of his argument and the value of its
application gained for him an especial tribute by the best
authority on such questions whom Europe had seen,--Hugo Grotius.

Closely connected with this work was that upon the Immunity of
the Clergy. Both this and the previous work were in the same
order of ideas, and the second fastened into the European mind
the reasons why no state can depend upon the Church for the
punishment of clerical criminals. His argument was a triumphant
vindication of Venice in her struggle with Paul V on this point;
but it was more than that. It became the practical guide of all
modern states. Its arguments dissipated the last efforts
throughout Europe to make a distinction, in criminal matters,
between the priestly caste and the world in general.

Among lesser treatises which followed is one which has done much
to shape modern policy regarding public instruction. This was his
book upon the Education given by the Jesuits. One idea which it
enforced sank deep into the minds of all thoughtful men,--his
statement that Jesuit maxims develop "sons disobedient to their
parents, citizens unfaithful to their country, and subjects
undutiful to their sovereign." Jesuit education has indeed been
maintained, and evidences of it may be seen in various European
countries. The traveler in Italy constantly sees in the larger
Italian towns long lines of young men and boys, sallow, thin, and
listless, walking two and two, with priests at each end of the
coffle. These are students taking their exercise, and an American
or Englishman marvels as he remembers the playing fields of his
own country. Youth are thus brought up as milksops, to be
graduated as scape-graces. The strong men who control public
affairs, who lead men and originate measures in the open, are not
bred in Jesuit forcing-houses. Even the Jesuits themselves have
acknowledged this, and perhaps the strongest of all arguments
supplementary to those given by Father Paul were uttered by Padre
Curci, eminent in his day as a Jesuit gladiator, but who realized
finally the impossibility of accomplishing great things with men
moulded by Jesuit methods.

All these works took strong hold upon European thought. Leading
men in all parts of Europe recognized Sarpi as both a great
statesman and a great historian. Among his English friends were
such men as Lord Bacon and Sir Henry Wotton; and his praises have
been sounded by Grotius, by Gibbon, by Hallam, and by Macaulay.
Strong, lucid, these works of Father Paul have always been
especially attractive to those who rejoice in the leadership of a
master mind.

But in 1619 came the most important of all,--a service to
humanity hardly less striking than that which he had rendered in
his battle against the Interdict,--his history of the Council of
Trent.

His close relations to so many of the foremost men of his day and
his long study in public archives and private libraries bore
fruit in this work, which takes rank among the few great,
enduring historical treatises of the world. Throughout, it is
vigorous and witty, but at the same time profound; everywhere it
bears evidences of truthfulness and is pervaded by sobriety of
judgment. Its pictures of the efforts or threats by
representatives of various great powers to break away from the
papacy and establish national churches; its presentation of the
arguments of anti-papal orators on one side and of Laynez and his
satellites on the other; its display of acts and revelations of
its thorough discussion of underlying principles,--all are
masterly.

Though the name of the author was concealed in an anagram, the
book was felt, by the Vatican party, to be a blow which only one
man could have dealt, and the worst blow which the party had
received since its author had defeated the Interdict at Venice.
Efforts were made, by outcries and calumnies, to discredit the
work, and they have been continued from that day to this, but in
vain. That there must be some gaps and many imperfections in it
is certain; but its general character is beyond the reach of
ultramontane weapons. The blow was felt to be so heavy that the
Jesuit Pallavicini was empowered to write a history of the
Council to counterbalance it, and his work was well done; but
Ranke, the most unprejudiced of judges, comparing the two,
assigns the palm to Father Paul. His book was immediately spread
throughout Europe; but of all the translations, perhaps the most
noteworthy was the English. Sarpi had entrusted a copy of the
original to his friend, Antonio de Dominis, Archbishop of
Spalato, and he, having taken refuge in England, had it
translated there, the authorship being ascribed on the title-page
to "Pietro Soave Polano." This English translation was, in vigor
and pith, worthy of the original. In it can be discerned, as
clearly as in the original, that atmosphere of intrigue and
brutal assertion of power by which the Roman Curia, after packing
the Council with petty Italian bishops, bade defiance to the
Catholic world. This translation, more than all else, has enabled
the English-speaking peoples to understand what was meant by the
Italian historian when he said that Father Paul "taught the world
how the Holy Spirit guides the Great Councils of the Church." It
remains cogent down to this day; after reading it one feels that
such guidance might equally be claimed for Tammany Hall.

