A Pacific Emperor—An Imperial Fault—The Pauper's Funeral—The Emperor's Visit to my Mother—My Dilemma—The Emperor's Kindness—He is Snubbed by an Ingenue—The Emperor's Desire for an Alliance with England—Prince Gortschakoff's Rejoinder—The Slav Ideal—Russia and Constantinople—Bismarck's Admiration—He Discomfits a Member of the Reichstag
A noteworthy example of a rapprochement between England, France, and Russia, long before the Triple Entente in politics became an established fact, was the researches undertaken three-quarters of a century ago, by three leading scientific authorities, into the geological features of the Russian Empire. Sir Roderick Murchison, M. de Verneuil and Count Alexander Keyserling were appointed by their respective Governments to make a joint expedition and, as a result of their labours, wrote a book entitled The Geology of Russia in Europe and the Urals, which was published by the British Museum in 1845, in two volumes. This was indeed a promising beginning, and may be said to have been the precursor for much co-operation between these nations long before an Entente was within the sphere of practical politics. At any rate, it serves to prove that there is a natural bond of sympathy between the great Allies, and that it is in no sense a question of political expediency.
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This took place under the Emperor Nicholas I, who was always for peace, and in particular for an understanding with England. The whole situation in Europe has changed since those days, or rather seems to have changed. In reality it is not so. A few persons have made an effort to open their eyes, and have discovered a well-established fact. That is all. It is an important discovery, no doubt, so important that nervous politicians conjure up imaginary difficulties, and appeal to all sorts of magic utterances: "Balance of power," cries one; "Immediate danger," shouts the other; "Traditional policy," exclaims the third. But all these appeals might as well not have been made. The "newly-discovered fact" has been known to Russians for years, although clever Westerns have only just found it out. It is indeed only natural that we should know it first, for it relates to our Emperor. Europe has learned to feel that there is once more an Emperor Nicholas on the Russian throne, and that in Alexander III even the most imperious of Chancellors found a Sovereign whom no intimidation could dismay, and no menace could deter from the path of duty. Some Englishmen, I regret to say, did not like the memory of the Emperor, whose noble and generous qualities are more and more appreciated in History. The Emperor Nicholas I was undoubtedly a superior man in many respects. Imperious he was, no doubt—it is an Imperial fault!—but he was not only disinterested, he was generous and noble in the highest degree. Books could be written about his kind actions.
He was once driving on a cold winter's day, when {91} he perceived a poor hearse, and a still poorer coffin. There were no followers, but the young driver, almost a child, was sobbing bitterly, and evidently overwhelmed with his grief. The Emperor stopped his horse and asked who the departed was.
"It was my father," answered the boy, through a new torrent of tears. "He was a blind beggar, and I had him under my care."
The Emperor left his sledge and followed the humble coffin to the burial ground. Naturally, many people followed His Majesty's example, and the procession became a strange sight. Strange, but fine—paternal, showing once more the link between the great autocrat and his people—a link based on devotion and trust. As a very young child I have myself experienced the kindness of his smile, and felt the protection of his powerful hand.
If I may tell the story again, I remember, when my father died, the Emperor Nicholas I paid a visit of condolence to my mother, and desired to see his god-children. My two brothers and I appeared. I, as the only girl, received from my governess stringent orders before entering the drawing-room to "look well and to make a deep Court reverence." Penetrated with my new role, and full of zeal, I did my best—which, alas! turned out to be my very worst—I bowed so deeply that suddenly all became confused and I fell over backwards against a pillar. A horrified glance from mother—the roof with its painted flowers and Cupids—misery and bewilderment! But all this lasted only a second. The dear Emperor rushed to me, seized my trembling hands, and began praising me as if I had really covered {92} myself, not with ridicule, but with glory. Thus he cheered me and made me happy. People who knew him intimately speak of him with unqualified devotion. But the fascination he exercised did not render less commanding the conscious power which dwelt within him. For he was a power—perhaps the greatest power of his day.
The great and unexpected steps taken by his grandson allowed us to hope to find the same resolute devotion to his country in our present ruler, Nicholas II, and we did not hope in vain.
The Emperor Nicholas I was charmingly courteous and kind to young people. Thus, one day, the Court arrived in Moscow, and the Moscow nobility arranged a brilliant ball to greet Their Majesties. Naturally the young girls all longed to be presented on this occasion. One amongst them was exceedingly beautiful and attractive. The Emperor addressed a few words to her, expressing his pleasure at making her acquaintance. She looked at him somewhat severely, without answering a word.
"Do you not hear what I say?" enquired the Emperor in some surprise.
"Yes," replied the young lady curtly, "I hear, but I do not listen!" (J'enténds mais je n'écoute pas!)
The Emperor, extremely amused by this tone of self-defence, when he never dreamt of attacking or offending, went to the Empress. "There is a charming child here," he said, "most amusing and innocent. Make her your Maid of Honour." This was done. By her position she was quite entitled to this distinction, but still, people were very much amused. Later on she received other honours, {93} occupied a high position at our Court, and died only a short time ago.
One of the great desires of the Emperor Nicholas I was to establish such a close and cordial alliance between Russia and England as even then would form a solid guarantee of peace to the world. It was his desire to cement the alliance that led him to make those overtures to Sir Henry Seymour, which were so basely misrepresented and so perfidiously utilised to destroy the good understanding they were intended to promote.
"'You know my feelings?' so Mr. Kinglake begins the story, in his vivacious and charming but slightly unjust The Invasion of the Crimea, 'you know my feelings,' said the Emperor to Sir Henry Seymour, 'with regard to England. What I have told you before, I say again; it was intended that the two countries should be upon terms of close amity; and I feel sure that this will continue to be the case; and I repeat that it is very essential that the two Governments should be on the best of terms, and the necessity was never greater than at present. When we are agreed, I am quite without anxiety as to the rest of Europe. It is immaterial what the others may think or do.'"
This is what the Emperor Nicholas always said, and it was with him a fixed idea. "I desire to speak to you," he said on another occasion, "as a friend and as a gentleman. [The Emperor little knew how the confidence he placed in the "gentleman" would be requited.] If England and I arrive ............