Although Father Paul never acknowledged the authorship of the
history of the Council of Trent, and although his original copy,
prepared for the press, with his latest corrections, still
remains buried in the archives at Venice, the whole world knew
that he alone could have written it.

But during all these years, while elaborating opinions on the
weightiest matters of state for the Venetian Senate, and sending
out this series of books which so powerfully influenced the
attitude of his own and after generations toward the Vatican, he
was working with great effect in yet another field. With the
possible exception of Voltaire, he was the most vigorous and
influential letter-writer during the three hundred years which
separated Erasmus from Thomas Jefferson. Voltaire certainly
spread his work over a larger field, lighted it with more wit,
and gained by it more brilliant victories; but as regards
accurate historical knowledge, close acquaintance with statesmen,
familiarity with the best and worst which statesmen could do,
sober judgment and cogent argument, the great Venetian was his
superior. Curiously enough, Sarpi resembles the American
statesman more closely than either of the Europeans. Both he and
Jefferson had the intense practical interest of statesmen, not
only in the welfare of their own countries, but in all the
political and religious problems of their times. Both were keenly
alive to progress in the physical sciences, wherever made. Both
were wont to throw a light veil of humor over very serious
discussions. Both could use, with great effect, curt, caustic
description: Jefferson's letter to Governor Langdon satirizing
the crowned heads of Europe, as he had seen them, has a worthy
pendant in Fra Paolo's pictures of sundry representatives of the
Vatican. In both these writers was a deep earnestness which, at
times, showed itself in prophetic utterances. The amazing
prophecy of Jefferson against American slavery, beginning with
the words, "I tremble when I remember that God is just," which,
in the light of our civil war, seems divinely inspired, is
paralleled by some of Sarpi's utterances against the unmoral
tendencies of Jesuitism and Ultramontanism; and these too seem
divinely inspired as one reads them in the light of what has
happened since in Spain, in Sicily, in Naples, in Poland, in
Ireland, and in sundry South American republics.

The range of Sarpi's friendly relations was amazing. They
embraced statesmen, churchmen, scholars, scientific
investigators, diplomatists in every part of Europe, and among
these Galileo and Lord Bacon, Grotius and Mornay, Salmasius and
Casaubon, De Thou and Sir Henry Wotton, Bishop Bedell and
Vossius, with a great number of others of nearly equal rank.
Unfortunately the greater part of his correspondence has
perished. In the two small volumes collected by Polidori, and in
the small additional volume of letters to Simon Contarini,
Venetian Ambassador at Rome, unearthed a few years since in the
Venetian archives by Castellani, we have all that is known. It is
but a small fraction of his epistolary work, but it enables us to
form a clear opinion. The letters are well worthy of the man who
wrote the history of the Council of Trent and the protest of
Venice against the Interdict.

It is true that there has been derived from these letters, by his
open enemies on one side and his defenders of a rather sickly
conscientious sort on the other, one charge against him: this is
based on his famous declaration, "I utter falsehood never, but
the truth not to every one." ("La falsita non dico mai mai, ma la
verita non a ogniuno.")[1] Considering his vast responsibilities
as a statesman and the terrible dangers which beset him as a
theologian; that in the first of these capacities the least
misstep might wreck the great cause which he supported, and that
in the second such a misstep might easily bring him to the
torture chamber and the stake, normally healthful minds will
doubtless agree that the criticism upon these words is more
Pharisaic than wholesome.


[1] For this famous utterance, see notes of conversations given
by Christoph, Burggraf von Dohna, in July, 1608, in Briefe und
Acten zur Geschichte des Dreissigjahrigen Krieges, Munchen, 1874,
p. 79.


Sarpi was now spoken of, more than ever, both among friends and
foes, as the "terribile frate." Terrible to the main enemies of
Venice he indeed was, and the machinations of his opponents grew
more and more serious. Efforts to assassinate him, to poison him,
to discredit him, to lure him to Rome, or at least within reach
of the Inquisition, became almost frantic; but all in vain. He
still continued his quiet life at the monastery of Santa Fosca,
publishing from time to time discussions of questions important
for Venice and for Europe, working steadily in the public service
until his last hours. In spite of his excommunication and of his
friendships with many of the most earnest Protestants of Europe,
he remained a son of the church in which he was born. His life
was shaped in accordance with its general precepts, and every day
he heard mass. So his career quietly ran on until, in 1623, he
met death calmly, without fear, in full reliance upon the divine
justice and mercy. His last words were a prayer for Venice.

He had fought the good fight. He had won it for Venice and for
humanity. For all this, the Republic had, in his later years,
tried to show her gratitude, and he had quietly and firmly
refused the main gifts proposed to him. But now came a new
outburst of grateful feeling. The Republic sent notice of his
death to other powers of Europe through its Ambassadors in the
terms usual at the death of royal personages; in every way, it
showed its appreciation of his character and services, and it
crowned all by voting him a public monument.

Hardly was the decree known, when the Vatican authorities sent
notice that, should any monument be erected to Sarpi, they would
anew and publicly declare him excommunicate as a heretic. At
this, the Venetian Senate hesitated, waited, delayed. Whenever
afterwards the idea of carrying out the decree for the monument
was revived, there set in a storm of opposition from Rome. Hatred
of the terrible friar's memory seemed to grow more and more
bitter. Even rest in the grave was denied him. The church where
he was buried having been demolished, the question arose as to
the disposition of his bones. To bury them in sacred ground
outside the old convent would arouse a storm of ecclesiastical
hostility, with the certainty of their dispersion and
desecration; it seemed impossible to secure them from priestly
hatred: therefore it was that his friends took them from place to
place, sometimes concealing them in the wall of a church here,
sometimes beneath the pavement of a church there, and for a time
keeping them in a simple wooden box at the Ducal Library. The
place where his remains rested became, to most Venetians,
unknown. All that remained to remind the world of his work was
his portrait in the Ducal Library, showing the great gash made by
the Vatican assassins.

Time went on, and generations came which seemed to forget him.
Still worse, generation after generation came, carefully trained
by clerical teachers to misunderstand and hate him. But these
teachers went too far; for, in 1771, nearly one hundred and fifty
years after his death, the monk Vaerini gathered together, in a
pretended biography, all the scurrilities which could be
imagined, and endeavored to bury the memory of the great patriot
beneath them. This was too much. The old Venetian spirit, which
had so long lain dormant, now asserted itself: Vaerini was
imprisoned and his book suppressed.

A quarter of a century later the Republic fell under the rule of
Austria, and Austria's most time-honored agency in keeping down
subject populations has always been the priesthood. Again Father
Paul's memory was virtually proscribed, and in 1803 another
desperate attempt was made to cover him with infamy. In that year
appeared a book entitled The Secret History of the Life of Fra
Paolo Sarpi, and it contained not only his pretended biography,
but what claimed to be Sarpi's own letters and other documents
showing him to be an adept in scoundrelism and hypocrisy. Its
editor was the archpriest Ferrara of Mantua; but on the
title-page appeared, as the name of its author, Fontanini,
Archbishop of Ancira, a greatly respected prelate who had died
nearly seventy years before, and there was also stamped, not only
upon the preliminary, but upon the final page of the work, the
approval of the Austrian government. To this was added a pious
motto from St. Augustine, and the approval of Pius VII was
distinctly implied, since the work was never placed upon the
Index, and could not have been published at Venice, stamped as it
was and registered with the privileges of the University, without
the consent of the Vatican.

The memory of Father Paul seemed likely now to be overwhelmed.
There was no longer a Republic of Venice to guard the noble
traditions of his life and service. The book was recommended and
spread far and wide by preachers and confessors.

But at last came a day of judgment. The director of the Venetian
archives discovered and had the courage to announce that the work
was a pious fraud of the vilest type; that it was never written
by Fontanini, but that it was simply made up out of the old
scurrilous work of Vaerini, suppressed over thirty years before.
As to the correspondence served up as supplementary to the
biography, it was concocted from letters already published, with
the addition of Jesuitical interpolations and of forgeries.[1]
Now came the inevitable reaction, and with it the inevitable
increase of hatred for Austrian rule and the inevitable question,
how, if the Pope is the infallible teacher of the world in all
matters pertaining to faith and morals, could he virtually
approve this book, and why did he not, by virtue of his divine
inerrancy, detect the fraud and place its condemnation upon the
Index. The only lasting effect of the book, then, was to revive
the memory of Father Paul's great deeds and to arouse Venetian
pride in them. The fearful scar on his face in the portrait spoke
more eloquently than ever, and so it was that, early in the
nineteenth century, many men of influence joined in proposing a
suitable and final interment for the poor bones, which had seven
times been buried and reburied, and which had so long been kept
in the sordid box at the Ducal Library. The one fitting place of
burial was the cemetery of San Michele. To that beautiful island,
so near the heart of Venice, had, for many years, been borne the
remains of leading Venetians. There, too, in more recent days,
have been laid to rest many of other lands widely respected and
beloved.


[1] For a full and fair statement of the researches which exposed
this pious fraud, see Castellani, Prefect of the Library of St.
Mark, preface to his Lettere Inedite di F. P. S., p. xvii. For
methods used in interpolating or modifying passages in Sarpi's
writings, see Bianchi Giovini, Biografia di Sarpi, Zurigo, 1847,
vol. ii. pp. 135, et seq.


But the same persistent hatred which, in our own day, grudged and
delayed due honors at the tombs of Copernicus and Galileo among
Catholics, and of Humboldt among Protestants, was still bitter
against the great Venetian scholar and statesman. It could not be
forgotten that he had wrested from the Vatican the most terrible
of its weapons. But patriotic pride was strong, and finally a
compromise was made: it was arranged that Sarpi should be buried
and honored at his burial as an eminent man of science, and that
no word should be spoken of his main services to the Republic and
to the world. On this condition he was buried with simple honors.

Soon, however, began another chapter of hatred. There came a pope
who added personal to official hostility. Gregory XVI, who in his
earlier days had been abbot of the monastery of San Michele, was
indignant that the friar who had thwarted the papacy should lie
buried in the convent which he himself had formerly ruled, and
this feeling took shape, first, in violent speeches at Rome, and
next, in brutal acts at Venice. The monks broke and removed the
simple stone placed over the remains of Father Paul, and when it
was replaced, they persisted in defacing and breaking it, and
were only prevented from dragging out his bones, dishonoring them
and casting them into the lagoon, by the weight of the massive,
strong, well-anchored sarcophagus, which the wise foresight of
his admirers had provided for them. At three different visits to
Venice, the present writer sought the spot where they were laid,
and in vain. At the second of these visits, he found the
Patriarch of Venice, under whose rule various outrages upon
Sarpi's memory had been perpetrated, pontificating gorgeously
about the Grand Piazza; but at his next visit there had come a
change. The monks had disappeared. Their insults to the
illustrious dead had been stopped by laws which expelled them
from their convent, and there, little removed from each other in
the vestibule and aisle of the great church, were the tombs of
Father Paul and of the late Patriarch side by side; the great
patriot's simple gravestone was now allowed to rest unbroken.

Better even than this was the reaction provoked by these
outbursts of ecclesiastical hatred. It was felt, in Venice,
throughout Italy, and indeed throughout the world, that the old
decree for a monument should now be made good. The first steps
were hesitating. First, a bust of Father Paul was placed among
those of great Venetians in the court of the Ducal Palace; but
the inscription upon it was timid and double-tongued. Another
bust was placed on the Pincian Hill at Rome, among those of the
most renowned sons of Italy. This was not enough: a suitable
monument must be erected. Yet it was delayed, timid men
deprecating the hostility of the Roman Court. At last, under the
new Italian monarchy, the patriotic movement became irresistible,
and the same impulse which erected the splendid statue to
Giordano Bruno on the Piazza dei Fiori at Rome,--on the very spot
where he was burned,--and which adorned it with the medallions of
eight other martyrs to ecclesiastical hatred, erected in 1892,
two hundred and seventy years after it had been decreed, a
statue, hardly less imposing, to Paolo Sarpi, on the Piazza Santa
Fosca at Venice, where he had been left for dead by the Vatican
assassins. There it stands, noble and serene,--a monument of
patriotism and right reason, a worthy tribute to one who, among
intellectual prostitutes and solemnly constituted impostors,
stood forth as a true man, the greatest of his time,--one of the
greatest of all times,--an honor to Venice, to Italy, and to
humanity.                                  Andrew D. White.

*************************************************************

Then came the death of the Empress Frederick. Even during her
tragic struggle with Bismarck, and the unpopularity which beset
her during my former official term at Berlin, she had been kind
to me and mine. At my presentation to her in those days, at
Potsdam, when she stood by the side of her husband, afterward the
most beloved of emperors since Marcus Aurelius, she evidently
exerted herself to make the interview pleasant to me. She talked
of American art and the Colorado pictures of Moran, which she had
seen and admired; of German art and the Madonna painted by Knaus
for the Russian Empress, which Miss Wolfe had given the
Metropolitan Museum at New York; and in reply to my
congratulations upon a recent successful public speech of her
eldest son, a student at Bonn, she had dwelt, in a motherly way,
upon the difficulties which environ a future sovereign at a great
university. In more recent days, and especially during the years
before her death, she had been, at her table in Berlin and at her
castle of Kronberg, especially courteous. There comes back to me
pleasantly a kindly retort of hers. I had spoken to her of a
portrait of George III which had interested me at the old castle
of Homburg nearly forty years before. It had been sent to his
daughter, the Landgravine of Hesse-Homburg, who had evidently
wished to see her father's face as it had really become; for it
represented the King, not in the gold-laced uniform, not in the
trim wig not in the jauntily tied queue of his official portraits
and statues, but as he was: in confinement, wretched and
demented; in a slouching gown, with a face sad beyond expression;
his long, white hair falling about it and over it; of all
portraits in the world, save that, at Florence, of Charles V in
his old age, the saddest. So, the conversation drifting upon
George III and upon the old feeling between the United States and
Great Britain, now so happily changed, I happened to say, "It is
a remembrance of mine, now hard to realize, that I was brought up
to ABHOR the memory of George III." At this she smiled and
answered, "That was very unjust; for I was brought up to ADORE
the memory of Washington." Then she spoke at length regarding the
feeling of her father and mother toward the United States during
our Civil War, saying that again and again she had heard her
father argue to her mother, Queen Victoria, for the Union and
against slavery. She discussed current matters of world politics
with the strength of a statesman; yet nothing could be more
womanly in the highest sense. On my saying that I hoped to see
the day when Germany, Great Britain, and the United States would
stand together in guarding the peace of the world, she threw up
her hands and replied, "Heaven grant it; but you forget Japan."
The funeral at Potsdam dwells in my mind as worthy of her. There
were, indeed, pomp and splendor, but subdued, as was befitting;
and while the foreign representatives stood beside her coffin,
the Emperor spoke to me, very simply and kindly, of his sorrow
and of mine. Then, to the sound of funeral music and muffled
church bells, he, with the King of Great Britain and members of
their immediate family just behind the funeral car, the
ambassadors accompanying them, and a long procession following,
walked slowly along the broad avenue through that beautiful
forest, until, in the Church of Peace, she was laid by the side
of her husband, Emperor Frederick the Noble.



CHAPTER XLIII

BERLIN, YALE, OXFORD, AND ST. ANDREWS--1901-1903

Darkest of all hours during my embassy was that which brought
news of the assassination of President McKinley. It was on the
very day after his great speech at Buffalo had gained for him the
admiration and good will of the world. Then came a week of
anxiety--of hope alternating with fear; I not hopeful: for there
came back to me memories of President Garfield's assassination
during my former official stay in Berlin, and of our hope against
hope during his struggle for life: all brought to naught. Late in
the evening of September 14 came news of the President's
death--opening a new depth of sadness; for I had come not merely
to revere him as a patriot and admire him as a statesman, but to
love him as a man. Few days have seemed more overcast than that
Sunday when, at the little American chapel in Berlin, our colony
held a simple service of mourning, the imperial minister of
foreign affairs and other representatives of the government
having quietly come to us. The feeling of the German people--awe,
sadness, and even sympathy--was real. Formerly they had disliked
and distrusted the President as the author of the protective
policy which had cost their industries so dear; but now, after
his declaration favoring reciprocity,--with his full recognition
of the brotherhood of nations,--and in view of this calamity, so
sudden, so distressing, there had come a revulsion of feeling.

To see one whom I so honored, and who had formerly been so
greatly misrepresented, at last recognized as a great and true
man was, at least, a solace.

At this period came the culmination of a curious episode in my
official career. During the war in China the Chinese minister at
Berlin, Lu-Hai-Houan, feeling himself cut off from relations with
the government to which he was accredited, and, indeed, with all
the other powers of Europe, had come at various times to me, and
with him, fortunately, came his embassy counselor, Dr. Kreyer,
whom I had previously known at Berlin and St. Petersburg as a
thoughtful man, deeply anxious for the welfare of China, and
appreciative of the United States, where he had received his
education. The minister was a kindly old mandarin of high rank,
genial, gentle, evidently struggling hard against the depression
caused by the misfortunes of his country, and seeking some little
light, if, perchance, any was to be obtained. In his visits to
me, and at my return visits to him, the whole condition of things
in China was freely and fully discussed, and never have I exerted
myself more to give useful advice. First, I insisted upon the
necessity of amends for the fearful wrong done by China to other
nations, and then presented my view of the best way of developing
in his country a civilization strong enough to resist hostile
forces, exterior and interior. As to dealings with the Christian
missionaries, against whom he showed no fanatical spirit, but
who, as he thought, had misunderstood China and done much harm, I
sought to show him that the presumption was in their favor, but
that if the Chinese Government ultimately came to the decision
that their stay in China was incompatible with the safety of the
nation, its course was simple: that on no account was it to kill
or injure any of them or of their converts; that while, in my
view, it would be wise to arrange for their continuance in China
under proper regulation, still, that if they must be expelled, it
should be done in the most kindly and considerate way, and with
due indemnity for any losses to which they might be subjected. Of
course, there was no denying that, under the simplest principles
of international law, China has the right at any moment to shut
its doors against, or to expel, any people whatever whom it may
consider dangerous or injurious--this power being constantly
exercised by all the other nations of the earth, and by none more
than by the American Government, as so many Chinese seeking
entrance to our ports have discovered; but again and again I
warned him that this, if it were ever done at all, must be done
without harshness and with proper indemnities, and that any
return to the cruelties of the past would probably end in the
dividing up of maritime China among the great powers of the
world. As to the building up of the nation, I laid stress on the
establishment of institutions for technical instruction; and took
pains to call his attention to what had been done in the United
States and by various European governments in this respect. He
seemed favorably impressed by this, but dwelt on what he
considered the fanaticism of sundry Chinese supporters of
technical education against the old Chinese classical
instruction. Here I suggested to him a system which might save
what was good in the old mode of instruction: namely, the
continuance of the best of the old classical training, but giving
also high rank to modern studies.

We also talked over the beginning of a better development of the
Chinese army and navy, of better systems of taxation, and of the
nations from which good examples and competent instruction might
be drawn in these various fields. Curious was his suggestion of a
possible amalgamation of Chinese moral views with the religious
creeds of the western world. He observed that Christianity seemed
to be weak, mainly, on the moral side, and he suggested, at some
length, a combination of the Christian religion with the
Confucian morality. Interesting was it to hear him, as a
Confucian, dwell on the services which might thus be rendered to
civilization. There was a simple, kindly shrewdness in the man,
and a personal dignity which was proof against the terrible
misfortunes which had beset his country. Again and again he
visited me, always wishing to discuss some new phase of the
questions at issue. I could only hope that, as he was about to
return to China, some of the ideas brought out in our
conversations might prove fruitful. One result of the relation
thus formed was that when Prince Chun, the brother of the Emperor
of China, came to make apology before the throne of the Emperor
William, he called upon me. Unfortunately I was out, but,
returning his visit, I met him, and, what was more to the
purpose, the dignitaries of his suite, some of whom interested me
much; and I was glad of a chance, through them, to impress some
of the ideas brought out in my previous conversations with the
minister. I cannot say that I indulged in any strong hopes as
regards the prince himself; but, noting the counselors who
surrounded him, and their handling of the questions at issue, I
formed more hope for the conservation of China as a great and
beneficent power than I had ever had before.

To this succeeded an episode of a very different sort. For some
time Mr. Andrew Carnegie had done me the honor to listen to
advice of mine regarding some of his intended benefactions in
Scotland, the United States, and elsewhere. I saw and felt the
great possibilities for good involved when so noble a heart, so
shrewd a head, so generous a hand had command of one of the most
colossal fortunes ever at the disposal of a human being; and the
bright purposes and plans revealed in his letters shone through
the clouds of that mournful summer. So it was that, on my journey
to America, made necessary by the sudden death of my son, I
accepted Mr. Carnegie's invitation to visit him at his castle of
Skibo in the extreme north of Scotland. Very striking, during the
two days' journey from London to Edinburgh, and from Edinburgh to
Bonar, were the evidences of mourning for President McKinley in
every city, village, and hamlet. It seemed natural that, in the
large towns and on great public buildings, flags at half-mast and
in mourning should show a sense of the calamity which had
befallen a sister nation; but what appealed to me most were the
draped and half-masted fla